Matilda’s chest heaved with the rapid secretion of adrenaline, then gradually, with the assurance that Buster’s life was no longer in jeopardy, she opened her hand, now beet red, and George simultaneously fell to the floor in a slump.
Panic suddenly set in as she came to the realization that she might have seriously hurt him. She ran over to him and knelt down. His glassy eyes were wide open and the look inside of them were that of utter fright and shock.
“George! George!” she cried.
But she knew he was gone even before having checked his pulse. Matilda buried her face in her hands and started weeping.
Buster soon managed to get up and he went over to her. Reluctantly, he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Miss Matilda, I don’t know what happened just now, but it’s okay. Please, don’t cry.”
She immediately stood up and locked him in an embrace, and cried on his shoulder. “You don’t understand, Buster. You don’t understand!”
Bloodied and battered, he quietly stood there with her, allowing her all the time she needed for composure.
It was a couple of minutes later when she finally released the boy and glanced over at George’s lifeless body again. The gravity of the situation had grudgingly sunk in.
She turned to Buster again and examined his face. “You’re hurt really badly, Buster. I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop him,” she said.
“But you did, Miss Matilda. I don’t understand how, but you did!” he replied, excitedly.
“The fact of the matter is I killed him. I’m in a lot of trouble.”
“You don’t have to be. I can explain to everyone that he would’ve killed me if you didn’t stop him. I know you didn’t mean to do it. You’re too nice a lady to kill anybody without good reason, but if you didn’t do it, I’m pretty sure I would’ve been dead.”
“I do believe that, but I strongly doubt anyone else will. George was born and raised in this town. I’m an outsider. If you tell them what you saw… as far as what I did… they… it just won’t turn out well for me,” she explained.
After a few moments of silence, Buster said: “Miss Matilda, what exactly did you do? I know what I saw, but I can’t understand it.”
Depressed and sapped of energy, Matilda sat on the couch. “It has to do with my mind.” She looked at Buster, who remained standing. “I can make things move with my mind. I was born that way.”
Buster walked over and sat next to her. “Wow! That’s really amazing. I wish I was born with that sort of ability. If I was, that bastard over there would’ve never been able to lay a hand on me when I was younger.”
She patted his knee. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”
“So what do we do now?” Buster asked.
“You will have to summon the authorities and explain what happened.”
Buster went to get right on it.
“But there’s something I must ask of you.” She grasped his arm.
“Yes, Miss Matilda?”
“For my sake and Stephen’s, I ask that you not speak a word of what you saw me do. No one will understand — not even your mother. Can you promise me?”
Buster was shocked. “I can’t tell Mommy?”
Matilda sadly shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, how do we explain how George died?”
Looking over at the body, Matilda’s eyes veered to the attic just above it. “He fell from the attic! After he attacked you, he went up there for something, then moments later, fell to the floor below. He was tipsy and that contributed to the fall. That’s what we’d tell them.”
“Okay.” Buster didn’t seem quite sure about it.
“While you’re gone, I’ll open the attic door, so that it would appear that way,” she continued.
“Okay. Should I go now?”
Matilda nodded. She looked extremely worried.
“I’ll keep your secret, Miss Matilda. You saved my life and at the same time rid me and my family of that pervert sitting over there. If this is any consolation at all… if you hadn’t killed him, I eventually would’ve.”
Buster left the house and went for help.
8
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That night…
Stephen sat at the kitchen table with his fingers pressed against his temple. It appeared that the weight of the world had taken a seat on his shoulders.
“We can’t stay here any longer.” He finally break the silence.
“Why not?” Matilda asked. She was sitting at the opposite side of the table.
“There’s no guarantee Buster will keep your secret, Matilda. It’s too risky. I wish you wouldn’t have explained anything to him.”
“But I had to! He saw with his own eyes what I did!”
“I know he did,” Stephen said. “But letting him know your secret makes it easier for him to explain to someone else. Witnessing something and not knowing for sure how it happened would cause him to likely not be believed if he just described what he saw or what he thought he saw.”
“I see your point, but I trust Buster,” she said. “I’m not picking up and leaving again. I can’t run everytime something happens, Stephen. That way, I’ll be running from myself. Don’t you understand that?”
He got up and started pacing the floor. “I know one thing – you’re lucky they seem to believe that story you both gave about George falling. I’m sure the boy’s horrendous physical state is what helped convince them that the story was true.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “That’s why I sent Buster to get them because I knew once they saw him in that condition, no doubt about the veracity of his story would enter their mind.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Stephen pulled out his watch. “It’s a quarter past nine. I wonder who that might be.”
Matilda got up and made her way to the front. On opening the door, she saw Ann standing there on the other side. It was obvious she had been crying.
The women embraced.
“Please come inside out of the draft,” Matilda told her.
Ann stepped inside. “I know we couldn’t talk as much because of all the commotion and the officers being there and all, but I just came by to say to you again, Matilda, that I am so grateful that you were here for my Buster when he truly needed someone.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I had no idea George was doing that to my son! If I had known, he wouldn’t have ever gotten away with it, but Buster never told me anything.”
“I guess he couldn’t bring himself to, Ann, being ashamed and confused as he was,” Matilda replied.
Stephen entered the room and quietly stood a distance off.
“How’s Buster now?” Matilda asked.
“I took care of all the bruises he got, and he seems okay,” Ann said. “He’s a strong child, considering all he’s been through.”
“I’d say he is,” Stephen remarked.
“Anyway, I must get back to the children. They’re still in shock, you know.”
“I imagine so,” Matilda replied. “In time...”
“Yes.” She nodded. “You’re a good friend, Matilda.”
Matilda’s eyes now welled up with tears. “So are you, Ann. Thank you.”
Ann left for home.
* * *
Two weeks after George was laid to rest, Stephen and Matilda went to the Sunday morning church service, and sat directly across the aisle from where Ann and her children were. They would have loved to share a pew with them, but the room was packed to capacity, as it often was. Ann was dressed in a long, black dress and wore a shiny, classy black hat. To Matilda, she looked like she was in mourning, despite discovering the truth about her pedophiliac husband and even in light of the many bruises the man had left on her son.
Ann and the children spotted their friends, and they all quietly hailed one another. Ruth gave Matilda the widest smile and a brief wave, and Matilda waved back. She noticed that Buster seemed happy too. It was as if his entire countenanc
e had changed to where he was more at peace. Gradually, she was coming to terms with the belief that the child’s sanity and safety were worth every bit of trouble she almost caused herself. And that she’d have to live with the fact that she murdered a man and covered up the truth.
Reverend Ike took center stage on the pulpit at a half past eleven and delivered a dynamic message. Matilda noticed that Ann was sobbing occasionally as the sermon was rendered.
After the service, Matilda embraced her friend.
“Are you all right, Ann?” she asked.
“I am, thank you.” Ann managed a half-smile. “I must say, that is one service the good Reverend delivered that seemed to scream at me. I mean… it really made me think about life, in general, my walk with God and that word purity he kept mentioning.”
Matilda nodded.
“After all that’s happened, I think I’m ready to turn over a new leaf and get serious, you know? Besides, none of us ever knows how much time we have left. I think for most of our lives, we get caught in this warped mindset that we’re invincible.”
“I know what you mean,” Matilda said.
“Anyway...” she kissed Matilda on both cheeks, “I’ll see you later.” Scarface was waiting next to the carriage to take Ann and the children home.
As Matilda looked at Scarface, who barely ever made eye contact with anyone, she wondered where he was the day George had died. No one had mentioned that he was anywhere on the property and she, herself, did not see him at all that day. She hoped, for her sake, he was not there.
* * *
After the baked bread had cooled that afternoon, Ann covered it with a white cloth and slipped on her shoes.
“Where are you going, Mommy?” Bradley, who was sitting at a table playing cards with his brother, asked.
“I’m going to take this bread over to Matilda’s house. Thought I’d surprise her with it. After all, raisin is her favorite.” She smiled. “Is Ruth still napping?”
“Yes,” Buster answered, glancing up.
“Well, you boys hurry up with that game. You need to go out and chop some wood for the fire.” She picked up the loaf of bread and headed out the door.
Mounting the porch of her neighbor’s house, she thought she heard some weird sounds, although subtle, emanating from the inside.
She approached the door with the intention of knocking, but suddenly, curiosity got the best of her and instead, she went over and peeped inside the front window. As the curtains were open, she could clearly see that no one was in the main area of the house, and since one of the bedrooms was adjacent to the main room, she stepped off the porch and walked over to the left side of the house, and tip-toeing, looked inside the bedroom window. Through the slit in the curtain, she saw them – both stark naked, rolling around in bed like wild animals in heat. Gasping, Ann’s eyes widened with shock as her neighbors, being blood cousins, were breaking all the rules of morality, society and plain common sense. Stephen and Matilda’s passionate lovemaking made her sick to her stomach right then and there and she almost dropped the loaf she had been carrying.
Ensuring that she left as quietly as she arrived, Ann hurried back to her house and quickly shut the door behind her, then she sank into the nearest chair.
“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Buster asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Ann could hardly catch her breath. The unholy scene she saw moments earlier was replaying in her mind.
“Bradley, go outside and get started on the wood,” she said to her younger son.
After the boy left, Buster went over to his mother. “What is it, Mommy? What happened?”
“Sit down, child. You would never believe it.”
She confided in him since he was the eldest and briefly explained that she saw their good neighbors in a compromised position. She knew Buster wasn’t stupid and could read through the lines.
“They either lied to us, Buster, or they’re actually related.” She shook her head. “I feel so heartbroken and foolish knowing I trusted and believed them – never doubting anything they said from the day they got here. Matilda’s my friend. How could she deceive me this way?”
Buster was silent with shock, then gradually, he felt guilt creeping in as well.
“I must tell you something, Mommy,” he finally said. “It’s something I’ve kept hidden since the incident with George.”
“What is it?” she asked.
Ann listened intently as Buster explained in detail the events of that fateful day, also making known the fact that Matilda had asked him to keep her secret.
Without much forethought, Ann quickly got up again.
“Where are you going?” Buster asked her.
“To see the reverend. If Stephen or Matilda comes around while I’m gone, don’t let on that we know anything, okay?”
He nodded.
“Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back soon.”
That evening, a private, emergency meeting was called at the church hall. Approximately fifty parishioners were in attendance – mostly men. Ann was among them.
9
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Stephen left for work at seven o’clock the following morning. Matilda saw him off with her usual kiss, then went about her daily routine.
There was not a cloud in the sky the entire day and as Matilda did a little gardening in the front yard, it occurred to her that she may not have seen a lovelier day since she and Stephen moved to Newport. She lovingly thought of her mother and siblings too and wondered how they were doing. She also wondered if it might be safe, considering the passage of time, for her to return home to Mizpah for an unexpected visit, although briefly, and preferably at night. She decided she would mention it to Stephen when he arrived home from work.
Later on, she prepared some tarts for Ann’s children for after school. Buster was now working at the mill, so he was no longer home throughout the day.
That afternoon, however, she noticed that Bradley and Ruth did not show up, so she decided to take some of the tarts over to them. Receiving no answer at the door, she returned home with the assumption that they must have stopped off somewhere on their way home.
Matilda thought it was unusually quiet that afternoon as she sat outside on the porch.
When she saw Ann walking over, her face lit up.
“What a wonderful sight to see!” Matilda exclaimed. “And what have you got there?”
Holding a large pitcher, Ann mounted the porch. She had a wide smile on her face.
“I stopped off at old Kelly Emersen’s place and she was selling these today.” She rested the pitcher on the small, wooden table and sat down.
“What is it?”
“Sweet herbal tea! Girl, no one in town mixes a cup like she does. So when she sells a few jugs, which is only once in a while, they sell like hot cakes.”
“I’ll go and get the glasses. Can’t wait to taste it.” Matilda replied.
Upon returning, she handed Ann a glass. “By the way, where are the children? I haven’t seen them today.”
“Oh, they’re having a sleepover at my aunt’s cottage. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, you must’ve forgotten. I made tarts today, quite a few actually, so don’t leave without taking some.”
“How nice! Ruth and the boys will be happy to sink their teeth into them and so will I!” Ann replied.
“Shall we eat some with our tea?”
“I dare say, nothing goes better with Kelly’s tea.”
A few minutes after eating a tart and drinking a glass of tea, Matilda started to feel extremely light-headed, as Ann chatted about her day. Then her vision became blurry and realizing something was very wrong, she tried to get Ann’s attention. But the words forming in her mind, for some reason, would not escape her lips, and Ann’s focus was suddenly straight ahead toward the empty street.
Matilda had no idea at which point everything around her abruptly faded to black.
10
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“Knocking off now, huh?” Stephen’s boss, Walter, asked him at the factory. They were in the right wing where Stephen often hung his coat whenever the main area got too hot. Oddly, no one was in the room with them that time of the evening when many of the men would be getting ready to head home.
“Yeah. Another long day.” Stephen grabbed his coat. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Walter replied, behind him. He slipped a steel rod into his hand from the nearby shelf and brought it down heavily over his head. Stephen dropped to the floor; blood draining from the deep puncture wound in his head.
11
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Matilda awoke to the sounds of incoherent voices and the smell of flaming torches. Perplexed and discombobulated, she found herself lying in the back of a wagon, then a couple of faces she didn’t recognize were pulling her out by the ankles.
“What… what’re you doing?” Her voice was low and weak. She felt groggy.
After yanking her out of the wagon, they forced her to her feet. She looked around – it was dark out. The torches held by others served as the only form of light. Tall, lanky trees were everywhere and no buildings were in sight. The most frightening aspect was what Matilda saw before her, just beyond the men who had put their rough hands on her. Gathered around were dozens more people with torches, shouting and demanding that she be slaughtered.
The Cornelius Saga Series (All 15 Books): The Ultimate Adventure-packed Supernatural Thriller Collection Page 57