by Donis Casey
As she bent over Mary to brush a wisp of damp hair out of the young woman’s face with her fingers, Alafair noticed that Mary was clutching something to her chest. The room was dark enough that she had to lean close to see that it was a book.
She gently eased it from Mary’s hand and started to lay it on the side table, then hesitated.
Not a book. She could tell by the size of it that it was the journal that Mary had kept since she was about ten. Alafair had seen it before, tucked into a box of personal treasures that Mary kept in a drawer in the chiffarobe, along with ribbons and an odd piece of jewelry or two.
Having always lived in such close quarters that the idea of privacy was unknown to her, Alafair had idly thumbed through it once or twice, when she was putting away the girls’ clothes. It was filled with Mary’s impressions of the latest book or poem she had read, recipes for her favorite dishes, a joke or witticism she had heard. Alafair had found it sweet and amusing, but not particularly revealing.
But that was before. Alafair gazed at the dark shape in her hand. What had Mary been writing lately? Was there something in here that Alafair could use to help Mary in any way?
Well, it was far too late and too dark right now. Reluctantly, she placed the journal on the table. “Sleep tight, darlin’,” she whispered.
Through the bedroom window, she could see the tree branches moving in the moonlight, and for a second, thought she saw a human form in the shadows. She moved closer to the open window, but could see nothing. She shook her head. Since it had been struck by lightning the year before, the big hackberry tree had taken on a weird, angular shape, with a multitude of odd protuberances, like waving arms and peeking heads. Surely that’s what had fooled her. It had fooled her before.
She made her way to the front screen and stood looking out for a minute, enjoying the rustling, chirruping peace of the night. She had just turned to go to the bedroom when she heard the moaning sound. She stopped in her tracks and listened intently for just a few seconds before she heard it again, distinctly. It was a woman, that was for sure, moaning, so sad, like her heart would break. Alafair eased open the screen and stepped out onto the porch. There was little breeze, now. The trees were still, and all she could hear were the myriad singing insects. She tiptoed from child to child and bent over each cot and pallet, but all were sleeping the peaceful sleep of the innocent.
Alafair walked down the porch steps in her bare feet, and a little way into the yard, where she stopped and listened again. Who are you? she thought.
“Speak to me,” she whispered. “Tell me what you want.”
But nobody answered.
Chapter Six
After Trent’s story, Walter told about how he got jumped by a robber in his own back yard a few years back, who stole all the money that he was taking home with him for the night from his cash register in the barber shop. Walter said the thief was hiding in some bushes and waiting for him in the dark. He jumped out and grabbed the money pouch right out of Walter’s hand and ran like a turkey before Walter even knew what happened. Turned out to be that Williams boy. Remember how his ma nearly sank through the floor when the judge sent him to jail for six months for strong-arm robbery? People just don’t think about how what they do affects the folks that love them. And then, sometimes you just don’t know that what you’ve done has caused someone pain. Anyway, thinking about poor Miz Williams made us sad for a minute, and after that, the stories took a turn down a darker road…
***
Very early the next morning, just as the sun was rising, Alafair allowed her girls to get breakfast, filled a basket with food, and went to the barn to hitch her little gray filly, Missy, to the buggy. One of Shaw’s hunting hounds, the aptly named Crook for his broken tail, jumped into the back seat and squirmed with joy when Alafair didn’t order him out. He never missed an opportunity for a buggy ride when he was allowed. She pulled out of the barn and was just passing the house on the way to the road when Mary met her at the front gate and waved her to a halt.
“What’s on your mind, punkin’?” Alafair asked.
“Daddy says you’re going over to the Rosses’.”
“I am. Going to take them some food and find out if Calvin will let me see Laura for a minute.”
“You going to try to get her to tell you who hurt her?”
Alafair blinked at her before she answered. “I expect not. I hear that Laura is in a state and not talking to anyone. Beside, I reckon Calvin wouldn’t allow me to be pestering the child. I’d just like to take her a bit of comfort, if I can.”
“I want to come with you.”
“Are you sure?” Alafair was surprised. “We’ve got Bill’s funeral later. It’s like to be an upsetting day as it is.”
Mary climbed up next to her mother in the buggy and Crook tried to nuzzle her ear. She pushed him away absently, then arranged her skirt over her knees before she answered. “Ma, I’d feel better if I did something useful about this situation. Anything. I can’t stop thinking about what happened. There was nothing I could do. There was nothing anyone could do. My mind is a-roil, all the time. I can’t sleep but I have bad dreams. My heart is sore. I feel so sad. I haven’t felt so sad and scared since Bobby died and I feared you and Daddy would lose your minds. I thought that there wasn’t enough sad left in all the world to feel that way again, that we had used it all up. But now I’ve gone to that well again, and I’m sorry to find that it’s as deep as the ocean.”
Alafair’s heart shrank at the mention of her little son who had died of poisoning years before, but it was Mary’s distress that caused the lump in her throat. She put her hand on Mary’s knee. “Honey, when a body grows up, you find that life is just like that. There is an endless supply of sad. But there’s an endless supply of joy, too. It comes and it goes, just like winter turns into spring, just like night turns into day. Everything passes, even the worst of your grief. The way to live a happy life is to trust that everything is as it should be, even if you can’t see it at the time. You’ll do better if you can endure the bad and rejoice in the good.”
Mary smiled at her mother’s platitudes. “I know grief passes, Mama, or at least grows less. But I feel like it might pass quicker if I could just do something.”
Alafair patted her knee. “All right, then. We’ll see what we can do.” She picked up the reins and clucked at the horse, and they trotted out onto the road.
***
Calvin Ross’ beautiful little dairy farm abutted Shaw’s parents’ land on the west, within walking distance of the town of Boynton. The property was fronted by a rail fence. A stone gate was topped by a huge sign announcing “Ross Dairy Farm” in festive blue and yellow lettering. The long, low barn stretched off to the left, behind the neat little dairy and office building. Straight ahead, at the end of the drive through the gate, sat the two-story, rail-porched Ross home. Appropriately, the house and all the outbuildings were painted butter yellow. By the time Alafair and Mary arrived, Calvin’s farm hands had finished the milking, and as they drove past the dairy, they found Calvin and the man he employed to make his deliveries loading the dairy wagon with canisters of fresh milk, tubs of butter, and cheeses.
The driver had climbed into his seat and Calvin was just closing the doors on the milk wagon when Alafair pulled to a stop. As his delivery man drove away, Calvin eyed them warily, trying to decide whether he was up to accepting any more condolences at the moment, but he walked over to the buggy and smiled at them, friendly enough.
“Calvin,” Alafair said, “we brought you some vittles.”
“Thank you, Alafair, but I expect we’ve got enough vittles to last a spell.”
“Well, we brought ’em,” Alafair countered, undeterred. “Might as well leave ’em. If you and the girls don’t need them, the hands might enjoy a meal.”
“That’s neighborly of you.” Calvin gave in to the inevitable. “Just take them on up to the house and leave them with Iva. She’ll see that they get put to good use.”
He paused and studied Mary. “How you doing, Mary, honey?”
“I’m all right. How is Laura, Mr. Ross?”
Calvin’s lips thinned and he shook his head. “No change, as far as I can see. The head wound looks bad to me, but the doc says he don’t think her skull is busted so bad it won’t mend. She ain’t uttered a word since it happened. Sometimes she just sleeps, or stares off into space. That’s bad enough, but ever once in a while she takes a notion to wander, like she’s looking for something. Won’t say nothing to us, but she’s like to crawl out her bedroom window and hie off into the night, if we don’t keep a sharp eye on her. The sheriff keeps wanting to talk to her, but it don’t do no good. I’m bound to tear my hair out with worry. Doc Addison says to let her rest, don’t let nothing fret her, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“How’re the other girls?”
Calvin shrugged. “They’re young, Alafair. They’re helping out as best they can, trying to get her to eat, helping Iva with the chores, and all.”
“Well, it’s a nasty business, Calvin. I won’t be easy ’til they catch the skunk who did it.”
“He better not rest easy, either.” Calvin’s face hardened. “If he crosses my path, I’ll save the county the cost of a trial.”
“I understand, Calvin. Just be careful. Don’t leave the girls without a mother nor daddy either.”
Calvin looked down at the ground and shook his head, smiling at his own folly. “I hear what you’re saying, Alafair.” He looked up at her. “But I’ve never been so riled.”
Alafair had nothing to say to this. She wasn’t inclined to try and talk him out of it when she rather agreed with him. She picked up the reins. “We’ll take this food up to Iva. No need to disturb yourself. I can see that you’re busy. We’ve been praying for y’all, Calvin.”
“Thank you, Alafair,” he called as she pulled away from him. “We could use it. Take care, Mary.”
Calvin walked back toward the dairy barn and Alafair drove the buggy around to the back of the house, so they could unload the food into the kitchen.
“You never asked Mr. Ross if we could see Laura,” Mary pointed out.
“Don’t see why we need to bother the poor man with it,” Alafair told her as they climbed down. “We’ll see what Iva has to say. Crook, stay put.” The dog settled down in the back of the buggy, where he would stay, since he had been ordered, until they came back.
Iva herself came out onto the back porch to greet them. She was Calvin’s sister, a childless widow, who had been living with the family since the mother had died. She resembled Calvin quite a bit, Alafair thought, tall and rangy, hair gone prematurely gray, but a pleasant face. A pleasant manner, too. She had only been in town for a little more than a year, and was still learning the particulars of her new neighbors.
“Why, it’s Alafair Tucker, isn’t it?” she greeted, relieving Alafair of her basket as she walked back up the steps. “And Mary! I’m glad to see you looking as well as you do, honey.”
“Thank you, Miz Grady,” Mary said.
“I swear, everyone has been mighty generous,” Iva told them, as she ushered them into the kitchen. “We’ve been eating as much as we can, and I’ve been feeding Calvin’s workers like kings for the last couple of days, but in this heat, I’m afraid food is going to go to waste.”
“I thought of that,” Alafair assured her. “That’s why I’ve brought you some of my canned goods, and Mary here made up a package of her own dried noodles.”
“Why, that will come in handy! Calvin and the girls do love their chicken noodle soup. Now, sit down and have some cake. Miz Kellerman from the church brought it last evening, and it’s too good to be let go to waste.”
“Miz Kellerman. Isn’t her girl Shirley a friend of Laura’s?”
“They know one another, but Shirley was more a friend of Bill’s. She cooled toward Laura when Laura and Bill started stepping out together. I know Miz Kellerman really admires the McBrides. Now, eat some of this cake.”
“Thank you, Iva, but we can’t stay too long. Bill’s funeral is later today, you know.”
The pleasant look melted off Iva’s face and she sat down heavily in a kitchen chair. “I know.”
“Are y’all going?” Mary asked her.
“I am, and maybe Laura’s sister Betty. Calvin hasn’t got the heart, he says. The youngest girl, Joan, will be staying here to look after Laura.”
“You don’t think it would help Laura if she went?” Alafair asked. “Bill was her intended, after all. I’d think she’d want to take her leave of him.”
Iva shook her head. “Laura doesn’t know if it’s day or night. She’s been told that Bill is gone, but I don’t know if she understood. The wounds on her head don’t look quite so bad now that we got them cleaned up, but I’m afraid her mind is just a mess. Sometimes she acts like she understands you, and sometimes she doesn’t. When we get her up to change her clothes or make the bed, she’s as limp as a sack of cobs. But if you take your eye off her for a minute, she’s liable to walk right out of the house!”
“Calvin said she’s taken to wandering.”
Iva sagged at the sheer pathos of it all. “I wonder sometimes if she isn’t looking for something, but who knows what’s going on in that poor muddled brain of hers? Her right hand doesn’t grip well, and her right eye wanders now and then. I don’t think she’s aware of anything, but Calvin is convinced that she knows more than we think. Why, he’s afraid that if we took her over there and she saw poor Bill in his coffin, she’d just fall right down dead.”
“So it’s bad as that.”
“It is. This very minute, the child is in her room yonder, lying in a pile on her bed. Maybe she’s sleeping, maybe she’s just a-staring at the wall. She’s said nary a word, nor even cried. I know she understands us sometimes, if we tell her to roll over or something like that, but sometimes she just doesn’t seem to understand at all.”
Mary caught her lip between her teeth and looked at her mother expectantly. Alafair leaned back in her chair with a thoughtful expression on her face, and briefly drummed the kitchen table with her fingertips. “Iva,” she said at last, “would you let us look in on Laura for a minute?”
Iva’s forehead crinkled. “Oh, I don’t know, Alafair. Calvin doesn’t even want the sheriff talking to her any more. He says she’s been through enough right now.”
“I don’t intend to interrogate the girl, Iva. I’d just like for Mary and me to sit with her for a little bit, let her know that she has plenty of people who love her and are thinking of her and praying for her. Calvin don’t have to know. We wouldn’t stay more than a minute.”
Iva pondered, clearly torn. “I doubt if Laura will even know you’re there,” she warned. “But still, I can’t see as how it would hurt.” When she stood, Alafair and Mary stood as well, and followed her through the kitchen and the parlor, into the tiny back bedroom on the first floor where Laura was ensconced.
It was a bright, pleasant little room. The one large window, shaded on the outside by a big leafy locust tree, was propped open with a length of broom stick to admit the breeze. The head of the narrow bed was centered against one wall, and a small chest with a mirror on top was centered against the wall opposite. Two kitchen chairs sat on either side of the bed, and a third was pushed into a corner. Too many chairs for the little room bespoke of recent visitors.
Laura herself lay on her side, facing the door, her blue eyes wide open, but vacant. Her head was swathed in bandages stained pink in several places where her wounds had seeped blood, but her face appeared untouched. Her mouth drooped slightly at the right corner and her right eye appeared to be looking somewhere slightly different than the left. Her fine, pale blond hair had been pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck in an attempt to keep it neat. Her white cotton gown was clean, but damp with sweat. She didn’t acknowledge her aunt when Iva bent over the bed and spoke her name. In fact, she gave no sign that she was aware of their presence at all.
Laura didn’t speak, nor take her eyes off the open door. Her only response was to move her hands from where they lay cradling her cheek and clasp them together at her breast. Iva straightened and gave Alafair and Mary a helpless shrug.
Alafair nodded at Iva, acknowledging that she knew what she was up against, and removed her hat, all business, now. “It’s all right, Iva. Just leave Mary and me alone with her for a minute. Maybe we’ll just sit with her and be quiet. You can come roust us out when you think it’s been long enough.”
Iva ceded the bedroom to them and withdrew. Alafair sat down in one of the bedside chairs and motioned for Mary to do the same.
“Poor Laura,” Mary murmured. “Oh, Mama, I feel so helpless. What can we do?”
Alafair reached out and put her hand on Laura’s hands. “Just touch her, honey.” She leaned forward, her face inches from Laura’s. “Laura, darlin’, it’s Miz Tucker, and your friend Mary. Everything’s all right, now, sweetheart. Ain’t nothing going to happen to you now. There’s nobody here going to hurt you. You’re in the circle of your family.”
Mary, who had placed both hands on Laura’s side, wasn’t weeping, exactly, but her eyes were spilling over with tears that ran down her cheeks unnoticed. “Laura,” she said, taking her mother’s lead, “why don’t you come back to us? We sure miss you.”
Laura closed her eyes.
Alafair leaned in even closer and put her hand on Laura’s cheek. “Sugar, Bill wouldn’t like to see you like this. Bill is in heaven, now. He’s looking down on you, he’s going to watch over you for as long as you live. Bill loved you more than anybody, still does; and you know he wants you to be happy.”