“What the hell business is it of yours?”
“It’s my business same as always, if you’re bringing trouble around here. Jimmy T. was real pissed last night, finding out we had company. He don’t like that our guest is somebody the cops might be interested in talking to.”
“Why the hell’d you go and tell Jimmy T. that? It ain’t like he’s watching the news.”
“I agree with him,” Dane said. “The cops could come around anytime, wanting to talk to her. That’s what Jimmy T. don’t like about it.”
Ever since he’d gone into business with that man, it was Jimmy T. wants this and Jimmy T. don’t like this. Worse than listening to a man bellyache about his wife. Made me ashamed I’d raised a son who was so far up some meth head’s ass.
“Seeing as how it’s my home, I reckon I’ll bring trouble here if I like,” I said.
“What I don’t get”—Dane gone to running his hands through his hair like it was on fire—“is why you’re putting your ass on the line for her. You’re acting like you owe her something.”
“I don’t know exactly where I went wrong, son, but apparently I failed to teach you one real important lesson.”
“Oh, goddamn. You and your lessons.” He turned around like he meant to walk out, but he didn’t.
“Family comes first,” I said. “If our family is a problem for your business partner, you need to get you a new business partner. Because I ain’t gonna take Jimmy T.’s feelings into account ahead of my family.”
“That sounds real high and mighty, but what good does it do us to put her first? What’s she ever done for us?”
“Son, that girl—those two girls—sacrificed their daddy for us, that’s what. They grown up with no daddy at all, because Leroy took the blame for all of that.”
“You gonna act like I didn’t grow up without a daddy? You was gone for six fucking years.”
“Yep, I served six years, but you know what I didn’t serve? I didn’t serve no goddamn life sentence, which your uncle Leroy did. Maybe you think I shoulda been here wiping your ass them six years, but I did come back. And I done my best for you and your brother. Them girls never did get their daddy back. That girl never got to see her daddy again except on the other side of a prison visitation room. So that’s what she done for us.”
“That was on him. He was the one who planned that,” Dane said, so flippant-like, I wanted to smack him. But then who’d let him believe those lies, if it wasn’t me?
“You don’t know the first thing about what happened, but mayhap it’s time I set you straight.”
The thought of telling those old secrets put a twist in my guts, but I reckoned the truth was part of what I needed to confront before I died. Maybe I’d die a mite easier, if the weight of them secrets wasn’t pressing down on me no more. I’d carried them for so long, it was like I couldn’t hardly stand up straight.
CHAPTER 36
Zee
Avoiding Dane seemed like the best idea, so I spent the rest of the morning lying in bed next to Gentry, reading while he slept.
Yvain was some trippy shit, but I could see why Gentry liked Yvain. He was a good guy. Not a show-off like Sir Gawain or a conceited jerk like Sir Kay. I wasn’t all that sympathetic when Yvain killed Sir Esclados and then hung around the castle like a stalker and made googly eyes at Laudine, Esclados’ widow. Apparently, though, that was how chivalry worked. You could kill a guy and that was okay, as long as it was a fair fight between two knights.
Yvain didn’t really get into trouble until he broke his promise to Laudine. By that point, she’d gotten over her dead husband and married Yvain, even though he was the knight who’d killed her husband. Yvain was madly in love with Laudine, but he wanted to go off and have adventures with Sir Gawain and King Arthur. So he promised his wife that he would come back before a year and a day.
“Oh, Yvain,” I whispered, because I knew he was going to fuck up. I wasn’t even halfway through the book, so no way was he going to get back to Laudine on time. It reminded me of my mom and dad. The day Dad was sentenced, he’d promised he was coming back. Swore it up and down, even though he wasn’t going to be eligible for parole for twenty years. It didn’t work out. He never made it back, and I didn’t think Yvain would, either.
I knew someone was downstairs but not who, until I heard Uncle Alva coughing. He sounded bad, and it made me wonder what kind of appointment he’d had that morning. After a few minutes, Dane raised his voice, and then Uncle Alva raised his. That went on until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I closed the book and got up. I went out to the stairs, trying to be as quiet as I could on those creaky old floors.
“You was gone for six fucking years!” Dane was saying.
More back and forth, and then Uncle Alva’s voice rose up all wobbly, old-man angry: “It was my fault that all gone south! I’m the one shot that goddamn bank guard!”
I’d been standing about halfway down the stairs, but I had to sit down. I could barely breathe, and my skin felt tight all over. Almost my whole life I’d believed my father was a murderer, that he’d killed some poor rent-a-cop who was just doing his job. I’d spent years trying to make that balance out against all the good things I knew about Dad. Like the fact that he’d robbed a bank to try to get decent medical care for his sister-in-law, who was dying of cancer.
Except he wasn’t a killer. That was a lie. He’d confessed to it to save Uncle Alva, and he’d let me and LaReigne and Mom carry that lie around all those years. There was no way Mom knew, because she couldn’t keep a secret for shit. Even after his liver crapped out and he knew he was dying, Dad had kept that from us to protect Uncle Alva.
Dane came stomping through the front room, right past the foot of the stairs. I didn’t want him to see me, to know I’d been listening, but I couldn’t stand up. It didn’t matter, because he went straight through the dining room and never even glanced at me. After he was gone, Uncle Alva started coughing again. I grabbed the railing and pulled myself up.
I went upstairs and laid on the bed next to Gentry. The whole room felt like it was spinning, that was how much my world had changed. I laid as still as I could, but maybe my heart was beating so hard it woke Gentry up.
“My lady,” he said in a groggy voice.
“Will you put your arm around me?” It was easier for him to touch me than to let me touch him. I rolled over on my side with my back to him and, after a minute, he put his hand on my waist. That was enough to hold me together.
We were like that for an hour, maybe longer. Long enough that my shirt, between my side and Gentry’s palm, got damp with sweat. Then I heard someone coming up the stairs.
I slid off the bed and went across the room to where my backpack was sitting on the dresser. I unzipped the side pocket, to feel where the gun was. Gentry must have heard the creak of the stairs or sensed something else, because he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He cocked his head to the right, listening.
“Zhorzha?” Uncle Alva said. “You awake, girl?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” I took my hand out of the backpack, and left the gun there.
“Just thought we might could have that talk.”
That talk. I opened the door far enough to look out at him.
“Sure. I’ll be down in a minute,” I said.
He nodded and started down the stairs. I watched him go, with this mix of anger and sadness and hope. He looked so frail going down the stairs, holding on to the railing with both hands. He hadn’t seemed that weak last night.
After he was gone, I went down the hall to use the toilet. I planned to go downstairs alone, but when I came out of the bathroom, Gentry was waiting for me in the hallway. He had his boots on, and a red crease across his cheek from the pillow.
Downstairs, Uncle Alva was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper folded up in front of him
. He’d taken off the button-down shirt he’d worn earlier and was in an old wifebeater. The tattoo was there, like I knew it would be, and, above it, a strip of medical tape held some gauze at the crook of his elbow. That kind of appointment.
I sat down across from him, and Gentry went to stand at the back door, staring out through the screen with his arms crossed.
Uncle Alva unfolded the newspaper and slid a big, old waxed manila envelope across the table to me. I started to untie the rotten shoelace wrapped around it, but he tilted his head toward Gentry, whose back looked like a wall. Now that I’d seen him in his armor, I could picture him that way all the time, even when he wasn’t wearing it.
“You trust him?” Uncle Alva said.
“Yeah. He brought me this far.” I didn’t say, More than I trust you.
After what he’d told Dane, I wondered what kind of crazy secrets Uncle Alva was offering me. I was not expecting ten stacks of hundred-dollar bills with yellowed bank bands around them. I pulled out one bundle and looked at the date on the top bill. 1996. I flicked through the stack, looking at all the dates. Nothing after 1999.
It was money from the first bank robbery.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, and for a while I couldn’t get any other words out. When they finally came, they were in a crazy jumble. “What is—why are you giving me this? Is this—you’ve had this all along? You asshole! All this time?”
“Keep your voice down. The boys don’t know, and they don’t need to know.”
I was quiet, until the urge to yell had mostly passed.
“Why give it to me now? There were probably a hundred times in the last fifteen years this might’ve been helpful. Like when I got hurt. Or for LaReigne to go to college.”
“Girl, you think I was holding out on your mama? Shit, if you knew how much money had gone through her hands. Them ladies novels. All them goddamn figurines. She spent what money she had on crap that didn’t add up to nothing. That there, I kept that back for you girls, like my brother asked. Only now I guess you need it.”
“I need more than money. It won’t do me any good if I can’t find her,” I said.
“You seem pretty damn sure she didn’t run off with them two fellas.”
I took out my phone and pulled up the home screen. “This is your great-nephew. He was born after Dad died. This is Marcus, LaReigne’s son.” My voice cracked. “She may have done a lot of stupid things, but she did not abandon him. She wouldn’t do that, not after what we went through when we were kids.”
Uncle Alva was quiet, looking at Marcus’ picture and tapping his pack of cigarettes on the kitchen table.
“How much is this?” I said.
“It’s a hunnert thousand. Fifty thou for each of you.”
“Let me ask you: did LaReigne—does LaReigne know about this?” I meant Is it remotely possible that the assholes who took her knew about the money?
“Might could be. I reckon over the years it’s possible your daddy told her, but she never asked me about it. He didn’t dare tell your mama, and I reckoned if I gave it to you while she was alive, you’d end up spending it on her.”
“Why are you giving it to me now?” I said.
“Because there’s a small chance I know somebody who can tell me where them boys are holed up. That information ain’t gonna be free. And if I can find it out, you ain’t gonna be able to waltz in there and say please. You’ll need something to bargain with. Them boys might be inclined to swap your sister for this money. I’d do it myself, but I don’t know that I got it in me.”
“Have you—do you think—” I couldn’t even get out what I wanted to ask.
“I don’t know yet. I made a few phone calls to some folks who might know. I’m waiting to hear from a few more folks. I know you’d like to have answers today, but I can’t guarantee that’s gonna happen.”
“Well, I don’t think Dane is going to be okay with me staying.”
“That goddamn boy. Don’t mind him. You’re welcome here.” I thought the conversation was over, because he tapped a cigarette out of the pack and lit it before he said, “There’s another thing I need to say to you, and mayhap you won’t be inclined to stay after you hear it, but I need to say it.”
“I know. I heard what you told Dane. About my dad and the robbery. About the guard.”
Uncle Alva took a long drag off his cigarette, with his hand shaking. Then he started coughing. He coughed until his eyes watered, or else he was crying.
“I’m sorry, girl. Ain’t no way to make up for that or justify what was done. I just—you deserve to know the truth.”
“It is what it is,” I said, because if I didn’t manage to swallow that feeling of betrayal, I was going to cry or scream. Uncle Alva managed another puff off the cigarette, and then he pointed at the envelope of money.
“Better put that someplace safe,” he croaked.
CHAPTER 37
Gentry
My lady was troubled, for ’twas a great sum of money her uncle had committed to her, and upon her shoulders alone lay the matter of her sister’s safety. I was ready to take up any task she might wish, but for the nonce ’twas naught for me to do but feed her. I made our even’s meal of what was in the house, and we supped in silence.
After, we went into the front room, and Sir Alva put upon the television that we might watch the news. ’Twas there Dane found us. I rose to greet him, full ready for his wrath, but he abided in the doorway.
“Hey, cuz. You still here?” he said.
“Yep. She’s still here,” Sir Alva said. “Still my house. Still ain’t your business.”
“You taking off tonight?” Dane spake without heeding his father.
“Boy, leave your cousin alone.”
Once I saw Dane would keep peace, I set myself again beside Lady Zhorzha. Her hands lay together upon her lap, one holding fast to the other. The cloth of her trousers was worn through at her thigh, shewing the milk white of her skin and the blood black of her fire bird.
“Thine heart is fouled with lust,” Hildegard said.
“’Tis not his heart,” Gawen said, and then to me: “Thy touch affronteth her not. Last even she was eager to open her thighs to thee.”
Sooth, she had received my touch tho I asked not, but I presumed not she should again, so I reached not for her hand. Hildegard believed I had naught but lust in my heart, but in truth I was much concerned with how I might serve my lady. While I pondered it, Sir Alva rose from the couch and walked up and down in a manner most uneaseful.
When first I met him, I thought of him as a hermit, alone in some high place, deprived of company and comfort. Now I bethought myself of Raymondin, who pined for Melusine but never again saw her. Like Sir Alva, he was a man bereft of his wife, left to raise up two sons. Tho Sir Alva’s castle was in decline, it remained, mayhap a testament to the labors of his wife. Mayhap also a prison for a man whose heart was sore wounded.
Sir Alva stopped and took his phone from his pocket.
“This peace cannot last,” the black knight said. I rose to my feet, my hackles abristle. Dane’s shoulders weren tight, his hands fistwise at his sides.
“I’ll take this in my room,” Sir Alva said.
“What the fuck are you doing, Dad?”
Sir Alva answered not and, after he departed, Dane wandered the floor and slapped his hands upon his shanks.
I kept watch, and Dane came anon to stand before my lady.
“We had a deal. You said you were gonna talk to Dad and then you were gonna go,” he said. “But you’re still here, sitting around like you don’t plan to leave.”
“Uncle Alva is helping me with something,” Lady Zhorzha said. “I’ll go when it’s done.”
“You’ll fucking go now.”
He stepped closer so that we stood nigh toe to toe. I watched his hands and set my shoulder that
I might be ready for him. Ere we came to blows, the kitchen door opened and Dirk called out.
“Hey, where are you all?” He entered the room and observed we three. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is Zhorzha’s getting ready to leave,” Dane said.
“Already?”
“She ain’t going nowhere,” Sir Alva said. He came from the hallway, his phone yet in his hand.
“I think maybe I better go,” my lady said. She made to rise, but could not. When I put out my hand to her, she took it, and I pulled her to her feet. Once aright she was unsteady and leaned upon me.
Sir Alva inclined his head toward the hall, and he alone among us in that room held no tension in his body, for methinks he was weary to his bones.
“Come on back to my room,” he said to my lady. “I got some news for you.”
CHAPTER 38
Zee
He ain’t nobody to us, and I aim to keep it that way,” Uncle Alva said, when I asked what the guy’s name was. The Fury, that’s what Uncle Alva kept calling him, and it took me a couple minutes to realize the guy with no name was a Klansman. Whatever relief I’d felt finding out my father wasn’t a murderer, it was watered down by knowing that my grandfather had seen nothing wrong with lynching and cross burning.
“How do we know we can trust him? That he’s not just scamming us for ten grand?” That was what the Fury wanted: ten thousand dollars in exchange for information on where Tague Barnwell and Conrad Ligett were hiding out.
“No way to be dead certain, but he was sent to me by a man who knows him, and wants to see we’re dealt by honestly.”
“And what does that guy expect to get out of it?” I said, because I was still choking on the thought of giving somebody ten thousand dollars for information.
The Reckless Oath We Made Page 23
