Reed pulled into Ella’s driveway and found Daisy watering flowers in the backyard.
“Hey,” she said, shutting off the garden hose and dropping it at her feet.
“Hey,” he said with a smile as he walked toward her.
Daisy frowned. “I thought you were gonna be gone a lot longer.”
“Didn’t work out that way.”
“You wanna sit for a minute?” She led him to the swing in Ella’s backyard. “So did you meet any beauty queens at that resort?”
“I did.”
“Figured as much.”
“She asked me where I was stationed. When I told her North Africa, she wanted to know if I got to meet General MacArthur.”
“But he’s in the Pacific.”
“Thought about explainin’ that, but I don’t believe she was listenin’.”
“Bet you took her out anyway.”
“I was goin’ to . . . but she insisted on wearin’ her crown to dinner and I didn’t wanna get stared at.”
“Are you serious?”
“No.” Reed laughed. “Another vet did the honors.”
“You sorry about that?”
“I’m sorry I went down there. I’m real sorry about that.”
“How come?”
Reed rocked silently in the swing before he told her. “He killed himself, Daisy.”
“Who?”
“The vet who went after the beauty queen at the resort. A sailor. He sat down right next to me in the pool. Said he was puttin’ the war behind him and wanted to know if he could try his luck with her since I wasn’t goin’ to. I saw ’em laughin’ and talkin’ in the dinin’ hall. Saw ’em kissin’ in the moonlight. And the next mornin’ I had to fish his body out of the pool. That sailor went on a date with a pretty girl at Oleander Springs and then drowned himself in its healin’ waters. What you make o’ that, Daisy? What are we s’posed to make o’ that?”
“Pull back, pull back! Cover the medic!”
“No!” Reed woke himself up screaming it. He was wet with sweat and gasping for breath, his heart racing, his hands trembling. He could’ve sworn he heard footsteps outside, like someone running on the loop, but it had to be part of the nightmare.
The one saving grace was that the stillness of this summer night had driven him out onto his porch, putting two doors between his torment and the sweet couple who had given him refuge. He was miserably hot and longed to splash cold water on his face, but even that might wake Dolly and Si. He stepped outside, walked across the yard to the lake, and jumped into the shallow water.
The moon was high and full. He threw water onto his face, chest, and back, relishing the blessed coolness as his heart slowed its fitful beating and he could breathe again. He knew what had brought this on. That sailor’s suicide, for one thing. He couldn’t seem to shake it. And he never should’ve joined the others around Dolly’s radio, listening to reports from the front. It was a miracle any of the guys made it into France, let alone took it from the Germans who had dug in—just like they had dug in on that bloody hill.
Hill or village, victory or defeat, Reed believed the consequences for a soldier were the same: memories. Vicious, horrifying, haunting memories. Even when he wasn’t consciously wrestling with them, he always knew they were there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for the perfect moment to ambush his sanity. All those voices from the war, coming over the airwaves and into Dolly’s parlor, had awakened the slumbering specters that never really left him.
After climbing the steps out of the water, he stood on the porch and listened. Something about the skating rink seemed disturbed. That’s the only way he could describe it. Reed walked the length of the porch and stepped off the back, following the path toward the creek for a short distance. He stopped and took a deep breath. The smell was faint but unmistakable. Gasoline. And this time he knew he wasn’t dreaming. This time he wasn’t imagining a battlefield conjured by a radio broadcast.
A few more steps and his foot struck metal. It was a gas can, almost full, no doubt dropped by whoever fled when they heard him coming. He took one more look around the woods, then picked up the can and headed back to Dolly’s. Whoever intended mischief here was gone for now. But they’d be back. Trouble like that always came back.
CHAPTER
thirty-three
Both banks of the creek were lined with people as everybody on the loop gathered to watch the annual seining of the Tanyard for the Fourth of July fish fry. They stood just beyond the slough, where the creek deepened on its way to the Coosa River, waiting for Slick Harper to begin his journey.
Slick had the best bass boat on the loop. The men had attached a great net to the back, with ropes long enough to keep it a few feet back from the trolling motor that powered the boat. A couple of teenage boys—the strongest swimmers in the community—were in the boat with Slick. Once the net began to fill, they would jump out and swim alongside, holding it up so the weight of the fish couldn’t pull it down.
“Ready, boys?” Slick called.
Away they went down the Tanyard as the crowd let out a cheer.
“You ever seen this done before?” Jesse asked Reed and Daisy.
“A few times,” Reed said.
“They used to do it every summer back home,” Daisy said.
“Is it a certain kind of fish that they’ll cook?” Anna asked.
Reed shook his head. “Best I remember, they cook whatever they catch—just throw it all in one big pot and fry it up.”
“That’s how they do it in the Delta.” Daisy winked at Reed and added, “One time they hauled in a long-winded Baptist preacher.”
“What!” Anna exclaimed.
Daisy kept a straight face. “Personally, I didn’t think it was Christian to fry him, but we were a little short on fish that year.”
“Fry him?” Anna looked horrified. “They fried a person? Why, that’s just horrible! How on earth—”
Daisy couldn’t hold it in any longer. The couples were still laughing together when Slick’s boat disappeared from sight.
“Guess we’d better get to the house and help Dolly,” Daisy said.
“I ought to shove you into that kettle of oil for making me believe such a crazy story,” Anna said.
“I’ll bring the tartar sauce,” Jesse said.
Dolly’s yard was like a beehive, with men frying huge batches of fish and dumping them onto newspaper spread over makeshift tables made from plywood and two-by-fours. Quartered watermelons were everywhere, and Dolly had filled washtubs with ice to hold big jugs of lemonade and sweet tea. All the women of the loop had brought cakes and pies, potato salad and coleslaw.
“There are people here I’ve never seen before,” Anna said, looking around Dolly’s yard at all the families, colored and white, who were sitting on quilts spread over the grass and sharing fried bream, catfish, crappie, and hush puppies. Anna, Jesse, Daisy, and Reed had found spots in the rockers on Dolly’s front porch.
Across the road, the lake was overflowing with swimmers, some of whom drifted over in their bathing suits, drawn by the aroma of fried fish. As usual, Dolly fed everybody in sight and had some of the teenagers carry Si a plate.
“It really stinks that Dolly’s sister couldn’t come,” Daisy said.
Anna shook her head. “I know. She’s been hoping all summer to see Violet today.”
Batch after batch of fresh fish went into the kettle in Dolly’s yard until finally the protests of “I couldn’t eat another bite” and “I’m full as a tick” started drifting through the crowd, which began to disperse.
At sunset, Si closed up the rink but let the swimmers keep enjoying the lake if they wanted to. He invited Jesse and Reed to join the other men of Dolly’s house at the well house while the women helped Dolly clean up.
“Hey, Miss Dolly, looka here what Mr. Harper done gimme!” A scruffy boy of about twelve came running to show Dolly his treasure.
“Why, that looks like a piece o’ silver
, R.W.”
“Mr. Johnson says I can sell it. He says it’s what they call a cuffed link, and it’s real silver.”
Dolly turned it over in her hand.
“See?” the boy said. “Got the letter ‘S’ on it. Ain’t that somethin’? Looks real old.”
“It sure does, honey. Don’t you lose it now. And I wouldn’t go flashin’ it around too much.”
“I won’t. Bye, Miss Dolly—and Mama says thank you for all the food you sent home.”
“You tell her she’s more than welcome. And you remember our little secret?”
R.W. smiled. “Yes’m. If our cupboards get bare, I’ll slip and tell you.”
“That’s my sweet boy!” Dolly hugged R.W. before he ran off with his treasure, and then she turned to Anna, who looked stunned.
“Do you ever feel like Catherine and Andre are going to walk into your parlor and sit down with us for tea?” Anna asked. “They just seem so . . . so real to me.”
“Honey, they were real. And anybody who was, always is to the people that love ’em.”
“Hey, where’s Reed?” Daisy was standing with Anna and Jesse on the boardwalk at the lake, where everybody on the loop had gathered after dark to watch Si’s fireworks display.
“He had to go,” Jesse said.
“But why? Jesse—somethin’ the matter?”
“It was the fireworks. They were giving him a lot of trouble. He slipped away a couple of minutes ago—didn’t want to ruin it for you.”
Boom! Another burst of color exploded in the sky, bringing cheers from the crowd.
Daisy froze until Anna squeezed her hand and told her, “Go!”
Daisy ran back to Dolly’s house and found Reed on his porch, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding a pillow around his head to try to block out the sound. He jumped when she sat down next to him.
“I don’t want you to see this, Daisy,” he said. “This one—it’s real bad.”
“I know.”
“You should go.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daisy took the pillow away from him and put it in her lap, just as she had when he’d told her about Deacon. “Lay your head down and put your feet up.”
Reed squinted at her as if he couldn’t quite make her out.
“Lay your head down right here,” she repeated, patting the pillow in her lap, “and put your feet up on the bed there.” She pointed in the direction she wanted him to go.
Reed obeyed her, appearing too shaken and drained to do anything but follow a command. Daisy stroked his hair as if he were that little boy with a skinned knee Dolly had tended long ago.
“Just breathe,” she said as he flinched with each boom and flash of light. “Nobody’s shootin’ at you, Reed. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
CHAPTER
thirty-four
Jesse all but ran to his truck the minute the whistle blew in the lumberyard. It was quitting time on Thursday, with just one more day till the weekend. As he turned onto the loop and rounded the bend to Dolly’s house, he started looking for Anna on the front porch, but she wasn’t there.
He parked his truck and walked to the porch, where he was greeted not by Anna but by Dolly. “Jesse, honey, thank goodness you’re finally home,” she said, leading him to the porch swing.
“Is something wrong? Is something wrong with Anna?”
“Anna’s fine—I mean, she’s not sick or anything—but honey, she got a big heartbreak today.”
“One of her brothers?”
“No. Her friend Lillian. Si found her dead this morning. He got worried when he didn’t see her on her porch all day yesterday and went in the house to check on her. He said it was like she knew. She was dressed nice and had her hair pinned back and was layin’ in her bed on top o’ the covers. She left a package addressed to Anna on her bedside table.”
Jesse shook his head. “She’ll have a really hard time with this.”
Dolly nodded. “Lillian was a great comfort to her when—when y’all first moved here.”
“You mean when I was acting like a jerk.”
“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s okay, Dolly. It’s the truth. What should I do?”
“Go upstairs and be with Anna. I don’t know if she’s opened Lillian’s package yet, but she hasn’t come down since she got the news. Daisy stayed with her for a while, but you’re the one she needs right now. I’ll bring y’all a tray up tonight so she don’t have to come to the supper table.”
As the two of them stood up from the swing, Jesse did something he had never done before. He hugged Dolly. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for taking care of her—and not just today.”
Jesse opened the door to the room he shared with his wife and found her curled up on the bed with her back to him. She didn’t move. He slipped off his work boots, lay down beside her, and put his arm around her. Anna awoke with a start and turned to see him there beside her. She dissolved into his shoulder as he put his arms around her and held her.
“I just can’t believe she’s gone,” Anna finally said. “I mean, I know she was old, but still . . .”
Jesse kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry. I know she was your friend.”
“More than that.”
“Tell me.”
“I felt like—like she had some sort of gift. Like whenever she told me to go somewhere or do something and I did it, something good would happen.”
“And you liked her pirate stories.”
“They weren’t just stories to me.”
He rolled her over on the bed so that she was lying on her back, looking up at him. “It’s alright, Anna. You can tell me.”
“Well . . . I guess I met Lillian . . . at a time when . . . when I really needed her.”
“Because you didn’t have me.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what I did. And I know how wrong I was.” He bent down and kissed her. “Tell me about Lillian. Tell me why her stories mattered to you.”
“I guess . . . I guess I feel like we’re connected somehow—Andre and Catherine and you and me, Reed and Daisy. I just really want to believe in happy endings—for all of us.”
“I want that too,” he said as he kissed her again.
Neither of them heard Dolly leave a tray outside their door and quietly slip away. And they didn’t see the heavy old doorstop slip away from its catch and anchor itself to the floor.
Morning came, bringing with it the sunny promise that everything would be back to normal. But it wasn’t, not for Anna anyway. She asked Jesse if he wanted to open Lillian’s package with her. He put his arms around her and said, “I have a feeling that’s something you need to do by yourself. But if I’m wrong, just hold on to it till I get home tonight and we’ll open it together.”
Jesse wasn’t wrong. She needed one last visit alone with Lillian. After the breakfast dishes were done, she retreated to the upper porch and sat down with Lillian’s package. It was wrapped in brown paper, with an envelope tucked under the string around it. Anna slid the envelope free and opened it, unfolding a letter written on fine ivory note paper.
Sweet Anna,
If you are reading this letter, which R.W. was kind enough to write for me, then I have left this mortal plane. I divine that my crossing will upset you, and I want you to know that you should shed nary a tear for me—save one or two we may cry together for our temporary parting. All of my people are on the other side now, and I want you to know that when my time came, I was ready to go. I was feeling the pull of that heavenly current, and I had no desire to row against it. My days here have passed; my days there are beginning. I must sail on.
I wanted you to have some books that are very precious to me—one I’m leaving you now, the other I had delivered to your doorstep a little while ago. Think of us rocking together on my porch when you read them, and know that I intend to ask the Almighty if I might look in on you from tim
e to time.
Eventually you will learn how I came to possess my little tomes. For now, just enjoy them and believe that I will eternally treasure our time together. You have filled an old woman’s last days with comfort and companionship.
Persevere, dear Anna. Persevere. Read every word. All will be well.
Love,
Lillian
Anna folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, then cried once more for her lost friend.
Anna was blotting her face at the washstand when she heard a knock at her door and opened it to find Daisy standing there.
“You okay?” Daisy asked as she came in.
“I’m alright. Just sad. Guess I’ll feel that way for a while.”
Daisy followed Anna to two rockers on the porch outside her room. “You still haven’t opened it?” She pointed to the package.
Anna shook her head. “I read the letter, though.” She handed it to Daisy, who read it through.
“She says she’s the one who left you Catherine’s journal on the doorstep? But where’d she get it? And how’d she get it onto Dolly’s porch?”
Anna shrugged. “Don’t know, but she says we’ll be able to figure it out. She told me one time that her parents were friends with Catherine and Andre, so that’s probably how she got the journals.”
“You don’t wanna talk about it right now, do you?”
“I just feel—I don’t know—kind of hollow on the inside. I guess I really should open her package, though. Will you do it for me?”
Daisy picked up the package, untied the string around it, and pulled away the brown paper.
“That’s really old,” Anna said as Daisy unwrapped a wooden box about the size of a shoebox. Carved into the lid and sides were flowers that looked like daffodils.
Daisy opened the box and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. Turning to the first page, she read, “‘April 2, 1847. Dear Self . . .’ It’s her, Anna. Lillian’s left you the rest of Catherine’s story. But we don’t need to read it now.”
The two friends sat quietly and rocked together on Dolly’s porch, looking down at all the laughing swimmers splashing in the lake below, oblivious to what was lost.
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