I wished I hadn’t taken the few bites I had. They roiled in my tummy.
“How you doing, darlin’?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “A lot’s happened lately. You okay?”
I shrugged, not saying anything at all. The truth was scary, just the way Meemaw said it would be.
The clock on the wall ticked, and a low, growling wind stirred outside.
“Hope we don’t have a duster coming.” Daddy stood and watched out the window. “Don’t know how many more we could take.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes.” He didn’t leave the window but looked over his shoulder at me.
“Can I tell you something?”
“I guess you can.” He smiled.
“Meemaw never liked Eddie.”
“No, I don’t suppose she did.” He poked around in his shirt pocket until he found a toothpick. He stuck it in his mouth. “She never did trust a man who tramped around like Eddie does.”
“Is he ever going to leave?”
“I don’t know. Probably. Once things around here get dull, he’ll move on.” Daddy took a few steps and relaxed back into his chair. “Fellas like him don’t stick around a place too long.”
“He’s a bad man,” I said, my voice shaking. “I think he’s fixing to do bad things.”
The way Daddy looked at me, I couldn’t tell if he was thinking about what to say next or if he was angry with me. He stood up again and moved around to my side of the table, sitting in the chair where Beanie usually did.
“Pearl, you can’t go around saying things like that.”
“I’ve seen him. He does bad things.”
“Your mama told me you’ve had a couple nightmares about him.”
“No, Daddy. Not just dreams.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve seen him hurt someone. In real life.”
“Darlin’, sometimes bad dreams feel real.” His forehead creased all the way up to his hair. “They trick us into believing they’re real. But they aren’t. It’s just a way our minds work ideas.”
“He beat up Winnie.” The truth spurted out from me. “He hit her so hard.”
“When?” he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Before Christmas.” I whispered because I was so afraid that Eddie could hear me somehow, that he’d know I was talking about him. “They were in the alley talking about something, and he hit her so hard. Her mouth was bleeding, Daddy.”
“Pearl, you can’t feel sorry for That Woman. She’s all bound up in nasty stuff.”
“I know that. I know what a cat house is now,” I said. “Eddie told me she’s going to stop doing that.”
“When did Eddie talk to you?”
“Late one night. After Beanie got hurt. He came here. I tried to tell Mama, but she wouldn’t believe me.” I tried to swallow, but my whole body had gone dry. It was like I was pushing sandpaper down my throat. “He scared me, Daddy.”
“Did he do anything to you? Did he … hit you?” Daddy asked, his eyes moving all over my face. “What else did he say?”
“I don’t know. No. He didn’t hurt me, really.”
“Okay.”
“Daddy, there’s something I need to show you.” Reaching into my sweater pocket, I pulled out the crumpled-up article about the DuPre family killings.
Daddy took the paper and smoothed it against the tabletop. About halfway through, he rubbed hard against his forehead. Before he spoke or even looked up at me, he lit another cigarette, smoking it all the way to a stub.
“Where did you find this?” he asked, smashing the cigarette next to the other ones in the skillet.
I told him about the box and all the letters, even about the dog tags I’d found. As I spoke, his eyes wandered, and I didn’t know if he was listening or not, he seemed so distracted.
“Daddy?”
“Hm?” He glanced back at me for half a second.
“Is it the same Eddie?” I asked.
“I don’t know for sure.”
“He’s going to try to hurt you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Daddy shook his head. “But I’m not going to wait to find out, darlin’. He isn’t going to hurt anybody.”
He lit another cigarette and smoked as he rubbed his free hand through his hair. I knew he was thinking and I shouldn’t ask any questions just then.
Daddy stood up, his chair teetering before banging against the floor, sounding so much like the shooting of cattle that it startled me. He dropped the still burning cigarette into the skillet and paced next to the table.
“Beanie ever talk to you about the night she got hurt?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“I can’t believe I never thought of him before.” He grabbed hold of a tuft of hair and stopped walking. “You seen Eddie hitting Winnie?”
I nodded.
“I’m scared of him,” I whimpered. “He’s going to hurt us, isn’t he?”
“No,” Daddy said, his voice stern. “He will not hurt you girls. I won’t let him get near you.”
He knelt next to me and held my shoulders. I still couldn’t stop shaking.
“Are you sure about all this?” he asked. “About the box and Winnie and all of it? It’s real?”
“Yes, sir.” I wished I could have said it was all just a bad dream and had it all fade like my nightmares always did.
“I need to ask Beanie a couple questions.” He jammed his eyes shut so his face wrinkled. “Why didn’t I ask her about Eddie? It should have been obvious.”
“You think he hurt her?”
He didn’t answer my question, he didn’t have to.
“I’m going to have to wake her up,” he said.
“You think she understands what happened?”
“I don’t know.” He drew me closer and wrapped his arms around me. “I will never let him near you again. You hear? I won’t.”
Daddy left, climbing the stairs, leaving me sitting at the table.
I still had so many questions.
Daddy woke Beanie and got her wrapped in a warm blanket. Mama came from their room, tying the robe tight around her waist.
“Why in heaven’s name is everybody up?” Mama asked, yawning and sitting at the table with us. “It’s the middle of the night.”
Daddy didn’t answer. He sat with eyes closed, wringing his hands.
“Tom, what is going on?” Mama reached across the table to touch him. “What’s got you so bothered? And why did you wake us all up?”
“It’s just …” He stopped, licked his lips, and turned to Beanie. “Darlin’, I’m sorry.”
Beanie glared at him. She never did like being woken, especially before the sun was up.
“What are you sorry about?” Mama asked, gathering the neck of her robe in one hand. “You better tell me what’s going on.”
“Beanie, I’ve got to ask you about what happened that night.” Daddy swallowed hard. “The night you got hurt.”
Beanie shook her head like a wild woman, her eyes shut tight. She grunted and moaned.
“Beanie. Violet Jean,” Daddy said, looking at her with soft eyes. “Open your eyes. Talk to me.”
After a few more shakes of the head, she stopped and focused her eyes on his chin.
“I know it was a bad night. That night you got hurt is a bad memory.” He leaned toward her. “But I’ve got to ask you a couple questions.”
“Tom, why now?” Mama asked, checking the clock on the wall. “We should all be sleeping.”
“Beanie?” Daddy said.
“Don’t wanna.” Beanie clenched her teeth. “Never wanna think of him.”
“Think of who?” Daddy breathed in deep. “Do you remember who hurt you? Did you see his face?”
She nodded. “But I lied before, and I don’t wanna make you mad about it.”
“I won’t be mad. Sometimes we tell fibs when we’re trying to protect ourselves.”
Mama’s eyes shifted between Beanie and Daddy. She leaned forward
and set her jaw hard. “I’d like to know what is going on.”
“He told me I couldn’t never tell nobody.” Beanie pouted. “He said if I tell anybody he’s gonna hurt us.”
“Who is going to hurt us?” Mama’s voice raised with an edge to it. “Why isn’t anybody answering my questions?”
“It’s okay,” I said to Beanie. “You can tell Daddy. He won’t let anybody hurt you.”
“He already done the hurting, that man,” Beanie said through her tight-together teeth. “He hurt me real bad.”
“Who hurt you?” Daddy asked.
“The man with the blue eyes. The man who shot the cows.” My sister looked at me. “Eddie the hobo.”
“I don’t understand,” Mama said, her eyes on Beanie’s face. “Tom, what is she saying?”
“Eddie the hobo hurt me. He hit me and made me bleed.” She pointed at her eye and her mouth and stomach. “He squeezed my neck and called me bad names. It was Eddie.”
“No, darlin’,” Mama said. “You’re confused. Eddie’s the one who helped you. Tom, she’s confused. You shouldn’t be asking all these questions so late at night. She needs her sleep.”
“I know it’s true,” Beanie said. “I’m dumb, but I know this.”
Mama slumped her shoulders and crossed her arms. “I don’t understand.”
Beanie shut her eyes and told us all that Eddie had done to her, how he’d told her he would kill her if she told. It was as if she was reading a script, it all came out so smooth, like she’d memorized every word. Truly, I wasn’t sure she understood all she said. I didn’t think it mattered, though.
“He squeezed and squeezed so hard I couldn’t breathe,” she said, touching her throat. “Then he let go and told me I best not tell. That’s when he helped me up.”
When she finished, she opened her eyes, and her face was dry. That surprised me. I would have thought that the memory would have made her cry. But it didn’t.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mama asked, dabbing under her own eyes with the sleeve of her robe. “We could have done something.”
“I can’t tell.” Beanie let her eyes meet mine for a moment. “He’ll hurt Pearl if I tell.”
“But he’s been in our home,” Mama said, flashing anger in her eyes. “He’s taken meals with us.”
“I’ve got to find him.” Daddy got to his feet. “I’d bet he’s drinking up the money he made today.”
“Tom,” Mama said. “What can we do?”
“I’m going to find him and shove his sorry behind in jail.” Daddy’s voice was low and slow and grumbling. I could tell he was holding back a roar. “Lord, help me not to kill him where he stands.”
“Thomas Spence.” Mama covered her mouth.
“Do you know who his brother is, Mary?” he asked. “Jimmy DuPre.”
“He’s come for you, hasn’t he?” Mama sobbed. “You can’t go after him.”
“I’m going to get Millard first. He’ll know what to do.”
Daddy moved around the house, dressing and strapping on his gun. He kissed both of us girls on the forehead and then Mama on the lips.
“Be careful,” she told him, her face still close to his. “You come home soon, all right?”
“I will.” Daddy pressed his lips against hers again. “Millard and I’ll get together a posse. We’ll try and end this peaceful as we can.”
Daddy locked the back door and jammed a chair under the doorknob. Then he went to the front.
“You lock this behind me, hear?” he said. “And get that shotgun out of our room. It’s under my side of the bed. It’s loaded. There are extra shells in my drawer.”
Mama met him at the door. “I hope I won’t need it.”
“Me too. But if you do need to, shoot to kill.”
Daddy walked out the door.
Mama clicked the lock into place.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Mama sat in the rocking chair. She’d positioned it so she could see between the front and back doors. Daddy’s shotgun rested across her thighs, and she gripped it for dear life. If she blinked more than a couple times, I didn’t see it.
She hummed, soft and gentle and soothing as a lullaby. As tired as her humming made me, I tried not to fall asleep. If I fell asleep, I might dream. If I dreamed, the dreams were sure to terrify me. And if I didn’t stay awake, I would never be able to stop whatever bad was surely coming. I pinched my arm in that tender spot near the armpit to keep myself awake. It seemed to work, but I just knew I’d have a mighty sore bruise the next day.
Beanie lay curled up on the davenport, her mouth wide and face relaxed. If she ever had a nightmare, she didn’t tell any of us about it. I didn’t think she ever pinched herself to stay awake. When things got to be too much for her, she always dropped right off to sleep. Part of me envied that.
“Poor thing,” Mama said, taking her eyes off the doors for a second to glance at my sister. “She’s wore out.”
“It’s been a bad night,” I said, watching Mama.
“Sure has. For all of us.”
“Are you scared?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She pulled the shotgun closer to her middle. “Guess so.”
“Me too.”
“When I was little, my mother used to tell me there was nothing to fear in this world.” Mama blinked about twenty times all in a row. “I don’t think she had ever been afraid in her life.”
“I’m scared all the time.”
“I know, baby,” Mama said. “There’s a lot to be afraid of. A whole lot. It’s a scary world full of scary people. Can’t hardly tell sometimes who’s safe and who isn’t.”
“Mama?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think Daddy’s stronger than Eddie?”
“I reckon.” She flicked her eyes between the two doors. “I hope he is.”
“That’s good.”
“But a man with a grudge can be mighty dangerous, you know. It doesn’t matter how strong or weak a man is.” She sighed. “Revenge can make a man do terrible things.”
“Eddie’s holding a grudge against Daddy, right? For shooting his brother?”
“Indeed, I do believe he is.” She swallowed. “I’m praying really hard, though, that God won’t let his hatred win over your daddy.”
Quietly, without making a noise or moving my lips, I prayed that exact same prayer. And I added on a quick request that God wouldn’t let Eddie hurt any of us. With all the “pleases” I said, I hoped the Good Lord would answer my prayer. And quick.
“Mama,” I said. “Eddie really was here that night.”
“I should have believed you.”
Mama rocked in the chair.
“Have you gotten any sleep?” she asked.
“No. I’m not tired,” I answered. “I want to stay awake.”
“Why don’t you try and get a little rest, at least.” She took one hand off the gun and rubbed at her earlobe.
“Mama …”
“It won’t hurt your daddy any if you sleep a little. He’s going to be just fine. God’s watching after him.” She smiled. “Now, go on up. You can sleep in the bed by yourself.”
As much as I wanted to stay with her, I didn’t think she needed a fight from me. Besides, my bed would be more comfortable than the floor. I got up and kissed Mama’s cheek, leaning over the gun in her lap.
“Good night, darlin’,” she said.
“Good night.”
“I do love you.” She touched my face and looked deep into my eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mama. And I love you, too.”
“I’m sorry. For not believing you.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say to her.
“Sleep well, Pearl.”
I went up the steps and climbed in bed, not even bothering to take off my wooly sweater or socks.
Within a handful of seconds I drifted off to a floating, numbing sleep.
Meemaw visited in my dream. Instead of the bla
ck dress and shawl she had worn in life, she had on green from her bonnet to her shoes. Her dress was just like the one I’d gotten at Christmas. She smiled, her eyes wrinkling in the corners.
I reached for her and called her name, hoping she’d come and hold me. Instead, she put up one finger and wagged it at me.
“No,” she said. “I gotta stay right here, darlin’.”
“Can I come to you?” I asked.
She wagged the finger again. It wasn’t crooked like it had always been before.
“He’s the God who saves, you know.” Her voice came from far away, and I wished I could have felt her near. “He is. No matter who you are or what you’ve done, He’s the one who saves. Do you believe He is?”
“Yes,” my dream-self whispered. “I do believe that.”
“He will save you.”
“From what?” I tried to take a step toward her but couldn’t. Something held me back. “What’s He going to save me from?”
“He will save you.”
“But …”
“I want you to say it,” she said. “‘He will save me.’ Say that.”
“He will save me.”
“Again.”
“He will save me.”
“That’s fine, darlin’.”
Then she opened her mouth and screamed. She screamed like evil itself had grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down.
She was gone.
The screaming got louder and louder.
Sitting up straight in bed, I woke with fast and shallow breaths. Dizzy and cold, I pulled the blanket up to my shoulders.
Then I realized that Meemaw’s screaming hadn’t stopped. Pinching my arm, I checked to be sure I really was awake. It wasn’t Meemaw’s voice.
It was Mama’s.
And Beanie’s.
They screamed, and Mama yelled for someone to get out of the house and that she had a gun. That she wasn’t afraid to shoot his head clean off. Then yelling. A man’s voice shouting the foulest, dirtiest of all words. Furniture clattered and crashed against the wall and floor.
The blast of the shotgun stole my breath.
I was sure she’d shot him, and I hoped that his head or chest was blown to bits. Not taking in breath, I tried to hear what was going on.
Two thuds, that was all I heard. That and my thumping heartbeat.
A Cup of Dust Page 24