The Hollows--A Novel

by Jess Montgomery

  Jurgis slides his arm around Marvena, comforting. “Nothin’ to do about it now.”

  Tom’s hand closes over Hildy’s arm. She looks up at him. “She’s beyond Nana’s poultices. Rossville doctor’s good for nothing. She needs help—a safe place—right quick.”

  Olive’s breaths are now quick gasps from the pain. Hildy knows what she must do for Olive, though it will draw her back to Kinship, to the orb of Mother and Merle.

  She gently removes the hateful note from Olive’s lapel, wishing to rip it to shreds, but the note might serve as evidence later, so Hildy folds it, puts it in her pocket, to give to Lily. Then Hildy takes Olive’s hand. Looks at her directly, as Olive stares up at her through the slits between her swollen eyelids.

  “I’m taking you to Mrs. Gottschalk’s. She’s a good woman, on a farm. It’s safe there. And I’ll get the doctor from Kinship.”

  Postcard

  May 10, 1907

  My dear little Hildy—I am now settled in London. The love that swept me to Paris was not to last. But do not cry for me. My flat, as they call lodgings here, is small and cold, but it is mine, as is a new job in a hat shop. And I’ve found the most quaint and proper tea shop! I may return to the states though—New Orleans will be a better fit for me, I think. And when I am there, you can come visit me! Do not give your heart easily, my sweet cousin. You must see the world first!

  Love,

  Your cousin Thea

  CHAPTER 25

  LILY

  Tuesday, September 28—1:00 p.m.

  “Is this a stunt?” Perry’s voice is low and tight, but his face is ravaged with rage, his brow pulled down so low in a frown that his eyes are glinty slits. “A way to defame my wife, try to make me look bad before our debate tonight?”

  Just behind him in the doorway of the Dyer household stands Margaret. Perry holds his arm awkwardly twisted backward, across her midriff, his hand grasping her arm, as if he is holding her back from imminent, dire danger—the danger being Lily.

  Oh! The fact that tonight was their debate had clean run out of her head, with all that had transpired last night and this morning. Today, she’d planned to go to Cincinnati, for yesterday she’d learned at Ohio University that Neil Leitel had taken a position at the University of Cincinnati, right after he’d left his mother at the Athens boardinghouse. She wanted to find out how his mother had ended up in his care, why he’d abandoned her, and what—if anything—he knew about why the poor woman had wandered away from the Hollows. Perhaps she’d been motivated to find her father—confusing past with present in her addled condition. What had triggered that? An event at the Hollows? Something that happened, while with her son, even before he left her in Athens? The motivation of Thea’s wandering might be tied to the reason behind her death—whether purely accidental, a heat-of-the-moment attack, or premeditated murder. In any case, understanding her motivation seems key to putting her—and the case—to rest, and now Leitel seems the most likely source for insight into that motivation.

  Then late last night, Hildy had appeared at her door with horrific news. If only she had gone to interview Olive and Clarence on Monday after her trip to Athens, rather than returning directly home. But the call of her own hearth, the desire to spend time with her children, and the need to prepare for the upcoming debate had won out.

  This afternoon, as Lily left the courthouse with proper paperwork in hand, a sudden downpour had opened up over Kinship. Now she stands on the Dyers’ front porch with a warrant for Margaret’s arrest, the wind blowing the hard, cold rain onto her back and head. She wishes she’d listened to Mama’s warning—the ache in her hips and knees foretelling calamitous weather—and grabbed her hat, rather than giving Mama a dismissive wave.

  Now Margaret, peeking out from behind Perry, looks far from terrified and in need of Perry’s protection. A smile of wry satisfaction curls her mouth. The sense of triumph Lily had carried along with the warrant dissolves in a rush of foreboding. Has Margaret already thought several moves ahead of Lily, to some outcome that Lily can’t foresee?

  “It is not a stunt,” Lily says. “Olive Harding verified to my deputies, Hildy Cooper and Marvena Whitcomb, that Margaret was one of three women who attacked Miss Harding, unprovoked. Their testimony as to Olive’s injuries and complaint was sufficient for me to receive this warrant for Mrs. Dyer’s arrest.”

  Perry laughs. “Ridiculous. Why would my wife—or anyone—want to harm some schoolmarm over in Rossville?”

  Lily shivers as rivulets of rain drip down her collar. “Probably because Miss Harding was being courted by Clarence Broward.”

  Perry looks blank.

  “An employee of the United Mine Workers. Working with Marvena Whitcomb to integrate the Rossville union.” Perry’s face remains bereft of understanding. Lily sighs. “Clarence is a Negro man.”

  Perry’s eyebrows rise. “Oh. I don’t see what this has to do with my wife—”

  Lily points to Margaret. “Because she is in the WKKK. In fact, likely leading the group that has been meeting at your old farm.”

  “I believe you should come in,” Margaret says, her voice as cold and pitiless as the driving rain.

  * * *

  Lily sits on the edge of an overly stuffed chair in the parlor, rain dripping from her hair.

  Perry snaps, “Margaret, get her some coffee—”

  “Oh no, I’m fine—” Lily starts.

  “Nonsense. I don’t want you to say at our debate that we weren’t hospitable—or were the cause of you catching cold.” Perry gives Margaret a quick wave of his hand.

  Ah. He wants her out of the room. Though clearly Perry is unhappy with her, Margaret gives a little shrug and a simpering laugh as she heads back to the kitchen.

  “Margaret cannot be in the WKKK,” Perry says, “because I would expressly forbid it.”

  Does he really believe that Margaret will meekly accept his imperatives without question? There is nothing to be gained by pointing out the delusion of such a belief, so Lily tries another approach. “Would you forbid it because you do not believe in the tenets of the WKKK?”

  Perry smiles. “Clearly, I do not believe in women taking leadership roles in any form. Their place is in the home. That’s only one reason I’m running against you. As for the other beliefs—I do not agree with violent approaches or secret meetings, but I do agree with the view of separation of races. I can understand how you might see otherwise—having been married to a half-breed yourself.”

  A pulse of anger zips up the back of Lily’s head. How dare he make this reference to Daniel? Lily takes a long breath, says, “Back to the matter at hand. Hildy and Marvena received testimony from Miss Olive Harding—”

  Perry pummels his hand against his chair’s arm. Lily jumps, but Margaret glides into the parlor, followed by Missy carrying a tray with a coffee urn and cups. The tray quivers in her hand, making the urn and cups jiggle. She looks ashen, drawn.

  “They must be lying!” Perry exclaims. “I’ve forbidden Margaret from joining—”

  “So she has expressed to you her desire to join? And you’re confident she’d put your wishes as a priority over her own?”

  Perry’s deepening frown acknowledges his realization that Lily has maneuvered him into admitting that he is not completely unaware that it’s possible Margaret has gone against his wishes. Missy puts the tray on a side table, but her hand shakes so badly that when she picks up the carafe she sloshes coffee out on her hand, and she yelps in pain. Margaret frowns, gives her a dismissive wave, and Missy runs from the room. Margaret takes over, gracefully gliding around the room, setting out the cups and pouring the coffee.

  Lily reminds herself that she can’t worry about Missy now. “I tracked Thea Kincaide—the woman found dead near the track by Moonvale Tunnel—to your old house, Perry. I also found footprints indicating a large gathering of women at the house and a WKKK hood that someone had left behind in the house. Not only that, but Miss Harding and Mr. Broward, who were
out that night, happened upon Miss Kincaide and, concerned for her safety, have testified that they followed her, until she came upon your Moonvale property. When she ran to the gathering of women in WKKK garb, they decided to retreat. As you might understand.”

  Perry’s already-ruddy face turns a deeper red. “That doesn’t mean that Margaret knew anything about it. The house is remote; that’s why we moved here after my father died—”

  “Remote, but you were in Moonvale Hollow Village.”

  Margaret perches on the love seat and sips her coffee. Neither Lily nor Perry touches theirs.

  “Visiting friends,” Perry says.

  “That late at night?”

  “There’s not a curfew on adults visiting friends.”

  Margaret clears her throat delicately and puts her cup back on its saucer with a pointed clink. “While this is a charming preview to the upcoming debate, let me save us all some time before it becomes tiresome. Perry was in the village because he was trying to stop me from holding the meeting at our old house. Though it’s causing us distress, I’m sure he’ll come to see why women need to gather to rally for protections, and against changes that will surely only hurt families. Such as men being able to use physical force against their wives—”

  Lily looks at the entry to the parlor, through which Missy had fled. “I’ve already said that I’d love to stop Ralf Ranklin from hurting his wife. She has to file charges—”

  “I know, before you can legally do anything about it. In the meantime, you turn a blind eye to his moonshining—”

  “I have no proof of that,” Lily says.

  “You mean, you’re not willing to look for it.”

  “I’ve been a bit too busy to track down every home still in the county! I’ve tracked the path of a woman before she died, and that path happened to lead to your old house, on the night you were holding a WKKK meeting!”

  “Ah yes.” Margaret’s smile curls wider. “Thea Kincaide. That’s who you said she was? She did come onto our property—we didn’t know her name at the time. I think you’re focusing on the wrong issue. You can’t seriously claim to be fine with the notion of Miss Harding being courted by someone like—” She stops, shudders.

  Lily clenches her jaw. She doesn’t give a damn who courts who. Her and Daniel’s love had been as worthy as anyone else’s—no matter what people like the Dyers think—as is Olive and Clarence’s.

  Lily abruptly stands. “Perry has a point, Margaret. My only role is to bring you in until you face the charges against you—”

  “I’ll post bail and she will be out in no time!” Perry exclaims.

  “That’s up to you,” Lily starts, but then Margaret shouts.

  “Listen to me, both of you! The old woman did come onto our property, being chased by that—that disgusting couple. It was clear she was afraid of them. I have no idea why, but the way that … that … man was coming after her—”

  It is all Lily can do to keep from rolling her eyes at Margaret’s unlikely story. It’s much more believable that Olive and Clarence assumed, as they’d told Marvena, that Thea would come to no harm with the women at the gathering—and was perhaps trying to find her way to it—and then quickly departed for their own safety.

  “Margaret, stop; you shouldn’t say anything more—” Perry starts, but Margaret gives him a dismissive wave, much like the one she’d given Missy. She yells the young woman’s name. Quickly, obediently, Missy appears, like a dog answering a whistle.

  Margaret gives her a magnanimous smile. “Don’t worry, dear. I haven’t told them. I’ve left that for you. Go on, about your boy. You should be proud of the lad!”

  Missy steps forward. She clears her throat. “Junior followed you home th’other day. When you left here, so abruptly. He’s a smart one, knows you’re up to no good, like that smart-mouthed daughter of yours! And he heard that filthy woman—” Lily’s ire rises to hear Marvena described in this way. She clenches her jaw, keeps her eyes steady on Missy. “—tell you all about Olive and her … her unnatural … love for that union man, stirring trouble over in Rossville.” Missy squares her shoulders. “He did as any good boy would do. Came back, told me. And I reported it all to Marg—to Mrs. Dyer.”

  As Missy looks at Margaret, her expression asks, Was that good?

  Margaret gives a small nod, another wave of the hand, and Missy leaves. Then Margaret looks at Lily, her eyes dark. For a second, Lily imagines those eyes peering through slits, soulless hollow voids.

  “After that, I had no choice but to confront Miss Harding,” Margaret says. “I didn’t beat her because she would not foreswear her unnatural love.”

  Perry gasps and Lily stares at Margaret, shocked by the admission. Suddenly the room is quiet and suffocating, as if all air had been sucked from the room along with sense and reason.

  Into this void, Margaret smiles again. “The old woman—whose name I didn’t even know that night—ran away of her own volition, for some reason. And Olive bragged that when the old woman came across them again, Clarence dragged the woman to the top of the tunnel, and pushed her off as the train came through. Threatened that he would do the same to any of us. That is, I admit, when I lost my own temper and beat Olive. And I have two witnesses—upstanding members of Kinship’s best and of the WKKK—who will testify to Olive’s admission that he murdered the old woman.”

  Margaret stands, holds her hands forward, wrist to wrist. Gracefully. Coolly.

  Lily’s jaw tightens. The hood accidentally left behind at the old Dyer farmhouse—that would have been the result of some anxious member’s carelessness. Margaret wouldn’t have left it; neither would she have let her hood carelessly fall to reveal her face to Olive. She had only let herself be seen because she wished to be seen. Only let Olive live because she wished for Olive to accuse her.

  Margaret’s smile widens. “Will you still stand on the rule of law, Sheriff Ross?”

  * * *

  A few hours later, Lily startles awake at a creaking sound. As she rouses, she winces at the stiffness from falling asleep on Marvena’s porch swing. Shep moans as Lily’s hand moves—and she realizes she’s been half resting her hand, half petting the hound’s head, the whole time she’s been waiting here. She gives his silky ears another rub, then looks sheepishly at Marvena, who stands before her, regarding her with an amused grin and a shake of her head.

  Lily looks beyond Marvena to twilight softly claiming the woods, her gaze catching on a maple tinged with orange. The rain had stopped but cooled the air and stirred the loamy scents of earth. Soon the whole forest would erupt with the resplendent hues of autumn—and after that, the quiet and cold of another winter. Whenever she would complain that it was so cold her bones ached, Daniel would tell her to think of the snow as a soft blanket letting the earth rest.

  Then she sees him—the shimmering, silvery boy perpetually chasing either a ball or a dog, pausing in his pursuit to peekaboo at her from behind the oak. Dammit. A real boy—Junior—had followed Marvena and Lily home, overheard Marvena explain to Lily about Olive and Clarence. And she had been so used to dismissing the silvery boy that she must have also dismissed a glimpse of a real one. She could chalk her oversight up to exhaustion if she is looking for an excuse—but she isn’t.

  Lily shivers and sneezes. In the split second her eyes squeeze shut for the sneeze, the boy has disappeared. Dammit. Marvena looks concerned. “Lord a mercy, Lily. You look spooked. I reckon you didn’t come on a social call, but let’s get you inside before you start yammering—”

  “I don’t yammer!” Lily sneezes again.

  Marvena swiftly unlatches the door. “If’n you say so.”

  Ten minutes later, Lily sits in front of Marvena’s warm stove, a heavy quilt draped over her shoulders, sipping mint and chamomile tea, doused with some of Marvena’s shine. The scent and taste of the tea is soothing, and she feels her chest relax. She hadn’t realized, until now, how tense she’s been since finding Thea, and now she feels even more t
wisted up after taking Margaret to jail—all the while Margaret never flickering her gaze or dropping her odd smile.

  Lily takes another sip of tea, breathes in the steam, savors both taste and scent of Marvena’s concoction. “Where is Frankie?” Not school. Without Olive—or Hildy—the children of Rossville will go without school for a time, a thought that saddens Lily.

  “She’s down at Nana’s. Jurgis will bring her home when he comes up—” Marvena stops, clears her throat. “How long you been sitting up here, anyway?”

  “Probably since three.”

  Marvena turns from the one table in the cabin, where she’s been stirring up biscuit dough, and shoots a look at Lily. “You coulda found me in town, you know.”

  Lily lifts an eyebrow. “Well, as sheriff, I came straight here. To be efficient in upholding my duty as law enforcement. Since this would be the most likely place for me to find you.”

  Marvena whacks her wooden spoon against her bowl, making such a racket that outside Shep howls on the front porch. “You tryin’ to tell me that you’re takin’ me in again for moonshinin’?” Lily had had to arrest her friend once before—though she hadn’t held her long. “What’s in your cup is left over—should I take it from you?”

  “Not on your life.” Lily takes another sip. “No, no, I’m here because as a union organizer, you’re the most likely to tell me where I might be able to find another union organizer—Clarence Broward.”

  “Lily, you know—”

  Lily holds up her hand to shush Marvena. Then she fills her in on the events at the Dyers’ house and the arrest that followed.

  As Marvena takes it all in, her expression goes from shock to outrage—and Lily knows that Marvena has sifted the details and sorted out how Margaret has trapped Lily. She can arrest Margaret for assault, sure. But if she neglects to bring in Clarence, too, why then she’s taking the side of a potential murderer against the upstanding wife of her political opponent.