Scandals in Savannah

by Harper Lin

“I think it’s about time we blow,” Becky said.

  “Are you sure? Not just one more dance?” he tempted.

  “Maybe another time.” Becky resisted, feeling proud of herself. Stephen Penbroke was nothing special. He wasn’t like Adam. He was nothing at all like Adam. Maybe that was why she was fighting the urge to kiss him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As soon as they walked back into the speakeasy to collect Teddy, Martha, and Fanny, Becky heard her name being called.

  “Becky! Over here!”

  It was a male voice, and for a second, she panicked. Was it Adam, and was he going to grill her about what she had been doing outside with Stephen? But when she saw the man waving, she not only sighed with relief but smiled happily.

  “Count Ernesto!” She waved back. “What a nice surprise. How’s tricks?”

  Count Ernesto was a tall, glamorous-looking man who looked like he might have just stepped foot off a ship that had sailed to half a dozen exotic locations. His skin was tanned, and dark ringlets hung around his face. He wore a gray vest over a light-gray button-down shirt, and his trousers were frayed around the edges like those of so many men who worked hard for a living. He towered over Becky, and she once again noticed his long, thin fingers that looked as if they belonged on an artist’s hands. When she had first met him, he had been pulling roses and scarves out of thin air for a group of gasping ladies at Martha’s birthday party.

  “Becky, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, slipping his hand around her elbow. “Excuse us just a second,” he said to Stephen, who looked as if he was ready to pounce. Becky quickly made introductions.

  “I’ll just be a second,” Becky said to Stephen, who nodded and went to join Martha, Teddy, and Fanny.

  “What’s on the agenda, Count?” Becky smiled but soon realized Count Ernesto wasn’t there to have a good time. When he’d said he was looking all over for her, he meant it literally.

  “Madam Cecelia’s store was vandalized,” he said sadly.

  “What?”

  “A couple of goons in overalls and dirty shirts, like they slept in the woods all night, came calling. They kicked the door in and smashed the front window.”

  “Did they say what they wanted?” Becky clutched her throat.

  “They said they wanted the young men who were spying on them before they ran to the apothecary. They think you and Martha are men?” Ernesto shrugged his shoulders.

  “We wore disguises. When we went back in the woods to see what Mr. Tobin was up to, we wore men’s clothes so we wouldn’t ruin our own things. Oh, what have I done?” Becky wanted to cry. She looked over at Martha, who was watching with a worried look on her face.

  “There was a woman sitting in their car,” Ernesto continued.

  “The black woman with the scarf around her head?” Becky interrupted.

  “Well, yes, she was there. But there was another woman. Very fair, looked like a frail bird, and she was wearing a heavy coat even though it was a warm night,” Ernesto continued.

  “That had to be Mrs. Tobin. What was she doing?” Becky asked.

  “She was sitting in the car with the motor running, crying,” Ernesto said. “She didn’t look like she wanted any part of what was going on. But still, she didn’t move or speak or even look up. She just grimaced.”

  “Are Cecelia and Ophelia all right? I should go to them.” Becky rose to run to Teddy and beg him to take her across town, but Ernesto grabbed her arm first.

  “They are okay. That’s why they sent me looking for you. Cecelia wants you at the store in three days at midnight,” Ernesto said. “In the meantime, you need to take this.” He handed her a pouch made of gingham that held some trinkets inside. It had a long string around it that Becky instinctively put around her neck.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “It isn’t much. But it will protect you for a short while—at least until you see her in a couple nights. Remember, three nights from now. Midnight. Don’t be late,” Ernesto said with a sigh of relief. It was as if he’d unburdened himself of a heavy weight.

  “Is it hoodoo?” Becky asked innocently.

  “We can’t protect you against that,” Ernesto said sadly. “Cecelia knows a lot. Some people call her a witch. I call her a seer. But what she has is a gift that she uses as such. People who work in hoodoo, they’ve signed a contract with the evil forces that roam the Earth. They may not live any better than anyone else, but they’ll live longer just to fulfill the evil that is asked of them. Please, keep this on at all times.” He pointed to the small bag around her neck. “I’m not sure what it can do. Maybe it will just keep you invisible and protect you until the time comes.”

  “Protect me from what? The time comes for what?” Becky asked.

  Ernesto didn’t reply. Instead, he kissed her on the cheek and left. She didn’t even get a chance to ask him about Adam. They worked alongside one another at the same printing press. Maybe that was because Adam was an afterthought. How could she think about him at a time like this? The only reason Mr. Tobin hadn’t busted her in the chops tonight was because he didn’t know she had been the one on his property. But now her friends were paying the price.

  Becky walked back to the table where her friends had been sitting. Teddy was telling a story to a gent sitting next to him that was a real side-splitter, as they were both laughing and clapping each other on the back. Fanny had only lit up when she saw Stephen returning to the table and had latched onto him like a tick on a hound. It was Martha who was reading Becky’s face and not liking the story it told.

  “Are you all right?” Martha asked, climbing over Teddy to take Becky’s hands. “You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

  “Oh, Martha. I think I’ve really made a mess of things.” She told her what Ernesto had said. “You’d better get home, too. Even if they don’t know it was us who were on their property, they are going to try and smoke us out. I’m afraid it might work if we aren’t careful.”

  Martha swallowed hard.

  “Here, take this.” Becky removed the pouch of trinkets from her neck and put it around Martha’s neck. “Ernesto said it will keep you invisible and safe until I can figure out what to do.”

  “If you are going to Cecelia’s in three nights at midnight, I’m going with you,” Martha said, squeezing Becky’s hand.

  “I can’t let you do that. I’ve gotten you in enough trouble as it is,” Becky said.

  “Yes, and we almost burned down a school in eighth grade because we were smoking in the basement. If you think I’m going to leave you holding the bag just because the going is getting tough, you don’t know me very well, Rebecca. I’ll meet you there with bells on.”

  Becky leaned her forehead against Martha’s. “You’re the cat’s pajamas, Martha.”

  “Birds of a feather, sweetheart,” Martha replied.

  Chapter Twenty

  It had been two days since Mr. Tobin had shown up at Becky’s parents’ house and threatened everyone. This morning she woke up early to a clear, blue sky and birds chirping on the trellis. As much as she tried not to think about him, Stephen had remained on her mind since they had gotten reacquainted. Still in her nightclothes, she climbed out of bed, took a seat at her desk by the bedroom window, and pulled out her sketchbook. She opened it to the last page she’d drawn on to see an almost perfect likeness of Stephen that she’d sketched from memory. She flipped back to the dozens of pictures she’d drawn of Adam and wondered what she was going to do about the two of them.

  Nothing. You aren’t going to do anything. Stephen is practically a stranger. Adam, he’s anything but a stranger. And… She couldn’t think of anything else.

  She shook her head, slammed the book shut, and pushed her window open to get a breath of fresh air. As she leaned out, she saw one of Judge’s field workers running like the devil was chasing him. Instantly, Becky knew something was wrong, and her breath caught in her throat. Without her robe, she dashed down
stairs to meet the worker as he called for Judge.

  “Mr. Mackenzie, sir. We’ve got a problem in the field,” the man panted.

  Becky knew him. He’d worked on their land for several years. The nice fellow by the name of Clemont, who was normally quite soft-spoken, was now drenched in sweat and looking concerned as Lucretia led him into the dining room.

  “What’s going on, Clemont?” Judge said, setting his paper down and pushing his coffee cup away.

  “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it. Looks like some kind of fungus or mold or something on the leaves of a good portion of crops,” he said nervously, worrying the wide brim of his hat in his hand. “I ain’t never seen anything like it.”

  “Daddy, is everything all right?” Becky interrupted.

  “Morning, Becky. I’m sure everything will be fine. Show me what you’re talking about, Clemont. Let’s see what we can see.” Judge stood from the table and followed Clemont out the back door.

  Becky ran back upstairs, only to run into Fanny along the way. She was in a thick terrycloth robe and stared wide-eyed at Becky.

  “My goodness, cousin. Did you just let that hired hand see you in such a state?” Fanny chuckled. “That’s one way to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

  “You’d know all about that,” Becky snapped back before hustling into her room, where she quickly dressed. She ran back downstairs. Her father and Clemont were just a few yards in front of her by the time she let the back door slam behind her. Before she broke a sweat, she was trotting next to her father, one of his long strides taking her two quick steps to keep up.

  “Where’d you come from?” Judge smiled down at his daughter.

  “Oh, I just want to see what Clemont is talking about,” Becky said.

  “You look worried,” Judge replied.

  All Becky could do was shrug. When they got to the far end of the tobacco field, Becky felt her heart sink, and perspiration saturated her armpits. It was the part of the field that had butted against Mr. Ruthmeyer’s property, which now belonged to Mr. Tobin.

  When Clemont led Judge to the affected leaves, he just stood back and pointed as if the blight might be catchy. Judge walked closer and inspected the leaves and stalks of the plants. It was a horrible sight. A small patch of tobacco plants that were normally a rich yellow-green at this time of year were now a sickly gray color as if they were covered in soot. As soon as Judge touched his finger to them, they practically disintegrated, crumbling to the ground and leaving smudges on Judge’s fingers.

  “What is it, Daddy?” Becky asked. “You’ve seen this before, right?”

  Judge scratched his chin and leaned closer to the leaves. The stalks looked like cigars that had been left out in the rain, and even some of the roots appeared to have pulled themselves almost completely out of the dirt, lying limply and coiled on top of the soil. The smell the plants gave off was the same kind of sickly smell a person had when burning a high fever. There was the faint familiar smell of tobacco, but underneath it was a yellow, hot, sweet scent that shouldn’t have been there. It made Becky queasy.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t seen this before,” Judge said. “Clemont, get the boys over here. Pull out everything that has this fungus on it and burn it immediately. It doesn’t look to have spread too far.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clemont said before putting his index finger and thumb in his mouth and giving a whistle. Three other workers in the area came running.

  “That’s all it is, Becky. Sometimes it happens.” Judge shrugged.

  “But you’ve never seen anything like it before?” She swallowed hard.

  “No. But that doesn’t mean anything. We’ll get rid of these here plants before there’s any more damage. Just a couple of bushes won’t hurt this year’s crops.”

  Becky looked over her shoulder at the land that had been Mr. Ruthmeyer’s just a few short days ago. It seemed like years. Why had she had to come to watch the fire and even see Mrs. Tobin sobbing over him? Why had she had to see that cruel and stoic Leelee? She had never given Mr. Ruthmeyer a thought while he was alive. Now all she could do was wish he weren’t dead and was back in his house doing whatever he was always doing.

  “Daddy, you don’t think this has to do with Mr. Tobin stopping by, do you?” Becky asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Judge asked while still inspecting the leaves of the dying plants.

  “The other night at your party, when Mr. Tobin showed up. He said he would get us if we came near his property,” Becky said.

  “He did? When was this?” Judge stood and scratched the back of his neck. Becky could tell he was only half listening to her as he clenched and unclenched his jaw and squinted at the plants like they might give up a clue as to what was wrong.

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “I’ve got to admit, darlin’, your old daddy tied one on that night. There’s a heap I don’t recall. Just don’t tell your mother.” He winked at Becky.

  “I’m no stoolie.” Becky tried to grin, but the corners of her mouth felt heavy.

  She didn’t see any point in pestering her father about Mr. Tobin any more. Besides, there was nothing to say this wasn’t just some freak coincidence. Maybe the plants did just get some cootie they’d not seen before.

  She had just started to walk back to the house ahead of Judge when something caught her eye. The sun had glinted off something just a few short steps from where they were standing. Upon closer inspection, Becky saw it was a mason jar filled with dirt and seashells and bits of glass and rope. There was no question who had put this here. Becky also had no doubt that even if they burned the leaves that were affected, it wouldn’t be the last they saw of this fungus on the plants. It very well might wipe out the entire crop.

  Her first instinct was to tip over the jar, empty all its contents, and let the wind carry the debris where it may. But her gut told her otherwise. She would leave it alone and ask Cecelia tomorrow night at midnight. Why she had to wait, Becky didn’t know. But it felt like it was going to take three days for the next twenty-four hours to go by.

  Becky left her father dealing with the tobacco and the field hands. She’d just be in the way. Without thinking, she changed direction, skirted the house altogether, and snuck like a prairie dog through the stalks of tobacco toward the cemetery. She wanted to be alone to think.

  That was no ordinary fungus. It wasn’t just a couple of sick plants. It wasn’t a disease that would be ended by tearing the plants up by the roots and burning them. That Leelee was dancing around in the shadows, and she had done this. Mr. Tobin was part of it. He wouldn’t be happy until he wrecked everyone he thought had done him wrong, whether it was true or not.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The cemetery felt heavy, as if it was tired of being there. Becky walked from one end to the other. Part of her hoped maybe Adam was waiting on the other side near the entrance. But the entire area was empty as usual. That was just as well. What would she tell him? That she had brought a hex down on her family, and if she didn’t do something, the crops Judge had nurtured his whole life would shrivel up along with everything else?

  How am I ever going to fix this?

  She finally took a seat underneath a moss-covered tree. It was cooler there. The air was rich with the moist smell of the foliage that sprouted all around her. The grass was cool, and as Becky looked at the ground, she saw ants marching about their business and heard the sweet melodies of the birds above in the branches.

  After a few minutes, a visitor did come to see Becky. It was the little girl who had been crying when Leelee was digging up the graves of her friends. Her disposition had not changed.

  “Hello, honey,” Becky said.

  “Hello,” she replied. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

  “I almost didn’t.” Becky pulled her lips down at the corners. “I’m afraid I haven’t figured out a way to help our friends.”

  “I miss them,” the little girl said. “Especi
ally Grandpa Wilcox.”

  Becky’s heart lodged in her throat. She didn’t dare think of the image she had seen of Mr. Wilcox on the Tobin property, crying out in frustration. Even those waiting to be called home should be left to do so in peace.

  “What would you do if you were me?” Becky asked. “Maybe together we can come up with something.”

  The little girl pinched her eyebrows together and thought hard for a few minutes.

  “If I could, I’d tell that lady to go away and never come back. And if she didn’t listen to me, I’d get my pa to come and tell her so. She’d not dare go against him. He’s big and strong. I once saw him lift a bag of corn on each shoulder and carry it to our wagon.”

  “Golly. He sounds strong,” Becky replied.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’d get him to stop her. But I’m not sure if I’ll see him.” She went back to thinking hard. “We just need to find someone bigger than her.”

  Becky smiled. Leelee was tiny. It would be hard to find someone who wasn’t bigger than her. Her size wasn’t the issue. It was her power. The only people Becky could think of who might even come close to being equal to Leelee were Cecelia and Ophelia, and they had already said they weren’t able to go up against hoodoo.

  “Lady?” The little girl looked up at Becky.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Why do you glow so bright?”

  Becky sat up straight and smiled. “I didn’t know I did.”

  “You do. That’s how I always know you are here.” She grinned. “That’s how my friends know you are here, too. You glow brighter than all of us.”

  “Do you glow, too? Because you don’t look like a glow worm to me. You look just like a little girl,” Becky replied, happy to be having a playful conversation.

  “We all do. That’s why the bad lady takes the dirt from the graves. It’s where our glow is.” The little girl looked off in the distance and then back at Becky before she smiled and faded away.