Covenant

by Ann McMan

  “It’s okay, Rita.” Byron spoke in the gentlest voice he could muster. “Take your time.”

  “Bert Townsend’s boy, Buddy, showed up blowin’ some kind of whistle—and he was yammerin’ all kinds of crazy stuff, tryin’ to get Watson to let Dorothy go. But Watson attacked him—kicked him so hard in the shin, I thought he’d busted Buddy’s leg. That boy was writhin’ on the ground cryin’ and Dorothy was tryin’ to get her daddy to stop and not to hurt him anymore. But Watson kept right at him. That’s when Dorothy picked up a piece of driftwood and hit him square across the back of the head. He went down, and Dorothy got Buddy up so they could get away from there. Watson kept tryin’ to stand up, but couldn’t manage it. So they had time to get up the bank and go for help. That’s when I come out from behind the bushes.”

  “You’re saying that Watson was conscious when Dorothy and Buddy left?”

  Rita nodded. “He was sittin’ on the ground holdin’ his head when he saw me. Then he really went crazy. I don’t have to tell you how much that man and I despised each other—you pretty much got to see it firsthand that day at Freemantle’s Market. What you maybe don’t know is that Watson hated me because of what happened between me and Eva.”

  “You mean his wife?”

  “Me and Eva didn’t mean to fall in love . . . neither of us planned on anything like that when we joined the same bowling league. It just happened.” She dropped her eyes. “Like those things sometimes do. But Eva was plannin’ to leave Watson—and take her little girl with her. We were gonna find a way to be together—someplace away from here, so he couldn’t get to her.” She met Byron’s eyes. “He used to get liquored-up and beat her somethin’ awful. She said she knew it was only a matter of time before he started goin’ after Dorothy, too. She wanted to get away from him—whether I was in the picture or not. But by then, I was in the picture . . . and I wanted to make a life with her—and her little girl. When Watson found out about us he went crazy. He beat Eva ‘til she couldn’t stand and threw her outta their house. She was only stayin’ at the motel until we could figure somethin’ else out. We knew we had to move fast, so we could get Dorothy away from him.” Her voice faltered.

  Byron got up and got her a bottle of water. “Here, Rita. Drink some of this.”

  She took it from him, but didn’t open it.

  “We planned to get Dorothy the next day at school—before she went home on the bus. But that night . . . the night before we were gonna get her and take her with us, he found out where she was stayin’. I know because two people saw his car in the parking lot there. The next morning, they found Eva in her room, dead. They said it was a drug overdose . . . but Eva never took pills for anything. Not even a headache. He killed her. And he knew I knew he killed her. That’s why he hated me. And that’s why I hated him.”

  Byron was having a hard time keeping his composure. He didn’t have reason to doubt a single word of Rita’s story.

  But she wasn’t finished yet . . .

  “Like I said, when he saw me comin’ toward him that day at the river, he went nuts. Started callin’ me all kinds of names. Told me to stay away from him and his daughter. I told him I knew what he did to Eva— and just saw what he did to Dorothy—and to Buddy. I told him I was gonna go get the law. He managed to stand up and tried to take a step toward me, but he was still too shaky. He slipped and fell down hard, and hit his head on some of the rocks. I could see he was bleedin’, and I started over to help him—but he cursed me even worse . . . called me a cunt and a whore. He tried to drag himself away from me—and he told me I could go to fucking hell.” She looked at Byron. “So I left him there. I left him there to die.”

  “Rita . . .” Byron began.

  “I know.” She held up a hand to stop him. “I know what I done. I let that man die—and I hurt Eva’s little girl. I knew she thought she killed him, but I didn’t come forward and tell what I knew. Eva made me promise to look after her . . . and I let her down. I can’t never forgive myself for that, Sheriff.” She wiped at her eyes. “I went out there to Dr. Heller’s today so I could tell Dorothy she didn’t kill her daddy. I went there before I come here to turn myself in. I had to try to make that part right, if I could. I never should’a let that little girl think she killed that worthless excuse for a man. He was a monster and he deserved what he got. But I know that don’t excuse me for lettin’ him die, and for lettin’ that little girl suffer. I know I did wrong.”

  “Rita,” Byron said softly. “Rita, I need you to listen to me. We got Watson’s autopsy report today. His death was ruled an accident. He died because of a health condition he had that didn’t have anything to do with drowning. He had no water in his lungs, Rita. He didn’t drown. He didn’t die from hitting his head. He had a spasm in his throat, and he suffocated. It could’ve happened to him anyplace, Rita. Nobody killed him. Not Dorothy. Not you. Not anybody.”

  “What do you mean, nobody killed him? I left him there to die. I didn’t help him.”

  “I don’t know what to say about that part, Rita. It’s going to be something you’ll have to find a way to make peace with. But there’s no duty to rescue in Virginia. State law doesn’t require you to help him—or anybody. Deciding to walk away might be hard for you to live with, but it wasn’t a crime.”

  Rita looked shell-shocked by Byron’s explanation. He could tell she still didn’t believe him.

  “I’m not under arrest?”

  “No, ma’am. You are not. And I want to thank you, Rita, for coming here to tell me the truth about what happened that day. I especially want to thank you for going and trying to help Dorothy. That took a lot of courage, and you should feel good about it.”

  “There ain’t much to feel good about in any of this, Sheriff.”

  “I think I understand that. But try to be kinder to yourself, Rita. Today, you kept your promise to Eva. And I think you’ve helped her daughter in a way no one else could have.”

  Rita did cry, then. But even that, she did without much of a fuss. Byron passed her a box of tissues.

  “Do you want to sit here for a while, Rita? You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

  “No. Thanks, Sheriff. I’ll head on home, now.” She stood up.

  “Do you want me to give you a lift? I can have somebody drop your car off later.”

  She blew her nose and stuffed the tissue into her front pocket. “No offense, but I’d rather not take a trip in a police car today.”

  “No offense taken.” Byron smiled at her, and stood up to shake her hand. “You take care of yourself, Rita. You did right by everyone today.”

  She nodded without speaking and left his office.

  Byron dropped down into his chair. What the serious fuck?

  He picked up the phone to call Maddie.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Dorothy told Celine about Rita’s confession as soon as she got back inside the house.

  Celine was dumbfounded by the revelation, and she could tell that Dorothy had been stunned by Rita’s account, too. It surprised her that Dorothy seemed willing, if not anxious, to discuss the details of what Rita had shared. Celine made them a pot of tea, and they sat together at the kitchen table while Dorothy did her best to process everything Rita had shared with her.

  “She told me she was good friends with my mama. I didn’t know that. She said she came to see me today because Mama made her promise to look after me. She kept apologizing to me for not keeping her word.”

  God bless you, Rita Chriscoe . . .

  “Do you think she’s right?” Dorothy asked her.

  “Right about what, sweetie?”

  “Do you think Papa didn’t die in the water because I hit him?”

  Celine chose her words carefully. “It sounds to me like it was very difficult for Rita to come here today, and to apologize to you for keeping silent about what she saw after you and Buddy left to get help. Do you agree, Dorothy?”

  Dorothy nodded. “I do. She was very upset about it
all.”

  “Then it wouldn’t make very much sense for her to come out here and not tell you the truth, would it?”

  “I guess not.”

  “How do you feel right now?”

  “Better, I guess. I’m still sorry I hit him so hard.” She looked at Celine. “Mostly I feel bad for Miss Rita. If she was Mama’s friend, I want her to know she really did help me.”

  Celine dared to reach across the table and pat Dorothy’s hand. It was a new kind of intimacy for them, but one Dorothy seemed to take comfort in. “How about we think of ways to check in on her now and then—just to be sure she’s doing okay?”

  “I’d like that. I don’t want her to feel guilty about me.” Dorothy finished her tea. “She said something else to me before she left.”

  “What was that?”

  “She looked at our house and said it seemed like I’d found a safe place to live.”

  Celine smiled at her. She didn’t miss Dorothy’s choice of words: our house. She was fairly certain it hadn’t been an accident. Dorothy didn’t have many of those.

  “Do you think that’s true?” she asked her.

  “Yes.” It was simply stated, but Celine knew it spoke volumes.

  “What would you think about staying on here with me, permanently—after everything is settled?”

  “Do you think I could?” Her tone seemed neutral, like she was afraid to give too much away.

  “I feel pretty sure we can work it out—as long as it’s something we both want.”

  Dorothy dropped her eyes to the table. “Do you want it?”

  “Yes, I do, Dorothy. I want it very much.”

  Dorothy raised her eyes and met Celine’s gaze. Then she smiled.

  “I want it, too.”

  “Okay.” Celine knew it would be undignified and would probably scare the girl half to death, so she fought her impulse to jump up and race around the house like a quokka. “It sounds like we have a plan.”

  Dorothy quietly collected their teacups and carried them to the sink.

  “Should we have my lesson now?” she asked.

  Normally, Celine would’ve said yes without thinking. In fact, it would’ve been more customary for her to be the one to suggest they head for the studio, so she could help Dorothy master a new piece of music. Yet, something about that felt . . . tone deaf to her. She didn’t want to use music as a knee-jerk method to avoid living in the moment—like her own mother had always done. Like she’d tried to do—unsuccessfully—with Maddie. Dorothy needed time to decide if she wanted to choose this path—and only after she’d had the chance to experience the rest of what life could offer her, now that she’d been shown a way out of her dark world of fear and isolation. What she needed, more than perfecting a Czerny etude, was learning how to have a childhood . . . right now, while she still had a chance.

  “I have a better idea,” Celine told her.

  Dorothy seemed surprised. “What’s that?”

  “After you left for school this morning, I drove over to the Haynes Greenhouse and bought some plants.”

  “New plants for the garden?” Dorothy asked.

  “No. New plants for us. Geraniums. I know it’s late in the season, but if we pot them and keep them on the west side of the house, we should be able to have blooms until the first frost. Then we can winter them inside and keep them safe for next year.”

  “I love geraniums. They’re my favorite.”

  “I thought you might. I love them, too.”

  “Buddy said the frost will be late this year.”

  “I remember,” Celine told her. “We’re lucky we can count on Buddy to let us know when it’s time to bring them in from the cold.”

  “He will, too.” Dorothy smiled at Celine. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  “This is the last one we had in the chest freezer.” Maddie handed Syd a two-pound package of ground beef. “Do you think it’ll be enough with what you already have?”

  “It’ll have to be.” Syd had already browned the onions, and was ready to add the extra meat to the taco mixture. “I wish I’d known we were getting ready for fleet week.”

  “Hey . . . I didn’t invite any more people than you did.” Maddie snagged a tortilla chip from a big basket. “Besides, you’re always going on about how much you love having tons of people around and big piles of coats on the bed.”

  “That’s Thanksgiving. This is a Tuesday.”

  “Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Taco night is just as sacred, in my view. Besides, we can serve cafeteria-style, and everybody can find a place to perch.” Maddie snuck another chip.

  “Stay out of those. Where’s Henry?”

  “He’s out feeding the menagerie.”

  “Did you finish grating cheese?”

  “Do you not see the four Band-Aids on my good hand?”

  “Which hand is your good hand? You’ll have to remind me.”

  “Play your cards right, and I will later on.”

  Syd looked at her warily. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “Let me think . . . no.”

  Maddie laughed and leaned against the counter. “Do you think David will be surprised when he sees the wine I brought home for dinner?” Maddie had chosen four bottles of a 2013 Elizabeth Spencer Napa Valley Cabernet. She’d been saving them for a while now, and they’d reached their perfect window for drinking.

  “I’d say that’s probably a safe assumption. Why are we celebrating?”

  “No particular reason.” Maddie hated not telling Syd the news about Watson, but knew she’d be able to soon enough. “I just thought we deserved it.”

  “What time are the boys arriving?”

  “Should be any minute now. David said he was picking Michael up at the inn. Michael had some kind of to-do there today, so David hoped he wouldn’t get held up.”

  Syd was doing a credible job getting the two-pound block of frozen ground beef to cooperate. Once it had nicely browned, she added it—along with the other beef and onion mixture—to a Dutch oven. It was the only vessel they had that was large enough to accommodate so much taco mix.

  “I feel like we’re feeding the five thousand.”

  “With one exception,” Maddie observed. “Knowing this crowd, there won’t be twelve basketfuls left over.”

  They heard a commotion outside and Maddie walked to the door to see what was going on.

  “It’s just Byron and Mom with Dorothy. Oh,” she added. “Buddy, too.”

  “Buddy?” Syd was surprised. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I forgot to tell you I invited him. He’s going to help Henry with prime numbers.”

  “Inspired idea. Did I tell you he stopped by the library yesterday?”

  “No. How come?”

  “He must’ve been in town for some reason. I gather he saw Roma Jean’s car and noticed the broken back window. Roma Jean and I were up front, setting up tables for the book sale. Buddy never said a word to us, but walked straight to the drawer where I keep that roll of car tape, and took it outside. He came back inside a few minutes later, returned the tape to the drawer, and left.”

  “Buddy likes order.”

  “Hard to blame him for that. We could all use a bit more of it right now.”

  “Knock, knock.” Celine entered the kitchen from the porch. She was carrying a large white bag, and deposited it on a bench beside the door. “Thanks for the invitation. I feel guilty not contributing anything.”

  “You two are welcome any time.” Syd told her. “It’s a treat for us that we got you to agree to stay and join us. Where’s Byron?”

  “Henry corralled everyone for a trip to the pond. I declined and said I wanted to get off my feet.”

  “Are your feet bothering you?” Maddie asked with concern.

  “No.” Celine smiled at her. “I heard a rumor about some good wine, and thought I might luck out and get a jump on the crowd.”

 
“Is that a hint?” Maddie asked.

  “If it isn’t, I must not be doing it right.”

  “I’ll pour.” Maddie selected three glasses and poured them each a hefty serving.

  “Why thank you,” Syd took her glass. “Are you afraid we’ll run out?”

  “You mean before we eat? Who cares?” Maddie sipped her wine and made happy noises. “Oh, this is soooooo good.” She eyed the bag Celine had brought in. “What’s in the bag, Mom?”

  “Presents,” Celine explained. “For Henry and Buddy. Things Dorothy picked out for them in New York.”

  “That’s so sweet. How was the trip?” Syd asked. “We haven’t seen you since you got back.”

  “You know, I think it was wonderful. The concert was excellent and Dorothy seemed to be in her element. As much as she enjoyed hearing Uchida, I think the real highlight of the trip for her was Steinway Hall.”

  “Hard to blame her for that. I remember my first trip there, after they closed the old showroom on West 57th.” Maddie slowly shook her head. “I grumbled the entire time about what a travesty the new place was certain to be—but, wow. It’s spectacular. I remember being completely blown away.”

  “Do you remember the Spencer Finch installation?” Celine asked.

  “Is that the glass sculpture that’s based on the chromatic scale?” Syd was excited. “I’ve always wanted to see that.”

  “Yes, it is,” Celine explained. “And Dorothy was completely captivated by it. One of the presents in the bag is a poster of it for Buddy.”

  “Ooohhh. He’ll love that. It replicates The Goldberg Variations, doesn’t it?”

  Celine nodded. “It’s breathtaking.”

  Maddie looked back and forth between the two women. “Do you two need a moment?”

  Syd tossed a cherry tomato at her. “Put your troglodyte hands to work and dice some tomatoes for the salsa.”

  “I’ll do it.” Celine approached the counter and butted Maddie out of the way. “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”