Keeping Secrets

by Suzanne Morris

  26

  I realized then Nathan was someone we all had miscalculated. At once I wished to be as far away from him as I could run, yet was seized with curiosity. I didn’t dare ask a question. I could only hope he would continue to go steadily from that point on, and he did.

  He became retrospective, and gazed up at the ceiling, as though it was with some relief he finally told what he had kept secret for years. “Sam Arnesty was big as a bull and strong. He had a ring of black hair around his head and dark, distrustful eyes. He took a shine to my mother as soon as he hit town and went to work as foreman of the mill. I didn’t mind him. Mother said he made good money and if she married him she wouldn’t have to sew for people anymore. And it wasn’t bad at first. He’d take me with him on the buggy sometimes; when something broke that couldn’t be fixed at the mill, he’d put it on the buggy and take it to Lufkin to the foundry there. And all along the way he’d talk about the mill and there wasn’t anything I’d rather listen to.

  “But then a few months after the wedding Mother got sick and Sam brought Doc Barnes to the house to look at her. He was the mill doctor. He said he didn’t know, he’d have to run some tests and send them off. So when she felt a little better she went down to his office and he did the tests. When the results came back he said he wanted to send her to a big clinic in Baltimore where they’d do some more tests.

  “Sam didn’t like it much, said it was probably all her imagination when it came right down to it, but he sent her anyway. When she got back she told him she was real sick and would have to go to a big hospital for treatments. I don’t know what she had. I was just a kid. No one would tell me anything. I think she had cancer, but she wouldn’t talk to me about it.

  “Sam got mad. He came home drunk one night and accused her of knowing she was sick before she married him, and using him to pay her doctor bills. At least he didn’t hit her—even Sam Arnesty wasn’t as brutal as Cabot—but he said awful things to her and made her cry. Then he left and didn’t come home for a week.

  “When he did, he apologized and said he just didn’t have the money to send her to a fancy hospital, and was too ashamed to admit it at first. I heard her tell him that if he’d just promise to look after me after she was gone, and see that I grew up all right, that was all she’d ask. He agreed to that. We hardly ever saw him. He was always on call at the mill, and I think he stayed there even when he didn’t have to.

  “After she died—she was hardly cold in her grave—he brought Clove Sutcom in and told me he intended to marry her. Said she would be my stepmother. She was fat, with a little pig face and four chins. He’d known her up in another mill town where he worked before. I don’t know how long he’d been carrying on with her before my mother died, but that was the first thing I thought of. My mother had very high morals, and Clove Sutcom wasn’t anything more than a common night woman.” He paused, then as if in a trance continued:

  “One day right after they married I got sick at school with a fever, and the teacher sent me home. When I walked in they were sitting at the table, talking about buying into the mill. Sam said he had several thousand dollars saved up. When I heard him bragging about that money I flew into him. I would have torn his guts out, but he flung me off so hard I hit the kitchen wall. He started toward me, but Clove pulled him back. She said they ought to put me to bed, and that she had a better idea than for Sam to beat me up.

  “I don’t know what went on for the next few days. I was delirious with fever, and all I remember is Clove giving me calomel. It seemed the room around me was swimming all the time. Then one night about the time I was beginning to be better, and thinking about how I was going to get back at Sam for lying to my mother about not having the money to save her life, the two of them came in together. Last thing I knew I had a wet towel slapped in my face. When I woke up I was on a train slumped down between them. Each of them had an arm around me. Sam said if I made a move toward the aisle, he’d make me wish I hadn’t. Clove said I was a bad boy and would be better off in a school she knew about out in West Texas, and that was where I was headed.

  “I was trapped in that place until I was seventeen, then I escaped. There was only one place I wanted to go, and that was Mill Springs. I got me a gun to kill Clove and Sam, and after that I was going to set that stinking mill afire, and every building connected to it.

  “It took me three weeks to get there, and I sneaked down the little hill in back of the house one evening and waited till they sat down to supper in the kitchen. I shot her first, then watched him lunge toward her, then look toward the window where the shot came from. I let him see my face, then I shot him, and he fell over on her.”

  “And Cabot saw this?”

  He nodded. “I can still hear his voice. ‘Drop the gun,’ he said. I looked around. He was sitting on a horse up on top of the hill, aiming his rifle at me. He guided the horse slowly down the hill, then came on over, leaned real close, and stared into my eyes. Then he straightened up and started telling me what to do. He made me go back in there and take all her jewelry and empty Sam’s pockets, then bring everything back to him. When I got back he looked over each piece carefully and put it all in his saddlebags. Then he made me clean up all the blood from the table and chairs and the walls—oh, he was a monster if ever there was one—and bury Clove and Sam under the house. All the while he sat on his horse and watched me, and stood lookout to be sure no one saw.

  “After that he sent me back to put their clothing in suitcases, so people would think they’d gone on a trip, and bury those things in another spot under the house. When I got through my nails were bleeding and my arms and legs were numb from bending under that house. I did not know what had come upon me. I didn’t know there was anyone in the world that evil.

  “We camped out in the woods that night. He asked me why I’d killed them, and I told him. He said no one would ever know about it, and made me sign a confession he’d written down on a piece of paper. He said the paper would be kept with all his legal papers that wouldn’t be opened till his death, so if I ever killed him it would be found and the law would get me, that the evidence would be right there, buried just where it said on the paper.

  “I asked him how he happened to come by there, and he smiled in that diabolical way of his and said, ‘Just lucky, I guess.’”

  He paused for a few moments then. I didn’t want to think that what he was saying of Cabot was true, but it had an undeniable ring of plausibility about it. Always quick to grasp an opportunity, Cabot had taken himself a slave.…

  Soon Nathan continued, “He told me he could use me to keep his books, that he’d teach me how he wanted them done. So we came to San Antonio and he moved me with him into his apartment close by the district, and every night he went down in there and gambled and drank, and half the time brought one of those whores home with him to stay all night.

  “He was lousy as one of those rats running free down in that hole where we stayed, but he didn’t bother me as long as I kept up with who owed him what and made sure no one ever cheated him. Later on, when the government taxes started to get in his way, he made me cheat for him. I used to tell myself, if they catch him at least I’ll have the chance to see him behind bars, and it will be worth something when he tells on me, just knowing he got at least part of what was coming to him.”

  He leaned back in his chair again and closed his eyes. I thought he’d pass out then and I sat silently, watching to see what he’d do next. One eye was on the ledgers. If I could just get them.…

  In a moment, though, he began to talk again. “But then Electra came, and everything changed. I was shocked he’d take up with someone as fine as her, and more surprised she’d take up with him. I know she wouldn’t have except she had known him when he was younger, and probably not so mean. I figured she must have thought he was still that way, until after they married.

  “At first when he brought her here, you’d have thought he really had changed into someone decent. He stayed rea
l nice for a while. But then he began to abuse her, and I could see how frightened she was. She hated him just like I did, but she didn’t know how to get away from him. Oh, the times I’ve seen her face when he’s around.… She’d have run away before but she was always afraid he’d come after her.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “Certainly not. She’s too much of a lady to tell anyone about her husband. She just put up with him. Before he had the wreck it was worse. I was nearly insane, wondering what to do. I knew he’d try to cheat on that cash deal he made down in the district, but the draft was hanging over my head, and I knew I’d probably be taken before he was found out, then what would become of Electra? There would be no one to watch her, and once they started digging into my past for my records, they’d likely discover what I had done.

  “But then, thankfully, the Lord interceded, and started directing me. I watched her, and waited for Him to give me a sign. She didn’t seem frightened for a while, but then last week, when Cabot came back to town, I knew it was happening again.”

  “How?”

  “When they went to that big party over at the Tetzels’. I didn’t hear them argue and I don’t know what it was about, but she was scared to death when they got into that car, and he stuck close by all the time, afraid she’d try to get away, see, so I knew I had to help her. And one afternoon the very next week I came home to find her cowering in the parlor, with the shades drawn. You see, the closer the time came, the more she was caught in the grips of fear. So just to be safe, I got her ticket for the train today. Just in case … She’s down in Corpus Christi, knowing I helped her, and she won’t ever have to go back to him.”

  He looked across at me and smiled. “The Lord has used me as His instrument. I learned all about how He works through us to help others. He’ll forgive all the bad I’ve done because I confessed my sins and accepted Him as my savior, and I let Him use me to help someone who couldn’t help herself.”

  All at once everything about Nathan began to make sense. I didn’t know how much of his rambling about Cabot was true, but I did see how twisted his conception of Cabot’s relationship with Electra had been. If not for the fact he mentioned the Tetzel party, I would not have understood, but that gave me the necessary clue. I sat there wondering what to do. His eyes were closed again now, and he had his Bible on his lap. It seemed evident he intended turning those ledgers over to the authorities while Cabot was away in Mexico. Apparently he’d fixed them to reflect some cheating over a long period—I could only guess, not having seen them. He truly felt Electra only awaited a chance to get away from the wicked husband she was married to. I could imagine every time he saw the shadow of fear or distress cross her face, he was certain Cabot had put it there. He knew nothing of her past, and of the obsession she must have had about keeping it quiet. He knew nothing of the dangerous activities she might be carrying on at present.

  It occurred to me then that he may have felt if he turned on Cabot while he was in Mexico, he just might be able to get away before Cabot returned. He would have time to leave the country, and run far enough that he might never be found. Badly as I wanted the ledgers, I didn’t want to risk taking them until I spoke with Edwin because of the predicament it might put me in.

  Finally his head fell on his chest. I couldn’t go upstairs and waken the Cabots without taking a chance of revealing myself … yet I almost did. I thought of playing on them the same trick I’d used on Nathan, even if it did seem a bit absurd. It would be easier and safer just to take the gun with me, I finally decided. When Nathan awoke tomorrow morning he would no doubt have regained some of his senses. At least I could save him through the night and by morning think of something better. I reached across gingerly and picked up the weapon. I’d never held a handgun before. It felt big and awesomely powerful in my hand. I left the house with it and went to my apartment, looking at several places along the way for access to a telephone. Yet everywhere I looked was locked up tight. It was one-thirty in the morning. When I got home I found a note under my door that proved the futility of calling Edwin. He had gone to Washington early in the morning of the twenty-eighth, and would call me sometime during the day on March first, when he arrived, to let me know his number. He added, “Apparently Carranza not playing ball—looks like Germany might be depending upon Barrista after all. If so, Tetzel might be ‘in’ again. Check our agent Allan at Western Union for messages.”

  Exhausted, I fell into bed consoling myself I’d kept anything horrible from happening. Had I been less tired I might have been able to reason out other eventualities, but there was one thing I would never have thought of because I had never been exposed to drinking very much and didn’t know its effects.

  Nathan would sleep, but not all night.

  27

  After going to bed I tried again to sort out Nathan’s bemusing words, but the more I went over them in my mind the more confused I became. Finally, the obvious occurred to me as I went back again to the beginning and considered the way he fondled that gun. He handled it in a gentle, almost loving fashion. He was contemplating suicide, but not until Cabot was on the train to Mexico. Then he could turn over the ledgers to the authorities, his final act. “All balanced and reconciled … just like me,” he had said. Once I had figured that out, I knew I had done what was right. I could explain away the fact I had taken the gun. It would have been very awkward explaining my theft of the ledgers. I had effectively bought some time … time to check with Edwin about the next step.…

  I slept until after eight the next morning and, still exhausted to the point of fogginess, I decided not to jump into my clothes and rush to the office. I was already late. A few more minutes wouldn’t matter. I went to the River Avenue balcony for some fresh air, hoping to clear my mind. Yawning, I stepped out into the sunshine and bracing chill. It was second nature to look down toward the Butler store by now, often to see Keith loading the truck for deliveries of the day.

  Instead I saw him dash suddenly out the door. His blue eyes were ablaze as he glanced down the street below me. He jumped in the truck, and shot off in a wave of exhaust fumes. His father followed him outside, holding a newspaper under his arm. My first thought was, Zimmermann’s telegram had finally been released to the press. Yet even if I was correct about that, it didn’t explain Keith’s behavior. I went back inside, quickly dressed for work, and took a detour by the store.

  Mr. Butler was leaning against the doorway, reading the newspaper headlines, mumbling, “… those dirty Germans” under his breath. He showed it to me and I read, at last, the full text of what the BNA had learned of weeks earlier, the message intended for the eyes of von Eckhardt:

  We intend to begin unrestricted submarine warfare on the first of February. We shall endeavor in spite of this to keep the United States neutral. In the event of this not succeeding, we make Mexico a proposal of alliance on the following basis: make war together, make peace together, generous financial support, and an understanding on our part that Mexico is to reconquer the lost territory in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. The settlement in detail is left to you.

  You will inform the President (of Mexico) of the above most secretly as soon as the outbreak of war with the United States is certain and add the suggestion that he should, on his own initiative, invite Japan to immediate adherence and at the same time mediate between Japan and ourselves.

  Please call the President’s attention to the fact that the unrestricted employment of our submarines now offers the prospect of compelling England to make peace within a few months. Acknowledge receipt.

  Zimmermann.

  Somehow it appeared even more sinister than I had imagined. “Make war together; make peace together.” It gave me the shivers. I handed it back to him. “Where’s Keith?” I asked.

  “Gone down to the river. They found a body caught in the brush down near Guenther Mill—no, that’s Pioneer—I always say it wrong.”

  I brought a hand to my mouth. Mr. Butler thought he
had shocked my feminine sensibilities by his bluntness, and offered me a chair close to the door.

  “No,” I said, gulping, then took off toward East Guenther Street, at the foot of King William. With every step I tried convincing myself it wasn’t Nathan. Someone else could have lost his footing and slid down the viney slope, someone who couldn’t swim. Could even be a woman—Mr. Butler hadn’t said. Oh, but if it was Nathan, the fault was mine. I’d taken the gun. Oh, what a magnanimous gesture to save someone bound for suicide. Around Alamo Plaza, then on down South Alamo, it seemed a longer distance than ever to the quiet little bend in the river around the mill. Across Nueva and up Garden, then finally left onto King William past the house with the square tower, then the triangular park, I wasn’t conscious then of my legs tiring, or of my raised skirt hem, which must have shocked people of the neighborhood who watched as I sprinted by. I wasn’t even conscious of the fact that this impetuous reaction might tell more than I wanted known about my activities of late. It didn’t matter. All I wanted to know was whether I’d helped to seal the fate of a poor, mixed-up young man who thought he was friendless and had only one route of escape from torture I didn’t understand and couldn’t quite piece together. Along the way I was reminded of Tetzel’s remark when I first met him. “It is very deep there,” he had said of the river, near the mill. “We used to say the river had no bottom.…”

  Down four long blocks of King William Street, I finally reached East Guenther, and shortly after came to a halt. I saw many automobiles, including police cars, and Keith’s delivery truck near the corner. Then I thought of the Cabots—I should have gone down Washington instead, to pass their house and see if they were up and about. Yet Washington ran out and the river curved and left it, making King William the most direct route.

  There was much talking, and someone near me asked, “Did they ever get his hand open?” Finally, I was able to see between the spectators. The body was on a litter, covered end to end with a white cloth. The medical attendants were about to carry it off. I pushed my way through the crowd, still with only one aim—finding out if it was Nathan. I guess I would have lifted the cover myself, but suddenly Keith was in front, blocking my way. “Camille, what are you doing here?”