Miscarriage of Justice

by Kip Gayden

  He continued on up the side of the house, toward the garage. And then, he saw a sliver of color, near the ground by the garage door—the same color as Mama’s dress! He tiptoed toward the garage, staying far enough to the side so that anyone inside the open door where Daddy drove in his automobile wouldn’t be able to see him coming. He stuck his head around the corner and inside the opening. “I see you Mama, in the—and Mr. Cobb, too!”

  Mama and Mr. Cobb were in the corner, in front of Daddy’s car, and they had their heads together, like they were telling secrets to each other. Mr. Cobb stepped back real quick when Scott called them out, and Mama threw her hands in the air and said “Oh!” like somebody had startled her.

  “Well, I guess you found us, Mr. Walter Scott Dotson Junior,” Mr. Cobb said, giving Scott a big grin. He always called Scott that; Scott didn’t like it so well, but it was sure better than “Scottie.”

  “I guess we have to go to base now,” Mama said. She was smiling too, but to Scott it seemed like she was smiling a little too much—like when he used to tell baby jokes and everyone would laugh, but the jokes weren’t as funny as everyone was pretending. At least, Mabel told him so. She never laughed at any joke he told, no matter how funny it was.

  Scott found Daddy crouched down by the front steps, on the side opposite where he had taken off to look for Mabel and Alice. Scott called him out, and that only left Mrs. Cobb to be found, but Scott didn’t feel like playing anymore. Something about the way Mama and Mr. Cobb were acting was bothering him. He didn’t know why, exactly, but there was something wrong about it, and it was making him feel bad inside.

  “Ollie, ollie, in free,” Scott called. Daddy gave him a surprised look.

  “Aren’t you forgetting someone, son? You haven’t found Mrs. Cobb yet.”

  “I can’t find her. I give up.”

  “What’s the matter, honey?” Mother said. She was giving him a worried look, like she did when he had a cough or a fever.

  “Nothing. I just can’t find her, that’s all.”

  About that time, Mrs. Cobb came walking around the side of the house opposite the garage. “I’m surprised you didn’t find me, Scott,” she said. “I was down behind the rain barrel, by the kitchen steps. You walked right by me.”

  Scott didn’t care. He just wanted to go up to his room and look at books, or play with his toy soldiers, maybe. “I’m tired of playing hide-and-seek. I’m going in the house.”

  ANNA WATCHED HER SON trudge up the steps. Despite herself, she couldn’t help giving Charlie a worried glance. What had Scott seen? And what would a boy his age think about what he’d seen? She should’ve known better than to run to the garage with Charlie.

  “Well, is anybody ready for some dinner?” she said in her best imitation of a bright, cheery tone.

  “Why don’t Scottie want to play no more?” Alice said.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart, it’s about time for dinner, anyway. And then, don’t forget about the ice cream.”

  Alice grinned and ducked her head. Daisy took her daughter’s hand and they all trooped up the front steps and through the parlor, into the dining room. While everyone found their seats, Anna went into the kitchen to tell Gertrude to bring out the food. Gertrude gave her a sour look, but Anna was already on her way upstairs to see if Scott had gone to his room—and to see if she could find out anything about what he thought he knew.

  She tapped on his closed door. “Scott, honey. Come down to dinner. Everyone is waiting for you.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  She went inside. He was sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed, staring at a red-painted top he held in his hand.

  “What’s the matter, honey? Aren’t you feeling well?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Well, why don’t you come downstairs? It wouldn’t be nice to sit up here in your room when we have company. Is something bothering you?”

  He shrugged. Anna looked at him closely. You’re a horrible mother, Anna Dotson, bringing your sin out in full view of your innocent child! You’re a pitiful excuse, is what you are . . .

  “Are you sure you don’t feel sick?”

  Scott shook his head. “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m not sick. I just don’t like the way Mr. Cobb was playing, that’s all.”

  Her heart climbing up her rib cage, Anna said, “What did he do that bothered you, sweetheart?”

  Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. He just shouldn’t be telling you secrets in the garage, maybe.” He looked up at her. “What was he telling you, anyway?”

  Anna’s mind whirled. Telling secrets was better than if Scott had said “kissing,” which is what they were doing. It could be worse. “Well, honey, I’m so sorry that worried you. We were just laughing about having found the same hiding place, and wondering if you were going to find us. That’s all.” Liar! And to your own child!

  He looked at her for several seconds. “That’s all?”

  She nodded and smiled at him.

  He looked back down at the red top in his hand. “Well . . . Maybe that’s not so bad, I guess.”

  “Maybe not. I’m sure Mr. Cobb didn’t mean to upset you. Now, won’t you come down to dinner?”

  “I guess so.” He stood up and shoved the top into his pocket. Anna followed him downstairs, wondering how she was ever going to be able to stop despising herself.

  AFTER DINNER AND ICE CREAM for dessert, the adults set up a small table for pinochle in the parlor, while the children played. Mabel and Alice made a beeline for Mabel’s room. “Come on, Alice. I’ll show you the new door your daddy made for my room,” she said, grabbing Alice’s hand and half dragging her toward the stairs. Scott went upstairs, too. Anna thought he was still giving Charlie doubtful glances, but maybe he’d forget about the garage incident in a few days.

  “Charlie, I want to thank you again for the fine job on the new door,” Walter said when the four of them were seated around the table. “It looks just grand. I told Anna it looks like it was built with the rest of the house.”

  “Well, like I told Anna, I aim to please.” He grinned at Walter, seated just to his left, then across the table at Anna. She tried to return his smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.

  Daisy shuffled the cards. “I sure am glad my daddy ain’t anywhere close by,” she said, “me playing with spot cards and all. He’d have me up in front of the church next Sunday, confessing my sins.”

  “Daisy, your daddy would have something to say about most anything, if he thought somebody was having a good time,” Charlie said.

  “Charlie.” Daisy gave him an admonishing look. “You ought not say things like that.”

  Charlie shrugged. “All right, sorry. Why don’t you deal the cards; you’re about to wear them out.”

  Charlie was partnered with Anna against Walter and Daisy. Charlie won the bid and called hearts as trumps. Anna made a sound of annoyance.

  “Oops, sounds like I missed my partner with the hearts call,” Charlie said. Anna gave him a chagrined look.

  “Now, no talking across the table,” Walter said, grinning. “Or else Daisy and I will have to start communicating, too.”

  “Well, we can’t have that,” Charlie said. “Guess I’ll try to keep quiet.”

  They played out the hand, and Charlie and Anna barely made their bid. “I sure thought we had you,” Walter said. “Didn’t you think we were going to catch them on that last trick, Daisy?”

  Daisy smiled and shrugged. “Charlie’s real good at cards. He always has been lucky.”

  “That’s right, and don’t you forget it,” Charlie said. “Let’s see . . . my shuffle, isn’t it?”

  They played on as full dark settled outside the windows. Charlie kept up a steady line of patter, and he and Anna also kept winning. He would grin at her and compliment her play and Anna would smile back and pass it off as simple luck. A few times, she thought Daisy was looking at her strangely. She decid
ed she’d be glad when the Cobbs went home for the evening.

  19

  December 1911

  Anna picked up the hat. It was a nice, heavy felt—a derby, like the ones Charlie usually wore. But this one was much nicer than anything she’d ever seen him wear. The Nashville haberdashery where she was browsing was one that catered to a clientele a bit above the one to which Charlie, with his barber’s wages would belong.

  She carried the hat to the register, looking over her shoulder toward the front door. With her luck, Walter would walk by and see her through the window, then come in to investigate. “I’d like this hat, please,” she said to the clerk, “but please give me something to carry the box in so my husband won’t know what it is.”

  The clerk smiled knowingly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He took her money and put it in the till, then carefully placed the hat down in a box, packing it in with plenty of tissue paper. He reached under the counter and found a large, plain paper sack and put the box inside it. “Think that’ll do?”

  “Yes, that’s fine,” Anna said, quickly grabbing the sack. “Thank you so much.”

  She went out onto the sidewalk and quickly walked away from the haberdashery. She reminded herself that she didn’t need to be so nervous; Walter was busy with his own errands, and besides, what could be more normal near Christmastime than a woman buying her husband a new hat? But the hat wasn’t for Walter, and Anna didn’t want him to expect to find one under the tree on Christmas morning. What a tangled web we weave, she thought.

  The windows of the stores in Nashville, decorated for Christmas, put her in mind of this time a year ago, in Chicago, and her sad attempt to breathe some life back into her marriage. Anna thought about the past twelve months, and to her it seemed as if twelve years had passed, so different was her life now from then. Maybe she had thought that Charlie’s love would fix things, somehow. What a mistake! Now, she had not only the dull burden of her anger at Walter’s insensitivity and general disregard of her needs, but also the moment-by-moment anxiety over keeping the secret of her clandestine affair. And the secret was bound to leak out, sooner or later.

  Elizabeth Jennings was still looking at her askance. And there was no telling what was going around in Scott’s mind—though, Anna had to admit to herself, he had said nothing about the incident in the garage since that evening, nor had he acted in any way that gave Anna concern. But, Gertrude! Anna had thought more than once about dismissing her, so palpable was her air of disapproval. If she didn’t know Walter was bound to ask questions, she would have probably let her go by now. Anna wished her conscience was a little less tender; she could plant something in Gertrude’s coat pocket—a piece of silver, maybe—and accuse her of stealing. But Anna didn’t think she could pull off such a dirty trick, and her load of guilt was already close to what she thought she could manage without losing what was left of her mind.

  She went into a few more stores and picked up some things for the children and Walter, adding enough to her bundle to easily camouflage Charlie’s hat, nestled down in the center of the lot. She walked back up Broadway, climbing the hill up from the river toward Union Station. She decided to just wait there for Walter and the train back to Gallatin; she was suddenly tired of shopping and ready just to get home as soon as she could.

  The next day, Wednesday, she tucked a note into an Argosy: “Be sure to come by tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got a surprise for you.” By now, most of the men at Person’s barely gave her a glance when she walked in to leave the magazine behind Charlie’s chair. She hoped that was a good sign.

  The next day she decided to give Gertrude the afternoon off. “Go home and rest,” she told her. “It’s nearly Christmas; you ought to spend some time with your family.” Gertrude looked at her for a long time, and Anna could easily imagine all the words going back and forth behind those dark, tired, brown eyes. “Yes’m,” she said, finally, and gathered her things and left.

  Charlie knocked on the kitchen door at about two o’clock and Anna opened to him with a smile.

  “Hello, my darling,” he said, and leaned in. Anna kissed him, but broke the contact earlier than he wanted. “Come upstairs, let me show you what I’ve got.”

  “Oh, I can hardly wait to see what you’ve got,” he said with a leer.

  “Charlie! I wish you wouldn’t talk like that every time we’re alone.”

  “Sorry.”

  She led him up the stairs to her bedroom and made him turn around while she opened her armoire and got out the hat. She had wrapped the box in white tissue paper, trimmed with a wide, red satin ribbon. “All right, you can turn around,” she said, holding the box out toward him.

  “Why, thank you, Anna,” he said, taking it from her. “Should I open it now, or wait?”

  “You might as well open it,” she said. “I don’t imagine you’re going to want to take it home and put it under the tree.”

  “Maybe not.” He smiled at her, then slid the ribbon off the corners of the box. Tearing back the paper, he smiled wider when he saw the “Bee” printed on the lid of the box. “Is this a hat?” he said. “It is! And a very nice one, too.” He took it out, untangled it from the paper packing, and put it on his head. “And a perfect fit! Thank you, my dear.” He stepped to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “You’re welcome. I hope you like it. It looked like the style you prefer.”

  “Sure is. And I’ve got something for you, too—but I didn’t bring it with me. Can I get it to you in the next day or two?”

  “That would be nice. What is it?”

  “Ah-ah. Can’t give away the surprise.”

  “I guess not.”

  He came close and took her in his arms. “Say, it’s been a long time since we . . . enjoyed each other’s company. The kids are at school and I didn’t see old Gertrude downstairs anywhere. What do you say?”

  Anna laid her head against his chest. A part of her wanted to do what Charlie was asking; something always came uncoiled in her when his voice got that warm, husky tone it had right now. And she’d been contemplating the possibility ever since dropping off the Argosy at the barbershop yesterday. But somehow she couldn’t get the consent of herself this afternoon. She looked up at him. “Charlie, I—”

  He pressed his mouth to hers, and despite her reservations, Anna felt herself responding. Before long they were lying atop a pile of discarded clothing on the floor of her bedroom, slaking their appetite for each other. Anna’s pulse sang in her ears, her body arched toward its crescendo.

  When it was over, Anna suddenly wanted desperately to be by herself. She pushed Charlie off of her and quickly gathered her garments, then went into the bathroom. While she was dressing, he rapped on the door.

  “Anna? Are you all right? Is something the matter?”

  “No . . . I’m fine. I . . . you’d probably better go now.”

  “You sure nothing’s wrong?”

  “No. I just want to be alone for a while.”

  She dressed, then waited in the bathroom until the sounds from outside told her he had gone down the stairs and out the front door. She went out and down the stairs, watching as Charlie walked away across the backyard. She went back upstairs and threw herself across her bed, holding her face in her hands.

  CHARLIE WALKED DOWN THE ALLEY, his body still tingling from the session with Anna. Not a bad little early Christmas present. And I got this hat, to boot. He grinned to himself, then tried to figure out what sort of gift he could find for Anna, so as not to make himself a liar. It would have to be something he could locate in Gallatin, since he didn’t have time off for the rest of the week until Sunday, when the stores would be closed. And it couldn’t cost too much, or Daisy would ask all kinds of questions. No, something quick and easy that he could leave at the barbershop, then take to Anna at a convenient time.

  He thought about the issue of Argosy that Anna had just given him, the one containing her note. There was a poem in there titled “Lover’s Light,” about
a woman who left a candle burning in her window to signal her lover that she wanted to see him. But a jealous suitor discovered the arrangement and waited in the bushes near the woman’s house one evening when the candle was lit. He killed the unsuspecting lover as he was entering the yard and dragged him away, burying him in the woods. But the woman kept lighting the candle, night after night, year after year, pining away for the beloved she would never see again.

  That was it: Charlie would buy her a candle, and maybe a cut-glass candle holder, if he could find one that wasn’t too expensive. He’d tell Anna to use it as a signal for him to come to her. She couldn’t miss the poetic reference; she’d probably get all sentimental about it. Charlie nodded to himself. Yes, a candle was just the thing. Merry Christmas, my little Anna.

  Charlie wondered what had gotten into her, at the end. Why had she pushed him away so abruptly? She was probably having second thoughts again. Well, she’d just have to get over it. He wasn’t going away so easily. And Charlie had a feeling that Anna didn’t really want him to. She was worried about getting found out, sure, but she needed him in some way. After all, the good doctor wasn’t taking care of her needs, was he? Anna needed a real man in her life. Charlie decided to give it a rest for a few days, try to figure out which way the wind was blowing. He figured, the breeze had to blow his direction sooner or later. After all, as Daisy had said, he’d always been lucky.

  WALTER PLAYED THE OPENING CHORDS, ending with an arpeggio, then gave everyone an expectant look. Stumbling a little bit at first, the crowd finally began to sing “Auld Lang Syne” as he played along. At the end of the chorus, everyone shouted, “Happy New Year!”

  It had been a good party. Most of Gallatin’s leading businessmen were here, along with their wives. Walter enjoyed playing the host, and Anna had been as close to her old self as Walter could remember in a while, gliding in and out among their guests, making everyone feel welcome, insuring that everybody had a good time. Even without the alcoholic beverages often customary at such gatherings, Walter believed their guests had had a wonderful evening.