The Cornelius Saga Series Box Set 2

by Tanya R. Taylor

  Matilda smiled. “No matter what.”

  7

  _________________

  Two and a half years sailed quietly by and Stephen, Matilda, Ann and George had forged a good friendship over time. Matilda and Stephen had also adjusted to the daily routine of Stephen going off to work every day, except for Sundays, and Matilda remaining at home and taking care of the needs of the house. She was grateful that they did not have the added expense of paying rent where they lived since the house was owned by Stephen’s uncle, who resided in Mizpah. Matilda had quickly transformed it into a cozy dwelling by decorating as best she could and adding nice furnishings.

  After school, Ruth and the boys often wandered over for cakes and soft drinks, only returning home after Ann got off from work and sent them in to do chores. Ann worked as a mid-wife at the local clinic for at least a decade and George, whom she had tied the knot with four months after Stephen and Matilda arrived in town, worked at the flour mill.

  “How about you and I put our feet up and have a glass of our favorite strawberry lemonade?” Matilda said to Ann one afternoon after Ann arrived home. As was sometimes the case, Ann had stopped there at Matilda’s first before going into her house to cook supper.

  “I can certainly put my feet up after a hard day’s work,” Ann replied. She remained outside on the porch while Matilda brought out the refreshments.

  “I love these relaxing moments you and I enjoy throughout the week,” Ann remarked. “Aside from this, I’m afraid I don’t know what relaxation is all about! Who knew that taking care of a husband would be such hard work?” She chuckled.

  “You mean taking care of children?” Matilda thought it was a slip of the tongue.

  “No – I mean husband! The children are easy to deal with. It’s that man I have to please even at night when all I want is sleep!”

  Matilda nearly choked on her drink. “You are too much! How dare you discuss such things, Ann? It’s not ladylike.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to get that out. Seems like a woman’s work is never done. You get married to have a life partner and enjoy your twilight years together, but it becomes a chore.” She whispered. “A pleasant chore, nonetheless.”

  “Stop it!” Matilda slapped Ann’s hand. “If Daisy Hopkins heard you, you’d surely be labeled an unsaved woman.

  “She’s always talking about who’s a good Christian and who’s not, but if she’s the example you and I, and everyone else around here is to follow, I’d rather look away – that is, to say it nicely.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “What she needs is a husband to keep her busy like George keeps me. That way, I doubt she’d have the time nor energy to run off at the mouth the way she always does,” Ann said.

  “I thought you liked her! You certainly seem to agree with everything she says.”

  “Well, I don’t like her. She’s nothing more than a Jezebel. I only keep the peace with her because she gives me all my produce at half price.”

  “Oh, that’s the secret!” Matilda giggled.

  “Surely is! But I’m serious about her needing that husband. She’ll be a lot more contented, in my humble opinion.” She paused. “Speaking of husbands, you’ve been here for almost three years and I’m sure you have a lot of lookers. I haven’t heard you mention anyone of interest out there. And what about Steve?”

  “Neither of us have found anyone of much interest to date,” Matilda responded.

  “That’s too bad. You two must not be so picky and choosy. Before you know it, you both will be a very old bachelor and spinster still living together in this old house with only each other to look at for the rest of your days. Scary thought, isn’t it?”

  It was surely frightening for Matilda to think how their friends and the townspeople would view them when they found out that she and Stephen were not as they presented themselves to be.

  * * *

  Two days later…

  2:12 p.m.

  She heard a crashing noise and loud shouting next door. Matilda dashed out of the house and just as she reached the edge of the porch, Buster came running out of their house in a ripped tee shirt, screaming expletives and threatening to kill someone. He was no longer attending school as he had just turned sixteen that April. George rushed out behind him and on seeing Matilda, stopped abruptly in his tracks.

  “What on earth’s the matter?” She grabbed Buster who was now silently fuming.

  “I’m gonna kill him!” he replied, glaring at George.

  “You settle yourself down, ya hear?” George snarled.

  Matilda could hear the slur in his voice which indicated he had been drinking. “Come inside with me, Buster. I think George, here, needs a little time alone,” she said.

  “He lives here, Matilda! You come back in here, boy!”

  Matilda stood in front of Buster to guard him. “George, please go inside and cool down. In a little while, I’ll send him back over.”

  George did not move. Instead, he stood there and stared at the boy as if a good whipping right then would serve him right. “You keep your mouth shut, ya hear?” Without awaiting a response, he backed away and closed the door behind him.

  Matilda took Buster inside with her.

  “What happened, child? I never once heard you use such language.” She looked him over. “Are you hurt?”

  Tears were streaming down the boy’s face. “I swear I’m gonna kill him! For what he’s done to me… he deserves to die.”

  She sat him down on the couch. “Did he whip you?”

  Buster slowly shook his head.

  “So, what has he done? What on earth could prompt you to say such serious things?”

  “Nothing,” Buster replied. “You won’t believe me anyway.”

  “Try me, child.” Matilda hoped the sincerity in her eyes would convince him.

  “He’s been...touching me.”

  Her eyes widened and heart sank by what she thought he might be insinuating.

  “Touching you? You mean…”

  “He’s been raping me – he has been ever since I was thirteen!” The tears flowed even more heavily and his voice broke.

  “My God!” Matilda gripped him by the shoulders. “Buster, please say this isn’t true.”

  “It is, Miss Matilda! It is! I’m never going back home. I’d die or kill him first. I can’t take it anymore!”

  “So, he tried to rape you just now too?” she asked. “Is that why your shirt’s torn?”

  The boy nodded.

  Matilda stood up and grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s go! We’re going over there right now!”

  “But I don’t want to!” Buster protested. “Can’t I just stay here until Mommy gets home?”

  Matilda thought for a moment, then shook her head. “We have to deal with this now. If George has been violating you in that way, I must confront him and you must say in front of both of us what you just said to me.”

  With Matilda leading the way, they hurried next door and as the door was unlocked, they walked right in. George was lying on the couch in the main room with his eyes shut.

  “George...” Matilda started.

  He opened his eyes and smiled wickedly. “So you’re back with the boy.”

  “I’m afraid, he’s not here to stay – at least not while his mother is not at home.”

  George stood up. Although he had taken a few shots of alcohol earlier, he was not sloppy drunk. “What are you talking about, woman? You had better remember your place.”

  “My place?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Well, I’m not here to argue over what you think is my place. Buster here told me you were touching him. Is that true?”

  George’s eyes widened and for a moment he had the look of a deer caught in headlights. “This is the nonsense you told her, you frigging punk?” He looked at Buster. “I come into this family and become your father for you to turn around and accuse me of utter nonsense?”

  “Yo
u’ll never be my father. My father is dead!” Buster lashed out. “Besides, you know it’s the truth. You kept coming in my room at night while Brad was asleep and took me to the basement and...”

  “And what?” George had an obnoxious look on his face.

  “And whenever you got off work early, like today… every chance you got, you’d rape me. You dirty...”

  “He rushed up to the boy and punched him to the floor, busting his upper lip in the process.”

  “You call me another name and I’ll finish you off!” George yelled.

  Buster sprung up off the floor to get at him and Matilda quickly stood between, trying to keep them apart. But being bigger and stronger, George got the upper hand and continued beating on the boy like he was nothing more than a punching bag.

  “Stop it, George! Leave him alone!”

  George was not having it. His attack was fierce and relentless. Then suddenly, Matilda suffered a heavy blow to her arm which knocked the wind right out of her and she landed to the floor. As she struggled to her knees to again, defend Buster, she saw blood spewing from his face and knew she had to do something quickly before that beast of a man actually killed the child.

  She finally got up and with arms spread like that of an eagle’s wings, she uttered in an almost guttural voice, “Stop it!”

  With an arm now extended in front of her in George’s direction, she raised it slightly and tightened her fist, which lifted George inches off the floor and freed Buster of his merciless grip. The man’s eyes widened as confusion as to what was happening to him invaded his senses. Matilda then shifted her arm upwards, and pushed her hand forward, which sent George flying through mid-air and ultimately crashing back-on into the wall. Buster and Matilda heard a snap as he was planted into the standing concrete. He was pinned there for what seemed like hours, yet only moments had passed. Sitting on the floor, Buster watched in awe, all the while wondering if what he was witnessing was real or if the whole matter, including the beating he got, was just a horrible nightmare.

  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

  _________________

  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 countenance 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.