by JT Ellison
I see it all.
And down I go to greet my newest guests.
Because no matter what they say, or where they say it started, they have always been wrong.
It is now, right now, when time in City, Anywhere unfreezes, and the real story begins.
Fortunate Sons
Dana Chamblee Carpenter
“I know I’m lucky,” Spence said. His voice sang with the swagger of a fifth-generation eldest son. “That’s just how it is for us, you know?”
He shrugged as he looked over at the young woman whose arm was draped gracefully along his. The moon had already set, but the dim light from the scattered streetlamps filtered down onto the smooth, white kid-leather glove that lay against the black of Spencer Hutchinson’s tuxedo and stretched up to the girl’s elbow where it blended into the whiteness of her arm.
She smiled and gave him a small nod.
He looked away, contented. Delta Blackstone was just what she ought to be, he thought—a good Southern girl who knew how to please a man.
“Just look at tonight,” he said, stretching his neck until it popped. “I come into town to escort my cousin to the cotillion—no fun there—and then I meet you, and your escort’s gone home sick.” Spence pulled a silver flask out of his coat pocket and took a swig of brandy. “Now you tell me, Miss Delta, is that not a stroke of good luck for both of us?”
“Very good luck,” she answered as she turned her head to look behind them. The lights from the courthouse-turned-ballroom fell in squares on the sidewalk a few feet back. The music from the dance had followed them out into the vacant town square. The sharp, brassy rhythms of the fox-trot gave way to a slow, haunting melody on a single trumpet, and then a soulful voice broke through, “O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.”
Spence noticed Delta’s backward glance and stopped. “You ever heard Rufus and the Red Tops do ‘Danny Boy’?”
Delta shook her head.
Spence took another drink, pursing his lips at the sweetness as he brought Delta’s gloved hand to his mouth. “You are a debutante in every sense of the word, Miss Delta. Rufus McKay crooning out that old tune is not something a girl wants to miss. All the dancing stops and the girls just sink to the floor, those white dresses spilling out from under them like they’ve melted.” He hesitated for just a moment. “We can head back if you want. ’Course they sing that at all the dances. You’ll get plenty more chances to hear it this season, I’m sure. You just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
“I want to do what you want, Spence.”
He smiled, having expected the answer. Any of the girls at the cotillion would’ve said the same thing. He was considered a fine catch—the son of one of Mississippi’s First Families, wealthy, and good-looking to boot. He turned his blue eyes down on her, fully aware of the sway he held over her.
Spence settled her hand back along his arm. “I want to be out here with you where it’s quiet, and we can walk and talk—not all jumbled up in there with the rest of them. That sound fine to you?”
Delta nodded and let Spence guide them on down the sidewalk.
“And don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’ll get you back before your daddy misses you,” he said.
“I know I’m safe with you, Spence.”
His shoulders relaxed just a little as his body softened into a more natural posture, less formal, less controlled. He wasn’t sure if it was the liquor that was loosening him up or the confidence that he’d picked his girl well.
“Last time I was at Willow Falls I was about ten, I reckon. I spent the summer with my granddaddy. Can’t say it was much fun. Ain’t much to do around here, is there?” He chuckled. “You been here all your life?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you find it dull?”
“Sometimes exciting things happen.”
“Like fireworks on the Fourth of July?” He laughed, shaking his head.
Delta ran her free hand down the curve of her waist to clench a fistful of tulle and satin, lifting her skirt as they neared the curb where the sidewalk crumbled into the street.
“I can’t believe my daddy wants me to move back to this place,” Spence said. “It ain’t nothing but a bunch of old ghosts and backwards ideas. Except for present company, of course, Miss Delta.”
She smiled sweetly at him. He drank down that smile like another swallow of brandy. He figured he could say anything to her and she’d keep smiling with her pretty mouth set in that fine little face with those big doe-like eyes.
“Why’s your daddy want you to move back to Willow Falls, Spence?” Her voice was all honey and light.
“I’m supposed to take over the bank from my grandfather.” He stopped and nodded at the three-story building looming on the other side of the street. The stonework was patterned in darks and lights with gold bricks set against red in beautiful fanned shapes, but it all washed out in the moonless night and turned a murky gray. The smooth swirls at the tops of the columns looked like they were writhing under the faded lamplight.
“Oh, is old Mr. Hutchinson ill?” Delta asked.
“Nah. He’s just old, and the only bank he wants to spend time around is at the fishing hole. But it ain’t fair to stick me here.” The liquor and the girl were loosening Spence’s tongue as well as his body, and he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone. He found himself suddenly angry. “Daddy jumped at his first chance to get out of here. He went on down to Vicksburg and started up his own bank. This one ain’t nothing compared to Daddy’s bank. It’s twelve stories tall and decked out in marble and polished oak and brass. Now I wouldn’t mind being given that bank, but ain’t no way Daddy’s quitting anytime soon.” He sighed with frustration.
“He’s just jealous. I ain’t tied down by nothing. I’m young. I can go anywhere I want and do anything I want.” He spun around, walking backwards as he looked at the tiny town square behind them. “I doubt any of the folks here in Willow Falls know it, but the world’s changing. It’s 1968, for God’s sake! I ain’t got to limit myself to what I can get in Mississippi!” He turned back around, his hands balled into fists. “I’m meant for something more,” he said fervently as he craned his head back, looking up into the night sky. “Spencer Hutchinson deserves more, don’t you think?”
Delta nodded.
Spence didn’t notice. “I got a roommate up at Ole Miss who comes from New York. You should hear him talk about the money to be had up there... and the parties and the women—”
The clock on the courthouse chimed, telling them it was a quarter to midnight and reminding Spence where he was and who he was with. “I don’t expect you to understand, little Miss Delta,” he said, his voice silvery smooth once more, his anger tethered.
“Would it be so bad in Willow Falls?” Delta asked.
He looked down at her, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m just talking, honey. I’m sure I’ll do what my daddy says. Always do. Stay in Mississippi and be a good Southern son.”
Delta let a little sigh slip through her soft lips. Spence’s eyes were alight with all he wanted and meant to get for himself in the future—and now.
He stepped closer to her. She half-turned back the way they’d come. The last of the lamplight fell on the ground where the sidewalk ended. They could no longer hear the music from the dance.
“’Course, if I do decide to run off, maybe I should just take you with me.” Spence leaned over her shoulder, speaking quietly at her ear.
“Really?” Delta let him put his arms around her waist and pull her close.
“Why not? You’re such a pretty thing with them big dark eyes and high cheeks. And that mouth—” Spence whistled. “Like a little bow waiting for me to open my present.” He bent low and stepped toward her again, forcing her back against the trunk of an elm tree that marked the beginning edge of the town’s cemetery.
His heart pulsing in anticipation, Spence kissed her long and deep, a first test to see how far she was ready to go. He was confident h
e’d get what he wanted, the easy way or hard, but he worried that maybe he’d picked this fruit a little too soon. He liked them innocent enough that they’d have no idea what he meant to do, but a gentleman had to be careful the girl wasn’t so green she’d panic and bolt too soon. It was all part of the game. Spence prided himself on having learned to play it well.
Sure enough, she let him linger at her mouth a few seconds more and then pushed gently against his chest. He moved his mouth down to her neck, and she arched to look up into the skeleton arms of the tree above. December had stripped the leaves from all but the magnolias and pines, though the air was still as tepid and dry as it had been in September. What made it a winter’s night was the silence. No bug-song or night birds singing, not even a wind to knock the branches together. Just lonesome quiet.
Delta shivered a little.
Spence worked his mouth down to her collarbone as he slid his hand up to cup her breast.
“Maybe we should...” She pushed his hand away. “If my daddy...”
“I’m sorry, Delta. I’m not acting like a gentleman, am I?” Spence pulled back and ran his hands across his face before leaning over her again. He’d gotten farther than he’d expected; maybe Miss Delta was ripe for the picking after all. “You’re just so beautiful it’s hard to keep my hands off you.” He unfastened the three pearl buttons on her glove and slipped his finger through the opening to caress the soft skin at her wrist. He thrilled at the delicate moan that slid up her throat.
She looked away, blushing. “Spence? Maybe we could just keep walking? If we turn here at the lane that runs alongside the cemetery, it’ll double back and come out just north of the courthouse—a nice, long stroll like you wanted, and then we can go back to the party.” She smiled up at him and then shyly lowered her eyes. “But maybe that sounds silly to you?”
Spence turned to look at the lane behind him. Acres of silhouetted headstones and mausoleums stretched out to the left of a wrought-iron fence lifted and bent by thick twisted roots bulging from the ground. The darkness ate the lane a few feet past the corner of the last building on the street—a vacated storefront with Miss Verdia’s Hair Salon painted and peeling on the front glass. Everything was dark and quiet and isolated.
“That sounds like a fine plan, Miss Delta.” Spence threaded her arm through his again and turned them down the lane.
Bits of bracken snagged in Delta’s skirt as they walked. The dark shapes against the brilliant white looked like bugs crawling up her dress, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Did you know that tonight is the winter solstice?” she asked as she rested her head against his arm. Spence smirked. He’d eased her along just right, letting his charm soften her up so she felt relaxed. He knew he was almost home with a girl when she started chatting. “They’ve always held the cotillion on the winter solstice,” Delta said.
Spence was about to ask if she’d had to learn the history as part of her debutante training, but they had entered the deep darkness at the far end of the lane, and he was so focused on keeping his footing that all he could manage was, “Hmmm.”
“Did you know—”
“Shit!” He tripped and went down hard on his knees. “It’s too damn dark back here,” he grumbled as he pushed himself up and shoved his hand in his pocket to grab his flask. He took another long swig.
“I’m sorry, Spence. I should have been paying more attention. I know the way. Let me show you.” Delta waited until he slipped the flask back inside his coat and then took his hand and guided him into the deeper darkness. The lane here was thickly lined with cedar trees packed so close together that the dense canopy shut out even the starlight. The lane was filled with the sweet smell of something wild and clean.
Spence was panting from the hard walk, but Delta took in a deep breath. “Did you know these trees are more than a hundred years old?” she said against the silence.
“Are they?” He was trying to maintain his charm, but he was growing impatient.
“Folks used to think that cedar would stop the yellow fever from getting them, so they planted them all along the lanes up to their houses to guard the ones they loved.” Delta waited a moment for him to respond. “But you probably already knew that, didn’t you, Spence?”
“Sure,” he mumbled. “Look, it seems a bit brighter over that way. Let’s go over yonder so I can see your pretty little face better.” As he pulled them forward, they broke through the cedars into a clearing where the lane ended at two large iron gates with a high stone wall stretching out on either side.
“Wait! I know this place—this here’s the old Winona plantation,” Spence said as he tugged at the heavy gates, half hanging off their hinges and tangled in kudzu. “My daddy used to come out here when he was a kid. He told me this place was haunted.”
“Is it?” Delta took Spence’s arm again and pulled as if to move them back onto the lane.
“Don’t you worry none, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe from spooks.” This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for—out here it wouldn’t matter if she put up a fuss or not. She could scream all she liked; there’d be nobody to hear. He wasn’t about to let a ghost story keep him from what he wanted. He bent and kissed the top of Delta’s head. “I’ve always wanted to see this place. Bet a girl like you ain’t never been out here neither, huh?” Spence tugged at the gates some more until there was an opening wide enough for him to slide through.
“What about the party, Spence?”
“This won’t take long.” He grabbed Delta’s hand through the iron bars.
“But my daddy—”
“Come on, don’t you want a little adventure in your life before we settle down like we’re supposed to and wither up and get old? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a story to tell our kids?”
Delta’s dark eyes were wide as she peered in through the gates at the lawn, more wild than not, and then she looked over at Spence’s beautiful, First Families face. She nodded and let him pull her through the gates, her wide tulle skirt crackling as she squeezed through the bars and across the threshold.
Something in the air changed on the other side of the wall. It was cold like December ought to be. Breath slipped between their lips in thin, ghostly wisps, and the stars seemed brighter, closer. Overgrown hedges made broken boundaries between the lawn and the lane, and huge trees, with cracked limbs dangling, erupted farther out in the yard.
Not far past the gates, Delta had to stop to gather up her skirts. They kept snagging in the kudzu and ivy that stretched across the ground like a swarm of snakes. Spence smiled, his eyes hungry as he stared at Delta’s exposed calves and the soft, white skin of her lower thigh where the stockings ended. He took her arm and led her, more urgently, through the tangle toward the looming silhouette of the manor house.
“I wonder what’s inside,” Spence said.
But as they neared the house, the hedges fanned out from the lane, opening up the view of what would’ve been the front lawn. Something in the shadows caught Spence’s eye.
“What the hell is that?”
He leaned forward, squinting into the hazy dark. The thing was low to the ground and stocky, but the edges of it blurred into the night, making it difficult to see its shape, to tell if it was a fallen tree or a mound of earth or a beast. Half crouching, Spence took a few cautious steps toward it, working to make it out in the dim light. Then suddenly he took off running at it, leaping over knots of kudzu in his haste.
Delta let out a little squeal.
“Hot damn! That there’s a 1941 Ford Super Deluxe convertible coupe!” Spence ran his hand along the grille of the car half hidden under the remains of a giant weeping willow. Its long, thin leafless branches raked across the hood like bony fingers. “I can’t believe ain’t nobody come out here and gotten this baby and fixed her up.”
“Maybe they’re afraid to,” Delta offered as she picked her way through the twisted lawn toward him.
“Guess that’s right. I reckon this old ca
r means those stories my daddy told me might be a bit true.” Spence took a step back from the car.
“What did he tell you?” Delta asked.
“That the folks who lived out here—”
Delta parted the curtain of bare willow branches and laid her hand on Spence’s back. He shivered at her touch, half drunk and full of want. He looked down at the starlight on her lips and the curve of her breasts just peeking out over the sweetheart neckline of her dress.
Spence wasn’t interested in telling stories at the moment, especially not that one. “Bad stuff happened is all. Same as any other ghost story, I reckon. Somebody died. Folks go and think the place where it happened is haunted.”
“Who died?”
“Nobody important.”
“Won’t you tell me the story? I’m not scared.” She leaned her head against him.
But Spence turned and shoved at the mangled and rotten convertible top that still stretched halfway across the car’s body. Shriveled slivers of willow leaves flew off in every direction, some floating down to join a scattering of others in the car. Then he spun and swept Delta up and into the backseat of the car, white tulle billowing over the side and spilling into the floorboard.
“Let’s go for a ride,” he said as he jogged to the other side of the car and hopped in beside her.
She was giggling. “This old car can’t go anywhere, silly, and surely not if we’re in the backseat.”
“Well, let’s just pretend we took a drive out to Grenada Lake. You ever been there?” He slid across the seat closer to her, wove his arms around her waist.
“I’ve never been out of Willow Falls.”
“Well, I’ll just have to fix that, won’t I?” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “For now, just imagine we’re parked at the edge of the lake, looking out over the water, a big old moon hanging low in the sky.” As he talked, he inched his hand up to her breast, caressing it through the thin fabric.