Blood Sisters

by Melody Carlson

  “But why?”

  “I kept feeling this pull on me to come back here—I know it sounds crazy—but I wanted to see if I could help change things.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I guess this is sort of a faith journey for me.” He smiled. “And what a confirmation it was to see you here today! I’m not exactly sure how it’ll all happen, but I really believe that God is up to something.”

  Then Judith told Eli about her own personal faith struggles and how for the first time since losing Peter she’d actually been able to pray.

  “That’s the first step, Judith. Just keep walking that direction. I know God will lead you. I really believe it.”

  She stood and rinsed off their dishes in the old chipped enamel sink. “But Eli, I’m sure you could’ve afforded any place in town. What made you decide to move back into your family’s old house?”

  He sighed. “Good memories, I guess. And when I called a local Realtor, I asked him about something in this neighborhood, never dreaming this place would be for sale. And when it was, it just seemed another confirmation that God was leading. My plan is to work on this place until everything in it is “shipshape,’ as Dad used to say.”

  “How are your parents, Eli?”

  “Dad passed on a few years ago. Mom’s at a good retirement home in Seattle. I hated to leave her up there, but she knows all about what I’m doing, and she’s probably my best prayer partner right now.”

  “So she’s not worried?”

  “Not worried?” He laughed. “Why do you think she’s praying so hard?”

  Judith dried her hands on a towel. “Eli, my cousin suggested that all had not gone well for your family here in Cedar Crest.”

  “Come into the living room and help me with these books while I get my computer set up, and I’ll try to tell you the story—or at least the shortened version.”

  While Judith placed books onto the bookshelf that filled half a wall, she listened to Eli’s story.

  “I left Cedar Crest right after graduation. Got an athletic scholarship at the university. Andrew had already moved on by then too. But James was still in high school. He should’ve graduated in “78.”

  “Should’ve?”

  “Yeah. In “76 the Morrisons moved back to town, bringing a lot of others with them.”

  “Others?”

  “Southerners. Folks who were getting more than a little put out at all the equal rights that blacks were starting to get down in the South by then. Folks who thought a sleepy, little town like Cedar Crest—a town with only one black family in it—would be the perfect place to raise their lily-white children in. Apparently, Burt Morrison had bragged about how white the Northwest was and these fellas got it in their heads that this was the place to be.”

  “Oh, Eli, I had no idea it was that bad.”

  “Yeah, well, you were long gone by then. Anyway, Jasmine wasn’t with her folks when they moved back. Just their other daughter, the younger girl, Constance.”

  “You know, I just found out that Constance died a year ago.”

  He shook his head. “That’s too bad. Although, I must confess I have to remind myself to forgive that girl and keep forgiving her. I think this is one of those places where that “seven times seventy’ rule comes to play.”

  “What’s that?”

  “In the Bible Jesus says how we need to be willing to forgive someone seven times seventy, and I’ve come to believe that sometimes that means we have to forgive someone for the same thing, over and over again—until it’s no longer an issue in our lives.”

  Judith placed a thick theology book on an upper shelf. “I’ve never heard it put exactly that way, but I think it makes sense.”

  “So, the Morrisons were back in town, along with their good ol’ boy buddies. And you can just guess where they had their sites aimed.”

  Judith groaned. “Your family.”

  “Yep. First off, they tried to make my dad lose his job at the school by starting some mean and completely unfounded rumors about him. But the good people in this town fought for him, and for a while he stayed on. But that’s when the constant heckling and badgering started. A rock through a window here. A punctured tire there. And my poor parents could hardly go to town without running into some of these new Southerners. And it got ugly.”

  Judith stopped putting books away. “Oh, I feel so bad for them, Eli. Your parents were such good people. That was so wrong! But didn’t it help that other people in town stood up for them?”

  “A little. But it didn’t take long before Burt and his buddies started setting their sites on the others too. Jewish, Latino, Asian—anyone who was different was picked out, as well as anyone who tried to oppose them. Mr. Anderson, the high school art teacher, used to write letters to the editor on a regular basis—and he actually got a burning cross planted in his front yard.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, stuff like that was becoming commonplace around here. And slowly but surely the good folks of Cedar Crest began moving on.”

  “Folks like Dr. Warner.”

  “Yeah, and those like him. Only a few brave ones remained.”

  “Like the Andersons.”

  “Yeah. But here’s the hardest part of this story, Judith.” He turned away from his computer and looked at her. “You see, James was a junior in high school, the same age as Constance Morrison...”

  “Oh no,” breathed Judith, suddenly knowing where this was headed.

  “Oh yes. It seemed Constance was going through a little rebellious period with her folks. You know, like most of us did at one time or another. But, unfortunately for my little brother, Constance knew the best way to get her father really riled.”

  Judith felt her clenched fist pressing into her lips. “You mean Constance went after James?”

  He nodded, his eyes filled with sadness. “And she was a pretty girl. Had that same sparkle as Jasmine, except she was a blonde. Anyway, despite my father’s warnings, James fell right into her trap. I’m sure, being sixteen, he thought he was invincible, or in love, or something. But he and Constance would sneak out together in the evening. And one night he borrowed my folks’ car to take some friends to the movies, but he never came home. The car was found smashed into a tree out by the rock quarry, and James was in the driver’s seat, dead. Naturally, the police say they found an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and the word around town was that the no good n boy got himself killed by drinking and driving.”

  Tears were trailing down her cheeks now. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” she sobbed. “That’s so horrible! I never heard anything about that before. I feel so bad for you and your family. And—poor James—” Her voice choked. “I can still remember when he used to come outside and try to shoot baskets with us. He was so little and cute—” She went into the bathroom for a tissue for her nose, then returned. “Wasn’t there something people could do? Some sort of investigation? Anything?’’

  “My dad tried, but it was useless. My folks left town right after that happened.”

  “It’s so...so wrong! So evil! How can you stand it?”

  “It’s been a real hard story to remember, Judith, and even a harder one to tell,” Eli spoke in a somewhat apologetic tone. “And over the years, I’ve tried not to tell it too often.”

  She nodded. “But, Eli, it’s a story that really needs to be heard. Maybe it could even make a difference.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “To tell James’s story?”

  He shook his head. “To make a difference.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AS JUDITH CARRIED HER bags down the nasturtium-lined path towards Aunt Lenore’s back porch, she intuitively felt a pair of eyes watching her. She turned to find Martha’s gray head peering over the top of the gate.

  “Hello.” called Judith in her friendliest tone. “I saw Aunt Lenore.” She hoped this tidbit of information might arouse Martha’s curiosity enough to allow Judith the chance to
speak with her.

  “Is she all right?” asked Martha in a stiff, formal voice.

  “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not completely sure.” Judith set down her bags and walked slowly toward the fence, as if making a quick move right now might frighten the older woman away. “Martha, if you’d just let me, I’d really like to explain some things to you.”

  Martha’s eyes focused tightly on Judith, but her lips remained in a firm line. “Well, then go ahead.”

  “You see, the other day when I told you about Jasmine, I’m afraid you assumed that I was still involved with Jasmine’s family. And now that I know more about what has gone on here in Cedar Crest, I can totally understand how that might have alarmed or concerned you.”

  “Yes.” said Martha crisply. “You’re right about that.”

  “But you need to know I have been completely out of touch with the Morrisons for nearly thirty years, and I certainly don’t hold any of Mr. Morrison’s views on things like—like—” She struggled for the right words. “Well,

  things like racism or bigotry. I’m just not like that. Really, not at all.”

  Martha’s eyebrows raised, possibly with disbelief. “When you’ve been through and seen the sorts of things that I have seen, you know when to be careful. I’ve never met you before, Judith, and, quite frankly, I have no reason to believe your story.”

  At least she had called her by her first name. That was something. “Well,” began Judith hesitantly, “what if I were to tell you that I was also friends with the Paxtons—a family who has suffered greatly, I’ve only just learned, at the hands of people like the Morrisons.”

  “You’re friends with the Paxtons?” Martha scowled in disbelief. “Why, they don’t even live around here anymore.”

  “Eli does.”

  Martha let out a sarcastic laugh. “Now I know you’re lying.” She started to turn away, leaning into her cane and shaking her head with disgust.

  “I swear to you, Martha, as we speak, Eli Paxton is moving into his parents’ old house.”

  Martha turned around and glared at her. “That’s ridiculous! You can’t possibly know what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s true. I just spent the better half of the day with Eli,” claimed Judith. “His wife died last year. He has two boys in college. And he took early retirement and has moved down from Seattle. He plans to restore his parents’ old home and live right here in Cedar Crest.”

  Now Martha seemed at a loss for words. Afraid that the poor woman might think her to be completely nuts, Judith continued quickly, “I was as shocked as you are, Martha. I just ran into him this morning, and then I stayed and helped him unpack. That’s when I learned the story of what happened here in Cedar Crest during the late seventies. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. And furthermore, Eli used to be one of my very best friends. We even dated in high school.”

  Martha’s eyes narrowed in skepticism. “You dated Eli in high school?”

  “Yes, and the only reason I broke up with him was because he started smoking pot. .. ” In the same instant, her throat constricted with emotions that threatened to get out of hand. Why was she trying so hard? Maybe it was just useless. “Oh, just forget it.” She grabbed her bags and hurried into the house, certain she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of one of the few people left in Cedar Crest whom she respected. She threw her bags down on the kitchen floor and headed over to the sink for a glass of water. Why was she crying and carrying on like this? Perhaps what Adam had suggested last night was true. Perhaps she wasn’t a strong person. Perhaps all that had happened—and was still happening—in Cedar Crest was too much for her. Perhaps she would be better off, as Dr. Warner had described, to just cut her losses and move on. The problems here were too dark and too deep for a weakling like her. How could she ever hope to rise above them if she were to break into tears all the time?

  “Judith?” called a voice from the back porch. “Judith, can I come in?”

  She turned to see Martha sticking her head through the opened back door, her face a mixture of pity and curiosity. Judith grabbed up one of Aunt Lenore’s pretty tea towels to wipe her eyes, then said, “Sure, come on in. You can stand here and watch me having a total breakdown.”

  Martha came across the kitchen and extended her arms. “Come here, dear.”

  Unbelieving, Judith walked toward the open arms and continued to sob uncontrollably. “I don’t know...” she choked on her words. “I don’t know what to do. I probably should go...go home. I’m probably not strong enough to face all these horrible things. Everything that Eli told me today...it’s just too awful, too ghastly...how could all this have really happened? I loved James like a little brother…”

  “There, there.” soothed Martha. “Go ahead and cry. It’s something we all need to do more of. I know how many times I’ve kept my own tears from flowing when I should’ve sobbed like a baby. Just go ahead and cry, Judith.”

  After a bit, Judith stepped back, embarrassed for her open display of confused emotion. She held up her hands helplessly. “I just don’t know what to do, Martha. I came here only to find out what happened to Jasmine, and now I’m finding out about all this...all this...ugliness. I had no idea. It’s overwhelming.”

  Martha sunk into a kitchen chair and shook her head. “Believe me, I know.”

  Judith sat down across from her. “Eli even told me how Mr. Anderson was one of the few who really hung in there, one of the only ones to stand up to Mr. Morrison and his gang. Eli told me about them burning a cross in your yard. I thought that was something that only happened in the deep South.”

  Martha made a mocking laugh. “Unfortunately, racism is alive and well here in the Northwest. And I’m not just talking about Idaho and Montana. Oregon and Washington both have a lot of their own dirty little secrets. Why, not until the fifties, I believe it was, a college-educated African American schoolteacher couldn’t legally teach in our state. And they couldn’t buy homes until around then too. Sure, they could go off to war and fight for their country, but when they got home, at least in Oregon, they could secure neither jobs nor housing. I’ll bet that Mr. Paxton was one of the first African Americans to legally purchase a home in this area. That place might just be a historical site.” She shook her head. “‘And don’t kid yourself. That little cross-burning episode was just one of the many things we’ve been through here in Cedar Crest. Warren kept a scrapbook full of the things that happened here in the last thirty years. He’d always planned to write a book.”

  “But he never got the chance.”

  “No, but I’m still toying with the idea. I even bought a computer last year, thinking I’d start getting some of this down.”

  “Well, I admire what you and Mr. Anderson have done in this fight.”

  “To be honest, I used to shy away from all this controversy. But dear Warren, bless his soul, was a principled man. He refused to back down on these issues, and he refused to let them run him out of town.”

  “Good for him!” Judith hit her fist on the table, then shook her head. “I just wish I could be that strong.”

  “Maybe you will be. But now tell me more about this news that Eli Paxton has moved back to town. It’s rather unbelievable. Even now, I find myself wondering why I should believe such a tale.”

  Judith looked her straight in the eye. “I swear, it’s true. I’m still shocked. Especially in light of what he and his family went through. I can hardly believe what Eli told me about poor James.” She felt fresh tears fill her eyes and reached for the tea towel again.

  “One of Cedar Crest’s darkest days, as far as I’m concerned.” Martha looked out the window. “I still remember that funeral. A small group of Burt Morrison’s buddies showed up at the graveside with a great, big, flashy wreath. No one said anything, but we all knew. They’d only come to rub our noses in it. To show us who was in charge of this town—and who could get away with murder.”

  “How could this happen? Where were the polic
e? The FBI?”

  “The police? Ha! The police were all in on it too. Even when some of us tried to get outside help from the FBI, it just fell apart. Of course, we had no proof—just theory. And before we knew it, the police had the FBI eating out of their hands. It was so discouraging that many folks moved away that year. I wanted to, but Warren just wouldn’t give up. Even when the Paxtons moved, right after losing James, Warren simply refused to budge. He used to say he’d rather die than give in to them. And that’s what he did. And so here I am,” she held up her hands, “unable to make myself leave now, even though I know it would be the sensible thing to do.”

  “You must be a strong person.”

  Martha smiled. “Strong or stupid. I’m not always sure which. Now, you mentioned something about Miss Barker. How is she? Where is she?”

  “I saw her a couple days back at Crest View. We talked a little, but she seemed very groggy, almost as if she were heavily sedated. Then a nurse came in and shooed me away, saying she was in serious condition and was to have no visitors. The next time I went in they wouldn’t even let me see her. And then today, they told me she’d been released. So I called Green Hill and the hospital, but no one seems to have her anywhere. And frankly, this has got me pretty worried.”

  “But what was wrong with her? Why did they take her in? And who do you think came and got her? I know it wasn’t an ambulance.”

  Judith pressed her lips together and thought. “Well, she mentioned Burt, and I thought maybe she meant he’d taken her in. But I’ve checked at the old Morrison place and it looks like no one’s around.”

  “Oh, they don’t stay there very much, dear.”

  ”I know, but I thought if they were in town—”

  Martha nodded knowingly. “You don’t know about the lake yet, do you?”

  “The lake?”

  “It’s their private club. It has some secret name—something about the brotherhood. We’ve always just called it the KKK Club, although they are two separate, albeit very similar, organizations. It’s where all the bad boys reside, and where others like them go to socialize and plan their next dirty deed. Only the racist elite are allowed to live there. It’s completely gated with dogs and electronic security and who knows what else. You can’t see it from the road at all.”