by Lori Roy
“I’ll be happy to tell you, Eddie,” Imogene says before Warren can respond. “But first, you tell me. Why are these men so intent on concerning themselves with our mama’s property?”
“Warren’s right, let’s save this for another time,” Garland says as he wraps an arm around Jo Lynne’s shoulders. “What do you say, Tim? These kids just buried their daddy. Another time, don’t you think?”
“Tell me, Eddie,” Imogene says, looking at Eddie but still feeling that Tim Robithan is staring at her. “Tell me why this garbage is in Mama’s house.”
“Jesus Christ, Imogene,” Warren says, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her toward the hallway. He glances over his shoulder and nods off toward the group of men, a reminder that there is one of him and many of them. Warren would have learned about the Knights of the Southern Georgia Order during his first days on the job. Ten years in, he knows enough to see trouble coming.
“Surprised to hear you calling me garbage, Imogene,” Tim says, staring and smiling at Imogene across the room and letting her know she’s right about him leaving his cologne behind in her sheets. He keeps on staring, the silence between them giving everyone else in the room time to understand the same.
“I think Garland is right,” Tim finally says, keeping his eyes on Imogene. “Place ain’t going nowhere. Am I safe in assuming that, Garland? Place ain’t going nowhere?”
Tim doesn’t have to cross his arms or lead with his chest for men to follow him. It’s what Daddy knew, what everyone knows, and what Eddie just doesn’t have.
“Get out,” Imogene says, trying to force her way past Warren and jabbing a finger at Tim Robithan. “All of you, get out of my mama’s house right now.”
Chapter 28
BETH
Before
He ties a dark cloth around my head to cover my eyes, and he jerks me by the wrist as he leads me up the stairs toward the outside. I stumble, hold tight to the railing so I don’t fall. We stop, and when the door at the top opens, I feel the change.
“If you know what’s good for you,” he says, “you’ll behave.”
There is a house on the other side of the door. The floors underfoot are wood and softer than the stone in the basement, warmer too, something I feel even through the rubber soles of the shoes he brought for me. They give way, the wooden floors, when I step on them. I nod so he’ll know I’m going to behave. Even though I can’t see anything, I can feel the open space around me. The air is different. There’s more of it. It’s stronger, sweeter, heavier.
“Stop,” I say. “I need to stop.”
“The hell you mean?” He jerks me again.
“I can’t breathe.”
He drops my wrist, the same one he always leads me by. I bend forward, brace myself on my knees. My lungs burn, my thighs ache. My hands, arms, shoulders, even my head shake. It’s the ache for being so close to somewhere else and still being so far away.
“Jesus Christ, then,” he says. “Forget it. We’ll get you back downstairs.”
The floors creak and shift as he steps toward me. I startle, maybe jerk, because his hands grab me as if he’s afraid I’ll try to run. I kick and twist as he tries to lift me. He never makes me be close to him in the basement. He always sits on the one chair at the small table while I sit on the sofa, and he talks to me about what books I like best and lately he tells me about Imogene. She has wild red hair, wild because she’s wild, but she’s married now and has a sweet baby boy. She goes to college and wants to be a lawyer, but she has a different daddy than him and his other sister, Jo Lynne. Jo Lynne has a good husband so she doesn’t need him like Imogene does. Imogene was a mistake and her real daddy was a nobody, and her husband is a nobody too. He says that’s why Imogene needs him. She needs at least one good man in her life, and that’ll be him. He tells me his family is special and his daddy is a great man. He asks me if I know who his daddy is. I don’t answer because just thinking about it makes me afraid his daddy might come here to the basement one day.
Sometimes he tells me he is sorry it turned out this way for me. I just wish you didn’t see, he says over and over, and I know he means he wishes I didn’t see what he did to Julie Anna. I still don’t know if Julie Anna’s mama and daddy are dead too or if they just moved away. I asked him once, and he said it didn’t matter if they were dead or alive because they didn’t matter and I’d better damn well get used to it.
At the top of the stairs, as I choke on the new air, he grabs me and pulls me into his body. I smell him and feel him and inhale him like I never have before and I scream. I scream like I should have screamed the day he took me away. I scream like I should have when the black truck rolled out from behind the pink oleanders. I scream like part of me is breaking away from the rest of me that has been trapped. I scream like someone will hear and like I’ll never get another chance and like this is the last moment of all moments. I scream until a rough hand covers my mouth and nose and I can’t breathe and my lungs burn for trying so hard to suck air.
And then we are going down, step by step. He holds me tight, that hand still pressed over my face, and at the bottom, he drops me on the stone floor. I gasp, take in the sour air that is worse now because I got a taste of the sweet air from outside. I cough and cry and pull my knees to my chest.
“Goddamn it,” he says. “I told you to behave.”
I grab at his pant leg, try to push past him by jamming a shoulder into his shins. I throw my arms and kick my legs. With a hand to the top of my head, he shoves me away. I fall backward on my hind end. Heavy boots pound the wooden stairs, and the door at the top slams closed.
Chapter 29
IMOGENE
Today
As the last of the men leaves the house, Eddie closing the door behind them and asking for someone to please tell him what the hell is going on, Imogene drops back onto the sofa. Eddie is giving her the same look he gave her the day Jo Lynne fished her out of the lake, like she never quite gets anything right, so it’s clear somebody has told him about Imogene finding a boy in the basement. Squeezing her hands into fists, Imogene shakes them out and stretches her arms to release the energy trapped there. Her whole body is quivering and she’s breathing too quickly. Closing her eyes, she doesn’t answer when Warren asks if she’s okay because her mind has settled on two questions, and every thought is aimed at sorting out the answers to them. Why are the Knights so interested in Mama’s property, and why are they here at the same time she found the boy?
“That was a stupid thing you just did,” Warren says, talking in a quiet voice and resting a hand on Imogene’s knee. “I’m guessing you know how bad that could have gone and how quick it could have gone that way.”
Opening her eyes, Imogene stares at Warren’s hand. It’s like a stranger’s hand on a stranger’s knee. She leans forward, and as she pulls her legs from beyond his reach, she knocks one knee against the coffee table. The one photo of Daddy she didn’t pick up and hide in the laundry room rattles as it falls over on the glass tabletop.
“Leave it,” she says when Warren reaches to right the photo, and she presses one hand flat on top, cementing it upside down where the boy won’t have to see Daddy’s face.
“Take it easy,” Warren says, glancing at Jo Lynne as if for help.
“I want to know right now,” Imogene says, picking up the picture and pressing it to her chest as she stands. Her throat has gone dry from taking in too much air too fast. “Why were those men here, and why were they talking about Mama’s property?”
Shaking his head at Imogene, Garland walks toward the door, maybe because he wants to leave or maybe to get farther away from Mama’s room. Now that the house has cleared out, he and Eddie both will be worried about her ticking heart getting the better of them. Warren won’t have been around it enough to be worried, though it still might get hold of him.
“Sweetie,” Jo Lynne says. “Let’s focus on the boy. We have enough to contend with without—”
“We’ll c
ontend with it right now,” Imogene says.
One of Imogene’s first thoughts, as she sat in that basement and cradled the boy, was that even in death, Daddy was causing Mama more pain. And those men standing in Mama’s kitchen and talking about her property like it meant something to them was another sign of trouble and hurt for her. Imogene was right. Trouble is sneaking up on Mama, and it has something to do with Tim Robithan standing in the corner of the kitchen and staring at Imogene.
“Those men were concerning themselves with Mama’s property,” Imogene says. “And we have a boy who was locked in a basement and a missing woman, and I want to know why that is and what those men have to do with it.”
“They ain’t got nothing to do with that boy or his mama,” Garland says. “You know we already figured they was squatters down there.”
“And Mama’s house?” Imogene says.
“Daddy has debts,” Eddie says, dropping his coat over the back of a kitchen chair. “No one kept that secret from you.”
“Still doesn’t explain why those men have an interest in Mama’s property,” Imogene says, still clutching the photo of Daddy and Mama to her chest.
“Daddy owes them.” It’s Garland. He glances at Jo Lynne and says it again.
“You mean he owed them,” Imogene says. The smell of it, the nastiness of what Garland is about to tell her, reaches her first, just like Tim Robithan’s cologne. “Owed. Past tense. Dead men don’t have debts.”
“They want the property, Immy,” Eddie says.
Imogene is looking to Warren even before Eddie says it. She’s looking to Warren because he’ll be the one to say that’s not possible.
“It’s Mama’s property,” she says to him. “Don’t matter what they think or what they want. Right?”
“Immy,” Warren says.
“I told you, don’t call me that.”
“Not for me to get involved in something like this. No way I can know the details.”
“Garland, do you know the details?” Imogene says. “Do you know why these men think they got some right to Mama’s property?”
Garland is the one who runs Daddy’s business from the inside. He meets with the bankers and the accountant and all the things Daddy always said Eddie wasn’t up to.
“Daddy promised them,” Jo Lynne says, stepping up to Imogene and trying to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Collateral. That’s what they call it. Don’t you know about collateral?”
“Yes, I know about collateral,” Imogene says. “But I also know this house is in Mama’s name, and Daddy couldn’t put up an asset he didn’t own.” Again, she turns to Warren. “Is that something you can speak to?” When he doesn’t answer, she says, “I guess not. How about this? All these years, what . . . a hundred, the police have let this go on, let these men keep doing whatever they want to do. Did you talk to all of them like you’re talking to me? Ask if any of them started the fire? Is that among your duties?”
“No one thinks you started the fire,” Warren says, first looking out the window onto the drive and then slowly turning to Imogene. “And as to the rest, I’m not looking to you to tell me how to do my job. That’s one thing I can damn sure speak to.”
“Well, if you’re so certain of what you’re doing,” she says, scanning the room, “I’d guess you know that one way or another, that pathetic group is somehow responsible for all of this. They’re all so loyal to Daddy, they’d do anything for him. Maybe they were cleaning up after him. Maybe that’s why they started the fire. Maybe that’s why Tim Robithan was needing money so bad. Covering up for a boy locked in a basement likely isn’t cheap. Those watches, Tillie said they’re worth seventy thousand dollars.”
“That’s enough,” Warren says, stepping up to Imogene.
“Warren’s right,” Jo Lynne says, taking hold of Warren’s forearm and trying to soothe him. “You’re being ridiculous, sweetie.”
Either the room is getting smaller or everyone is creeping toward Imogene. Still holding the photo, she begins to back toward the hallway that will lead to her bedroom. Her body is still trying to shake loose all that adrenaline. It’s swirling in her stomach and making her joints ache, and the spot between her eyes pulses like Mama’s heart.
“So you all are expecting Mama to move?” Imogene says, working it out in her head as she pulls farther away. “After everything she’s done for you two, you would throw her out of her own house.”
Jo Lynne tries to follow, but Imogene holds out a hand to stop her.
“That’s not fair, Imogene,” Jo Lynne says. “Eddie and me have always been good to Mama. And we’ll see to it she gets enough to take care of herself. She’ll live just fine. We’ll all see to that.”
“You tell those men, Garland,” Imogene says, certain now that the men mean trouble for Mama and the boy and his mama too. “You too, Eddie. Tell all of them, they’re not to come back to this house. Never. And Mama is not leaving.”
“He was stealing,” Garland says, causing Jo Lynne to swing around and tell him to quiet himself. “He was stealing from them, Immy. From the Knights. For years.”
Imogene shakes her head as she looks to Warren. He’s never been so angry at her, not even on the nights he watched her leave the bar with another man. She’d done it intentionally, a message to let him know he was nothing special and she wasn’t ever going to be his. Either he didn’t believe what she was trying to say on those nights or he didn’t care, and looking at him now, she’s hoping he didn’t believe her.
“Mama’ll be just fine right here,” Imogene says. “I’ll move in. I’ll pay the bills, whatever needs doing.”
“Goddamn it, Imogene,” Garland says. He takes three long steps that carry him across the kitchen and up to Imogene, where he leans in and whispers. “Your daddy was stealing their money, their membership.” His breath is hot on the side of her face. He glances over his shoulder as if checking on Warren’s whereabouts to be sure he can’t hear. “These last few years, we got more money coming in than we could have ever imagined. All because of who your daddy was, and he was planning big things, like being national again. Folks know we don’t got to take it anymore, all the shit we been taking all these years, and when I say your daddy stole Knights’ money, it was money that’s been coming in from people all over the country. And, Immy, I covered it up for him. Covered up for your daddy. And now we got to pay them back. You understand that? I got to pay them.”
Continuing to back away, Imogene slowly tests the ground with each step before letting her weight settle. Jo Lynne is floating in her direction again, slipping in and out of focus as she tells Imogene she doesn’t look well and maybe she should sit for a moment. Imogene just needs a little sleep so she can straighten out her thoughts and work through what needs doing. When she bumps up against the wall, she leans there, rolls from one shoulder to the other until she’s headed down the hallway. Directly to her left is Mama’s door. It’s open. It had been closed before. She’s sure of it.
From the moment Imogene saw that wire, she worried it would lead to something that might hurt Mama. And it has, and now Imogene will have to tell her about the boy and the wire to the basement and the boy’s missing mother. They sure can’t hide the fire from her. And in addition to Daddy’s other women and his loyalty to the Klan, Mama will have to find out Daddy left her with nothing and that a dozen men are coming for her family’s property—property her family has held for more than 150 years.
Imogene leans into Mama’s room, but the bed is empty and so is the chair where Mama sits to tie the laces on her green gardening sneakers. Imogene hears it then, the quiet murmur of voices. They’re coming from Imogene’s room, and at the far end of the hallway, her door stands open. In four steps she stands in front of it. Mama sits on Imogene’s bed, and next to her sits the boy.
Chapter 30
BETH
Before
Eight months after he first tried taking me outside and instead had to carry me back downstairs, he brings squares
of carpet, all different sizes and colors. He spreads them over the cold floor and tapes them together with silver tape. It’s the kindest thing he’s done for me, and I think that means he’s finally forgotten how I kicked and screamed when we tried to go outside. He’s brought me other new things too—a hairbrush, bands to hold my hair back, fuzzy socks to wear when my feet are cold—but none as nice as the carpet squares. When he’s done spreading them out, I say thank you and that I know it isn’t his fault I’m here. I know he’s only trying to do good and that he didn’t mean for this to happen. I think I should say I understand about Julie Anna too, but I can’t make myself say those words.
“Can we try again?” I say when I’m certain I’ve made him happy. “Going outside, I mean? Can we try again on Sunday?”
“You know there ain’t no one looking for you no more,” he says as he lays a loaf of bread on the counter and holds up a jar of peanut butter to show me he remembered to bring more this time. His dark hair is trimmed shorter and combed straight back, and his jaw is smooth and clean instead of covered with dark whiskers. “They think your daddy made off with you. You even know you had a daddy? Poor fellow, probably living a quiet life off somewhere, not even knowing they’ve been hunting for him.”
We have a rhythm now. He asks me what I need on Wednesdays and makes a list. Don’t bring so many bananas, I’ve told him, because they spoil too fast. Apples last longer. And bring canned vegetables, all different colors. Canned doesn’t go bad.
“I know no one’s looking,” I say, because that’s what he’ll want to hear. Saying what Mama wanted to hear always kept her happy, and it’ll keep him happy too. I don’t tell that I never knew my daddy or even that I had one.
“And you know I got friends, important friends like in the police. Ain’t none of them going to help you if it means getting me in trouble. You understand that?”