by Beth Duke
“Why? Are you going to kill me, Tolly? I’m already dead inside. That threat doesn’t discourage me, honestly.”
Tolly sighed and closed his eyes. “Do you ever think of your little girl in Florida, Violet? She’d be, what...about twelve years old now?” He reached to cradle Violet’s face in his hands and locked his eyes on hers. She struggled not to flinch. “I can locate her, you know.”
Violet knew this was his version of a veiled threat, and he would quickly lift the veil if she showed fear. She forced her face to remain smooth and calm, a summer lake on a quiet day. “Those records are sealed. I can’t find out where she is, and neither can you.”
Tolly conjured a condescending surgeon smile. “I have connections and access to records you’ll never have, Violet. But I love you, my darling. Please don’t make me hurt you ever again. Not in any way.” He used his thumbs to stroke her temples and kissed her forehead, then gazed into her eyes for another few seconds and walked away, jingling the keys in his pocket. “I’m going to the hospital. Please tell Beatrice I’d like fried chicken for supper.”
She watched Tolly pull his car into the street as she tried to slow her galloping heart. He’d never threatened her daughter, though he’d once said he’d kill Violet rather than live without her. Violet watched the car’s taillights as Tolly braked at the corner and realized she’d been waiting to exhale.
She was twenty-two the first time he’d hit her, and Tolly had literally begged on his knees for forgiveness. He pleaded with her to stay and swore he’d never hurt her again. She had believed him with all her heart.
Violet believed him the second time a year later, when he brought her a dozen roses and swore he couldn’t bear a moment without her as his wife. He would never raise a hand to her in anger one more time. He’d sobbed like a small child, and she’d been naïve enough to hold and comfort him.
He was true to his word for months, until she forced herself to believe his apology and promises the morning after he’d had too much to drink at a hospital Christmas party. He lost his temper on the drive home because she screamed when he hit a stray dog crossing the road. The same Tolly who’d just viciously slapped her face stopped the car and gently picked up the dog, clearly less than a year old. He treated the puppy with heartbreaking care and tenderness, keeping it alive until the veterinarian’s office opened the next day. He called as soon as he learned the puppy would recover, offering to bring it home to be Violet’s pet.
Violet said no.
She shook off the memory and walked to the library, drawing a line with her finger down a row of Tolly’s classics collection. Violet unlocked a hidden drawer in her writing desk and removed two black leather journals. One was her diary, the other a novel she was writing about a foundling. Angelica was a tiny baby girl in a red boat washed onto a Florida beach. She’d been discovered by an elderly couple as she waved her dimpled arms toward the sun. At this point in the book Anjelica was five years old; Violet hadn’t been able to imagine beyond that chapter.
Violet took the journals to her room and collapsed on the bed. She was surrounded by gold silk moiré wallpaper, plush ivory satin-covered furniture, paintings from Birmingham’s finest galleries, and exquisite antiques from Atlanta. Tolly would walk into the house in a few hours and kiss her cheek as though nothing had happened at all. In a few nights they’d have dinner at the club, sure to parade Violet from table to table so their friends and associates could see she looked well and beautiful as ever. Her husband’s fingers would dig into her arm if she betrayed the slightest hint of anything other than adoration for him.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember one true thing in her life.
nineteen
RONNI
Kait hugged me for the longest time. “Do not ever, ever again leave me here to deal with the madness alone for two weeks. I will hunt you down and deposit Audrey Marie Haynes Ledbetter in your bed. Much more effective than a horse head.”
I looked toward Audrey’s room. “Why isn’t she rolling the halls?”
“Says her arthritis is bothering her. Hasn’t been harassing anyone for three days. I’m sure she’ll summon the strength to emerge for an afternoon reign of terror, though. She’s missed you.”
“Well, I am special.’ Girl’ has an extra sweet inflection when she uses it to summon me.” I nodded at two old men huddled in the corner of the sitting room. Both wore plaid pajama tops and baggy jeans. “Mr. Leland and Mr. Daugherty still singing The Song of the Old Man?”
“Every verse, every afternoon.” Kait answered. “‘The world has gone to hell, the world has gone to hell, it was perfect when I was a kid, the world has gone to hell.’ Catchy, huh?”
“It’s certainly number one with a bullet around here.”
Kait cocked her head and studied me with soft blue eyes. “Ronni, I heard a rumor.” She glanced around before adding, “That you are writing a book.”
“Where did you hear that?” Damn Donna.
“Lisa, on the night shift. She said you’re writing a novel about Fairfield Springs, only with a different title.”
“That,” I harrumphed, “is not true.”
“So you’re not writing a book?” Kait was still pinning me in place with her stare.
I love Kait, and she’s my only real girlfriend in the world. So I changed the subject. “All I’m thinking about right now is Rick. He brought his sons to meet me at the lakehouse, which was wonderful and flattering until I realized they truly hate me. The little turds did everything but gather villagers and come after me with torches.”
“Oh, I’m sure they like you, Ronni. You’re always so hard on yourself.”
“Joshua and Jeremy waited until their father took a nap, sent me outside on a fake errand and locked all the doors. I stood in the heat for over an hour because I didn’t want to wake Rick up and get them in trouble.”
“Well,” Kait began.
I threw up a hand. “Oh, that was just the beginning. They let me ‘overhear’ a loud discussion about how they’d never have a ‘stepmonster’ because their daddy still loves their mom. The grand finale was spitting cherry Kool Aid on my back as we sat down in the boat.”
“And Rick’s oblivious, of course.”
“Like a deaf and blind man wrapped in a cocoon of divorce-guilt. Poor babies said they accidentally squirted my white shirt with those tricky drink boxes. They apologized and the younger one did a convincing audition for ‘kid who just shot Old Yeller’ for their dad. As soon as he turned his back they smiled at me and plotted how to throw me under the jet props. At least, that’s what I suspect they were thinking.”
Kait considered all this as we loaded the med cart. “I’m sorry, Ronni. You know how kids are, They’ll come around.”
“Not these kids. They are hell-bent on getting rid of me. They’re probably harboring fantasies of Mommy and Daddy reuniting after they kill off the stepfather. They look like they need an exorcist to me.”
We were ready to roll down the hall. I poked my head into Mr. Gravely’s room, and he held up his arms for a hug. It was hard not to cry a few happy tears. I unfolded my crossword puzzle for Miss Shelton on our last stop, where Kait and I had an arrangement allowing me to stay for twenty minutes or so.
“Today’s puzzle really has me stumped,” I began, “and if you could help me out, I’d appreciate it.”
Miss Shelton sat up straighter and smiled. “What do we have? Is there a theme to this one?”
“No, that’s why it’s frustrating me. Okay, one across, four letters: Streisand to friends.”
It took her two seconds. “Babs.”
“Forty-six across, six letters: Serengeti scavengers.”
“Hyenas.”
“Ten down, four letters: bassoon’s kin.”
“Oboe.”
We completed the entire puzzle in record time and I hugged Miss Shelton and thanked her before leaving. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You have everything you need?”
“I sur
e do. I love you, Ronni.”
“I love you, too.”
Kait grinned at me across the nurse’s station. “That is so sweet of you, Ronni, especially since I know you can do those things in pen. In the dark. With your toes.”
“It makes me as happy as it does her,” I answered. “It’s good to be back.”
I had to make the weekly trudge through Walmart on the way home, the only choice for discerning shoppers who need cat food, soft socks, a heavy-duty staple gun, fabric, popsicles, lettuce and toilet paper. Rick and I were going to re-upholster my kitchen chairs on Saturday, after much discussion and a few YouTube tutorials.
I was sidetracked by a baffling array of canned black beans when a cute guy, dressed in camouflage pants and hat, approached me―presumably straight from a duck blind or deer stand. “Excuse me,” he said, “Is your name Sherrie?”
“No, it’s not.” I smiled and shook my head.
“Oh, my bad, my bad. I’m sorry.” He waved his arms and backed away with a grin.
Five minutes later he turned up in the frozen food aisle. “Excuse me, but is your name Laurel?”
I laughed softly. “No, it’s not.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He grinned sheepishly and walked off.
And there he was again in the checkout line.
“Excuse me...”
“Are you still trying to guess my name?”
“No.” He paused and looked into my eyes. “I was just wondering if you’d go out with me sometime.”
“I have a boyfriend. But thanks.” I began unloading my cart and looked back up as he said, “It’s just you’re so beautiful. Of course you have a boyfriend. I’m sorry. You don’t see women like you in Walmart. I had to ask.”
“Yeah, well, I may be a Walmart nine but I’m a Neiman Marcus five.” I winked at him.
“A nee-who?”
“Never mind.” I laughed and felt him watching me sashay out to the parking lot, getting my Violet on for the first time in my life.
twenty
VIOLET
1963
Violet struggled to open her eyes. The left one finally cooperated, allowing a glimpse of Tolly across the bed. He had his back to her, the phone pressed to an ear.
“Alice,” he said, “Violet is fine, but she’s been in a car accident. She’s bruised all over her upper body and face. Thank God, no broken bones.”
She watched him stiffen his spine and forge ahead. “It’s my fault. I should never have let her drive my new Corvette. It’s far too powerful for a woman.” Tolly tapped his foot as he listened. “No, she didn’t need to go to the hospital; she’s just a little banged up. I’m taking good care of her here. She can’t rest and recover very well at the house, though, because her friends keep calling and Beatrice makes all sorts of noise. When she is up for the trip, we were wondering if she might stay with you for a bit.” He paused. “That would be perfect, Alice. Thank you.” He turned to sweep his eyes over Violet’s body. “No, she’s sleeping right now, but I’ll give her your love. I’ll drive her over in a few days. Goodbye, now.”
Violet was trying to swim to the surface through a mixture of oil and cotton. There was no pain, but she couldn’t summon the energy to hold her eyelid in place. It fell like a curtain before she could remember what Tolly had said.
Her husband carried a tray into their bedroom, smiling as if he were delivering diamonds to her instead of chicken broth and water. “I’m so glad you’re awake, honey. Sit up and let’s get some nourishment into you.”
Violet tried to shake her head and found her neck wouldn’t cooperate. What had he given her this time?
“Oh,” Tolly said, “That will wear off soon. You’re still slightly groggy, but it will pass.” He pulled her eyelids up and shined a light into her pupils. “I’ll bring the tray back later, and you’ll want to eat then.” He set it on a table by the door and walked to the bed. “We’re taking you to your parents’ house in a few days, when the bruising has healed some.”
She struggled to form the words. “You’re insane. They’ll know you did this.”
Tolly seated himself and leaned forward until he loomed over her. “Now, darling, you have to let your parents believe you wrecked my car. They can’t know about our argument.” He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. “Have you forgotten your mother’s heart condition? I’ve examined Alice, and I doubt she’d survive such a shock. You might as well pull a gun on her, Violet.” Tolly looked out the window thoughtfully. “If you were to run to your mother with your secrets, you’d need to tell all of them. She certainly couldn’t handle finding out she has a grandchild born when you were nineteen and presumed virginal. I’d hate to have to tell your parents about that. Plus your little girl is out there somewhere, vulnerable and probably willing to trust a stranger, maybe more than ever at the age of fifteen.”
Violet willed herself to stay still, not to respond, to give him no sign of the terror she felt. It had been over a year since her latest attempt to locate her daughter. The clerk in the records bureau had been blunt: “If she wants to contact you, ma’am, your daughter can initiate the process. There’s nothing we can do for you.”
Tolly continued, “You won’t tell them, Violet, because you’d destroy the one thing you care about in the process.” He rose and walked to the door. “The truth is, honey, I scared myself this time. I lost all control of my emotions and truly hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I’ve decided to quit drinking, because I can’t bear the thought of anything like this happening again.”
“I hate you, Tolly. I can’t feel any other way about you.”
“You’ll see, Violet. We’ll be happy again. Take a couple of weeks at your folks’ house, and when you come home things will be fine. I promise you.”
“They’ll be fine until they’re not fine.” Violet turned onto her side, dismissing him.
“Violet,” he said quietly, “I cannot live without you. If you ever leave me, I’ll kill you and then myself.” He closed the door.
The next morning Violet woke with every nerve ending in her upper body screaming for relief. Tolly was sitting in a chair across the room. He walked over and handed her two tablets and a small glass of water.
She sat up slowly and swallowed them. “I want to know why you’re sending me to my parents’ house. I would think they’re the last people you’d want to see me this way.”
Tolly frowned. “You can’t stay in Birmingham, Violet. No one here knows anything of a car accident. My Corvette is in pristine condition in the garage. You have bruises on your face and arms, and Beatrice is bound to see sooner or later. It’s also hard to explain where you are to our friends and associates. Better you should rest and recuperate during a visit back home.”
Violet said, “Would you bring me a piece of toast and some ice water, Tolly? I should eat something.”
“Of course, darling.” She noticed for the first time that Tolly locked the door on his way out. Violet wondered what he was telling Beatrice.
She slid out of bed and wobbled to her antique French vanity table, collapsing heavily on the gold velvet seat cushion. The mirror was a gilded Baroque affair that made Violet want to don a towering white wig every time she saw it. This morning, she regarded her reflection in the soft light filtering through the curtains and decided Tolly had done well; the right side of her face had a narrow trail of deep purple from the outer eye to her chin. It could easily have come from a steering wheel.
Alice Glenn gasped and grabbed her daughter’s face, then jerked her hands away. “Oh, honey, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” Violet said. “The bruises have mostly healed. They just look awful.” She lifted her hand to her right cheek, now a widening abstract watercolor of green, yellow and maroon. “I have some make-up that helps. I just didn’t apply it yet today.” She shot a triumphant look at her husband, who smiled tightly and hugged his mother-in-law.
“Oh, honey, what were you thinki
ng, driving that car? I barely trust myself to operate the Buick. I’m so grateful you weren’t injured worse than you were.”
“Well, it won’t happen again,” Violet said quietly. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Y’all come on to the kitchen. Lunch is already on the table, and your dad’s in there.”
Tolly said, “I’ll put Violet’s suitcase away and freshen up a bit. Don’t wait for me. I’m going to have to wolf down my food and run to the hospital. I have a surgery at three o’clock.”
“I thought you only operated in the morning,” Alice said.
“I used to. I’ve made some changes lately.” He offered Alice his charming doctor face, accented by his hand on her forearm and a soft pat or two.
Violet made her way to her father and hugged his neck from behind. “I’ve missed you, Daddy.”
Doug Glenn had become an old man since retiring five years ago. Violet watched the lines on his face grow deeper as he looked at her bruises, both of them embarrassed by the tears in his eyes. Doug cleared his throat and patted the chair next to his. “Have a seat, honey. Your mom’s been cooking for hours.” He grazed her cheek softly with the back of his fingers. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting. Thank God it wasn’t worse.”
“Yes, thank God,” Violet mumbled.
Her mother was piling dish after dish onto the table: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, gravy, corn, sliced tomatoes, and green beans. Tolly walked in and immediately began helping her arrange them, the dutiful and helpful son-in-law. He pulled Alice’s chair out for her.
Violet waited for her father to finish saying the blessing. “Mama,” she said, “this looks wonderful. Your cooking is just what I need.” Tolly reached for her hand, and she managed not to jerk it away.
“My wife,” he said, “is almost as good a chef as her mother. Of course, Beatrice cooks every day, so I’m rarely treated to her creations anymore.”