Covenant

by Ann McMan

  “But they needed the food.”

  Maddie nodded. “That’s true. It was an unjust law that punished the poor.”

  Maddie could tell Henry was trying hard to make sense of it all.

  “I’m glad Danny knew to go look for his daddy.”

  “He was very brave,” Maddie agreed.

  “If they got caught, would Danny have been sent to jail, too?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Henry.” Maddie thought about it. “Maybe we can try to research this some more tomorrow, and find out.”

  “Okay.” Henry stared down at his covers for a moment before looking up at her. “Do I have to wear one of those funny hats?”

  “What funny hats?” Maddie glanced at his green Quakers hat, hanging from the bedpost. “You mean like your ball cap?

  “No.” He shook his head. “The ones in all those magazines that Uncle David keeps bringing Syd.”

  Magazines? Enlightenment dawned. “Oh. You mean the bridal magazines?”

  Henry nodded.

  “I don’t think so, Henry. Nobody is going to make you wear anything you don’t feel comfortable in.” She rethought her statement. “Did you ask Syd about this?”

  He nodded again.

  “What did she say?”

  “She said I didn’t have to—and that you probably wouldn’t, either.”

  Maddie felt irrationally relieved. Syd hadn’t approached her yet for any discussions about wardrobe choices for their wedding, but she knew she was on borrowed time. At the rate the bridal magazines—most containing dozens of pages bearing colorful tabs—were piling up downstairs, she’d be unlikely to dodge this bullet for very much longer.

  Why couldn’t they just have a quiet ceremony at home? Or better yet, elope and do some kind of destination wedding . . . just the two of them.

  Fat chance. Syd was determined to insist on the whole enchilada: gowns, guests, music, food, champagne, and cake . . . probably an obscenely overwrought creation with twenty tiers, if David had anything to do with it. And he did. He’d been Syd’s coconspirator ever since Maddie put Oma’s ring on her finger. Maddie did her best to tolerate what she viewed as Syd’s excessive interest in the minutiae of the event. She knew that Syd’s first wedding to Jeff had been, by her own admission, an afterthought—what she called a throwaway affair at city hall with no family or friends present. She was determined not to repeat that experience. “Especially,” she explained, “not with you—not when it all matters so much.”

  But hats? No. They weren’t going to be wearing any hats . . .

  Henry yawned.

  Maddie stood up and adjusted his covers. The nights were so warm that Syd had swapped out Henry’s usual Spiderman bedspread for a lighter weight throw. This one had happy little cartoon cows all over it. Maddie suspected that if the cows hadn’t borne some resemblance to Before, Henry would’ve strenuously objected to the change.

  Maddie placed the book on Henry’s little school desk—the same one she’d used when this had been her room. She noted that the top of the desk was strewn with parts of an old alarm clock that had stopped working months ago. Henry had retrieved it from the trash and was determined to “fix it.” When Maddie gently suggested the thing was beyond repair, he insisted that he could figure it out. So back into the house it came, and here it sat—in about sixty pieces.

  Before turning off the bedside light, she smoothed his unruly bangs away from his forehead. No matter how hard they tried, Henry’s hair would not be tamed. Hers had always been the same way. Celine used to get so exasperated, she’d threaten to shave it off with a Flowbee.

  “You go to sleep now, Sport.” She kissed him. “No more worries about wedding clothes. Okay?”

  “Okay.” His voice sounded smaller.

  Maddie could tell he’d be asleep before she reached her own bedroom. She turned off the lamp and retreated to the door. Before she could close it, she heard his voice again.

  “Maddie? What are ‘girl shoes’?”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Syd was sitting in the nook in front of their bedroom fireplace when Maddie returned from Henry’s room. Mercifully, she didn’t have the gas logs turned on.

  “That was a long chapter tonight. Here.” She handed Maddie a short tumbler containing an amber-colored liquid. “I thought we deserved a special treat, too.”

  Maddie sniffed the glass. Score. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Uh huh. Come sit down beside me.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Maddie collapsed on the settee beside her and kicked off her shoes. “What are we celebrating?”

  “Multiplication tables. Remember?”

  “How could I forget? The sixes and nines about drove me insane.”

  “That’s probably because you don’t know them, either.”

  “Hey.” Maddie feigned umbrage. “I went to medical school.”

  “Hey.” Syd bumped her shoulder. “You also have to use a calculator to figure out a 20 percent tip.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do, too.”

  “What-ever.” Maddie sipped her drink. “Ohhhhh. This isn’t the cheap stuff.”

  “That’s because we don’t have any cheap stuff.”

  “We ran out?”

  “In a manner of speaking. David was here, and he polished it off.”

  “All of it?” Maddie shook her head.

  “Relax, cheapskate. There wasn’t that much. And he only drank it under duress.”

  “Meaning he couldn’t find the good stuff?”

  “Precisely.”

  “And you told me hiding this one in the dirty clothes hamper wouldn’t work.”

  “I happily stand corrected.” Syd yawned.

  “Tired?”

  “Uh huh. It was a long day. Getting ready for the book sale is wearing me out. People keep bringing in boxes of old magazines and get irate when I explain that we can’t take them.”

  “You don’t want magazines? I’d think some of them would have historical value.”

  “Yeah,” Syd looked at her, “not when they’re fifty-year-old copies of TV Guide.”

  “You’re kidding? Somebody had fifty-year-old copies of TV Guide?”

  “Yes. Why? Are you interested in researching any episodes of Bonanza you might’ve missed? If so, I’d be happy to drop them off at your office.”

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t take them?”

  “I lost that argument.”

  Maddie chuckled. “How come you never lose any arguments with me?”

  “Because you, my darling, are a pushover.”

  Maddie wanted to disagree with her, but she knew Syd was right. Something else occurred to her.

  “I meant to tell you that I talked with Mom about Avi and Dorothy.”

  “Oh?” Syd sounded pleased. “What did she say?”

  “She thinks it’s a good idea. So I called Avi on the way to the café. She’s coming down tomorrow.”

  “That’s great. How’d you finagle a meeting so quickly?”

  “Avi is interested in looking for office space to expand her practice into this part of the region. She’s taking a couple of weeks off to scout the area. I thought maybe she could make use of that extra office in my clinic.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  Maddie nodded. “Keep it under your hat for now. At least until I get to talk with Lizzy.”

  “Sure. I assume you’re going to approach her tomorrow?”

  “That’s the plan.” Maddie sipped her cognac. Her mention of hats reminded her of Henry’s question.

  “Apropos of hats,” she began, “Henry asked me some random question about hats for the wedding.”

  “Oh, god.” Syd sighed. “I forgot about that. He’s worried that you both might have to wear something formal at the wedding.”

  “He’s not the only one.”

  “Maddie . . .”

  “Okay, okay.” Maddie held up a hand. “Don’t get riled up. I know I sa
id I’d think about it.”

  “And have you thought about it?”

  “Hats?”

  Syd socked her on the arm. “No. Not hats. Clothes. Dress clothes. As in some kind of ensemble that includes shoes and garments not made of flannel.”

  “I rarely wear flannel.”

  “You know what I mean. Have you thought about it?”

  “What’s the big rush? The wedding is still months away—nine months, to be exact. We’ve got plenty of time to argue about whether or not I have to wear girl shoes.”

  Syd raised an eyebrow.

  Shit. Maddie knew her unfortunate choice of words was tantamount to granting Syd license to release her inner bridal kraken.

  “I didn’t mean to say argue,” she hurriedly corrected. “I meant to say discuss.”

  “Of, course you did.” Syd’s tone was dripping with sarcasm.

  “Come on, honey.” Maddie took hold of her hand. “I want to talk about all of this. It’s just . . .”

  “Just?” Syd prompted. “Just what?”

  “Just . . .” Maddie was floundering. “It just seems premature—at least for me. Can’t I have a bit more time to get my head around all of this before we commit to anything?” She tugged on Syd’s hand. “Please?”

  “Maddie? What do you think this process will be like once you make up your mind about what you will and won’t consent to wear?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we order it someplace.”

  “Someplace? Like where? JC Penney? Men’s Wearhouse?”

  “Very funny.” Maddie slugged back the rest of her cognac. It was going straight to her head. She began to feel overheated and slightly dizzy. What she really wanted was to change the subject. She shifted on the settee so she could face Syd. “Honey? You know I love you more than anything, and I cannot wait to be married to you. It’s not that I never think about it. It’s that I think about it all the time. I don’t want to wait nine more minutes, much less nine more months. Any time you hear frustration in my voice, it’s only because I don’t want to have to wait so long to make you mine. I just want us to get married. Now. Right away. Without any big fuss or hoopla. Does that make sense?”

  She could see Syd’s expression soften. Well. Maybe soften a little bit.

  “Maddie, I understand that a big wedding will push you out of your comfort zone—and I’m sorry about that. I know you’d like nothing more than for us to elope and find a justice of the peace someplace. But please try to understand my perspective on all of this. I made that mistake with Jeff, and I’ve always regretted it. I promised myself that if ever I chose to be married again—and, truthfully, until I met you, I never believed I’d even consider it—I’d make sure the vows I took were respected and honored in all the ways they should be.”

  “I know that. I want that, too.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course.”

  Syd seemed a bit calmer. “Then try to understand this when you get frustrated with me—and with the timetable. No one stood up with me. No friends. No neighbors. No grad school classmates. No one. My parents were excluded. I didn’t even change my clothes. I sailed through the experience with the same careless inattention I’d grant to . . . I don’t know . . . renewing my driver’s license or paying my taxes.” She wiped an impatient hand across her eyes. “I love you. I want to make those solemn promises to you in front of everyone who matters to me . . . to us. That matters to me. Making a public demonstration of my commitment to you—especially now, especially after everything this community has just gone through—matters more to me than just about anything. I want our friends and neighbors to know that we love each other and are not ashamed to declare it.”

  It was hard for Maddie not to feel the same emotion Syd was expressing. And she felt like a cad for dragging her feet on something she knew in her viscera was this important to Syd—and to herself. The last thing she ever felt was shame about her life with Syd. It mattered that she own the truth of it, too. Publicly. No matter how uncomfortable the damn shoes were.

  “Okay, baby.” She raised Syd’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “I want us to do this right, too.”

  “Do you really mean that?” Syd sounded hopeful.

  “I do.” Maddie gave her a wry smile. “See? I recited my lines just fine.”

  Syd laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  Maddie tugged her closer. “I love you. You know?”

  “Yeah. I think I got that memo a while back.”

  Maddie kissed her. When they drew apart, she nudged Syd.

  “Well? Don’t you have something you want to say to me, too?”

  “How’d you know?” Syd smiled impishly and held up her empty glass. “It’s your turn to go downstairs for refills.”

  “How about I just go get the damn bottle?”

  “Even better.” Syd relaxed against the settee and yawned again. “I wonder why arguing with you makes me horny?”

  Suddenly, Maddie was feeling overheated for a new reason altogether.

  Screw the cognac.

  She hauled Syd to her feet and led her toward their big and welcoming bed.

  Chapter Two

  Recorded Interview

  Preliminary Inquest Investigation

  Death of Mayor Gerald Watson

  “My name is Bertrand L. Townsend, Sr. Everybody just calls me Bert. I wadn’t down by the water when it happened—not on that part of the river, anyways.”

  Good thing I wadn’t, too. I wouldn’t a helped that man, no way.

  “The first thing I heard about the ruckus was when Natalie Chriscoe came runnin’ down to tell us that Buddy and Dorothy come up from the water, and she was cryin’ and beggin’ for help.”

  I don’t know nobody who’s sorry he’s dead.

  “She said Buddy was limpin’ bad and Dorothy was helpin’ him walk. She said she heard Dorothy say that her daddy’d done kicked Buddy real hard.”

  That made me wanna go down there and give that man what for, but Sonny held me back because we had to finish the fireworks.

  “Natalie said Buddy kept mutterin’ somethin’ about Goldenrod bein’ redeemed. That’s what he always calls Dorothy—Goldenrod. It’s a kind of nickname of his. He has ’em for lots of people he’s special friends with. I didn’t pay no special attention to that. I told her he mostly talks that way when he’s on to something that upsets him. Sonny told me he could finish up the fireworks his self, and I could skedaddle and go check on Buddy. So I followed Natalie back to where they was.”

  Before I left, Sonny told me he thought this all was a bad sign. He said somethin’ “dire” had probably happened—that Watson had been beggin’ for it. He told me I needed to go on and protect my boy because Buddy wadn’t always good at takin’ care of his self.

  “By the time me and Natalie got up from the river, Dorothy was talkin’ to Sheriff Martin, and Doc Stevenson was lookin’ at Buddy’s leg. Buddy was rocking back and forth on a bench and mutterin’ about them cannons being finished. I told him everything was okay and that Sonny was wrappin’ it all up. After that, everything pretty much happened the way you know. They found Watson in the water and nobody saw what happened.”

  I ain’t sayin’ that he got what was coming to him—but we all know he did. Ain’t nobody in this town sorry that man is dead.

  “You ain’t asked for my opinion, but I’ll tell you that I don’t think nobody did him wrong. I think that man did for his own self. End of story.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Kohlrabi. Collards. Kale. Cauliflower.

  It was time to move the seedlings from the shed and plant them in the Quiet Lady’s garden.

  The frost would come late this year. The farmers all said October twelfth. But October twelfth was wrong.

  The frost would come late. Buddy could see the signs. Nights were too warm. Tall weeds choked the orchard grass. White butterflies swarmed the garden.

  The frost would come late this year.

  Koh
lrabi. Collards. Kale. Cauliflower.

  He laid out the plants. One. One. Two. Three. Five.

  Five was part of phi. Phi was right when the frost came late.

  Roots. Stems. Leaves.

  One. One. Two. Three. Five.

  Five from one. The Golden Ratio.

  Five and three. The Divine Proportion.

  God told Moses to use phi to build the Ark. The Ark held God’s Covenant.

  Warm nights.

  White Butterflies and Orange Dogs came early. They made five less than zero.

  Less than zero was little phi. Little phi was not right for a garden.

  Little phi broke the Covenant.

  The frost would come late. It would come late because nights were too warm and the Covenant was broken.

  Goldenrod was broken. Goldenrod helped Buddy plant the seedlings.

  Goldenrod didn’t talk. Goldenrod was broken.

  Her ratio was less than zero.

  Goldenrod was little phi.

  Little phi was not right for Goldenrod.

  Goldenrod’s ratio was wrong because nights were too warm and God’s Covenant was broken.

  The Orange Dog came for her at night.

  One. One. Two. Three. Five.

  Goldenrod planted the kohlrabi in the holes Buddy dug for her. The earth was the Ark of God’s Covenant.

  One. One. Two. Three. Five.

  Phi was The Divine Proportion. Phi-Prime was right for Goldenrod.

  Roots. Stems. Leaves.

  Goldenrod would be less than zero until the Orange Dog went away.

  Kohlrabi. Collards. Kale. Cauliflower.

  The frost would come late this year.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Inside the small library, Miss Murphy and Roma Jean had a wager.

  Miss Murphy had bet Roma Jean she couldn’t guess who’d donated some of the books by just looking at their titles.

  Roma Jean was pretty sure she could.

  They’d been emptying out the boxes and sorting the books into stacks by type for more than two hours now. So far, Roma Jean had been able to nail donations from Gladys Pitzer (Fifty Best Designs for Winter Casket Sprays), Harold Nicks (A Guide to Cutting Hair the Sassoon Way), Raymond Odell (Better Homes Guide to Zone Six Ornamental Shrubs), Natalie Chriscoe (QuickBooks for Dummies), and Edna Freemantle (Living with Toxic In-laws).