The Pecan Man

by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

  I was a little overwhelmed by the noise at the table at first, but I was soon laughing heartily at the antics of Grace and the twins and the stories that Marcus shared of life at boot camp.

  I finally got around to asking Eddie where he’d been for the past few weeks. Seems his daughter had sent him a bus ticket to come to Alabama for a visit. I asked why he didn’t just stay down there, but he offered little in the way of explanation.

  “Some things just ain’t meant to be, Miz Beckworth. We’s both better off not bein’ too close.”

  “That must be hard for you.”

  “Not really,” he replied with a shrug. “We ain’t never had too much in common. This here some good cawnbread dressin’ Miz Blanche. You make this?”

  Moves like that didn’t bode well for my prying. I focused on eating my cranberry gelatin.

  After dinner Blanche and Patrice cleared the table, Grace and the twins turned on the television set in the living room and the two men and I retired to the porch. Eddie seemed to be anxious to get home, but Blanche was packing him up some leftovers to take with him. Not too much, for it wouldn’t keep without refrigeration, even with the nights turning cooler now.

  The three of us rocked in silence for quite a while. I think back to those moments now and I realize just how quickly whole lives can be altered. Sometimes, it’s just a few words here or there that put things in motion and everything you believe about yourself changes. Things you couldn’t have dreamed you’d do are done in the blink of an eye.

  If Blanche had packed faster, if Marcus had headed upstairs to finish fixing that leaky faucet, if I had never invited Eldred Mims to Thanksgiving dinner, Skipper Kornegay might still be alive today.

  “How’s dat l’il girl doin’?”

  The question from Eldred came out of the blue. I half-choked on my tea and sputtered, “Who, Gracie?”

  “I felt awful bad ‘bout what happened to her. I didn’t hardly know what to do but bring ‘er on home that day I found ‘er.”

  Marcus was leaning forward in his chair with an expression on his face that even I couldn’t read. It was shock, I suppose.

  “You found her?” I blurted out. I suppose I should have been able to cover better than I did, but I had never asked Blanche how the child got home that day. I just assumed she had come of her own accord and Blanche had not wanted to speak of any of the details.

  “Yeah, I’s the one what found her, cryin’ fo’ her mama like she was. I like to never got to sleep that night f’ worryin’ ‘bout that chile.”

  “Found her where?” Marcus found his voice. “What’s he talking about, Miz Beckworth?”

  Now it was Eddie’s turn to look shocked. I was equally stunned and I just sat with my mouth half-opened for a minute. I hadn’t been prepared to tell an outright lie and, at that moment, all my upbringing screamed, “Don’t!” Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell if that meant don’t lie or don’t tell. So, with my heart beating that one single word, I said, “Oh, Gracie just had an accident, that’s all.”

  “What kind of accident?” Marcus demanded to know.

  “I think I done talked outta turn,” Eddie managed. “I thought the family knowed all about it.”

  “Blanche didn’t want to worry anyone, is all.” My voice quaked under the strain of lying.

  “What happened to Gracie, Miz Beckworth? I thought she just had a bad dream about something.”

  “Marcus, you’re gonna have to talk to your Mama about this.”

  Eddie stood. “I got to go. I’m sorry, Miz Beckworth. I didn’t mean no harm.”

  “Wait, Eddie. Blanche is packing your food.”

  “No, I got to go.”

  He was off the porch and halfway down the sidewalk when Blanche appeared at the door with a Winn Dixie bag packed with leftovers for Eddie to take with him.

  “Where’s he…”

  “What happened to Grace, Mama?” Marcus clenched and unclenched his fists with nervous energy.

  “Oh, Lord, help me,” was all Blanche could manage before she sunk into the nearest chair and dropped the sack of food to the floor.

  It happened so fast, I still wasn’t sure how much damage had been done. I wracked my brain to remember every word that had been said in case Blanche could stick with her dream story without Marcus being certain she was lying. Blanche looked up at me with that very question on her face. How am I going to do this?

  Not being privy to the whole discussion, Blanche had no clue how to proceed. I tried to fill in for her, but as is probably already apparent, I’m not altogether quick on my feet.

  “Eddie was just asking after Gracie, Blanche. He wanted to know how she was doing after she had that accident and he brought her on home.”

  “Oh,” Blanche nodded, “the accident.” She wasn’t particularly convincing if you ask me.

  “Gracie just fell over some rocks on her way over to Miz Ora’s house and Eddie was kind enough to bring ‘er on home to us, tha’s all.”

  “What rocks?” Marcus wasn’t buying a word of it.

  “I don’t know what rocks, Marcus. Just some rocks out in the woods,” Blanche broke out in beads of sweat across her forehead.

  “What was she doing in the woods?”

  “She was takin’ a shortcut, I suppose.”

  “Gracie knows better’n to take any shortcuts, Mama. Besides, I played in every stick of any woods we got close by and there ain’t a rock in ‘em that’s big enough to trip over. Now, somebody better tell me what happened to Grace and they better tell me now.”

  I raised my hands in a gesture that clearly said don’t look at me!

  Blanche raised herself out of the chair, wiped a forearm across her face.

  “Don’t be makin’ such a fuss outta nothin’, Marcus. Gracie fell. That’s all they is to it.”

  Marcus stood, too, rising a full foot over the compact bulk of his mother. I watched the fear and anger wash over him like a baptism. I can’t imagine how much it hurt that boy to stand there and hear his mama tell him what he knew was a lie.

  He hesitated for a moment, then turned and headed off in the same direction as Eldred Mims. We hoped he might be headed home, but he wasn’t and we should have known that. We should have known.

  Eight

  Blanche was solemn and quiet as she put away the last of the dishes and prepared to walk the two miles home. By the time they got there, it would be six-thirty and turning cool with the setting sun.

  “Want me to call you a cab?”

  “Naw, we all right, Miz Ora. Night air do us good.”

  I suddenly felt silly for never having gotten a driver's license. My father disapproved of young women driving and, once I married Walter, I had no need to learn how. His Ford LTD was still sitting in the garage. It sat in the parking lot of the Rotary Club for nearly a week after his death before a fellow Rotarian thought to bring it home.

  “Really, Blanche, I don’t mind paying for a cab tonight. There’s a breeze kicking up and - well - let me call a cab for you. I’ll be right back.”

  Blanche might have argued, but Grace fussed as Patrice zipped her jacket. She wasn’t the only tired child. The twins yawned and fidgeted as they shifted leftovers from arm to arm. Blanche said nothing, so I called City Cab and gave them the address. The taxi arrived in minutes and the girls crowded into the back seat with Blanche taking the front. I gave Blanche a five to pay the driver and shut the door. I leaned into the open window and asked quietly, “What are you going to do about Marcus?”

  “He’ll be all right,” she said softly. “He’s prolly out somewhere blowin’ off steam. He’ll be fine. What he don’t know can’t hurt him. That’s just all there is to it.”

  “Thanks for today, Blanche. That was the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years.”

  “It was the onliest Thanksgivin’ you had in years, Miz Ora.”

  “The only one with family, anyway.”

  I patted Blanche on the arm and stepped back from the curb and the
taxi pulled away. The side mirror reflected Blanche’s grin in the fading light and one dark arm reached out the window and gave a little wave as they turned the corner toward home.

  I sat on the porch until the street lights flickered on, then went into the house and poured a glass of iced tea. I watched the evening news, and then I read for an hour or so until I felt sleepy. I had just turned off the porch light and locked up when I heard a commotion near the back door. It sounded like something had been thrown onto the stoop and then crashed into the bushes. I froze for a moment. The bushes rattled again and finally there was a low, insistent knocking on the door.

  I looked at the clock. It was nearly nine-thirty. Long past the time when anyone should come calling, especially at the back door. My mind raced with unspoken questions. I couldn't remember where Walter kept that old pump-action Winchester he used to run the squirrels out of the pecan trees. Lot of good it would do me. I hadn't a clue how to fire it.

  The knock sounded again, a little louder this time.

  “Miz Beckworth? Miz Beckworth! It’s me - Marcus!”

  I could barely make out what he was saying, since he spoke in nothing more than a loud whisper. I peered out between the blinds covering the back door. Sure enough, I could tell it was Marcus from the sound of his voice and the shape of his head. I wrenched the door open and he stumbled inside. Looking at his face in the fluorescent light, I might not have recognized him at all. One eye was swollen shut and thick black dirt covered his hair and one cheek. I grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter, but I couldn't figure out what to do with it.

  “What in heaven’s name? Are you all right?”

  “I’m in trouble, Miz Ora. Bad trouble.”

  “I’m callin’ your mama.”

  “Oh, Lord, Miz Ora, please don’t do that. It’ll kill her. It’ll kill her, what I done.”

  I saw then the ever-widening red stain on my linoleum floor. It was blood that held the dirt to his head, despite the steady flow. I tossed the towel onto the floor, as if mopping up the mess would stop the bleeding.

  “What happened to you? Why are you bleeding?”

  The more I stood gaping at him, the more I realized how serious this was. Marcus’s right hand bled profusely. His shirt was saturated with blood and dirt. I flung a drawer open and pulled out several more towels. Marcus reached for one and I wrapped his hand with the largest, remembering finally the first aid I learned at the Ladies’ Auxiliary. He winced and clutched the towel against his chest.

  “This doesn't look good, Marcus. Don't you think I should call a doctor?”

  “I don’t know. I don't think so.”

  “Well, I need to call somebody! Do the police know about this?”

  “No! Lord, no! And they cain’t know. Oh, Miz Ora, what have I done? What have I done?” He looked at me then, as if he really expected me to answer him, but I had far too many questions of my own.

  I pulled him to the sink and rinsed the dirt off his hands first, so I could see where to apply pressure. There was one deep cut below his thumb and several smaller wounds on his palm. I wrapped his hand tightly and told him to keep it that way. I was torn between the need to tend to his wounds and the desire to yank a knot in him and make him tell me what happened.

  I forced his head over the sink and rinsed the dirt off with the spray nozzle. The matted mess had actually been helping to stem the flow and rinsing made the wounds bleed anew. I pressed a towel to the worst cut and pushed him toward the kitchen table. He stood, leaning on the table as I applied pressure to the wounds on his head.

  "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

  "No - I don't know. I don't think so."

  "You have to help me, son. How did you get hurt?"

  “I went to find Eddie. I wanted to know what happened to Grace.”

  “Good Lord, Marcus, did he do this to you?” I couldn’t imagine it, but anything seemed possible at the moment.

  “No, Ma’am. He didn’t even wanna talk to me, but I kept after him. Finally he told me somebody'd attacked her in the woods.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  “I couldn’t get it straight in my head, though. I thought he had just let it happen or something and I got really mad. God, I was so mad, I didn’t know what to do.” Marcus paced as he spoke. “I think I scared him pretty bad, ‘cause he got real calm and told me to sit down, so I did.” Then, as if obeying the command a second time, Marcus sat down at the table and finished his story.

  "He told me he'd heard a commotion near where he stays and then he saw a couple of boys headed out of the woods. They were laughin' at another boy who was pulling up his pants and runnin' to catch up with 'em. He figured they just stopped to make water, like boys'll do, so he just turned around to go back. Then he said..." He paused then, his voice shaking with emotion.

  "He said he thought he heard a...a puppy cryin'..."

  "Oh, dear Lord." I felt sick to my stomach.

  "But it wasn't no puppy." Marcus tried to go on, but his entire body shook with the effort and no words came out.

  I thought my heart would break right there. Blanche and I had not spoken of this. I hadn't wanted to ask. I didn't want to know.

  Marcus took several ragged breaths and continued.

  "He found Gracie, cryin' and tuggin' on her clothes. He said he didn't touch her, just walked her here to Mama, and Gracie told her what happened."

  I remember thinking I'd never felt so tired in my life. My jaws ached and my ears burned from trying to hold back tears. We sat in silence for a few minutes, long enough to breathe again.

  “Did Eddie tell you who raped Gracie?"

  “He didn't want to," Marcus shook his head, “I swear, Miz Ora, I only meant to take the boy’s name to the police, but once I learned who he was, I knew why Mama lied."

  “I told her not to..."

  “She couldn't do it no different, Miz Ora. That's the God's truth."

  The boy was still bleeding on my table. I didn't have time to debate the particulars.

  “You still haven't told me who hurt you. Did you have a fight with Skipper Kornegay? Is that why you don’t want to call the police? Because I swear to you, Marcus. I’ll make sure Ralph Kornegay treats you fairly. I tried to tell your mama the same thing...”

  “No’m, that’s not what I’m worried about, Miz Ora. I wish that was all it was, but it’s not.”

  “Then, what is it, son?”

  Marcus took a long, ragged breath and dropped his head onto the table with a wail of anguish I’d never in all my life heard. I could barely understand him through his sobs.

  “I killed him, Miz Ora. Jesus help me, I killed him.”

  I don't know how long I sat there, stunned into silence, before I heard myself whisper, “You killed Skipper Kornegay?”

  Marcus nodded, wiping his face on his arm as he did. Then, with his head still resting on the crook of his arm, he looked up at me. His jaw quivered and he drew in a few short, hiccoughing breaths and then grew calm.

  “He’s dead, Miz Ora.”

  I stood then, and walked into the kitchen on weak and shaky legs. I pulled two cups from the cabinet and poured water into the teakettle. I was buying time, I think - time to consider what had to be done and in what order.

  Skipper must have put up some kind of a fight to have caused the damage to Marcus’s head and face, but I knew without having seen them together that Marcus was the stronger of the two.

  I had to do something. But, I had to think. I finished brewing the two cups of tea and sat them both on the table. Marcus had not moved.

  “Here's you some tea.”

  “I cain’t drink nothin’ right now.”

  “Yes, you can and you’re going to,” I commanded. “I need for you to compose yourself and tell me everything that happened.”

  “You gonna call the po-lice, Miz Ora?”

  “I’m not calling anyone until I hear the whole story, but first I have to know something.”

  “Yes, Ma’am?”<
br />
  “Are you positive he’s dead? And I mean really positive, Marcus. I can’t sit here and do nothing if he's out there somewhere needing help."

  “He‘s dead, Miz Ora. Graveyard dead. I know ‘cause I tried to wake him up when I got hol’ta myself, but he wasn’t breathin’ at all. I sat there for a long time prayin’ he’d wake up or breathe or something, but finally I knew it was done. I heard a noise off in the woods and I ran. I didn’t know where to go. I knew I couldn’t run down Main Street lookin’ like I did. So, I stayed in the woods as long as I could and came up in your back yard.”

  Then he told the rest of his story. I never had a doubt that Marcus told me the truth. He never hesitated and he never blamed anyone but himself for doing what he did.

  When Marcus left Eldred Mims, he was beside himself with grief and fear. He wanted justice for Grace and punishment for Skipper, but he was scared of what would happen to his entire family if he went to the authorities. There seemed to be no way to do the right thing. He needed time to think, so he walked through the woods and out around the Minute Maid plant at the other end of Main Street.

  He was coming back through town when he saw Skipper and his friends coming out of the door of the local pool hall.

  “I saw them boys and I got mad all over again. But there was four of them and only one of me. So, I ducked into the alley behind the drug store. My heart was beatin' so fast, I thought it was gonna jump out my chest."

  He said he waited until the boys' laughter grew faint and then he waited ten minutes more.

  “There was so much hate inside me, I was burnin' up with it. But still," he added softly, "I jus' couldn't put Grace through somethin' worse than what she already suffered, so I figured I'd best steer clear of him for now."

  “Your mama said the same thing."

  “I wish she hadn't lied to me. That hurt me the worst. I ain't never known her to lie straight out."

  “She never meant to hurt you, Marcus."

  “I know that. And I'd made my peace with it in those ten minutes. Army say it done made a man outta me, so I decided to go home a man. I was go’n tell Mama I knew she did what she had to do. But, the more I thought about my mama, the more I just wanted her to wrap her arms 'round me and tell me everything was go’n be all right, like she did when my daddy died."