Charles was suddenly beside me. He put one hand on my arm. “You did fine,” he said.
“It was the best I could.” We looked at each other a few seconds. Neither of us spoke.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A few days after the hearing, Mr. Clement was officially charged with perjury—lying under oath. Daddy told me this was a serious crime, and he would spend some time in jail for it.
Reverend Adams went to see him at the jailhouse. “It wasn’t because he wanted to,” Reba Lu told me. “But my daddy practices what he preaches.” I took that to mean he tried to hate the sin, but not the sinner. I knew how hard that could be, and I felt sorry for Reverend Adams.
The word around town was that Judge Withers hadn’t been easy on Mr. Clement. He made him pay a big fine, and he told him that if Dodie died, he would have to stand trial for involuntary manslaughter. Daddy explained that meant someone’s actions caused a death, though they didn’t plan for it to happen. He also told me that I might have to testify again, this time at a real trial. If Dodie lived, there would still be a trial, but Mr. Clement would only be charged with assault and battery. That meant that he could be put in jail, but for a shorter time.
I nodded. I hadn’t figured we were through with Jefferson Clement right yet.
In the meantime, Daddy said Mr. Clement would have to stay in the county jail unless Mrs. Clement could dig up enough money to bail him out. He smiled at me when he said that, and I smiled back. I was pretty sure Mrs. Clement wouldn’t try very hard.
Reba Lu and Geraldine and I were sitting on the porch swing when Reba Lu told us what else Judge Withers had said to Mr. Clement. “He said, ‘You’ll be smart if you find another place to settle down when you finally get out of jail. Messina has had more than enough of you!’ Those were his exact words. My daddy was there, and he heard him.”
“Well, good!” Geraldine shouted. I didn’t shout with her.
“What’s the matter, Angie?” Reba Lu asked. “It’s all over now, and you did a real good job when you testified in court.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Mr. Clement is finished,” Reba Lu went on. “You finished him. He won’t be bothering any little girls again.”
I wondered if she really believed that. “Won’t he?” I asked. “He’ll be punished for what he did in Messina, but eventually he’ll move to another town and start all over again.”
“But that’s terrible,” Geraldine protested.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s terrible.”
I was thinking of that day at the matinee when Dodie had wondered about that man—Hitler—who wanted to eliminate a whole race of people. He didn’t seem to have any conscience at all. Well, neither did Jefferson Clement as far as I was concerned.
I couldn’t help thinking of what might happen in the next town he lived in. Daddy said he hoped his reputation would follow him. I hoped so, too. But mostly I hoped he would go to jail after his trial and not get out for a good long time.
A few days later, Miss Martin moved away, and I didn’t blame her. Mrs. Clement and Lucy were the only ones living there now. Lucy did all the errands and directed the choir at Wednesday night practice. Sometimes I heard her singing while she hung out the wash to dry. Whenever she saw me, she waved, but Mrs. Clement always turned her back and looked the other way.
Mama sent me out front one morning to water the lawn because it was turning brown in the summer heat. Charles saw me and walked across the street. I told him about Mrs. Clement not wanting to look at me.
“It’s because she’s embarrassed,” Charles said. “She thinks people connect her to the things Mr. Clement did.”
“Well, do they?”
He waited a bit before he answered. “Some might. But most folks have better sense.”
I thought about that. Did I have better sense? Mrs. Clement had always been nice to me, but Mama said nobody really knew her that well. I had the feeling that she was afraid of her husband … and ashamed of him, too. I decided that I didn’t blame her. I just felt sorry for her.
Charles gave me a questioning look. “What’s really bothering you?”
“Jefferson Clement ought to be in jail for the rest of his life,” I said. “If I’d told Judge Withers that he pushed Dodie, he would have been in a lot more trouble. Maybe he wouldn’t have been able to get out of jail and hurt anyone ever again.”
“You told the truth is what you did. You didn’t have any choice.”
“I had a choice.”
“Listen,” Charles went on, “you’re the one who saved Willie Jack from going to jail for something he didn’t do. You’re not to blame for any of the rest. You didn’t cause Dodie to fall off that cliff. You just happened to be there when it happened.”
He put one arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. We stood together a few seconds, then Charles gave a little cough and pulled away. “I’ve got some things to do,” he said.
I didn’t answer. I seemed to have something in my eye.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Thomas got out his Model T Ford again, and Reba Lu, Geraldine, and I piled in. I let Geraldine sit in the front seat this time, and I got in the back with Reba Lu.
“I hope Dodie will be better today.” Reba Lu said it loud enough for Dr. Thomas to hear her. He nodded. “That’s what we all hope,” he said. But he didn’t sound like he believed it would happen.
He had to see another patient, so we took the elevator by ourselves up to the second floor and found room 202. Dodie’s father was just leaving when we opened the door. He tipped his hat to us just like we were grown-up ladies, then went down the hall, the loose sole of his shoe flapping on the polished floor.
“He needs to—,” Reba Lu began, but I gave her a look that shushed her.
“He cares about Dodie,” I said.
“If you ask me …,” Geraldine said.
“Nobody did,” I answered.
We went into the room, not speaking to each other. Dodie looked about the same. She still had that needle in her arm, and the tube was still connected to a bottle hanging from a tall metal stand. We stood by her bed. She didn’t move. She didn’t make a sound.
“She looks like she’s not breathing,” Geraldine whispered.
I stepped on her foot. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare.”
Reba Lu swallowed, and I figured she’d gulped down whatever comment she had been about to make.
Dodie’s hand was lying on top of the sheet, palm up. I reached out and touched her wrist. I expected her skin to be cool, but it was warm. I could feel her pulse. Ker-thump. Ker-thump. I took hold of her hand. “Dodie,” I said, “it’s me. It’s Angie.”
It was silent in the room except for the buzzing of a fly on the windowsill. Geraldine stood on one foot and then the other. “She can’t hear you,” she said.
“You don’t know that!” Reba Lu snapped. I could tell they were ready for an argument.
“Shut up, you two,” I whispered. It must have been a loud whisper, for they both stopped their bickering and stared at me.
“Dodie.” I said her name softly, then a little louder. “Can you hear me, Dodie? If you can hear me, move your hand. Move one finger, Dodie. Just let me know you can hear me.”
We stood there in that white room. White walls, white sheet, white venetian blinds. And nothing happened.
I waited for a movement, some signal that she knew I was there. “Dodie,” I said, “Geraldine and Reba Lu are here, too. We picked some more sweet peas for you. They smell real good. Mama said to tell you there are plenty more where those came from.”
The door opened, and Dr. Thomas came in. He looked at the three of us standing around the bed. “I think that’s a long enough visit for today,” he said.
Geraldine turned away from the bed and started for the door. Reba Lu was right behind her. I was about to follow them when, under my fingers, I felt a movement. No more than a breath against my skin. I could barely be sure I felt it at all.
He looked at me, then came over to the bed. “She moved her hand,” I said. “Not much. But I felt her move it.”
Dr. Thomas took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. Geraldine and Reba Lu stood close together, their heads almost touching. I looked at them once, then went back to holding Dodie’s hand in mine.
“Are you sure?” Dr. Thomas asked.
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
He took her other hand in his. “There may be hope,” he said. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A few days later, I woke up early in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. It was five o’clock, and the full moon was still low in the sky. I put on my shorts and a shirt and left a note on the kitchen table.
GONE FOR A WALK
Buster woke up and begged to go with me, so I fastened his leash and slipped out the front door while a warm August breeze moved through the streets in a river of soft air.
As I walked up Palm Avenue, Buster nose-nudged me, and I reached down to scratch his shaggy head. “Good Buster,” I told him.
The light was on in Reverend Adams’s upstairs study, and I knew he would be at his desk, working on Sunday’s sermon. A door slammed, and Mrs. Clement scooted across her front porch and down the steps to get the morning paper. She kept her eyes down the whole time, so she missed the sunrise that reached for the sky with fingers of rosy light. As I passed Dr. Thomas’s house, I smelled coffee, and I could imagine Mrs. Dawson putting the pot on to boil, then dropping egg shells in to settle the grounds.
Buster pulled at his leash, and I unfastened it to let him run, but he didn’t. He stayed near me, going ahead a little way, then coming back to nuzzle my hand. When I rubbed his head, he shivered all over with happiness.
I practiced stepping around the sidewalk cracks for a bit, but soon tired of that. Then I made a game of naming all the people who lived in the houses, going up one side of the street and down the other.
“We know them all,” I told Buster. “We know their names and what they do for a living and if they’re friendly or snooty.” I thought for a minute, trying to work something out in my head.
“What we don’t know,” I finally said, “is how they feel inside. Are they scared of the dark, like Dodie? Are they crabby, like Miss Harper? Do they have secrets they don’t want anybody to know?”
Then I got to thinking about the difficult times everybody was talking about, and the war in Europe, and I wondered if we were going to get involved in that. It seemed an awful thing to send boys not much older than my brother off to war. But it was also an awful thing to let that man Hitler keep killing innocent people. Everybody in our town was talking about how bad he was, but so far nobody I knew had tried to do anything about it.
We reached Main Street and waited for a delivery truck to pass before we crossed the street. I looked over my shoulder and saw Mr. Flannery direct the truck into the narrow alley that led to the parking area behind the grocery store. I never realized that he had to get up so early to go to work.
Buster and I walked on to the American Legion Park. Gusts of warm wind made the eucalyptus branches sway and drop their pods onto the dusty earth. Dodie’s fort was almost gone. The wind had blown away the roof, and somebody had stepped on the rest. All that was left was a mound of dirt like a sand castle that has almost washed away. I sat down and collected a fistful of long, spear-shaped leaves. I rubbed them between my fingers until they smelled like Mentholatum, then tossed them away.
Buster chased a ground squirrel, but it escaped up a tree. He made some whining sounds and came back to me.
I got to my feet and began the hike through the groves to the cliff. When I got to the edge, I started down the slope, digging in my heels and skidding, raising a cloud of dirt. I walked up the creek until I came to deeper water and saw the pool where we had moved Dodie’s fish.
There was Willie Jack, sitting on a boulder talking to the Lord. He had to stop because Buster jumped all over him, licking his face and pawing at his shirt. But when Willie Jack said “Sit,” Buster sat.
We watched the minnows swim in the clear water for a while. Then Willie Jack said, “You did a brave thing, Angie, when you sat in that witness chair and told the truth about what really happened to Dodie. That was the right thing to do.”
He picked up a stick and tossed it for Buster to fetch. When he brought it back, Willie Jack petted him and scratched him behind his ears. Then he looked at me.
“What are you going to do with your life, Angie?”
“I’ve never thought much about that,” I told him. “I guess I’ll keep going to school until I don’t have to anymore.” I thought for a minute. “If there’s a war, I’d want to go and fight, but I guess that wouldn’t be possible.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. You have to be born a boy to fight in a war.”
Willie Jack shook his head. “If war comes, women will be in the army, and the navy, too.” He was silent a few minutes. “But there are lots of other ways to fight the wrongs in this world, Angie. You’re a strong girl. You’ll always find a way to stand up for what’s right.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I thought about how I’d felt that day when we went up the creek to save the fish and I’d felt like a leader, but I didn’t know how to put my feelings into words right then. Willie Jack and I sat there a while, not talking. Then Buster and I headed for home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
On the way, I was passing the Crumper house when I saw a light in the window. I thought Dodie’s mother might be sitting in the front room—all alone except for that poor trapped goldfish. I tried to make myself walk on, but something tugged at me, and I found myself at the front door.
Mrs. Crumper opened it so quick I almost fell off the steps. “Come in,” she said.
It was the last thing I wanted to do, but she had me by the arm and was pulling me inside. “I just finished a load of wash,” she told me. “It’s hanging out to dry.”
The sun was just up, and a cool breeze was blowing. It wouldn’t be drying any time soon, I thought, but I guessed she was getting some comfort from doing the things Dodie used to do.
She sat on a sofa cushion with its insides coming out and motioned me down beside her. I didn’t want to, but I sat down.
“Dr. Thomas says Dodie might not be able to come home for a long time,” she said. “We don’t know how much damage that fall did to her.” She squeezed my hand. “She opened her eyes today. I was standing right there. But she didn’t look like she knew who I was.”
I nodded. Dr. Thomas had already told me about that. He said that Dodie had a hard road ahead of her. He didn’t know how long she would have to be in the hospital. Then she would have to do lots of exercises to learn to walk and talk again. She wouldn’t be able to start school with the rest of us. But Dr. Thomas said she would catch up because she was full of grit. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but it did sound like something Dodie would be full of.
“I have to remember to feed Dodie’s goldfish,” Mrs. Crumper told me.
I nodded. “Not too much. A pinch every day is enough.”
Then she put her head in her hands. She began to moan. “I wasn’t a good mother to Dodie.” She said the words over again, waiting for me to disagree with her. But I couldn’t do that, even if she begged me to.
Dodie’s one-eyed cat came from the direction of the kitchen and began to rub against her legs. Somebody—I wondered if it could have been Mrs. Crumper—had given it a bath. Except for the missing eye, it didn’t look too bad.
I wondered what it must be like for her to live in that house with nothing but a goldfish and that cat to keep her company, and a tub full of someone else’s dirty clothes to scrub.
I thought of Miss Emma living in her upstairs bedroom, looking out the window and waving to anybody who passed by. And I remembered what Geraldine had said about puttin
g Miss Emma away. That would be a terrible thing. I remembered how she had nodded to me at the trial, and I thought that on her good days, Miss Emma could act just like other people. She probably would be better if more people would drop in to visit. That was something Reba Lu and Geraldine and I would have to do. Then another thought struck me.
“Do you like animals?” I asked.
Mrs. Crumper raised her head and looked at me. At first she looked surprised. Then she smiled her crooked smile. “I think they often have better sense than people,” she said.
“Miss Emma has lots of animals.”
“I heard about that.”
I crossed my fingers and waited. She didn’t say anything more, so I told her, “She likes people to drop in and visit. Mrs. Dawson has all she can handle with cooking the meals and taking messages for the doctor. I think she would be happy if Miss Emma had more visitors.”
“Is that right?”
“I’ll bet she’d show you her parrot if you visited her.”
I got up to let myself out of the house. Just as I opened the front door to leave, Mrs. Crumper called out, “Can that parrot talk?”
I smiled at her. “Henry is a regular chatterbox,” I said.
That night, it was so hot inside the houses that half of Messina came outside to sit on their porches or walk along the sidewalks, trying to find a little cooler air to breathe.
Geraldine came up the front walk and plopped down on the cool concrete steps. “Ahhhh,” she said. “That feels good.”
Mama brought out some fresh-made lemonade. Then Reba Lu and her whole family joined us.
We sat around on the front porch pulling pieces off Mama’s angel food cake that was still warm from the oven.
“It’s the end of August,” Reba Lu said. “School starts in three weeks.”
Geraldine groaned. “Why did you have to bring that up?”
“I’ll be glad for school to start,” Reba Lu told us. “This year we get to study world geography.”
Geraldine made a face. “Maybe you’ll decide where to go on a mission.”
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