“I think he did.”
“Then why tell you? Why not Daphine or Nellie or me?”
I heard the pain in Aunt Nora’s voice. “Is that what this is about? Are you jealous because Paw told me, and not you?”
“Why should he tell you? I’m the one who took care of him, made sure that his house was clean and that he had something to eat. I’m the one who stops the family from fighting every other day. I’m the one who…” Her voice caught in a sob.
I looked at her with new eyes. “Oh, Aunt Nora, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t know! You got out of this place just as fast as you could. First you had to go to school in Massachusetts because Lenoir-Rhyne in Hickory wasn’t good enough for you. Then you hadn’t been out of school a month before you hightailed it back to Boston because North Carolina wasn’t good enough for you. How would you know anything about us?”
My own anger flared. “So now I’m too good for you? When I was growing up, I wasn’t even good enough. All y’all could do was make fun of me. Laurie Anne’s always reading. Laurie Anne’s never going to get a husband if she doesn’t start fixing her hair and wearing make-up. Laurie Anne’s crazy if she thinks she can get into college. Laurie Anne’s never going to find a job in Boston. Laurie Anne’s going to be back home with her tail between her legs in six months.” I glared at her and kept right on going.
“Well if I’m not what you think I should be, that’s too damn bad, and if you don’t understand what I’m trying to do, that’s too damn bad, too. If you really think that all I’m after is money, then I don’t imagine we’ve got a whole lot to say to one another.”
We glared at each other for a full minute, and I would have been hard pressed to say whether I felt more angry than Aunt Nora looked, or the other way around. Finally Aunt Nora shook her head, and even smiled.
“You know we’ve been saying how much you favor Alice all these years, that I don’t think I ever noticed how much like Paw you are.”
I just sat there, not knowing what to say.
“Laurie Anne, did Paw ever tell you about Charlie Baxter?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Mama told me this story once and I never forgot it. Charlie Baxter and Paw grew up together, like two peas in a pod. When they got old enough, they went to work at the mill together. Then Charlie’s brother Pete had an accident at the mill. Pete lost his hand, and they didn’t have insurance and workman’s compensation like they do now. Bill Walters cut him off without a cent and when Pete couldn’t get another job, he shot himself.”
I flinched.
Aunt Nora went on. “Charlie never was the same after that. Mama said he was always talking about how Walters had to pay for it, how he’d get even. He got drunk one night and told Paw that he had made a bomb that would blow the mill off the map. Now you have to remember that the mill ran three shifts then, so no matter when he set it off, a lot of people were going to get hurt or, more than likely, killed.”
I nodded, but I still had no idea of why she was telling me this.
“Paw tried as hard as he could to talk him out of it, and when that didn’t work, he tried to find out where Charlie had hidden that bomb. Charlie wouldn’t tell him, so Paw had no choice—he called the police. They put Charlie in jail.”
Aunt Nora shook her head ruefully. “A lot of people never understood how Paw could turn in his best friend like that. They thought he had betrayed Charlie. Of course, you know how Paw was. He never paid them any mind, because he knew he had done the right thing.”
“What happened to him? To Charlie, I mean,” I asked, interested in spite of myself.
“He served his time, and afterwards he moved somewhere out west to make a new start. He sent Paw a letter.”
“Was he mad at Paw?”
“No he wasn’t. He said he was glad things had turned out the way they did, because he had met a lot of killers in prison and he didn’t want to have to see another one every time he looked in the mirror. Even so, he said, he didn’t think he could ever trust Paw again, so it was probably best that they not see each other again.”
“Poor Paw,” I said.
“That’s what I said when Mama told me this story,” Aunt Nora said, “but she said that wasn’t the point. She said Paw had done what he had to, and that was what was important.”
“‘If it be aught toward the general good, set honor in one eye and death in the other, and I will look on both indifferently.’ Julius Caesar,” Richard said quietly. I hadn’t even heard him come out.
Aunt Nora nodded. “As far as this business with Paw having been killed goes, I just don’t know what to think, but if you really think someone killed him, then you have to do what you think best. Just like Paw would have.”
“What about Uncle Buddy?”
“Never you mind about Buddy. I’ll speak to him. Now about being good enough for us. Laurie Anne, I never meant to make you feel like you should be anything but what you are. I’m proud of what you’ve done, and I think we all are, even if we don’t say it as often as we should.”
“Thank you,” was all I could say. Feeling clumsy, I hugged her tightly.
“Aunt Nora, can I ask you something?” I asked when we let go. “Why do you call me Laurie Anne?”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“No, ma’am. My name is Laura. Anne is my middle name.”
“Alice always called you Laurie Anne.”
“No, Mama called me Laura. She said she used to try to correct y’all when I was little, but after a while she gave up.”
Aunt Nora looked at the wadded handkerchief in her hand and absently straightened it. “I guess I always thought of you as Laurie Anne,” she said. “Does it bother you?”
I considered it for a moment. “I’m not sure. I’ve always thought of myself as Laura.”
“Maybe you’re both,” Aunt Nora ventured.
I smiled. “Maybe I am.”
Aunt Nora wiped her eyes then and said, “I better let you get ready to go.”
I wiped my own eyes and said, “Aunt Nora, I’d rather you not tell anyone about this, about why we’re asking questions. Until we know something more definite, I don’t want to upset anyone else.”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll tell Buddy, too. Of course you know that if Walters talked to Buddy, he most likely spoke to others, too.”
She went back inside, but Richard held me back for a second. “Is everything okay?”
“I think so,” I said, “but I could use a hug.”
As he squeezed me reassuringly, I said, “I don’t know how much of that you heard, but I’ll explain later.” After expressing I don’t know how many years of hurt feelings, not to mention learning an awful lot about Aunt Nora, I wanted a few minutes to sort it out myself.
Chapter 29
We went back inside to get my pocketbook, and I finally noticed what Richard was wearing. In place of his polo shirt, he had on a blue and red western-style shirt with bright red trim. On his head he sported a straw cowboy hat adorned with a flock of garish feathers.
“Where did you get those clothes?” I asked.
He twirled with a flourish. “Do you like it?”
I searched for an honest, yet tactful reply. “You’re positively resplendent,” was what I finally decided on, and this seemed to please him.
“Thaddeous said that this was just what I needed for the Mustang Club. He doesn’t have any boots that fit me, but he thought my sneakers would get by at night.”
“I bow to Thaddeous’s superior fashion sense,” I said with a grin, and an evil thought occurred to me. “Wait a minute.”
I thought I remembered seeing Aunt Nora’s camera, familiar from years of family parties. I picked it up and asked, “Aunt Nora, can I borrow your camera?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Richard, get over there against the door. I want a picture of your ensemble.” Otherwise no one in Boston would believe it.<
br />
Aunt Nora watched as Richard posed, and I could tell she was fighting off laughter. I took a couple of pictures, and said, “I’ll get this roll developed to pay you back for the film.”
Aunt Nora nodded. “I wouldn’t mind a copy of that picture myself.”
“Am I country, or what?” Richard said.
“Mostly what,” I said, “but I love you anyway.” I was just glad Thaddeous hadn’t come up with something for me to wear. “We better get going,” I said, and Richard added, “See y’all later.”
Aunt Nora snickered.
“What?” Richard asked.
“I love the way you say that,” she said.
“Say what?”
“Y’all.”
“I said it right, didn’t I?”
“It just doesn’t sound right coming from you, you being from the North.” When he looked injured, she said, “Just keep practicing. You’ll get it.”
I told Richard about what had happened with Uncle Buddy as soon as we got in the car.
“Are you sure you still want to go out?” he asked.
“I think so. Some loud music is just what I need. A beer wouldn’t hurt, either.” Actually I felt oddly light-hearted in spite of what had happened. Or maybe it was because of what had happened. It wasn’t that I had enjoyed the confrontation, but it had been a long time coming. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference in how my family saw me, but then again, maybe it would.
The Mustang Club’s parking lot was nearly full when we arrived, even though the show wasn’t scheduled to start for another hour. I guessed that we would not have been able to get in without the passes from Roger. Already people were being turned away at the door.
A cheerful waitress in a green-checked gingham shirt and a denim miniskirt showed us to a tiny table near the front of the room, and brought a beer for me and a Coke for Richard.
The club’s decor was western in motif, but not obnoxiously so. Along the walls were hung branding-irons, each labeled with the name of the ranch it had been designed to represent. Above the bar was a painting of a herd of wild horses led by a white stallion with a flowing mane and flared nostrils.
The crowd was mostly in jeans and cowboy shirts, and I had to admit that Richard’s outfit, however uncharacteristic it might be, fit in better than my Indian-print sundress.
Although I had heard Roger sing a number of times at family gatherings while he and Aunt Ruby Lee were married, this would be the first time I had seen him perform in public. He was such an exuberant character in everyday life, I was surprised when he and the other band members came on stage dressed neatly in matching maroon cavalry shirts, Levi’s, and string ties. There was not a sequin or a ten-gallon hat between them.
Roger waited for the applause to quiet and said, “Good evening, everybody. We’re mighty glad to see y’all here tonight. I’m especially proud to see my niece Laurie Anne and her husband Richard out there. They live up in Boston, Massachusetts, so y’all be sure and show them a little Southern hospitality.”
There was a polite spatter of applause.
“The first song we’re going to sing for you tonight was made famous by the late, great Mr. Hank Williams.”
As the strains of Your Cheatin’ Heart filled the bar, I was pleased to note that Roger was as good as I remembered. At first, they played mostly country music standards, but as the set progressed, they snuck in some newer material I recognized as part of the New Traditionalist school—country music stripped of the rhinestones and soft-rock influence.
As the set drew to a close, Roger said, “I’m going to let the boys go get a beer now, but I’d like to sing one more song if you don’t mind.” The applause as the other musicians went off-stage must have reassured him, and he dragged a stool up close to the microphone.
“I’d like to dedicate this song to a man I knew. He wasn’t rich or famous, but he was a good man and his family will miss him. His name was Ellis Burnette, and some of you probably know that he died this past week. He taught me this song a long time ago.”
I recognized the song as soon as he started to play, but Richard said, “I don’t remember this one.”
“It’s called This World is Not My Home. It was one of Mama’s favorites, so Paw sang it for her all the time. The last time was at the funeral. My parents’ funeral.” I’d never been able to hear it since without crying. Richard took my hand under the table and as we listened, tears ran down my face.
The audience was quiet for a minute when Roger finished the song, but I thought it was a show of respect rather than of disinterest. Then they applauded quietly as he went backstage.
Chapter 30
I washed down the lump in my throat with the last of my beer, and then said to Richard, “What do you think of the music?”
“I like it. It’s not my usual thing, but live music has its own charm. I really liked that next to last song. It sounded very country.”
“I hate to disillusion you, but that was a cover of an Elvis Costello song.”
“Elvis Costello? The king of nerd rock? He’s British.”
“He’s also a big country music fan. He’s appeared at the Grand Ole’ Opry, and his Almost Blue album won a Country Music Award.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “How do you know these things?”
“You remember Michelle? The receptionist at work? She listens to country music, and when she heard I was from North Carolina she assumed I did, too. I’ve never had the heart to tell her anything different, so I let her tell me all about it at lunch.”
“Some Southerner you are.”
“Not all Southerners listen to country music. Some of the best rock-and-roll comes from Southerners. How about the other Elvis, and Lynyrd Skynyrd, and R.E.M., and the Allman Brothers? I even know Southerners who listen to Punk and New Wave.”
“Don’t say that too loud in here,” Roger said, coming up behind us. “This is a dyed-in-the-wool country and western crowd. How are y’all doing?” He hugged me, and reached over the table to shake Richard’s hand.
“Y’all want something to drink? Hey Wanda! Bring me a beer and give these two a round on me!”
“You don’t have to do that Roger,” Richard said.
“That’s all right. The band gets ours free. So what did you think of the set?”
“I really enjoyed it,” I answered. “I never realized how good you are.”
Roger beamed.
“Laura says that one of the songs you played was written by Elvis Costello,” Richard said.
“Shh…” Roger looked around in mock alarm. “Don’t tell anyone! Some of these people think that country music begins and ends with George Jones and Porter Wagonner. Not that I don’t like their stuff, but a musician has to stretch himself some.”
Our drinks arrived, and Roger allowed Richard to tip the waitress.
“Laurie Anne, I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about Ellis. He was a good man.”
“Thank you, Roger. That song you sang was awfully sweet.”
“He taught that to me just after I started dating Ruby Lee. You know your granddaddy had a fine singing voice. I used to take my guitar over there and we’d sing and play for hours. I think he could have made it in the music business, but once he and your grandmama started having babies, he couldn’t afford to take a chance. It’s hard to have a family when you’re on the road all the time. That’s what split me and Ruby Lee up, you know. If I had it all to do over again, I’d do it different, I can tell you that.”
He stared into his beer for a minute, and I decided I’d better distract him before he got maudlin.
“You said at the hospital that you saw Paw last week.”
“Yep, Saturday afternoon, and now I’m awfully glad I stopped by. You just never know, do you? He looked fine then.” He paused a moment, and then asked, “Laurie Anne, are Ruby Lee and Conrad getting along all right?”
“As far as I know,” I said. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh nothing,”
he said unconvincingly. “Just something your granddaddy said.”
“Roger, if you’ve heard something about Uncle Conrad…” I started, but he shook his head firmly.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want you to think I’m making trouble for Ruby Lee.” He finished his beer, looked at his watch, and said, “I’ve got to go get ready for the next set. I’ll see y’all after the show.”
After he left, Richard said, “What do you think? Should we tell Aunt Ruby Lee about this?”
“I don’t think so. Keep in mind that Roger is still crazy about Aunt Ruby Lee, and would like nothing better than to get back together with her. Uncle Conrad doesn’t seem like the unfaithful type to me, but if he is sleeping around, it’ll come out sooner or later. We’ve got other problems to worry about for now.”
Like what it was Paw had seen, and why he hadn’t called the police as soon as he realized what it was he knew, and how the murderer had found out he knew. I rubbed my forehead as if trying to coax some answers out of it.
“Hey,” Richard said, tapping the side of my head. “Anybody home? We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m not the best company in the world tonight.”
“You’ll just have to make it up to me,” he said.
Roger and the band returned to the stage, and the songs in this set leaned toward dance music. After a minimum of coaxing, Richard got me to dance. The set grew longer and longer with encores, until finally the band and audience called it quits from mutual exhaustion.
Once the enthusiastic clapping died down, there was a last call from the bar, and I realized it was well after one. “I’m worn out,” I said.
“Let’s head on out, then.”
“What about Roger? He said he’d come by after the show.”
“I think his plans have changed,” Richard said. I looked in the direction he was watching, and saw Roger with his arm around a blonde with skin-tight jeans and a remarkably well-filled blouse. Roger saw us, grinned, and waved.
“And I thought he was still crazy about Aunt Ruby Lee,” I said.
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