by Pam Webber
“Apparently, Monroe saw us leave the house and went to tell Carlton. The train station seemed almost deserted when we got there, except for a couple of people at the far end. Dell went ahead to buy tickets while Pic helped Nibi and the baby and me out of the car. We were climbing the steps to the platform when Monroe ran up and grabbed Pic from behind, dragged him into the gravel, and started beating him.”
“He had brass knuckles and kept hitting me in the face,” Pic said, rubbing his jaw. “All I could see were stars.”
“I tried to pull Monroe off Pic, but he pushed me down,” Alise said. “Dell came flying down the steps and tackled Monroe, knocking him off Pic. It was a terrible fight. They were so close to the tracks, and the train was coming. The engineer kept sounding the whistle. Dell finally got the upper hand and pinned Monroe on the ground. Monroe struggled but couldn’t get free. He finally quit fighting, put his hands in the air, and yelled, ‘Enough!’ Dell let go of him and got to his feet. He told Monroe he couldn’t beat one brother, much less two, and that Monroe had best keep his distance from me. Dell was walking away when . . .” Alise paused, unable to continue.
“Monroe charged at Dell while his back was turned,” Pic said. “He pushed him onto the tracks in front of the train.”
Nettie and Win gasped in unison.
“I tried to save him, to pull him off the rails, but I was too late. The train hit and killed Dell and took my hand.” Pic rubbed his stump, his face reliving incredible pain. “For years after, I dreamed about that night. In the dream, I was able to pull harder, faster.”
Alise rocked back and forth, clutching her stomach. “It’s a night terror I never wake from. The man I loved lay on the ground, bleeding and writhing in pain; Dell was somewhere under the train; and my sister was on her knees, clinging to her baby, moaning.”
The lanai went quiet as they all steadied themselves.
Win used her napkin to dry her eyes. “Did Monroe get away?”
“No,” Pic said. “As soon as Marianna and Albert told Tanner what was going on, he rushed to help. He got to the train station in time to see Monroe push Dell onto the tracks. Tanner shot and killed him as he tried to run away.”
“What about Carlton?” Nettie asked.
“When Tanner left to rush Pic to the hospital, Carlton came out of the shadows. He’d been there watching the whole time. He said if I ever tried to leave him again, I’d be the next one in front of the train. Nibi heard him and got up. She handed me the baby and calmly walked toward Carlton, chanting. The look on her face was not of this world. The closer she got, the farther he backed up. Nibi stopped, raised her hands to the heavens, and ended the chant with a hand signal. Carlton turned deathly white and ran away.”
“What was the chant about?” Win asked.
“Loss.”
“And the hand signal?”
“Forgiveness. Even in the midst of overwhelming sadness, she knew it was the only way she’d find her way out.”
“Did the police arrest Carlton?” Nettie asked.
“Tanner and others questioned him but couldn’t bring charges,” Alise said. “Other than his being Monroe’s boss, there was no way to prove he played a part in Dell’s murder.”
“Couldn’t they get him for beating you?”
“Yes, and they did. Tanner charged Carlton with assault and battery and put him in jail. By the next day, his family’s New York lawyer was down here, bailing him out. The lawyer said if I’d agree to drop all charges and not file for divorce, the house and a generous monthly allowance for its upkeep would be put in my name.” Alise’s hands shook as she set her glass on the table. “I had no money and no place to go. I signed the papers.”
“Couldn’t you have gone back to your family?” Nettie asked.
“That night, I cost my beloved sister the husband she loved, my newborn niece her father, and Pic his hand. There was no going home.”
“Is that why you never leave this house?”
“It’s only right that I serve the same life sentence I gave them.” She studied the back of the ornate mansion. “This is a just prison. I’m surrounded by everything Carlton Allen loves.”
Win went to sit next to Alise, placing a hand on her arm. “I don’t believe what happened was your fault, and I don’t believe our Nibi would either.”
“None of us believe it,” Pic added.
“But I do,” Alise said.
Nettie thought of what Pastor Williams said the night he visited her in the hospital—words that lifted her guilt about surviving when so many others hadn’t. She turned to Alise. “You married Carlton to keep Pic and Nibi safe, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know what Monroe was going to do that night at the station?”
Alisa’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Could you have stopped him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Guilt has no place in an innocent heart.”
Pic put his arm around Alise. “Nettie’s right. It’s time for you to lay down that burden.”
Alise’s voice sounded hesitant. “I don’t know how.”
“Sure you do,” Pic said. “One step at a time. You took the first one tonight. We’ll figure out the next one tomorrow, and we’ll take it together.”
“Pic, if Carlton is back in New York, why did you have to sneak in here at night?” Win asked.
Alise answered before Pic could. “Because of me. Before he left town, Carlton said he was having the house watched and threatened to kill Pic if I continued a relationship with him. For decades, I’ve lived in fear that someone like Monroe would make good on that threat. I kept telling Pic to stay away, but he refused.”
“There was no way I was going to stay away from the woman I love. So I kept my job, helped Nibi and her daughter and her granddaughter, like I knew Dell would want me to do, and came to Alise as often as I could.”
“We’ve seen you sometimes. There’s a spot on the hill where you can see the path to the back of the house.”
Alise smiled. “We knew you were there, at least most of the time. We’d turn off the lights and watch from the window. It was good to see someone enjoying the hill.”
“Pic, didn’t you ever want to get a better job? A better place to live?”
“Alise used to ask me the same thing, but I loved my job, still do. I’m good at it, even with one hand. It doesn’t pay much, but I don’t need much, and I’ve saved a lot. I was able to travel to Oak’s Landing for free whenever I wanted. My room is plenty big, with a comfortable bed and bathroom. It’s warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I have friends who care about me that I get to see most every day. It’s close to Alise. And I feel close to Dell there.” Pic took Alise’s hand. “And tonight, for the first time in decades, I’m holding hands with my sweetheart for everyone to see. What more do I need?”
Marianna opened the French doors and stepped outside with an empty tray. Alise stood and embraced her. “It’s over.”
“Pardon?”
“We’re not hiding and worrying about Carlton’s threats anymore.”
Marianna looked at Pic, then back at Alise. “Is he dead?”
Pic laughed. “Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve chosen to step out of the shadows. Whatever comes comes.”
Marianna smiled and put her arm around Alise. “I’ve waited a long time for this day. My friend Nibi would be very happy.”
Anne Johnson’s yard looked as polished as she did: finely trimmed grass, manicured flower beds, sculpted shrubs, and symmetrically pruned trees. The sidewalk had been swept clean, as had the steps and small, gable-covered porch. The glass storm door sparkled as if it had never known clingy dust or fingerprints.
Nettie took a deep breath and pushed the bell. Behind the front door, high- and low-pitched tones alternated until they disappeared into the recesses of the house.
Mrs. Johnson opened the front door. She wore a pearl choker and a starched shirtwaist dress cinche
d with a wide belt that matched her pumps. Unlocking the storm door, she pushed it open. “Why, Nettie. What a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Mrs. Johnson. Is Anne around?”
“She is. Come in.” Mrs. Johnson led Nettie across a spotless foyer, through a living room that could have been in a home-decorating magazine, and into a sunroom with bamboo furniture covered with green cushions and yellow throw pillows. She motioned to one of the chairs. “Please have a seat. Would you like some lemonade or tea?”
“No, thank you, ma’am. I’m fine.”
“You seem to be doing well since that horrible flood.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am.” Nettie looked around the room, avoiding Mrs. Johnson’s prying eyes. She wanted details Nettie wasn’t willing to give.
“Well, I’m so glad. I’ll go get Anne.”
Scattered around the room were plants with colorful flowers of all shapes and sizes and not a dead leaf to be found anywhere. Two potted fig trees stood guard beside sliding glass doors at the back of the room. Beyond the glass, smooth turquoise water glinted in a rectangular pool with rounded edges. On one side stood a brick bathhouse, and on the other were scattered lounge chairs and a large wrought-iron table with matching seats covered with a big red umbrella.
“What do you want?” Anne stood in the front entrance, arms crossed, scowling. Her polo shirt, tennis skirt, socks, and shoes matched.
“I’d like to talk.”
“Make it quick. I have a match in thirty minutes.”
A shadow crossed the floor near Anne and stopped at the threshold. Sighing, Anne crossed the room, pushed past Nettie, and opened the sliding door. “Come on.” She headed for the poolside table. Selecting a chair facing the back of the house, she crossed her arms and legs. “What do you want?”
Nettie sat across from her. “I don’t care if your mother hears.”
“I do. Now, for the last time, what do you want?”
“I want to apologize.” Nettie had stirred the words around so much, they came more easily than she’d thought they would.
Anne’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “For what?”
“Never giving you a chance.”
“A chance for what?”
“That day at the lake. You said I’d never given us a chance to be friends, even when we were little. I never thought about it like that. I knew we didn’t like each other, but I never realized that I’d played a role in starting it. Anyway, I’m sorry. For all of it. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Anne stared, eyes wide and unblinking. “And that’s supposed to make everything okay?”
“It’s a start.”
“Why should I believe you after all the mean things you’ve done to me?”
Nettie’s mouth flew open. “Mean things I’ve done to you?”
“You heard me.”
Nettie checked the anger surging in her chest, remembering Mr. Danes’s words. God loved Anne just as much as he loved her. Not her acts, her. Nettie swallowed hard. “I guess we just remember things differently.”
Anne’s expression turned darker. “You’re just trying to be a goody-two-shoes and make me look bad.”
“How does my apologizing make you look bad?”
“Because I’m not apologizing to you.”
“I came to give one, not get one. Maybe one day you’ll accept it.” Nettie stood.
Anne scraped her chair getting to her feet. “How does Andy feel about you almost getting him killed?”
“I forgive you for that too.” Nettie turned to leave.
“Wait.” Anne came around the table. “Let him go, Nettie.”
“I didn’t come here to talk about Andy. I came to talk about you and me. Hopefully, one day you’ll be able to separate the two.” She started walking. “Until then, the ball’s in your court.”
Chapter 20
Nettie’s ponytail swayed, her crisp white dress crinkled, and her hands sweated in their white kid gloves as she went up the steps to the altar, then turned to face the congregation. In the front row were Andy, Win, her parents, her brother, and her sister. Andy blew her a kiss. Win winked. Behind them sat Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Mac, most of the GAs, and all of the regular faces she’d watched from the choir loft on Sunday mornings.
Pastor Williams dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief as he closed the big podium Bible. “Baptisms are special events, not only in the life of an individual, but in the life of the church. It’s especially meaningful when we baptize someone we’ve had the privilege of watching grow up.”
Joining Nettie on the steps, he escorted her up to the baptismal pool, then turned toward the congregation. “Our lifelong journey as Christians seldom follows the same path. We attend church, we read and study the lessons of the Bible and thousands of years of biblical scholars, we follow the faith traditions of our families, yet we often hesitate when it comes to accepting that which we cannot fully understand. The Holy Spirit is our bridge across doubt. It says, ‘Come to me. Believe. Follow. I will show you how to see the invisible, believe the unbelievable, and receive the impossible.’ The act of baptism says to the world that we have accepted this gift and marks us as one of Christ’s own. From that point forward, our life has new direction, serving those Christ serves.”
The baptismal pool sparkled as Pastor Williams stepped in, causing little waves to splash against the sides. Slipping out of her shoes, Nettie accepted his hand and followed. As she descended the steps, the little weights her mother had sewn into the hem of her dress made it float down around her like petals.
Pastor Williams placed one hand on her back and wrapped the other around her left hand. “Ready?” he whispered.
She nodded.
“Nettie, do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”
“I do.”
“Then I hereby baptize you in the name of the Father.” With confident hands, he lowered her into the water. The moment it flowed over Nettie’s face, she had a fleeting surge of panic, as if she were back in the savage, muddy river that had almost drowned her. But then, as quickly as it had come, the fear disappeared, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace. She said a silent prayer as he raised her up. “The Son.” The water felt lighter as he lowered and lifted her again. “And the Holy Spirit.” The third time, she barely noticed the silky water but could tell Pastor Williams’s arms were quivering. Nettie helped right herself.
As the organist and congregation broke into a heart-felt rendition of Amazing Grace, Pastor Williams gave Nettie a big hug. “Welcome to the community of believers.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s been quite a journey.”
“Yes, it has, for both of us. Today is a happy day.”
The last hymn followed Nettie as she made her way into the hall, where Win waited with towels and a change of clothes.
Nettie blotted her face. “Nibi was right.”
“About what?”
“About choices and journeys never leaving our lives in the same place.”
“Amen.”
After the service, Nettie met Pastor Williams in his office. The papers, the books, the dust were all as they’d been every time she visited. But this time he sat in the old wing chair next to her.
He returned the white Bible her parents had given her as a baptism gift. “Today’s date and your witnesses have been recorded in here. The information will also be recorded in the minutes and other records of the church. You are now an official member of the congregation.”
“Thank you, sir. For everything.”
“You are most welcome.”
Nettie handed him a piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“Things I still have questions about.”
Pastor Williams chuckled. “I should have known.” He unfolded the list. “Free will?”
“Mr. Danes said free will isn’t free at all.”
“Predestination?”
“Can’t talk about free will without talking about that, can you? It’s confusing.�
�
“It can be. Baptism by sprinkle?”
“The Presbyterians, the Methodists, and the Lutherans all baptize by sprinkle.”
“Yes.”
“And the Bible says it’s okay to do it different ways, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Nettie pushed her still-drippy ponytail off her soaked shoulder. “Maybe the Baptists should consider making a change.”
Pastor Williams winked. “As I’m sure you realize after this morning, the Baptists consider immersion a life-changing experience, especially when performed in such an artistically scratched pool.”
Nettie lay in the shorn grass of Allen’s Hill. Waves of thin, silver-rimmed clouds trekked across the moon as she waited for Win. Light radiated from a dozen windows in the mansion.
Win slid into the grass next to her. “Hey.”
“What kept you?”
“I had to drop off my mom’s broken watch at the jewelry store. Guess who was there?”
“Who?”
“Pic. You should have seen him. He was dressed in new trousers and a white shirt and had just been to the barbershop for a shave and a haircut. He said he wanted to surprise Alise. He looked spiffy.”
“Spiffy, huh?”
“He told me Carlton Allen was dead. Not a week after we were at Alise’s house. A stroke. How’s that for timing?”
“Sounds bad to be glad someone is dead, but I am.”
“Pic was at the jewelry store picking up a ring he had made for Alise—a gold one with the amethyst stone he carried in his bindle all these years. The one they mined with Nibi and Dell.”
“An engagement ring?”
Win nodded. “I think so.”
“That’s great. The town’s already buzzing about them. This will really stir things up.”
“Guess what else Pic was carrying in that sack?”
“What?”
“Money. A heck of a lot of money. He paid for that ring with hundred-dollar bills. He wasn’t kidding when he told us he’d saved a lot. That bindle was his bank.”
“Wonder why he never spent any of it until now.”
