Gone Too Long

by Lori Roy

  “This dress,” Imogene says, grabbing hold of the freshly pressed dress Jo Lynne was wearing when Imogene woke up from her nap. “And those clothes Christopher was wearing. Did Garland bring them to the house?”

  Jo Lynne, still kneeling next to Eddie, stares up at Imogene and nods.

  “And did he see Christopher, talk to him?”

  “When you were at Tillie’s,” Jo Lynne says. “Maybe when you were sleeping too. But I don’t know what he said to him.”

  Christopher’s mama was afraid of something. That’s why she left the necklace for Imogene to find at Tillie’s instead of coming right to the door. She was afraid of something or someone inside the house, someone who could still hurt Christopher. There was a car barreling through a stop sign that Christopher’s mama saw coming and she had been trying to stop it.

  “You told Garland about Mama’s necklace,” Imogene says. “You told him Christopher recognized it, didn’t you?”

  “He said it would tie us to the boy, tie the whole family to what happened.” Jo Lynne wipes her eyes with one hand. “But I told him I’d find the boy a new home and then we could sell the place and everything would be fine. Immy, they’ll kill Garland for stealing. Do you understand that, really understand? Timmy Robithan as much as told us that.”

  “After Daddy died,” Eddie says, trying to take Imogene’s hand but pulling back when she jerks away, “Garland said we could sell the property and get enough money to pay back what he lost. Daddy had already promised the property to Tim just to buy some time, but he couldn’t sell what Mama owned. We figured she’d be happy enough to sell and leave the old place once Daddy died.”

  “So is Christopher’s mama dead? Was that the plan? Kill her and then Christopher so you could sell?” Imogene’s eyes bounce between the two of them. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Garland was going to kill her,” Eddie says, nodding. “Kill them both if he had to. But Bethy run off before he could do it and then you found the boy. We thought maybe the fire got her, but Garland said no. I don’t know where she is, Immy. I swear, I don’t know. And I don’t know if she’s dead or alive.”

  “Bethy?” Imogene says. “Beth is her name?”

  Eddie nods. The glow of the flashlight throws shadows on Eddie’s face. His eyes sink deep into their sockets. His cheekbones sit high and protrude. He looks thin, teetering on feeble, a sign of what’s ahead for him if he ever grows to be an old man.

  “And where is Garland now?” Imogene says, yanking Jo Lynne to her feet. “You called him instead of Warren, didn’t you?”

  Jo Lynne slowly nods. In the dark, Imogene can’t make out any of what her sister is feeling. They’ve always known what the other is thinking, feeling, though Imogene hasn’t been so good at it over the past five years. Jo Lynne didn’t just save Imogene that day she nearly drowned; she saved her after Russell and Vaughn died. She was the one who eventually hauled Imogene up and out of the hole she dug for herself, the hole grief dug for her. Even more than Mama, who couldn’t hardly get on Imogene even when she was doing her worst, Jo Lynne knew when to stop consoling Imogene and when to start expecting her to live again. And while the dark and hair that’s blowing across Jo Lynne’s face won’t let Imogene see any of what her sister is feeling, she can sense it. As sure as if she could reach out and wrap her fingers around it. Jo Lynne is afraid.

  Garland was at the lake that day Imogene nearly drowned. He’d stood on the banks, in the spot where he and Jo Lynne would always go before they were married. It’s the spot where the Knights burn their crosses even to this day. Under cover of the pines and along the banks of the lake, they gather because the ground is smooth, almost like a sandy beach, and they believe the lake is nearer to heaven than any other place on earth. And if not for the pines and the low-lying valley, they would almost be able to see Stone Mountain from there. They believe they are laying claim to a world without end because they are closer to it than anyone else. Jo Lynne and Garland picked it because the pines gave good shade, making it cool there even on the hottest, stickiest summer afternoons, and because, one day, God willing, Garland would follow Daddy in a way everyone already knew Eddie never would.

  Garland had held a towel for Imogene as she stumbled from the lake, coughing and choking and digging in her ears for earwigs. She’d been crying because as she slipped beneath the water, her real daddy slipped away too, but he didn’t come back to the surface with her. He hadn’t been evil. Mama had loved him, and now he was gone. Imogene would never know him, and she’d never know what happened to him. Holding his arms open for Imogene, Garland had been smiling as if he understood she needed comforting. He understood she lost something that day and was readying himself to gather Imogene into his arms, but instead, he pulled back when Jo Lynne stepped up to him. Her hair and dress still dripping, black smudges tarnishing the smooth skin under her eyes, one shoe missing, she reached out and slapped him square across his face. Imogene stumbled backward, and Eddie came running and laughing. You okay there, little one, he said to Imogene. Or maybe to Garland.

  Eddie laughed harder still to see Garland press a hand over the red swell on his cheek. Garland should have been stronger that day. That’s what angered Jo Lynne. A weak man who stood on the banks didn’t fit squarely into her idea of a man, and certainly not into the idea of the man she was to marry. As much as that day ended something for Imogene, it began something for Garland.

  Imogene is running downhill toward the lake, tumbling, falling, Eddie and Jo Lynne shouting out to her from behind. Christopher asked Imogene and Mama how far away the lake was. That’s where Garland is taking him, and he’ll tell Christopher his mama is just there on the other side, just like Eddie told Imogene. Garland will remember that day Imogene nearly drowned, same as Imogene remembers. He’ll tell the boy it’s a magical lake, and he’ll know what a child is willing to do when he, when she, believes in the magic. See it there, he’ll say. The other side? It’s not so far away. Your mama’s waiting for you. Can’t you see her smiling and waving? And Christopher will go, a boy who must surely have never stepped foot in a lake or a river or even a swimming pool.

  He’ll start to walk first and the water will creep higher on his legs, up over his thighs, and when it reaches his waist, he’ll find the walking is harder to do. Still he’ll continue to drag his feet across the bottom, one step at a time. And Garland will be there right behind him, pushing him along with promises that Mama is waiting just there on the other side. Christopher will keep on because he loves his mama. The water will rise past his chest and reach his shoulders.

  Imogene keeps running. The rocks and brittle grass dig into her feet. Her hair blows across her face. She wipes it away, but the wind keeps coming, and the wiry strands stick in her mouth and her eyes. There is no moon, no light to see by. Garland must have opened the bedroom window and called for Christopher to come out. He’ll have promised to take Christopher to his mama.

  Imogene reaches the pines that shield this side of the lake from the north winds. She pushes off the trunks, bounces from one to the next. The bark cuts into her hands. Her lungs burn. She catches a foot on a root, falls, cries out at the pain that shoots through one knee, pushes herself up and stumbles through dried pine needles and sharp stones, and finally falls to her hands and knees on the smooth spot, smooth as a sandy beach.

  Chapter 58

  BETH

  Before

  He drives up in a big black car, and even without seeing his face, I know it’s him by the way one boot hits the ground, and then there is a pause before the next boot follows. It’s Garland. I’m free now. He will never touch me again, and I can say his name. Garland. He moves slow, as if he has to mull over whatever thing he just did before deciding on what to do next. He tips his head, probably trying to smell the fire, but the wind is carrying the flames and most of the smoke away from the house. Garland is a man always uncertain of what he’s doing and it’s why he needed me. I made him think I was small
so he could feel big. It was the same with Eddie. Mama knew all about being the small one and the one who was trapped and the one no one cared about. Somehow she knew that one day I would be that person too, and she taught me how to fight back. But now Garland is here and Christopher is just inside the house and I don’t know what to do next. All my years of planning and practicing, but I never prepared for this.

  Other cars have passed by, making me duck my head and pull back into the shadows, but they didn’t stop. They drove on through the gate that leads to the house and field that are on fire. But not Garland. Once out of the car, he stands, rests one hand on the car door, seems to look around, though from where I sit on the ground, my body knotted up into a ball to keep myself warm, I still can’t make out his face. He pulls off something, a jacket I figure, tosses it back inside the car, and slams the door.

  I’ve been forcing myself to stay here on the ground instead of running to the door. I’ve known Christopher was here since I ran over the rise and through the gate because three cars are parked outside the house and one of them is green. Eddie once told me Imogene bought a new green car when her other car was destroyed in an accident that also destroyed her family. The moment I saw that car, I wanted to run to the house and pound on the door and tell Imogene about me and Christopher and Alison, but I didn’t because I worried Garland was inside and maybe Eddie too. They could hurt Christopher or could take him away from me, or maybe all the people I think should help me won’t. Eddie once told me no one would help me and I’d have nowhere to go. He had friends, lots of friends in a town he’d lived in all his life. No one would help me. Except Imogene. But Garland hadn’t already been inside, and now he is here and so is Christopher and maybe I’ve missed my only chance. Christopher is trapped because I was wrong.

  The screen slaps shut behind Garland. Stumbling as I force myself to stand, a sign the cold is working on me, I walk around the back of the small building I’ve been huddled against. It’s a shed, maybe, a place where they keep tools. I’m shivering because my gown and hair are still wet, having rinsed the kerosene from both in the lake water, and I have no shoes on my feet. Each step is stiff and slow. Once on the other side, I take a wide loop that keeps me outside the spray of the porch light. I can see the road from here. It’s the road to town. Less than two miles straight north. I know it’s two miles because Eddie would say he wasn’t driving two miles into town just to get a gallon of milk, and I know north because Stone Mountain is east.

  The windows in the house are closed so no voices drift outside, but I can see shadows moving about. I drop down alongside Garland’s car, using it to hide me from anyone inside who might be looking out, and standing just enough to reach the handle, I fumble with it. I twist it, feel for a button to push, and finally lift and pull. The door opens and a light inside the car pops on. I drop back down to the ground, worried the light will give me away, but the door up at the house doesn’t fly open. I grab the jacket he threw into the car before he went inside. It’s heavy flannel and smells of smoke. Even before closing the car’s door, I thread my arms through the long sleeves and pull the jacket tight around me. Still squatted low to the ground, I close the door and lean against the side of the car.

  The sudden warmth makes my body go limp. I pull my knees into my chest and wrap the heavy flannel around my legs. I tuck my feet in tight and lay my head back against the car. Christopher is trapped inside with Garland, maybe Eddie too, and I need to get him out, away from Garland and away from the fire. I’ll rest here, just for a moment, and then I’ll know what to do next.

  When the screen door off the porch squeals again, I open my eyes. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. For a moment, I’m back in the pampas grass and he’s just thrown open the screen that sags in its frame, but I’m not in the field and that wasn’t the screen door that sags. It was the screen door in the main house. I push off the car and squat, my hands pressed to the ground. His voice is clear now. He’s talking to someone who’s still inside. I scramble backward and slip around the end of the car where I’m just beyond the reach of the light. Boots hit the wooden porch. The planks creak under his weight. When footsteps hit the gravel, I scoot to the farthest side of the car, and when the driver’s-side door opens and the car sinks under his weight, I run for the side of the house.

  The bushes here scratch my legs and snag my gown. They’re sweet like Mama’s magnolias. The smell is subtle, comes and goes quick as a blink, but the memories it gives rise to are sharp. I was a child for such a short time, and even then, Mama needed me more than I needed her, though that’s what saved me and Christopher. It made me clever and capable at an age when I shouldn’t have been burdened by those things. I want more for Christopher. He should have the joy of being the one who is loved and of believing in goodness for at least a little while.

  Shifting my weight from one bare foot to the other, I clench my toes to fight off the numbness and the memories that will do me no good now. I drop down between the bushes that will have only just begun to bloom this early in spring and from here I can see through the back window of his car. There’s only one dark shadow, his head and the tops of his two shoulders. He’s leaving, and at first I think I’m getting another chance. But that hope fades as quickly as it rises. He could have Christopher with him. He could be sitting in the car and his head wouldn’t reach high enough to be seen and maybe he was carried so I didn’t hear his smaller footsteps. He’d be asleep and quiet and he could be there in the front seat, and I’d never know it. Christopher knows he can never say Eddie’s name. Never. Not even to me. And I’ve never let him know Garland’s name, though he may have heard Eddie say it just like I did. It’s been our rule ever since Alison died. No names except your own. Or rather it’s been my rule, and I taught it to Christopher from the beginning. If we never said their names, they weren’t quite as real.

  In the dark field, he promised me he wouldn’t hurt Christopher if I ran and never came back, but then he doused me in kerosene, so now he’ll think I’m dead. I have nothing. Not even shoes on my feet, and to let him think I am dead is the best I can do for Christopher right now. Until morning, it’s the best I can do, but once the sun comes up and he goes to the field, he’ll see I’m not there. In the morning, he’ll know I’m not dead. He’ll drive away now and I’ll walk up those same stairs and I’ll knock and I’ll tell Imogene. I know her though I’ve never met her. All these years, she’s most of what I’ve had. I knew when her baby died, and I cried with her. We became mothers together, though she won’t know that. I’ll tell her that Christopher was Alison’s first and then he became mine and she’ll believe me and I’ll be warm at last and I can sleep. I’ll wait until he leaves and then I’ll go to Imogene and hope she can save us.

  I open my eyes and lift my head when the car door opens again. One boot hits the ground and then the other, just like before. I know immediately what has happened.

  “You’re here,” he calls out, though not too loudly because he knows I’m close.

  I’ve made a second mistake.

  “I left it for you,” he says. Gravel crunches under his boots, growing louder. He’s walking this way. “Thought you’d be looking for something warm if you made your way this far.”

  I hug the jacket. I thought he left it because it smelled of smoke. I should have known he left it to draw me out. It’s the cold. It’s making me careless.

  “Imogene can’t help him,” he says, still moving this way. His steps are slow, as if he’s listening for me between each one. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I exhale, don’t feel the cold anymore. The shivering has stopped, and my feet are beginning to burn. I rest my head on my knees.

  “Only I can help you,” he says. “You disappear, and that’ll save him. Take yourself and go and I’ll leave him to Imogene. She’ll care for him. He’ll be safe, be just fine.”

  More footsteps cross the gravel drive, and then the door to the house squeals open and slaps
closed again. He’s gone back inside. Men have come to put out the fire, and that must mean Garland and Christopher and whoever else is inside are staying. Pulling the jacket tight around me, I draw my knees into my chest and tug at the collar so it’ll stand straight around my neck to fend off the cold air. My fingers are stiff and not quite working as they should, and they tangle in the necklace I’m wearing. Eddie gave it to me after Imogene’s family died because he was so afraid of never having a family of his own. Alison said he wanted a family to prove he was a man, but I think he wanted people who loved him like Imogene’s husband and baby boy surely loved her. I lift the stone, hard and cold even in my numb fingers, that hangs from the chain. It belongs to Imogene’s mama, or it once did. I know she likes to garden because Eddie told me. She has a bad heart that stops most people from wanting to be in her company, so she spends long hours alone in her garden. Her plants are behind the house in a spot that gets morning sun and afternoon shade. The shed I was first hiding near will be where she keeps her tools, the rakes and small shovels, and maybe gloves and boots too.

  Still holding the necklace, I force myself to stand. I can find those boots if there are any to be found, gloves too, and I can run two miles. I’ve run stairs every day since Christopher came so I’d be strong. I’ve run them until I collapsed on the floor, thankful for once it was cold. I can run two miles. I can make it to town. I can find the thrift store because I know it’s on Main and I know there is only one and I know the man who runs it is named Tillie and that he keeps an eye out for things reported lost or stolen and that he calls Imogene. Ever since Eddie first told me about the thrift store and Tillie and the work Imogene does, I’ve imagined it’s the same shop Mama and I would visit to buy our secondhand clothes and used plates and silverware. I can run two miles and then Imogene will know I’m here and that Christopher is mine. She’ll know the necklace means something, and she’ll figure it out. She’ll know I’m scared, and she’ll know to keep Christopher safe for me.