Time left me. There was no talking, only scuffling sounds, a thump, and more scuffling. A buzzing noise, like a shaver.
That went on forever, and when it stopped, I heard Mr. Fowler say, “Hold him steady.”
A sticky, scraping noise like tape being unrolled. A second of quiet. A muffled crying overridden by the disgusting grunts I’d heard before. I squeezed my eyes tight, pressed my hands over my ears hard as I could. I began to hum. Louder, louder. Rufus kicked me in my backside, hard enough to knock me over.
“Shut the hell up, kid.”
I heard the man called Big Boy say, “Boys, uh, uh, don’t you turn away. You keep watching.”
I hummed even louder, and hoped Rufus would kick me again. And again. I deserved it. I wanted to hurt like Daniel was being hurt. A few seconds later, I was aware it was over. I took my hands from my ears. I unfolded myself, and dared to look down the length of the barn. Daniel came forward, slow, and hesitant. He stared straight ahead, neither left nor right, eyes fixed on the door behind me. He had no expression on his face. The tape was left on his mouth. Symbolic. He passed me as if I wasn’t there, only two feet away from him. His head was shaved erratically, some wispy strands left, but mostly, he was bald. There was blood on his scalp. Mr. Fowler stood just outside the stall, fastening his belt.
He called out a warning, “You best not forget what happened here today, boy.”
I whispered his name, “Daniel.”
He slid the barn door open. Sunlight flooded inside. He walked outside with purpose. After being in the dim interior, I had to squint against the brightness. The shadowed shape of him in the doorway lasted seconds and then he was gone. The sunbeam revealed flecks of dust that swirled. A fresh breeze blew in, dried the tears on my cheeks and things took on a dreamlike appearance. I stood up, wobbly legged as a newborn baby deer.
Mr. Fowler pointed at Trent and Ross. “You two. Get over there by your sister.”
Couldn’t none of us make eye contact. I’d gone rigid with horror, repulsed by such awfulness. Trent and Ross came and stood by me. We were lined up like tin soldiers. I refused to look anywhere except at the ground. Mr. Fowler approached us, and I could smell him. For the first time since I’d met him, he stunk. He smelled foul, like sweat dried several times over. I put my hand up to my mouth to stop myself from gagging.
He spoke in a whisper, and I had the impression he’d gone crazy. “Any one of you even so much as breathes a word of this, you’ll get the same thing. We’ll get’em, won’t we, boys? What say we go again?”
He chucked Trent under the jaw, and Trent’s face folded, collapsing in on itself like a crushed paper cup. Mr. Fowler loved weakness, it was obvious in the way he spoke, milking the moment for all he could.
“Aw. Wah-wah. He’s crying.”
He made a dismissive sound, and then he was in front of me, so close the toe of his boots almost touched mine.
“I ain’t foolin’. Don’t you breathe a goddamn word to your mama, or there’ll be hell to pay. Y’all hear me? And I want a goddamn answer. Let me hear it. You first, since you’re the one who caused this.”
He prodded my shoulder and what I had going on in my head was sure to have reflected back to him as I raised my eyes to his.
I piled branches high around Mr. Fowler. His ankles were tied and he begged me for mercy. I laughed as I squirted gas on the wood, flicked a match nonchalantly to it. I watched without a care as he burned, while screaming bloody murder. Daniel forgave me then.
Ross said, “Sonny.”
I ground out my answer, while I killed Mr. Fowler with my eyes. “I heard you.”
He said, “See? That won’t so hard now was it? Good. Good. Now, all of you, get the hell out of my barn. You two, get on to your work. And don’t let me catch you lollygagging about. You.” His finger was under my nose. “Inside the house. Don’t you come out till I tell you.”
And that was how it ended. With us walking out of the barn, and Ross and Trent sent to work. As I went toward the house, barely able to put one foot before the other, I was sure Mr. Fowler watched me. I looked out of the corner of my eye to where Daniel had put his bike. It was gone, and with that came a tremendous sense of loss. Somehow I ended up in my room and watched from the window as Mr. Fowler and his “friends” backslapped one another. They’d removed their hoods, but they were too far away to see much other than their hair color. All brown. They finally climbed into their trucks, and went down the long driveway.
I sat on the edge of the chair at the forbidden desk, and waited, for what, I wasn’t sure. It was so quiet in the house, I could hear the occasional car passing by on the road. I listened for Mama’s movements within her room. Wasn’t it possible for somebody to sense such horribleness, after what took place in the barn? I imagined I could signal her in the same way I’d hope to contact Daddy, as if the sheer force of my need for her would hit her, pummel her into awareness. After a few minutes, I got up, and went across the hall to her door. I put my ear to it. Nothing. There was no sound from her room, whatsoever. My urge to tell her was strong, but so was my fear.
I went back downstairs and outside, not caring what he’d said. I heard the tractor running in the distance. As I ran toward the sound, I forced away the images of what happened earlier every time they tried to come. I wasn’t going to stay, is what I’d decided. I was going back to our old house. I didn’t know how that would work, I only knew I couldn’t stand being near him.
I made it to the edge of the field. Ross idled the tractor down, looking like he was afraid for me. He kept looking over his shoulder. I climbed up and he put his hand out, and grabbed hold of mine tight. He squeezed it hard, but I didn’t care. I needed that steadiness right then, needed his strength. I didn’t let go once I was beside him, standing on a metal piece by his boot, leaning into him. He put his arm around my waist.
I sobbed, “I ain’t staying there no more, Ross. I can’t. He hurt Daniel. He ain’t right. I want to go home.”
His gaze went toward the woods, in the direction of our real home. I’d never seen him look the way he looked right then, almost old, his features compressed. Every bit of his color was gone as if he’d been bleached white from the inside out.
He said, “I reckon I ain’t either. Matter of fact, I ain’t doing none of his work. Let’s get Trent.”
He left the tractor where it was, and we walked alongside the row of scrub growing in between the fields. When we came to where Trent was supposed to be tilling, he was on the tractor, but it wasn’t moving. He was just sitting there, in the middle of the field, motionless. Ross motioned with both his arms.
Trent got off and we met him halfway, and Ross said, “Come on.”
Trent didn’t speak. He was like I’d been, just moving, doing without thinking. The three of us went into the woods without having to say a word. We walked in silence, and when we came to the pond, I grew teary eyed as I stared at the dock. At the edge of our old backyard was the post that would be covered with honeysuckle in a few months, and there was our toolshed, and our barn, and our house with the sugar maples, and the oak tree. I had a deep need to touch the things that had meant love, constancy, and safety.
We went up the back steps and into the kitchen. I got glasses out and we got water from the sink. We sat down and I noticed how the kitchen carried the odor of all the meals Mama had ever cooked here. I heard the echo of our laughter, back when Daddy was alive, the memory strong with the five of us sitting around the table, eating, and talking, and sharing our day. It made my chest ache for the want of it.
I said, “We got to tell Mama.”
Ross said, “Not yet. We can’t go and set him off. I think he’s capable of just about anything, what he said he’d do, and more.”
I said, “But, what if he does something to her. Does he know yet, about . . . you know, the baby?”
Ross and Trent looked at me. None of us knew if he did or not.
Ross said, “We’ll stay here tonight,
in the living room. Lock the doors. I’ll get Daddy’s shotgun. It’s still in their bedroom. He wouldn’t let her bring none a his things.”
It made me feel better as Ross took charge. I went to the part of the house where Mama kept some blankets. The house was almost as cold as the outside, but it would be all right if we piled blankets on, and I would rather be cold here than warm over there. I took several back to the living room and we spread out on the chairs and the couch. Ross made sure the gun had shells and sat in a chair facing the door, keeping an eye out. After that, there wasn’t anything left to do but sit, watching and waiting. No one talked. We were exhausted, and worried, yet somehow, at some point, we must have fallen asleep, slept through the rest of the day, and into the night.
Dawn came, that time of the morning when the sun isn’t up fully, and clouds in the sky hold onto the pinks and oranges for only seconds when the footsteps outside woke me up. Ross was already up. He lifted the shotgun and went into the kitchen. Trent and I followed and through the curtains was the shape of Mama at the back door.
I hurried to open it, only Ross said, “Wait!”
“It’s Mama, Ross!”
“I know that, but just hang on a minute. I want to see if he’s with her.”
He went to the window over the kitchen sink and looked out. I could see Mama searching for the key under the flower pot, but we hadn’t put it back.
He said, “Go ahead, it’s just her.”
I wrenched the door open, and she rushed in, crying, and so upset she couldn’t speak. Her lips were blue, even though she was wearing the new coat, and her hair was messy. She’d obviously rushed from the house, still in her nightgown and slippers. They looked pretty bad, dirt stained, like she’d run through the woods, and straight across the fields. She was shivering, her arms wrapped around her waist. She looked at us like she didn’t know who we were.
I said, “Mama, we . . .”
Ross interrupted and said, “Mama, sit.”
“No! What in hell are you all doing here? Frank is furious! We were at breakfast this morning, and we waited and waited.”
We hadn’t prepared a story for this. We looked at each other, unsure of what would sound right.
Mama noticed the exchange and said, “What’s the matter?”
We shuffled, and shifted, and no one spoke, remembering all too well. The short passage of time wasn’t enough to dull our memories. She put her hands to her stomach, and bit her lower lip. She looked to be in pain.
I said, “Mama, you okay?”
Her face was splotched, an uneven and unhealthy look. “I’m fine! I only want to know why my children ran off without a word to me. Without telling anyone where they were going. Frank liked to have had himself a fit. He was coming over here himself, but I said I’d handle it. Tell me what made you do this!”
Trent spoke up. “It ain’t nothing, Mama. We just miss it here, is all.”
Ross and I looked at Trent like where did that come from? He raised his shoulders as if to say it was the only thing I could think of.
At that, Mama got emotional again, and she said, “I miss it too. God, how I miss this place. Don’t you know?”
We didn’t, but I said, “We know, Mama.”
Her voice hitched a couple of times when she said, “Come on. Let’s go back, okay? I don’t want to upset him any more than he already is. He’s doing the best he can. He doesn’t even know about . . .”
She stopped. She gestured at herself weakly, like she still couldn’t quite get her head around the idea either.
Ross said, “It was just a spur of the moment thing. We shouldn’t have done it.”
The sound of his truck coming down the drive struck us all silent again. I couldn’t hardly stand the thought of seeing him, knowing what he’d done. I dropped my head, clenched my trembling hands.
Ross looked out the window and said, “Damn.”
Mama said, “Listen to me. It ain’t like I don’t see how he is. I thought I was doing right, seeing a way to keep this place here. He . . . changed. And now . . .”
Before she could finish, he began hammering on the kitchen door and hollering, “Vi! Vi! Open this goddamn door!”
Mama opened it, and spoke as if she wasn’t nearly as upset as she’d been seconds before. “Have mercy, Frank, calm down.”
He came barreling in, wild-eyed and agitated. Ross, Trent, and I stood clumped together like sheep while Mama put her hands on her hips, showing some of her old gumption.
Mr. Fowler pointed at us, while speaking to her. “I don’t know why you’re telling me to calm down! Things would be going along fine if these young’uns minded me. I ain’t got to do a goddamn thing for them, if’n I don’t want, but out of the kindness of my heart, I try to do right. And lookit how they show their respect.”
Mama said, “I’ve told you before, it’s going to take time.”
“I been around them long enough now to have earned it, don’t you think?”
He was flailing his hands around, and I could see an edginess to him I’d not seen before. He was uneasy about yesterday. About what we’d said or not said. He was worried we’d tell her.
Mama said, “Frank, the way you’re behaving, you’re not helping.”
He rushed at her and she ducked, an involuntary move like the way a dog does when it’s been hit.
I said, “Don’t!”
Mr. Fowler spun around and said, “What? You think I’m gonna hurt your mama?”
Mama suddenly blurted out, “I’m pregnant, Frank.”
He turned and stared at her like she’d said something so bizarre, he was having trouble cogitating the meaning of the words.
Mama said, “That’s why the kids are here . . . they were upset about it.”
He repeated it. “You’re pregnant?”
Mama nodded, and Mr. Fowler looked down at her stomach. He went to her, and carefully placed a hand over her belly. He bent down and put his head against her, and closed his eyes. I could only see him as he was in the barn, while Mama saw him in this moment of rare tenderness, and I was certain she still didn’t know what he was capable of, how evil he was.
He murmured, “We’ll have us a son. Me and you, Vi. A son.”
Mama said, “Could be a little girl.”
“No. Fowlers have boys.”
Mama said nothing more, letting him think whatever he would.
He straightened up and said, “Let’s get you home.”
He put his arm around her shoulders, and held her arm with the other, helping her along as if she was unable to walk for herself.
She said, “I’m fine, Frank. Just a little queasy.”
“It don’t matter, you ain’t gonna lift a finger from here on out, I’ll see to it.”
He eased her down the back steps, and she stopped at the bottom. Ross, Trent, and I stood at the back door, watching, wanting to be with her, yet not wanting to leave the sanctuary of this house.
Mama begged with her eyes and said, “Come on.”
It was only ’cause of her sallow skin tone, and apparent frailty, I knew I’d go, even if my brothers didn’t. Ross motioned at Trent. For now, we were backing down.
Mr. Fowler’s face was like granite, his voice tight and hard when he said, “Lock that door, and give me that key.”
Ross hesitated, and then did as Mr. Fowler said. We understood it was his way of ensuring we had nowhere to go.
Chapter 30
Mr. Fowler got to stewing over how things went that morning back at our old home. It resulted in an argument at the breakfast table before we left for school a couple days later. He talked about me and my brothers as if we weren’t there.
“I don’t get why you told them first.”
“It just happened that way.”
“How?”
“Frank.”
“I want to know how it is you told them before you told me.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I ought to have kn
own first. I’m his daddy.”
“Ain’t a thing I can do about it now, is there?”
I felt sorry for that baby already. At least it would have a wonderful Mama. I got up from the table, and carried my plate to the sink. Mama sounded exhausted, always having to carefully choose her words, so when her frustrated reply was followed by a marked silence, the hairs went up on the back of my neck. I looked over my shoulder. Mr. Fowler was giving Mama that look, and I felt compelled to distract him.
I said, “Daniel said he talked to Sarah the other day.”
This was a lie ’cause even though I’d snuck in several phone calls, I hadn’t talked to Daniel at all.
I’d done it enough that Eunice would hear my voice and say, “Stand by, placing call to 4289.”
Still, it got the reaction I wanted. Ross and Trent looked at me like I’d lost my mind and Mr. Fowler shifted his attention to me.
I kept talking normal, like there wasn’t a thing wrong about bringing him up. “Yeah. She’s still in Georgia, so he said.”
Mr. Fowler narrowed his eyes and said, “What’re you up to?”
Mama sighed with exasperation. “Frank, she’s only talking.”
“If she knows what’s good for her, she better mind what she says.”
Mama got up and said, “Can’t we eat one meal without an argument?”
Mr. Fowler stood at the same time, and kicked his chair back with his foot and it hit the wall behind him.
He said, “We could if these damn kids of yours could learn how to talk to me right.”
Mama spoke with control, but her voice shook. I wasn’t sure if it was anger, or fear. “They ain’t the ones causing the problem, Frank.”
“You saying I’m the problem?”
“You’re always on them. They can’t do anything right, according to you.”
“They could if they’d listen. Maybe their manners ain’t up to my standards.”
“Can’t nobody meet them, Frank. Not even me. You’re always nitpicking.”
The Forgiving Kind Page 28