“Time heals all wounds,” Meg says, with a sigh.
I wonder if she’s talking about Lily or if she’s heard my private thoughts.
Fifteen years after Daddy’s death I still think of him every day. Not in the painful longing way that it was at first. But at certain milestones, I miss him. Like when Lily was born and when she first sang at the church. Actually, every time she sings I wish he could hear her. I imagine he would be so proud. Like I am proud.
The road widens, and we all start talking again. The bluff is one of the reasons Katy’s Ridge stays small. Not that many people want to make such a hazardous drive to get in and out of the area.
We park in front of the small theater in Rocky Bluff, and I look around for Bee’s car. As planned, Bee stands in the small lobby holding a bag of popcorn, pretending not to wait for anyone. I let Jo and Meg go in ahead of me to discover her first and hear their greetings. It feels special to run into people we know in Rocky Bluff, even though this incidence is prearranged.
I greet Bee, dulling my smile so as not to appear too glad to see her. “Are you here alone?” I ask, like an actress playing a small part in a play.
“Join us,” Meg says, grabbing her arm. Bee puts up a tiny fight just for show.
Melody’s threat follows me into the darkened theater. I wonder if anybody knows. I give myself permission to not think about it while the movie is playing, and let the others go in first so I can sit next to Bee.
Our shoes touch as Deborah Kerr and Yul Brynner go from adversaries to two people who respect each other. When they sing Shall We Dance? our hands reach into the bag of popcorn in a move as orchestrated as the score that plays in the background. Our hands touch. Stolen moments. Stolen in dark places where prying eyes can’t see. Yet eyes have seen. At least according to Melody Monroe.
Only once do we let our hands touch between our chairs. Skin against skin. The tingle of recognition that this is the hand of the person I love, even if our hands can never touch in public. For years I tried to see Victor as more than a friend. He didn’t deserve to be strung along. But the more I wanted to love him, to commit to a life with him, the more it didn’t happen.
If God and I were still on speaking terms, I would ask why life is so hard sometimes, for the God-fearing and heathen alike. As far as I can tell, no one escapes difficulties and some suffer more than most. Yet there are everyday miracles, too. I can’t imagine a life without Lily or Bee or my family. Or June and Horatio, who welcome us into their home. In terms of work, after years of struggle, the sawmill finally has enough customers to sustain us. I never thought the mill would be part mine someday, and eventually all mine.
In the movie, the King and Anna are ending their dance. It is nice to get a respite from all that is going on. But then, a foreboding shivers through me that is so strong I gasp. Lily is in danger. I have to get home.
Bee looks at me, her eyes questioning. “I need you to give Jo and Meg a ride back to Katy’s Ridge,” I whisper to her. “Something isn’t right.”
“Are you sure?” she whispers back.
Actually, I’m not sure, but I can’t take the chance. Not while Melody Monroe is still around. I rush out of the theater and back to Katy’s Ridge, unsure of what I might find.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lily
With the last few sunny days, the mud has hardened, making it easier to get to the Monroe cabin. This doesn’t stop Pearl from complaining every few steps.
“Why are we doing this again?” she asks.
“Because I want to find out more about my father,” I say.
“Don’t you know enough?” she asks. “Sounds like he’s not much to write home about.”
“Nobody is all one thing,” I say, repeating what Great Aunt Sadie said. “Even monsters have a bit of goodness inside, just like saints have a bit of badness.”
“You say the strangest things,” Pearl says. She leans over to wipe dirt from her shoes, before complaining again.
As much as I wish it weren’t true, Melody Monroe is kin. I figure I owe her an explanation as to why I’m never going to see her again. But before that, I want to learn more about my ne’er-do-well father, Johnny Monroe. Mama wouldn’t like that I’m coming here. Something about it feels dangerous, even to me. I reach for the gold Mary around my neck for added protection and realize again that I’ve lost her. As far as I can figure, it must have been the night I walked to Crow’s house in the dark.
When we get there, the door to the cabin is wide open.
“This place is creepy,” Pearl says.
I don’t tell her about the girl who died here, or I’ll be seeing Pearl’s backside as she hightails it home. I step up to the door and call out Melody’s name. When she doesn’t answer, I take a step inside and find her sleeping on an old mattress in the corner. A mason jar sits on the small kitchen table with clear liquid inside, along with a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese. I remember the banana bread Miss Blackstone brought last Saturday morning and how elegant it was in comparison.
Melody snorts awake and jumps when she sees me standing there. “You know I could shoot you for trespassing, don’t you?” She sits up and holds her head like it weighs a thousand pounds. “That is, if I had a gun,” she adds.
Pearl’s eyes widen like she’s asking what I got us into.
“I need you to tell me more about my father,” I say to her.
“Oh, so you believe me now?” she asks.
“Mama told me the story,” I say.
“Did she?” Melody makes her way to the kitchen table. “What would that story be?” she asks. She spies the leftover liquor and puts it up in the cabinet, as though not willing to share.
“She was attacked and left for dead,” I say, not naming any names.
Pearl looks at me. I can tell she’s never heard this part of the story.
“That sounds like something Johnny would do,” Melody says, matter-of-fact. “But Doc Lester said she asked for it.”
“Well, Doc Lester is a liar and a horse’s ass,” I say.
Pearl giggles, and then stops herself when Melody turns to look at her. Pearl’s been known to laugh at inappropriate times when she’s nervous.
“Your daddy’s that Indian, isn’t he?” she says to Pearl.
Pearl nods.
“His name is Horatio Sector,” I say.
“And your mama’s white?”
Pearl nods again.
Melody gives Pearl the once-over, like she’s trying to see the Indian in her.
“Something tells me you have something to ask me, little-miss-full-of-questions.” Melody turns her heavy head toward me.
“I want to hear more about what he was like,” I say.
“You mean Johnny?” She plops down in the chair and it wobbles even though she doesn’t weigh much at all. “Well, like I said, he was mean as a snake.”
A stray piece of sunlight breaks through the small window and touches the top of the table.
“What was he like besides being mean?” I ask.
Melody scoffs and puts her hand on the piece of sunlight, as if to claim it as her own. She pushes the spare chair out with her bare foot so I can join her, and then rubs her eyes to clear the sleep out of them. Pearl is left standing, but she doesn’t seem to care. My guess is she’s happy to stand if it means she will get a head start running if we need to get out of here.
The cabin smells sour from cigarettes and rotting wood.
“I want to know what he was like besides being a monster,” I say.
Melody grunts a short laugh. Then she looks up at the ceiling, as if her memories are all stored in the single light bulb that lights the room. She sits long enough without speaking that I wonder if she’s fallen back to sleep with her eyes open. But then she leans forward.
“Before our mother died, Johnny was a different boy,” she begins. “Our life was a lot better then. But after our mother died, our father started drinking more and more. He was a horrible dr
unk,” she says. “It was our mother who kept him civilized, and without her he didn’t stand a chance.”
I’ve seen Melody do a lot of drinking in the short time she’s been here and wonder if it’s a family trait. She pulls off a chunk of bread and offers some to me and Pearl. We decline.
“Johnny was older than me by four years, and my sister, Ruby, was two years older.”
She stops long enough to cut a slice of cheese with a rusty knife and eats it with the bread. She doesn’t offer us any cheese. The cups from our tea the week before still sit on the end of the table. The one I used overflows with the stubbed out ends of cigarettes. I try not to gag.
“I still miss Ruby,” she begins again. “Hung herself out in that old oak out there.”
Melody points with the knife to a tree in the distance.
Pearl’s eyes get about as wide as the silver dollar she gets in her Christmas stocking every year. I hope she doesn’t take off running and leave me here.
“How old was your sister?” I ask.
“Almost thirteen,” Melody says. “But I could understand why she did it. If I’d had the nerve, I would have joined her.”
Melody’s eyes grow dark, as though visiting the past requires dim lighting.
“But why would she do such a thing?” I ask.
“When you’re being messed with, it’s hard not to feel trapped,” she says. It sounds like she’s given this some thought.
Melody stands and goes to the cupboard to get the liquor she put away earlier. Instead of drinking out of the jar, she pours some in one of the teacups and drinks it.
Pearl inches toward the door. I make a motion with my hand to stay put. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be here, but I may never get this chance again.
Melody stares at the old bed in the middle of the room like it’s a crystal ball showing her the past. “I think Daddy knew about Johnny, and that’s why he sent me to Aunt Reenie’s.” She pauses and takes another sip. “I guess there was enough decency left in him that he didn’t want what happened to Ruby to happen to me.”
“Why did you come back to Katy’s Ridge if it holds so many bad memories?” I ask.
Melody takes another sip and sits straighter, as though the liquid is giving her courage.
“I found out a couple of years ago that I can’t have children,” she says. “So when I read Doc Lester’s letters to my aunt, it gave me hope that the family wouldn’t die out.” She finishes off what’s in the teacup.
I haven’t given a whole lot of thought to family bloodlines and didn’t realize it was so important to some people.
“You have Monroe blood in you,” Melody begins again, confirming my thought. “My parents came over from northern Scotland,” she continues, staring into the empty teacup. “They headed south because the land was cheaper. They ran into somebody in Virginia who told them about this little place called Katy’s Ridge that was a gem. Hard to think of this place as a gem,” she says, looking around the room.
I’d heard others who’d settled in Katy’s Ridge tell similar stories. Granddaddy and Great Aunt Sadie came over from Ireland, too, and Granny came over from Germany with her sister. Everybody’s family is from somewhere else, except maybe Horatio Sector. Pearl told me the Cherokee are from North Carolina and Tennessee, and that her father’s grandparents went to Oklahoma by way of something called the Trail of Tears.
“What were your parents like?” I ask, wanting to fill in the missing picture of my unknown grandparents.
“Would you believe my mother laughed all the time?” Melody says, looking straight at me. “That’s what I remember about her most. Her laughter. And then after she died it was like all laughter died with her.”
Melody’s smile fades and sadness takes its place. Her sorrow appears as tangible as the design on the teacup. The design and the sorrow weathered, but not really gone.
“We were all devastated,” Melody continues. “But it hurt Johnny the most. As the oldest, he never got over it. He was a mama’s boy before he got mean. ‘Sweetest little boy in the world,’ Mama used to call him.”
It’s a long journey from sweetest little boy in the world to mean as a snake. I imagine it’s a sad journey, too. Mama likes to say that everybody’s got reasons for being the way they are. Even Mama and Miss Blackstone have their reasons for loving each other. It doesn’t matter whether I understand it or not. I want to ask Melody how she knows about them, but don’t want to distract her from talking about her family. Our family.
“After our mother died, Johnny couldn’t even get to school on time anymore, and Daddy took switches to him,” Melody continues. “Of course, that just made matters worse.”
Melody looks at Pearl standing near the door and asks if she’d like to sit down, as though all of a sudden remembering her manners. Pearl declines. It is the quietest I’ve ever known her. I don’t think either of us expected Melody to tell all this. Most grownups won’t even talk to people our age. But she seems younger than most adults.
“Before our mother died, Johnny won the third grade spelling bee,” Melody begins again. “He was also a good reader. Way better than Ruby and me. And he was good with numbers, too. But none of that seemed to matter to him anymore after our mother died.”
Melody walks over to the door and Pearl steps aside. Melody stares out into the forest, the sun sprinkled through the trees and smiles. Then she twirls once, as though hearing a distant tune and dancing with a ghost. A ghost she’s missed.
“Lily won the spelling bee in third grade, too,” Pearl says to Melody.
“She did? You did?” She turns to me. “That’s Johnny’s influence, I bet.” She looks almost pleased.
A sadness visits me that feels older than this cabin. I remember the whispers again. If I could ask my father a question, I would ask him how someone who used to be so smart could drop out in the sixth grade and turn mean. But I already know the answer. If Mama died, I would be heartbroken, too, and I’m not sure I’d ever get over it. At this moment, I’m not sure how I’ll ever leave Katy’s Ridge without her.
“Johnny really changed,” Melody says, as though intent on finishing her story. “He took out every bit of anger he had about Mama dying and tormented me and Ruby. I remember asking him once where that sweet little boy went, and he slapped me hard in the face like he was slapping that memory right out of my head. I think that little boy died when Mama died.”
I stand next to my chair, feeling almost dizzy from all I’ve heard. Pearl’s eyes plead with me to go.
“We’ve got to get home,” I tell Melody. “Thanks for telling me all this.”
“Wait,” she says. “You’ve got to come with me to Kentucky. It’s just a few hours by bus.”
“Now?” I say.
“Good a time as any,” she answers. “You don’t belong here,” she whispers, and I think of the whispers at the footbridge. “Louisville is a big city. There’s a lot more going on.”
A Greyhound bus stops at the Texaco station every day in Rocky Bluff. More than once, I’ve fantasized about hopping onboard and going anywhere north of here or south or east or west.
“I doubt Mama would go for that,” I say.
“Don’t tell her,” Melody says. “Just come with me.” She extends a hand like she might offer me a poison apple.
“We need to go,” Pearl says to me.
“We can leave for Louisville right after I pay my respects to Ruby and Johnny,” Melody says. “This place gets under my skin. I can’t stomach it for much longer.”
I wonder if this is why the moonshine is never far away from her.
“So what do you say?” she asks, as if not willing to let it go.
“I can’t do that to Mama,” I say.
“Sure you can,” she says. “We could be in Louisville by tomorrow morning.” She reaches for me again.
“Lily, we need to go,” Pearl says, her voice strong.
“Sorry,” I say to Melody.
She lets out a l
ong sigh, as though Mama’s just won at a game they’ve been playing.
“Suit yourself,” she says. “Come give your Aunt Melody a hug.” She stands and opens her skinny arms.
Pearl gives me a wary look, but I decide that one hug can’t hurt anything. Melody’s embrace is weak, though the smell of alcohol and cigarettes is much stronger. Melody must not have had much practice. She holds me longer than I expect, and I have to push her away, which isn’t hard because she’s so thin. She finally takes a step back.
“Doc Lester says you can sing. Is that true?” she asks me.
“She sings like an angel,” Pearl says. “She’s the best singer in Tennessee.”
Despite the sudden chill in the cabin, I feel my face warm.
“Well, just so you know, Johnny couldn’t sing a lick,” she says to me. “So you must have gotten that from the McAllister side of the family.”
Pearl stands at the door, tapping her foot. Mama would be glad she’s trying to get me out of there. But it appears Melody has more to say. In a way, it’s as though this might be the last time she sees me, and she wants to make sure she says certain things.
“I hope you can forgive Johnny for what he did to your mother,” she begins again. “I wish that it hadn’t happened, but life is just full of things we all wish had never happened.”
Melody is smarter than I thought she was at first. Just because someone has a hard life doesn’t mean they’re stupid. Everybody is unlucky in one way or another. Johnny being my father wasn’t the luckiest thing, but having Mama as a mother has made up for it.
All of a sudden a creepiness descends, and I want to be home. At fourteen, I’d like to think I’m past needing a mother, but right now I do. Something about the way Melody is acting scares me. I head for the door again, but Melody grabs my arm.
“If you won’t go to Kentucky with me, come to the cemetery. I want to introduce you to your grandparents and Ruby and Johnny.”
The last place I want to go with Melody Monroe is the cemetery. The moment feels so ominous, I almost expect to hear the organ music they play on the radio mysteries that Granny listens to in the kitchen.
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