Red Curtains

by Leanna Sain

  “Miss Wendy taught us in children’s church, way back when, that nothing’s too hard for you. Well, I have something pretty big weighing on me tonight; worrying me so much that I can’t relax, and you know I need some sleep!

  “Since you know everything, I’m sure you’re aware of this Mark Spencer mess. He’s killed people, God. Innocent people, whose only sin was desperation. Spencer’s an evil man who deserves to be caught and punished, which is part of my request. The other part is: I’m begging you to keep Jonas safe. He’s hatched this crazy plan of pretending to be homeless in hopes that Spencer will choose him as his next stooge. He says it’s the only way to get on the inside, and maybe he’s right, but I think it’s a terrible plan. And because I can’t think of a better one, I can’t talk him out of it. So, God, will you please…take care of him?

  “I guess that’s it. I hope the song is right, and that there really is nothing impossible for you. In Jesus’ name I pray all this…Amen.”

  I’d no sooner said the final word, when a huge yawn nearly cracked my jaw, and my eyes suddenly drooped halfway closed. My last thought was that I’d forgotten to pray anything about Jill.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lily

  “Mornin’ Miz Lily,” Raymond murmured when I walked into the bedroom.

  He’s awake! I gasped, nearly dropping the tray I was carrying. Hurriedly setting it on the small table near his bed, I grabbed his calloused hand and gave it a squeeze. “Raymond! You’re okay!”

  He started to grin, then winced as the movement stretched his split, swollen lip. He raised a hand, tentatively touching his mouth, before stretching a finger to trace his puffy eye, then the bandages on his head. “Yep, I guess I am.” He shifted in bed and groaned. “But I feel like I been run over by a Mack truck.”

  I made a face and smiled. “Hate to say it, but you look like it, too, my friend.”

  His wheezy chuckle cut off abruptly, and his hands clutched his torso. “Ugh…don’t make me laugh. Hurts too bad.”

  I retrieved a glass of water from the tray and gently pressed the straw to the less-injured side of his mouth. He gulped thirstily. “Mmmm…thank ya, ma’am. That shore helps. I’s parched. Dry as a box of sodie crackers is what my granny’d say.” He stared around the room, his good eye round with wonder. “Where is this place?”

  “You don’t remember? You’ve been a little out of it. We brought you here a couple of nights ago.”

  “We?”

  “Jonas and Cleo and me. This is Cleo’s house.”

  He wrinkled his brow, trying to remember, but gave up and shook his head. “Tell me.”

  “Here…take another drink. I haven’t been able to get much in you since you’ve been here. I know you must be about dehydrated.”

  He took another long swallow. “Okay, that’s enough. Now, tell me.”

  I hesitated, unsure of how much to say. I knew the power that a person’s mind could wield in any healing process, and I sure didn’t want to create a speed bump on his road to recovery by giving him more information than he could handle. His mental state was a little precarious already. His “lights” had been out for a while, yesterday—eyes open and staring—but nobody had been home. It’d been one of his “bad days.”

  “Well?” he demanded. “Whatcha waitin’ for? Go ahead and tell me. Cain’t be worse than wonderin’.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “You were beaten up.”

  He rolled his good eye. “I think I figured that part out, Miz Lily. By who?”

  “Mark Spencer’s men.” I didn’t miss the flicker of some emotion in his eye at the mention of the name. He remembers something.

  Raymond’s jaw clenched, then he growled, “Go on.”

  “We followed Spencer’s men, and when they stopped to get something to eat, we rescued you from their car trunk and brought you back here. We cleaned you up and bandaged you as good as we could. You’ve been sleeping ever since.”

  He stared at me in wonder. “You talk different. Don’t think I ever heard you say that much regular talk before…without usin’ one of them sayings of yours.” Then he sighed, wincing again before closing his eye.

  I panicked. Had I said too much? I’d tried to give him as little details as possible, but maybe it was still too much. I should’ve tried to stall him somehow, maybe even lie to him; whatever it took, but I should’ve waited. It was too much, too soon. He wasn’t ready yet.

  When he opened his eye again, it shimmered with a glaze of unshed tears. “I be so glad my granny’s done passed on. I’d hate for her to know what I’ve done; it’d shame her, so.”

  “Do you need to talk about it? I’ll listen if you do,” I reminded him, softly.

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down beneath his gray-stubbled chin. A tear oozed from the slit of his bruised, puffy eye. “I thought it was my way out, my chance to be r’spectable. He say he gonna to teach me how to do it, and pay me good money, too. Alls I had to do was keep my big mouth shut.” He shook his head, a mournful expression on his battered face. “I couldn’t even do that. Easy as pie and I couldn’t do it.”

  What could I say? Would I have acted differently, had I been in his shoes? I wanted to say yes, but my case was unlike the rest of Savannah’s homeless. I’d chosen my route. The rest of them couldn’t say that. They had no choice. Who could say whether my actions and reactions would be the same if this lifestyle had been forced on me, rather than something I’d chosen. But there was no sense dwelling on it. I couldn’t, no…I wouldn’t judge Raymond for the choice he’d made. Desperation had a way of leading people down paths they never thought they’d travel.

  I squeezed his hand. “Never let success go to your head, or failure go to your heart.”

  The edge of his mouth tilted up the tiniest bit. “Thank ya, Miz Lily.”

  Now that Raymond was truly on the mend, it felt safe to take a break. I wasn’t used to being stuck inside for this long, and cabin fever was about to get the best of me. Rose was probably wondering where I was too.

  Rose…I needed to talk to my sister. The hours spent at Raymond’s side had allowed me plenty of time to think. It was time for some straight answers…answers to questions that should’ve been asked many years ago. If I were honest with myself, I’d have to admit that I was a little scared, but I couldn’t keep hiding behind those fears. I had to face them—head on—and Rose was where I needed to start.

  But where to look? Probably north, toward the river. Rose frequented Factor’s Walk and River Street, anywhere with the highest concentration of people and action. Even after her death, Rose was a “people person.” She loved to mingle with the crowd—both ghosts and the living. When it was the latter, and it involved a handsome man, she’d even allow herself to become visible so she could flirt to her heart’s content, laughing and basking in the limelight, just like she’d done when she was alive. Not much had changed in that respect.

  Before I went anywhere, though, I needed to check in with Minnie; let her know I’d be taking a break. It had taken a lot of work…damage-control tactics by Cleo, and vast amounts of schmoozing on my part, but we’d finally been able to smooth things over with Minnie. You could hardly see any rough places in the housekeeper’s attitude, now. It hadn’t started like that, though. That rocky, first meeting—the night we’d dragged Raymond in—was one I’d just as soon forget.

  As soon as she’d seen the blood, Minnie panicked and snatched the phone from the wall, her shaking finger punching the numbers 9-1-1.

  “No, Minnie!” Cleo shrieked when she saw what the woman was doing. “Put the phone down. You can’t call the police!”

  “What do you mean, I can’t call the police?” her voice was just as shrill. “Nine-one-one is what you’re supposed to call when there’s an emergency. And if this ain’t one, I don’t know what is!”

  My heart was racing. A call to the police would defeat the whole purpose of the rescue. It had to be avoided at all costs.


  Cleo wrenched the phone out of Minnie’s hand. “You can’t call the police.”

  “The dickens you say! Give me that phone!” Minnie tried to grab it back.

  I didn’t know what to do, and Jonas couldn’t do anything. He had his hands full with Raymond draped over his shoulder, dripping blood on the hard wood floor.

  They tussled for several very long seconds. Minnie’s weight gave her an advantage, but Cleo made up for it in desperation and youth.

  “Minnie!” Cleo finally panted. “As your employer, I’m asking you to let go of the phone!”

  The big woman froze. Her shocked expression was almost comical; jaw dropped, eyes bugged out. Her hands dropped limply to her sides, she took two steps back.

  “I’m sorry I—” Cleo began, but Minnie’s hand snapped up, palm out, halting any other words she might have intended. The hurt, accusing look she gave the girl before she turned away made Cleo’s shoulders droop. She’d obviously never played the “boss card” before.

  That night had been a rough one. It was hard to know who’d been more shocked…Cleo or Minnie. Once everyone had calmed down, and Cleo had been able to explain—not everything, but enough—the housekeeper had finally lost some of her huffiness. It still felt like we were all walking on eggshells where she was concerned, so I didn’t dare slip out without letting her know.

  Minnie was on the phone and didn’t hear me enter the kitchen.

  “I don’t know why you feel like you have to play “taxi driver” every day, Tobias. You know Miz Patricia would be rolling in her grave if she could see you driving her big ol’ car around town, picking up every Tom, Dick, and Harry wanting a ride.”

  I cleared my throat just loud enough for her to know I was there. Minnie whirled around as quickly as her sizable girth allowed. She held up a finger, telling me to wait.

  “Oh, go ahead. The more you’re out there giving tourists the run-around, the less you’re puttering around here getting in my way. Hope you’re charging enough to pay for your gas, old man. Okay…bye.”

  “How’s the patient?” Minnie wanted to know as she hung up.

  “I think he’s reached a turning point. He’ll get better quickly, now. Have you seen Cleo?”

  “I think she’s still in bed, and I didn’t want to bother her. She hasn’t been sleeping well, lately.” The housekeeper’s eyes moved to my hat and she arched a brow. “Heading somewhere?”

  “I was hoping it would be all right if I got out of the house for a while. Raymond’s taking a nap so he shouldn’t be a bother. I’ve been cooped up inside for too long. I’m not used to living like this.”

  Minnie gave a fluttery wave of her hand. “Sure, sure…take yourself a good, long walk. You deserve it. You’ve barely left that room for days, and I’m sure you need a break. I’ll check on Raymond in a little while. Go on with you, now.”

  “Thank you, Minnie. I’ll just slip out the back way, if you don’t mind. Don’t want folks to see riff-raff like me using your fine front door. That might attract attention we don’t want or need. Tell Cleo I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  ****

  I took a deep breath of the crisp December air. Ahhhh… It felt good to be outdoors again. Though it had been nice to not have to worry about being cold at night or where I’d get my next meal, I’d missed the freedom I’d grown so used to over the years.

  A fleeting glance toward Forsyth Park was all I allowed myself. I’d love to visit The Fountain, but there wasn’t enough time. River Street was all the way on the other end of town and I knew my old bones didn’t move as quickly as they used to. There was no time to waste.

  I turned onto Bull Street so I’d at least be able to walk through several squares on my way to the river. The first one was Monterey. To my left was the Mercer House, the place where that young man was tragically killed. Murder or self-defense? No one really knew, even after three trials. It was one of the city’s biggest scandals as well as, biggest mysteries. Place was haunted too, and no wonder, with a history like that. Some fellow wrote a book about it, then Hollywood made the book into a movie, causing people to flock here in droves, even more than they had after that Forrest Gump movie.

  I glanced around, self-consciously, hoping the ghosts would understand that I was limited on time, and that my regular glitter-sprinkling routine would have to wait. Maybe they wouldn’t mind too much. The last thing I needed was to get a bunch of ghosts mad at me.

  I hurried toward Madison Square. This was where the Green-Meldrim House was…one of my favorites. I loved wrought iron filigree, and this place had iron-work to spare. It was a shame that such a beautiful place had housed that hateful General Sherman during the Civil War. In order to save the city from Sherman’s infamous “march to the sea,” the civic leaders had surrendered in exchange for the general’s promise not to burn the town. He agreed, so no shots had been fired. Sherman had written out his famous telegram to President Lincoln in that very house: “I beg to present you as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty heavy guns and plenty of ammunition, also about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton…”

  I had mixed feelings about that episode in the city’s history. If it hadn’t happened like that, Savannah would’ve probably been listed with all the rest of Sherman’s “burn towns,” and all the beautiful, historic buildings would have ended up as piles of smoldering rubble. Even so, my Southern blood tended to boil a little at the idea of surrendering to that jack-dog, Sherman. Well, sometimes you had to do what you had to do, even if it went against the grain. Those leaders of long ago had sacrificed Southern pride for the greater good. My eyes swept around the square and I had to smile. I guess the trade had been worth it.

  This city had a long list of “firsts” to boast about: the first Sunday school in America, the first orphanage, the first Black Baptist Church, the first golf course. John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement, wrote the first hymnal used in the Church of England while in Savannah. The Girl Scouts program was started here, and the first steamship ever to cross the Atlantic Ocean launched its maiden voyage from here, ending up in Liverpool, England in the early 1800’s. It was a city to be proud of. I’d kind of forgotten that.

  Maybe it was time…

  No! Don’t go there! It’s too late for that. It’s been too long.

  I gently pushed my defenses away, opening my emotional door wider. Maybe…

  Noooo!

  My inner self turned savage, frantically clawing at the hand opening the door, seeking to slam it shut and bolt all the locks at any cost, but the swinging door gained momentum, hauling its unwilling passenger with it, despite the desperate clutching of the knob, the feet dragging against the floor trying to slow the process.

  Maybe…

  I nodded with a smile. Meeting Cleo and Jonas, the close call with Raymond…these things had opened my eyes. Now I needed to hear the truth from my sister. Once I did, perhaps I’d be ready to drop my homeless façade and try weaving myself back into the fabric of society.

  But I needed to talk to Rose, first.

  ****

  By the time I crossed Bay Street and started down the sidewalk bordering Emmet Park, I could feel the beginnings of a blister on my heel. Now, if I’d had my cart, that wouldn’t be a problem. I’d just find my roll of duct tape and fix it right up. Unfortunately, my cart wasn’t with me. It was where it’d been ever since the day Raymond had disappeared; the same place Raymond’s cart was put, after we’d gone back and retrieved it from his bench so it wouldn’t get stolen…in the trunk of Jonas’ car, and I had no idea of where that car was. I’d just have to tough it out.

  Steep stairs took me down to River Street’s bumpy cobblestone surface. The stones had once been used as ballasts, for weight and stability in the hulls of huge sailing ships that had brought the first colonists over. Before heavy cargo was loaded onboard, these stones were taken out of the ships and left behind. They made a quaint, but extremely uneven road surface t
hat was difficult to walk on in the best of circumstances. The flopping tendency of my oversized boots compounded the problem, forcing me to be very careful how and where I stepped.

  “Lily!”

  The masculine voice startled me, causing me to stumble and nearly fall on the treacherous surface. My arms waved wildly as I tried to regain my balance.

  “Whoa! Careful!” A pair of hands caught and steadied me, keeping me from a painful fall. Warm brown eyes peered at me from under a disgustingly filthy ball cap.

  “Jonas! Thank goodness it’s you.” I straightened my hat and adjusted my coat, my heart still racing from my near-spill. “Anybody else would’ve probably just let an old woman fall.”

  He laughed. “I think you might be underestimating humanity a little. Do think you could cut it some slack?”

  “Cut it some sla—” I broke off, laughing, then shrugged. “Maybe you’re right; maybe you’re right.” I gave him a head to foot appraisal, and then nodded. “I have to say, your disguise is definitely a success. You fit right in. No one would ever be able to tell that you’re anything other than a genuine, bona fide homeless man. I’m sure that’s a title you’ve always aspired to. So…what are you doing down here?” I gestured to the waterfront.

  He didn’t answer for the longest moment, but rather studied me through narrowed eyes. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there, Lily?” he finally asked.

  “I-I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I hedged, picking a piece of lint off my sleeve, and avoiding the eyes I could feel still staring at me. I needed to be more careful. Jonas was more astute than I’d realized.

  “Ahhh, but I think you know exactly what I mean. I guess I can let you slide for now, though. You can fill me in later.”

  I couldn’t hold back my small sigh of relief before prompting him, “You were about to tell me what you were doing here…?”