Blood Wounds

by Susan Beth Pfeffer

"What is this?" Trace asked. "You a cop now? I do what I need to. I made it through yesterday and I'm alive today. Which is more than you can say for these three little girls we're going visiting."

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I know so little about you."

  "Did you ever think maybe it's better that way?" he said.

  "No," I said. "I never thought that."

  Trace made the turn to the cemetery. "You got nothing to be sorry about," he said. "I'm the one who's sorry. I used to think about you a lot when you were little. You turned out better than I expected. Like Granny Coffey said, you're a lady. Your folks did a real good job raising you."

  "You used to think about me?" I said. "Does that mean you stopped?"

  "I reckon I did stop," Trace replied. "I asked about you once, wondered how you were, if Budge ever heard from you. Big mistake. It set him off bad. After that, I was scared to even think about you, let alone ask."

  "Couldn't people tell?" I asked. "That he hurt you, I mean."

  "I got real good at lying," Trace said. "And most times I deserved what I got."

  "I don't believe that," I said. "No one deserves what Budge did."

  "Well, he's not around to do it no more," Trace said. "Now, I bet you're a good girl. Never get into trouble."

  "I guess so," I said. "I mean, I guess I'm good."

  "You stay like that," Trace said. "Stay pure. Don't let boys have their way with you. Because they'll lie to get what they want. How about drugs?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "You ever mess with drugs?" he said.

  I shook my head.

  "Good," he said. "'Cause drugs work for a moment, make you feel like everything's all right after all, and then they wear off and you're stuck in the same shit hole you always were. You listen to Momma Terri. She knows what's best for you. No drugs. No boys."

  I wanted to laugh, but I was afraid Trace would never forgive me if I did. "I'll do my best," I said. "I wish I'd had you around to give me advice."

  "No you don't," he said. "You don't want no one like me around. Everything I learned, I learned the hard way. You're better off with that pretty family of yours. Just listen to what I'm telling you and don't make my mistakes."

  "I promise," I said.

  Trace drove the car through the cemetery gates. I thought it might be the last time I'd see him, the last chance I'd have to ask him one final thing.

  "Trace?" I said, trying to make it sound casual, like I didn't care what the answer was. "After that time you asked about me, and Budge got so mad, did he ever mention Mom or me again?"

  "Just once that I can remember," he said. "I was living with him and Crystal. He got a letter from your momma. He went half crazy, shouting about what a no-good ... Well, he said some bad things about your momma. And I got mad and told him Momma Terri wasn't anything like what he said, and that really set him off. He started walloping anything that stood in his way. Then he went off on a three-day drunk, and Crystal said it was all my fault for picking a fight with him and I had to get out and stay out. I hung around Granny Coffey's for a few days after that, thinking once Budge sobered up, he'd ask me back, but he never did. I blame Crystal for that. Budge used to like having me around, no matter how mad he got, but Crystal turned him against me. I never saw him again, or the babies." He stopped the car under a cottonwood tree. "Good. There's no one here. You ready?"

  I realized with a start that I wasn't. It had been hard enough seeing those four little headstones that represented Mom's stillborn brothers and sisters. They were decades old, moss covered, as much a part of the cemetery as Grandpa and Grandma Penders's graves had been.

  "Give me a minute," I said.

  "Take your time," he said. "They ain't going nowhere."

  "You must hate him," I said. "What he did to them, to you."

  "Yeah," Trace said. "But I love him too. Or I did. I sure wanted him to love me. Hell, I wanted someone to love me, and he was the best shot I had." He laughed. "Don't say much about the circles I travel in, now does it."

  "You're my brother," I said. "I love you."

  "I'm lucky, then," he said. "I got the best Budge had to give. His guitar and you. Think you can handle this?"

  "If you help me," I said.

  We got out of the car, Trace opening the back door and pulling out the guitar. Then we walked a few feet toward the four freshly dug graves. They were covered with flowers, so there was almost no dirt to be seen, but they still seemed raw and unprotected.

  "I don't know who'll pay for the tombstones," Trace said. "Most likely Crystal's folks. They'll want something pretty for them. That'll be nice for the girls. Angels maybe."

  "Maybe we should have brought flowers," I said.

  "They have enough," Trace said. "Heaven's full of flowers. I thought they might like a song instead. I used to sing to Kelli Marie all the time when she was a baby. Calmed her right down."

  "What?" I asked. "What song?"

  "Don't worry," Trace said. "Not 'Itsy-Bitsy Spider.' I don't want to have to carry you out of here."

  I managed to laugh.

  "Maybe a hymn," he said. "You have a favorite? Budge taught me some after he found Jesus."

  "I love 'Amazing Grace,'" I said. "That's a hymn, isn't it?"

  "Yeah," Trace said. "Budge's favorite. But Crystal hated it. Maybe we should sing something else."

  "I don't really know any other hymns," I said.

  "Well, it don't have to be no hymn," Trace said. "Just something pretty the girls would like." He strummed a chord. "'Silent Night,' maybe? It's not a hymn, but it sounds like one. You think it's okay to sing it in April?"

  "I love 'Silent Night,'" I said. "It's my favorite carol any time of year."

  "Mine too," he said. "It makes me glad for baby Jesus, that he had a momma who loved him." He began the song in a surprisingly pure tenor.

  Silent night. Holy night.

  All is calm. All is bright.

  Years of singing in choirs had taught me how to harmonize. I let Trace sing the next two lines, the ones he loved.

  Round yon Virgin Mother and Child

  Holy infant, so tender and mild

  And then I joined in, our two voices singing to the north Texas wind. Singing to the angels. Singing to the dead.

  Sleep in heavenly peace.

  Sleep in heavenly peace.

  Part Three

  [Love and Money]

  Twenty-Two

  IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT by the time Pauline pulled up to my house. But the porch light was on, and between that and the street light, I could sense the violence that had happened just a few days earlier. The grass had been trampled on, and the green of spring growth had a brownish stain to it, the stain of blood from knives and bullets.

  Pauline walked silently by my side. Jack must have been watching for us, because he opened the door before I had a chance to pull out my key. He hugged Pauline and thanked her, then embraced me as though it had been a lifetime since he'd seen me last.

  "You going to be okay?" Pauline asked me.

  "I'm fine," I said. "I don't know how to thank you."

  "I did it for me too," she said. "I'll call you tomorrow." She looked at her watch. "I mean today. Try to get some sleep."

  "You too," I said, kissing her goodbye. I couldn't imagine how I would have gotten home without her. She never pushed with questions, just listened to the little I could say and seemed to understand all my silences.

  "Terri's asleep," Jack said, as we watched Pauline drive away. "She was all right in Orlando, but it's been tough on her since we got back. She's taking sedatives and they've made it hard for her to stay awake. The girls are sleeping also. I'm sorry, pumpkin. This isn't much of a homecoming for you."

  "I wasn't expecting a party," I said. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right."

  "It's okay," Jack said. "Would you like a cup of tea? Something to eat?"

  I shook my head. "I think I'll go straight to bed," I said. "I'll feel more like talking in
the morning."

  Jack hugged me again. "We have a lot to talk about," he said. "Including adoption. It's about time you became a McDougal."

  "In the morning," I said. "I love you, Jack."

  "Love you right back," he said.

  I tiptoed into my bedroom, but it didn't matter. Alyssa was sitting in bed, her laptop resting against her knees.

  "You know he cut Krissi's head off," she said, looking over to me. "He had her head in his left hand and the knife in his right hand, and he dropped the head and slashed the cop. Then they shot him."

  "Mom says it didn't happen that way," I said.

  "She's lying," Alyssa said. "Everyone says that's what happened."

  Part of me wanted to say Mom didn't lie, but the past week had taught me she didn't always tell the truth. Still, I didn't like hearing Alyssa call her a liar.

  "How was Orlando?" I asked.

  "Horrible," Alyssa said. "Mom and Daddy fought the entire time. What was it like in Texas? Do you know why your father did it? Not the head. Everything. Do you know why he killed your sisters?"

  "I'm really tired," I said. "I've been traveling all day, Alyssa."

  "I know all about traveling," she replied. "I just thought you might want to talk about it. He is your father, after all."

  I hated her. I hated her tennis and her sweaters and her trips around the world. I'd never let myself think that before, because she was my sister in everything but name, and you love your sisters. Even when they're selfish and spoiled, you love them. If you want them to love you, you have to love them.

  I wanted to tell Alyssa how much I hated her, how long I'd hated her, but if I did, she'd tell Jack, and for all his talk about how I was his daughter, I wasn't. Alyssa was, and his loyalties were with her and Brooke, first and always. And Mom's loyalties were with Jack.

  "I don't know why," I said, opening my suitcase so I wouldn't have to look at her. "What did Jack and your mom fight about?" That was a question I never would have asked her before. But I couldn't help remembering what Faye and her beer had told me.

  "They fought about everything," Alyssa said. "Terri. You. Mom doesn't think Daddy should adopt you. They fought about me, but they always fight about me. They fought about Brooke too, and they never fight about her."

  "That sounds like fun," I said, regretting not having done a load of laundry at Faye's as she'd suggested. What clean clothes I had I put into my chest of drawers.

  Alyssa laughed. "I'm going to miss you, Willa," she said. "I won't miss Brooke, but I'll miss you."

  "You're just going to Brussels for a week," I said. "I'll be here when you get back."

  "Not Brussels," she said. "After Brooke's graduation. I'll miss you then."

  I wasn't going to miss her, but I didn't say so. "I'll be here when you get back in September," I said. "It's only a couple of months."

  "That's what I'm telling you," she said. "I won't be back. That's why I'll miss you."

  "Where are you going to be?" I asked, draping Brooke's clothes over a chair and hanging mine up in my part of the closet.

  "Daddy didn't tell you?" Alyssa said. "I'm moving to Florida."

  "To live with your mother?" I asked.

  "To go to the tennis academy," Alyssa said. "Mom wants me to live with her, but I decided not to. There's a boarding school practically next door to the academy. All the kids go there."

  "I thought Jack said you couldn't do that," I said. "Not for another year."

  "I know," Alyssa said. "But Mom made the appointment at the academy, and since Daddy was there, we went on Tuesday. Mom and Daddy and me. Brooke stayed home."

  I turned my light off and began undressing. That was how I did it, so Alyssa couldn't see my cut wounds, but this time it was so I didn't have to look at her.

  "It was wonderful there," Alyssa said, talking into the darkness. "They told Daddy and Mom I was being held back living here, and if I had better coaches and practice partners and more court time, I'd be top ten already. And if I worked hard, I could be seeded at Junior Wimbledon next June. They'll recommend agents for Daddy and Mom to interview, and the agent'll find sponsors for me, and endorsement deals. I bet I'll be making more money than Mom in a couple of years."

  "And Jack agreed to all that?" I asked, crawling into bed, already missing the comforting sensation of Curly nestling by my side. "Tennis academy? Boarding school? Agents?"

  "Not at first," Alyssa said. "Daddy said I was too young, because that's what he always says, only this time Mom said I shouldn't be living with him and Terri anyway, that it wasn't safe for Brooke and me, because of your father, and what can you expect when you marry someone, well, when you marry someone like Terri. You know. Because she was married to someone like your father, even if it was a long time ago, and Daddy was never supposed to have full custody, and she was sick and tired of making mortgage payments for him and Terri. So I said I wanted to move to Florida more than anything, but I didn't want to live with Mom, and it made much more sense for me to go to boarding school, which was what they'd said at the academy. So Mom and Daddy stopped yelling at each other and they began yelling at me instead, and Brooke came out and told them to stop screaming and she didn't blame me for not wanting to live with either of them. She said if they stopped fighting with each other and thought about us for a change, they'd realize how much they were hurting us."

  "Brooke said that?" I asked.

  "She didn't shout or anything," Alyssa replied. "I can yell and scream and no one pays any attention, but when Brooke talks, it's like the whole world stops and listens. So we all calmed down long enough for me to say that I'd love to keep living with Daddy if I could only get the coaching I needed and I'd love to live with Mom, except I know how much she has to travel, and I don't know if either one of them believed me, but finally they said yes. And then Mom told Brooke she could go to USC, and Daddy looked like he was going to fight some more, but he didn't, so we both won."

  "Congratulations," I said.

  "I will miss you," she said. "Terri too. I wouldn't move away if it was just to live with Mom. I wish sometimes I was like Brooke. Everything comes so easy for her. But the only thing I'm really good at is tennis, and I'll do anything I have to to get better at it."

  I didn't hate her anymore. Maybe I never had. Not even Budge had hated his family all the time.

  "I'll miss you too," I whispered, but she'd already closed her eyes and turned her head away from me, as though I had never really been part of her life.

  Twenty-Three

  I KNOCKED ON BROOKE'S DOOR the next morning, being particularly careful not to open it until she said "Come in."

  "I borrowed some clothes from you," I said, handing her the sweater, blouse, and skirt. "Do you want me to hang them up?"

  "No, just leave them," she said.

  I draped them over a chair. "Alyssa says it's definite," I said. "She's moving to Florida and you're going to USC."

  "That's the plan," Brooke said. "I haven't sent my letters of intent yet."

  "It's so far away," I said.

  "Not far enough," Brooke said. "But it's the best I could do."

  "Why do you need to get away?" I asked. "You're not in any danger. It's all over."

  "It's not over for either one of us, and you know it," Brooke said. "School will be a nightmare on Monday. Coach is furious because I missed the match on Friday, but I couldn't face going back. Everybody'll be careful around you, but they're going to be all over me, asking me what happened, what I know. Like I know anything. Like it was my father and not yours. I begged Mom to let me go to Munich with her, but Dad went ballistic. He said I've missed enough school already, but that was just an excuse. He doesn't want you going to school alone on Monday. You'd think he'd know by now we don't have any classes together."

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry about all of it. I'm sorry I took your clothes. If you want, I'll burn them."

  "No, that's okay," she said. "I'll just put them in the rummage pile."


  I stared at her.

  "Oh, no," Brooke said. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry, Willa. I really am. The past couple of weeks, they've been horrible."

  "They haven't been a lot of fun for me either," I said.

  "No," Brooke said. "Of course not. Willa, this isn't about you. I mean, it is about you, but it's not all about you. I need distance from Dad, from Mom, from everybody."

  I thought about how desperate Mom had been to escape Pryor. Even in high school, she knew what her future would be if she stayed. Dead-end job. Abusive husband. No money. No hope.

  Brooke was going from one cocoon to another. Taking her cashmere sweaters with her.

  "Look," she said. "I know Daddy loves you. And that's good. I'm glad he does, and that he loves Terri, and you all love each other. You're a family, even if Alyssa and I are kind of add-ons."

  "Add-ons?" I said. "Everything revolves around you."

  Brooke shook her head. "Everything revolves around Daddy," she said. "Keeping him happy. Letting him dictate. It doesn't matter that all my friends have cars, and Mom would pay for it. Dad and Terri couldn't afford a car for you, so I shouldn't have one either. Or Fairhaven. That was even worse. I loved it there. But Daddy said it wasn't right for me to go to private school if you couldn't. Alyssa got to go there because of her schedule. But there was no reason for me to stay at Fairhaven, and you'd given up your home and your school and your friends, just for Alyssa and me. He made it sound like I'd be a monster if I stayed at my own school."

  "I didn't know," I said. "I never asked him to say that."

  "I know you feel like I get everything I want," Brooke said. "I'm not insensitive, Willa. No matter what Dad thinks. But there's a lot I've wanted and never had. A mother I can count on. Time alone with my father. Not having to feel careful all the time, like if I said one wrong thing, out I'd go."

  "Your parents love you," I said. "They worship you."

  "Sure," Brooke said. "When I get A's. When I'm All-State on the violin or winning at dressage or lacrosse. But Mom's only interested if I come in first. And Daddy loves you and Terri a lot more than he loves me."