by Sara Evans
Whisper Hollow had designated Begonia Valley Lane, a magnolia-lined street with some of the Hollow’s most treasured old homes and cottages, as Halloween Alley.
Max ducked under a crooked swag of orange pumpkin-head lights dangling from a branch of reddish-gold-tipped magnolia.
“I think they hired third-graders to hang these things.”
“I love this.” Jade tapped a masked monster on the head as he, she, it, ran by. “It’s like a big street party.”
Despite the dark side of Mama’s parties, Jade grew up loving the sound of laughter behind good music, the shriek of freedom from the day’s cares.
Tonight, the air was heavy with the steady sound of children’s voices and music. Residents on the lane had gone all out. Bright orange inflatable pumpkins and scarecrows loomed and swayed in almost every yard—and old Clint Smith had hitched up Bessie and Boss for hayrides.
Jade swerved into Max, avoiding a run-amok Stormtrooper.
“Careful.” Max caught a drip of mustard from his Froggers corn dog with his tongue.
“I can’t believe you’re eating that thing.” Jade counted the lazy scrape of Max’s loafers against the sidewalk—one, two, three, scrape, one, two, three, scrape. His back was better, so he insisted on a Halloween night stroll.
“What do you mean that thing? This is dessert.” Max shoved the last of the corn dog in his mouth and chewed with his cheeks puffed out.
“Your mom served lamb with rosemary potatoes. And you top it off with a cheap hot dog rolled in cornmeal.”
“Mm, good.” His goofy grin made her laugh.
“A coffee from Diamond Joe’s would’ve been a lovely dessert.”
“But Diamond Joe’s is not in the direction I want to go.” Max continued down the lane, pushing against the trick-or-treaters.
“Do you have a specific direction in mind?” She thought he just wanted to stretch his legs, buy a corn dog.
“You . . . with all your questions.” He stepped aside to let three elbow-linked ballerinas wearing fuzzy crowns pass. He bowed. They giggled. “So what’d you think? About Beryl meeting the Reb and June-bug.”
“I was too busy hoping she’d not be Beryl Hill, hippie first-class.” She slipped her hand into his. He leaned toward one of the city trash cans and tossed in his corn dog stick.
“The hippie and the socialite seemed to gel a bit. Reb was his usual charming self. Seemed to take to Willow.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not everyone.” He scooped her into him, kissing her temple. “Too bad your dad isn’t around. I’d like to have met him. Beryl was saying he was a good man. Did I hear her say he was a lawyer?”
Jade didn’t know how it had happened, but right in the middle of dinner, Beryl launched into a grand story about the greatness of Harlan Fitzgerald, only she called him “the kids’ daddy,” and how he loved the law. . . . About then, Jade’s glass of red wine mysteriously tipped over.
“Jade, hey Jade.” Lillabeth dashed across the lane wearing the ’50s house dress she’d bought from the shop, low-heeled pumps, a short-haired silver wig, pearls, and white gloves.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Jade said.
“June Cleaver.” Lillabeth motioned to her friends. “Tabby’s Carol Brady and Anne is Rosanne Barr.”
Max laughed. “Lose a bet, Anne?”
“Noo.” Anne curled her lip.
“Jade, I was wondering if you had any extra hours for me this week?”
“You’re already working every afternoon.”
Lillabeth glanced at Tabby. “Maybe I could come in before school, help clean or do inventory. Work after closing, go on pick-up runs.”
“What about basketball?”
She jiggled her ankle from side-to-side. “I can miss a few practices.”
“Lillabeth, what’s going on?”
“I owe someone, is all.” She and the other girls backed away. “So, can I come in early on Monday?”
“I’ll find something for you to do.”
“Thanks, Jade, you’re the best.”
“Wonder what she’s up to?” Jade stared after her, straining against Max as he tried to steer her down the lane.
“Babe, come on, one foot in front of the other. Let’s go, we’re almost there.”
“There? Where?” Jade stopped to peer through the bars of the wrought-iron fence surrounding an old gabled house at the end of the lane. “I love this place.”
The three-story with a wraparound porch sat in a weedy, overgrown yard, looking neglected and alone, but Jade thought it was magical.
Max enclosed her between his arms, his hands gripping the bars. “It’s gorgeous on the inside. Hand-carved trim and molding, jib windows, open floor plan. Unusual for the day. Huge eat-in kitchen. Living room and family room. A den. Six bedrooms. Forest Wesley built it in 1898. He hired an Italian carpenter to install all the wood and design a curved staircase with a carved walnut banister.”
Jade turned toward the gate. “You’ve been inside?”
“Last week.” Max dangled a brass key in front of her. “Welcome home, babe.”
Jade twisted out from under his arms. “What? You’re lying.”
Max slipped the key in the lock. “Am I?” He swung open the gate.
She couldn’t move. “You bought this place? For me?” The subtle knot of tension she’d felt during dinner, trapped between his family and hers, loosened.
“Remember the call about the judge throwing out our contingency motion?” He shook his head. “It was the Realtor. Part of the inspection failed, and he asked the seller to lower her asking price. She agreed, and I needed to get the paperwork going. Do you like it?” Max tapped the keys against his palm.
“I can’t believe it.” Chills slipped down her arms and legs as she walked through the gate.
“It is okay, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have bought it if I didn’t know how much you loved it.”
Jade collapsed against him. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“It was my pleasure, babe.” Max curved his arm around her back to draw her close, resting his cheek against her hair. “You are so welcome.”
“Max . . .” Jade sniffed. “You smell like mustard.”
He bent to kiss her. “Get used to it.”
She laughed, her lips against his. “Can we go in?”
“All yours.” Max handed her a set of keys, then grabbed the flashlight he’d stored on the porch for this special occasion.
Inside, he moved the light beam along the walls and windows, up the curved staircase to the open second floor, and along the walnut crown molding.
With a slow turn, Jade took in every detail. She was home, finally home. It was as if Forest Wesley had built the house for her. “It’s beautiful. Musty smelling, but beautiful.”
“Yeah, it’s been closed up for a few years. All the bathroom fixtures need replacing. The kitchen needs to be modernized—”
“Modernized? Max, no. You can’t modernize a vintage work of art.”
Max laughed. “Spoken like the true queen of vintage. We have to do some work, Jade. When I turn on the shower, I’d like a steady spray of hot water. Not a sprinkle of green mold.”
“You’re so demanding, Benson.”
“What can I say, I’m a product of my upbringing.” Max nuzzled her neck, leading her to the steps. “Want to make out? In our new house?”
“What are you? Fifteen?”
“Yes. All guys are basically fifteen. We only pretend to be mature so you’ll like us.” He kissed her softly, pulling her to him as he sank to the steps.
Jade swam into his affection, her heartbeat reminding her of how good he was, how much she needed his love. She didn’t deserve him, nor this crafted house of beauty and history.
Fraud . . . A prickly sensation gripped Jade and she pushed out of his arms.
“Hey, that was some of my best kissing.” Max ran his hand over his hair, breathing deep. “What�
��s wrong?”
“I need to tell you something.” Max deserved the truth. How could she go into marriage with such a big lie on her conscience? Deadbeat, albeit alive, dads didn’t fall under the ‘past was the past’ clause. “My dad . . . Max.”
“What about him?”
Jade paced the open, high ceiling foyer, the hem of her skirt brushing her calves. This would be Max’s first memory of her in this house—discovering his wife was a liar.
“Jade?”
“My dad.” She pulled her hair away from her face with her hands. “He’s . . . you’re going to hate me.”
“Hate you? What are you talking about? Come here and sit with me, please.”
But Jade remained by the door, peering out the side light. The houses along the lane were starting to dim as the hour grew late. The horde of kids had diminished to a few stragglers, mostly teens who didn’t bother with costumes.
“He-he’s not dead, Max.” She glanced back at him.
He remained on the bottom step in the glow of the flashlight, with his elbows propped on his thighs. After an intense silence, he said, “Why’d you tell me he was, then?”
“It started in college when a friend asked me about him. It just came out. Seemed so simple and uncomplicated.” She walked to the edge of the foyer, glad to hide her shame in the shadows. “Only Daphne and Margot know the truth.”
“That he’s alive.”
“Yes. He lives in Washington, D.C. You’ve met him, actually.”
“How would I have met—?” Max stood, balancing the flashlight on his shoulder, shining the light on Jade’s face. Squinting, she shielded her eyes with her hand. “Fitzgerald. Judge Harlan Fitzgerald is your dad?”
“One and the same.”
Max lowered the light so the white circle haloed their feet. “Oh, man. Jade, you’ve heard me go on and on about him. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jade tried to think of a good reason why she’d let the lie continue, but nothing came to mind. Tension gripped her neck and shoulders. “I’ve never talked about him with anyone. I barely know him. He left when I was eight, Max. Aiden and I visited him, like, three times, then we never saw him again.”
“Well, when did you see him last?”
Details. She hated digging up the details. “I was ten, I guess.”
“Phone calls? E-mails?”
“Not after I turned twelve. I think Aiden called him one Christmas.”
“Unbelievable.” Max’s familiar steps skipped over the foyer floor. The flashlight’s beam swished back and forth, sending the light to and fro. “He’s a conservative judge, noted for his stance on family values.”
An ember of ire flared in Jade’s chest. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”
“His papers and decisions on family law, children, divorce, and marriage are becoming a part of the American legal system. But you’re telling me he abandoned his family and never looked back?”
Jade stiffened. “You’re surprised a man’s professional life doesn’t match his personal life?”
“He’s a fraud then.”
“Maybe he really believes all he’s said and done in the legal world, Max.” Jade came up beside him and pressed her cheek to his back, circling her arms about his waist. “But he just couldn’t live it.”
“I’ve argued cases based on his writings and decisions.”
She tugged on his arm gently, turning him to face her. “Because you believed in what you were doing, Max. Not because some other man said it.”
“How? I mean, what happened?”
“With Dad leaving? You’ll have to ask Mama if you want the partial truth.”
“No, you tell me. What do you remember?”
“I was eight, but in my mind, it all started with Mr. Barlow losing his farm.”
“I know the case. Barlow vs. Land & Farm. That case set precedent and launched your dad’s career.”
Jade sank back down to the broad, smooth, hardwood steps. “The night the case was decided, Todd Barlow showed up at the house with a shotgun.”
Fourteen
July 1988
“Harlan Fitzgerald, get yourself down here. Now!”
Jade’s eyes popped open. Darkness cloaked the walls of her room.
“Did you hear me, you lying coward?”
Jade rolled onto her belly and peered over the windowsill. The glow from the utility lamp by the edge of the driveway haloed the ground with a triangle of light. Who was out there?
Angling sideways, Jade tried to see around the side of the house, but her bedroom was in the back, and—
“Fitzgerald!” The cock of a shotgun cracked against the air. Jade’s pulse surged as she ducked beneath the window, burying her face in her pillow. “I’m calling you out.”
Sliding out of bed like a snake, Jade crawled across the floor, careful of splinters, and eased open her door. The hall was black, but she could see enough to crawl toward Aiden’s room.
“Shh,” he said as she eased onto his bed. His room was hot, the hum of the floor fan barely stirring the summer’s moist night air. The fragrance of corn and barley drifted through the skinny screen.
“Who is it?” Jade asked, stretching out next to her brother and peeking out the window with her eyes barely above the sill.
“Sounds like Mr. Barlow.”
“Is he loaded?”
“Don’t know about him, but his gun is sure cocked and ready to fire.”
A man in coveralls stood just beyond the porch steps, silhouetted by his truck headlights, a shotgun hooked over his arm. Jade had seen Paps holding his gun the same way when he went hunting.
“I got all night, lawyer. Thieving, robbing lawyer.” The man’s words swam together. He wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Yep, he’s loaded.” Aiden pushed himself deeper into the mattress.
“Think he can see us?”
“Naw. Don’t mean he won’t aim for the house, though. Get away from the window.”
“He’s mad, ain’t he?”
“Like a stirred-up hornet’s nest.”
“But he owed money. Lots of money.”
“How can he pay his bills if he can’t farm, Jade-o?”
Jade set her chin on her fist. Aiden argued like Mama. She was fit to be tied when she found out Daddy’s client was the bank.
“You’re helping the bank take away a man’s livelihood?”
“Beryl, he sold off his collateral, took the money, and never paid one dime against his loan. The bank is out three hundred thousand dollars with no recourse.”
The shotgun blasted, rattling the windows. The inside of the house came alive. Doors opened and closed, light eased through the crack of Aiden’s closed door, footsteps powered down the hall.
“Beryl, call 9-1-1.”
“Wait, Harlan . . .”
The gun cocked and exploded. Jade screamed and buried her face into Aiden’s arm. Her legs shivered so hard she couldn’t control them.
Be a bad dream, please. This is just a bad dream.
The bedroom door flew open. “Both of you, get on the floor now,” Mama commanded. “Jade, stop screaming.”
“Harlan!” Another shot exploded, reverberating in the house, echoing across the fields.
Covering her head with her hands, Jade’s silent screams billowed in her lungs. Don’t hurt Daddy. Please, don’t hurt Daddy.
“Todd, get off my property right now and we’ll forget all about this,” Daddy called from the porch under Aiden’s room. “You’re drunk.”
“He’s plastered,” Aiden whispered to Jade, lying beside her on the floor by the bed.
“We’ve called the sheriff,” Daddy said.
“Does Daddy have a gun, Aiden?”
“Mama said guns kill people, but Dad laughed and said something like, ‘Not law-abiding guns,’ and she had a hissy fit.”
Jade moved so close to Aiden she could hear his heartbeat. Mr. Barlow had a gun. Drunk Mr. Barlow. But not her kind, sober Daddy
? Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Talk to Jesus when you feel scared, Paps always said. Jade rolled over and started crawling toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my medallion from Paps. The one he wore in the big war. Said it kept him alive.”
“Jade, no, wait. Come back.”
By the time she snuck back into Aiden’s room with the medallion around her neck, she’d begged Jesus to help her Daddy, uttering the prayers Paps taught her. But nothing had progressed between Daddy and Mr. Barlow.
“We can do this nice, Todd. It’s your choice. Put the gun down.”
Mr. Barlow rattled off some words Jade had never heard before. Aiden whistled. “He’s ticked.”
Jade looped her finger over the leather cord holding the medallion. Can’t you hear me, Jesus? Please help Daddy.
“They took my farm, Harlan. And I have you to blame for it.”
“Blame yourself, Todd. You put up your stock and equipment as collateral, and the bank loaned you money based on the value of those things. Then you sold them. Refused to pay your note.”
“I have to live, don’t I? Feed my family, buy more seed?”
The sirens wailed long before blue flashing lights colored Aiden’s dark wall.
“You also have to pay your bills, Todd, meet your obligations.”
In the next minute, police cars surrounded Mr. Barlow.
“Listen,” Aiden whispered.
Jade breathed long and slow, rising up toward the window. But all she heard was the thump-bump of her own blood in her ears. “What is it?”
“Crying.”
Jade stretched her ear closer to the screen. Watery, muffled cries blended with the cadence of the flashing lights. “Poor Mr. Barlow.” Her heart twisted, watching the deputy cover his head and fold him into the sheriff ’s car. “What do you think they’ll do to him?”
“Put him in jail, probably.” Aiden balanced his chin on top of his fist.
“First his farm, now jail. Not a good day for Mr. Barlow.” Jade squeezed the water from her eyes. He tried to kill Daddy.
In the next few minutes, the blue lights stopped bouncing and the squad cars cleared out of the yard. The air around the house hovered, empty and eerie. Not even the locusts were singing.