Breaking Matthew

by Jennifer H. Westall

  Franklin just stared ahead of him like he’d done for the past several minutes. I wondered how he must feel. There he was, hoping to take a quick drive to relieve his anxiety, and all I’d done was add to it. Maybe he was wondering what kind of wrath he was facing as well. Maybe another busted lip.

  “I’ll take the blame for all this,” I said. “I tricked you, and blackmailed you into taking me. It’s my fault.”

  “You do that a lot?” He asked. “Take the blame for things you ain’t actually done?”

  “I did trick you a bit, and I threatened you to make you—”

  “That ain’t what I’m talking about.” He glanced sideways at me. “You’re taking the blame for this murder too, ain’t ya?”

  My stomach dropped. “I don’t…know what you mean.”

  “I read what they said about you in the paper.” He looked at me a bit longer this time. Studied me before looking ahead at the road again. “I ain’t saying I believe it. But I see things. I seen you hug that Negro woman before we left.”

  The hairs prickled on the back of my neck. What if he told someone where he’d taken me tonight? Matthew was right. I was so foolish. “I still don’t understand what you mean.”

  “All right,” he said, letting out a defeated sigh. “I won’t push.”

  By that time we’d pulled up to the house, and the headlights swept over Matthew sitting on the edge of the porch. I could see both relief and anger flash over him. Franklin turned off the engine as my uncles, Mother and Asa all filed out of the house.

  Roy headed straight for Franklin. “What in the blazes were you trying to do? Get both of you killed? Get thrown back in jail?”

  I walked around the front of the car and met Mother with a hug. “I’m sorry if I worried you, it was all my—”

  “We just got a little cabin fever,” Franklin broke in. “We got to talking and just needed a little drive is all. Nothing to get bent out of shape about.”

  Everyone looked at me as if they were waiting for me to verify Franklin’s story. “I…I reckon. Just a drive.” I met Matthew’s gaze and saw he wasn’t buying one word of it. How did he always know?

  “Listen,” Franklin continued, “me and Ruby didn’t mean to worry y’all. We just went up to the gas station and got a couple of Coca-Colas. Then we rode around to get some fresh air.”

  Roy shoved a finger in Franklin’s chest. “You went out in public?” He grabbed Franklin by the ear and started pulling him down to the barn. Franklin didn’t even put up much of a fight. I said a quick prayer that Roy would go easy on him. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t let me tell them the truth.

  Mother squeezed my shoulders. “How about next time you want to go for a drive, you let one of us know. I’m sure Matthew or Asa would have been happy to drive you somewhere. We were worried sick, honey.”

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I glanced at Matthew, still standing on the porch, now leaning against the post with his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t said a word to me.

  Asa patted my back as he passed us. “I reckon we best be getting in bed soon. Early day tomorrow.”

  Mother followed Asa inside, and Matthew met me at the top of the steps. The front door swung closed, giving us a moment alone. I had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry if I worried you. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

  He put a hand up to stop me from talking. “I think it’s best if I don’t know what you were up to tonight. I’m pretty sure I know anyway, but we don’t have to talk about it.”

  My heart sank at the disappointment in his eyes. “All right.”

  “You done now? Satisfied? No more…drives?”

  I nodded. “I found out what I needed to.”

  “Good. You need to get your head on straight and start concentrating on your defense. The trial’s gonna be here before you know it.”

  He opened the front door and went inside, leaving me alone with the stars. I looked up into the clear night sky and thanked God once more for protecting Samuel. I knew I could face what was ahead, win or lose, with peace in my heart that I’d done the right thing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Matthew

  The next few days went by so quick I barely kept up with them. I was troubled over what Father had said, but I couldn’t believe he’d have any meaningful influence over the trial. So I didn’t say anything to Mr. Oliver or Ruby about it. I didn’t want to add any worries. Besides, after that stunt she pulled, I wasn’t saying a whole lot to her anyhow.

  I spent most of the time helping Asa around their property, chopping wood, repairing fences, tending to animals. It was hard work, the kind I’d never really had to do much of. Every once in a while, I’d have to take a break. I’d lean against a fence post or a stump, take a swig of water, and I’d catch Ruby watching me from the porch or a window. Sometimes, it was like a thousand words passed between us in single moments. Did she know how much my love had grown for her? Was it written across my forehead? How would I possibly let her go if she was found guilty?

  Ruby’s uncles didn’t hang around much during the day. I figured Franklin must’ve told the others where he and Ruby really went, ’cause Roy kept looking at her funny, like he wasn’t sure of what to make of her. And he pulled Asa and me aside the next day to encourage us to keep Ruby close by. Asa and I nodded and shared a glance. We knew better.

  I noticed that despite the fact I was sleeping on a porch, I was wiped out every night by dark, and I slept better than I ever had before. I didn’t even mind the blisters on my hands too much. When I wasn’t toiling around the farm, I talked with Ruby about the trial. I tried to convince her to tell Mr. Oliver everything, especially since Samuel had seen Chester attack her the first time. She wasn’t even willing to entertain the thought of Samuel coming within a mile of the trial. When I tried to push the issue, she simply quit talking to me for the rest of the afternoon. I kept wondering how we were going to prove that Chester attacked her without any eyewitness account. I just prayed the jury would take her word for it.

  Oh yes, that was another thing we did. We prayed. I hadn’t prayed like that ever before in my life. Ruby would take my hand, close her eyes, and start talking to God like they were as close as family. Like He was sitting right there with her. I could’ve sworn I actually felt a presence when she prayed.

  I realized after I’d felt it a time or two that it was the same feeling I’d had the night I was healed from my tuberculosis. It was hard to put words to, but once it washed over me, once it filled me to overflowing, I knew it was the same. And I let go of all my doubts that Ruby’s gift was anything but pure. I still didn’t quite understand it, and I had to admit it still made me uncomfortable, but being with Ruby was like being with an angel.

  Now, I know how that sounds. I’ve heard other men say some lady was an angel, but I’d wager none of them had ever come so close to the real thing. I knew beyond a doubt that I had, and I was better for it. ’Course, that didn’t change her stubborn nature one little bit. But I began to see that her stubbornness came from a sense of what was right, and she clung to it no matter what. I had to respect that. But still, such devotion might come at a price.

  By the time the morning of the trial came, I could hardly believe it had been a week since I’d left my family home. It didn’t even seem like I belonged there anymore. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I didn’t belong in Ruby’s world either.

  I waited with Ruby and Mr. Oliver in a conference room down the hall from the courtroom. We didn’t say much, but the air in the room was stifling, despite the cold downpour and drop in the temperature that had come over the town the night before. Ruby sat at the end of a long table, her hands in her lap, her eyes mostly closed. I suspected she was praying.

  Mr. Oliver sat around the corner from her, looking through notes, mumbling to himself. I figured he was going over his opening remarks. He was dressed in a dark suit, but he’d already removed his jacket and loosened his tie. The beginnings of s
weat stains crept down his back.

  I couldn’t sit. I thought my insides were going to jump right out of my body. I’d never even been inside a courtroom, so I had no idea what to expect. I’d asked Mr. Oliver some questions, but I didn’t want to distract him from his preparations, so I kept my curiosity to myself. I lingered in front of the door, listening to the squeaks of shoes in the hallway as people crowded into the courtroom.

  Mr. Oliver took out his watch and glanced at Ruby. “It’s about time. We should go inside.”

  Ruby nodded, and they both stood. Panic surged over me as I realized that whatever happened on that day was going to determine if I was going to lose Ruby forever. I had the urge to grab her by the hand and make a run for it. Maybe we could settle down in a tiny little town in Texas, or Oklahoma, where no one would ever look for us.

  Ruby and Mr. Oliver moved toward me. I put my hands up to stop them. “How ’bout we say a prayer before we go out there?”

  Ruby smiled, steadying my jitters. “That would be nice.” She reached for my hand. “Go ahead.”

  I was sure I’d sound like a dimwit compared to Ruby, but then I also knew she’d hate the thought of me comparing my prayers to hers. She’d scold me and tell me to just open my heart, and say whatever my spirit led me to say. So that’s exactly what I did.

  “Lord, we come to you now asking for Your mercy and strength. We know You are present with us, even in our struggles—most assuredly in our struggles. Be with Ruby today, and give her confidence to speak boldly. Give Mr. Oliver sound wisdom in his words. And we pray that each witness will speak truthfully. We know that justice will prevail. It’s in Your Son, Jesus Christ’s name that we pray. Amen.”

  “Amen.” Ruby squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”

  We followed Mr. Oliver out of the conference room and down the hallway to the courtroom entrance. People swarmed the hall, and each and every one of them stopped to stare at Ruby. She offered them a gentle smile in return. Even in facing such difficulty, she could find grace and kindness for others. I could hardly believe it, but then I hadn’t really expected anything else.

  We entered the courtroom, which from the rear looked more like a church. The pews were filling up with people as if they were getting ready to hear a good sermon. I followed Ruby down front. Her mother and Asa were already seated on the front row just behind the table on the left, so I joined them. Ruby came around in front of us and hugged them both while Mr. Oliver set up his yellow pad and folders.

  At the other table, Mr. Garrett and a young man I didn’t know had turned to speak to the Calhouns, who were seated directly behind the solicitor. They threw glances in Ruby’s direction, but mostly they spoke quietly with Mr. Garrett. In the rows behind them, I saw the sheriff, an older gentleman I believed to be the coroner, a couple of men I didn’t recognize, and in another row behind them sat Brother Cass. Of course he’d want a ringside seat to Ruby’s demise. I was disappointed, but not too surprised, to see that James was nowhere to be found. I reckoned they hadn’t been able to reach Henry either, but I didn’t want to bring it up. I ached for Ruby. She deserved so much better than this.

  The good news was that I didn’t see Father anywhere either. Hopefully he’d be more concerned with work than getting involved in Ruby’s trial. From the spectacle forming all along the rear and sides of the seating area, he’d be the only one in all of Cullman working today. That was due in large part to the sensational articles that had run in the paper over the last few days leading up to the trial. I had to wonder if Father’s hand had been in that, given his relationship with Mr. Adams.

  The clerk called us to order, and everyone stood as Judge Albert Woods entered the courtroom. I stiffened, recalling how he’d wished Vanessa luck in our forthcoming marriage at my parents’ dinner party. He seemed like such a serious man. In fact, I couldn’t recall a single time I’d ever heard him laugh. He looked around the room, stuffed full of spectators, and frowned. Then he called court into session, and the dreary process of selecting a jury began.

  As jumpy as I’d been earlier in the morning, by the time we’d worked our way to twelve jurors, I could’ve taken a nice, long nap. ’Course, there wasn’t a single soul on the jury that could relate to Ruby. Each and every one of them was a farmer—businessmen had a knack for getting struck down or dismissed. And each and every one of them was more than fifty years old. I didn’t know any of them. But there was one fellow, Richard Moore, whose name stood out. I couldn’t figure it out exactly, but I knew his name from somewhere. After trying to dig through my brain for several minutes, I gave it up.

  Once the jury was seated, I took a look at them as a whole. I figured for sure it would work in our favor to put a bunch of old farmers up there. They wouldn’t want to see a poor young girl, maybe much like their own daughters, sent to prison for life. Once Ruby sat before them and explained her story, they’d see the truth. I started to think we stood a good chance. That is, until Mr. Garrett got underway with his opening statement.

  Mr. Garrett wasted no time painting Ruby as a troubled girl, one who would steal from soup kitchens, lash out at those she loved, and worst of all, that she loved Negroes. “As you fine gentlemen will come to learn, Ruby Graves was, in fact, in love with a Negro boy, meeting him secretly inside the Calhouns’ barn. And when she realized that her abominable affair had been discovered, she sought to kill Chester Calhoun to protect herself from further discovery.”

  That was when it hit me. These were exactly the right kind of men to convict Ruby.

  The first witness for the prosecution was Luke Dalton, a man who’d worked on the Calhoun farm for several years, and the first person to come upon the scene. He seemed mighty uncomfortable as Mr. Garrett’s questioning got underway. He leaned forward and gripped his hands between his knees, furrowing his brow as he was asked to remember just what he saw when he entered the barn.

  “Well,” he said. “I was headed to the barn to fetch some straps for the mules when I heard a woman’s voice. She sounded upset.”

  “Upset how?” Mr. Garrett pressed.

  “I couldn’t make out her words, but I reckon it sounded like she was cryin’, maybe speakin’ to someone too. I couldn’t be sure.”

  “So then what happened?”

  “I opened the door and I seen Chester laid out on the ground on his back. Looked like he’d just fallen there. Arms kinda spread out. Miss Ruby was kneeling beside him. She was looking down at Chester with this blank sort of stare on her face. I noticed there was blood on her hands and some on her face, and I saw where Chester was bleeding onto the ground underneath himself.”

  “Was Miss Graves doing anything at the time?” Mr. Garrett asked.

  “No, sir. She was just kneeling there. She looked mighty upset, like she’d been crying.”

  “Did you see the knife?”

  “No, sir.”

  “All right then, what happened next?”

  I went over to Chester to see if he was alive. He wasn’t breathing. I asked Miss Ruby if she was all right. She nodded and asked me if I’d fetch her brother. I could see she wasn’t hurt, so I ran out the door and out to the north field to find James. I told him his sister was in trouble and he needed to get to the barn. Then he took off, and I ran to the main house to let Mr. Calhoun know what was going on.”

  Mr. Garrett paused and scratched his chin. Strolling over to Mr. Dalton, he leaned casually on the railing in front of him. “Can you explain what you meant when you said Miss Ruby wasn’t hurt?”

  Mr. Dalton blinked and then turned his gaze on Ruby, like he needed to see her to remember what she’d looked like. “She had blood on her face, but I didn’t see no cuts or nothin’. Same on her hands.”

  “Did it look like she’d been hit or punched about her face? Any bruising?”

  “No, sir. I couldn’t see nothin’ where it looked like she’d been injured. ’Course, I wasn’t exactly studying—”

  “That’ll be all.” Mr. Garrett looked satis
fied and took his seat.

  Mr. Oliver didn’t get out of his chair. He glanced at his yellow pad and then up at Mr. Dalton. “How long have you known Miss Graves?”

  “Oh, I’d say about five years or so. Her family started sharecropping at the Calhoun place ’bout two years after I moved my family there. And her brother James has run the place the last three of those years.”

  “How well would you say you know Miss Graves?”

  “Pretty well.”

  “Did she help deliver any of your children?”

  Mr. Dalton’s face flushed pink. His eyes travelled over to Ruby. “Yes, sir. She helped Sarah—that’s my wife—with our youngest just over a year ago.”

  “And what’s been your experience with Miss Graves? Is she hotheaded? Rash?”

  Mr. Dalton shook his head. “Naw, she’s about the kindest soul I ever been around. Wouldn’t think she’d hurt a flea. Sarah says she don’t ever want anyone but Miss Ruby delivering her babies.”

  I couldn’t see Ruby’s face, but I could see from the relief on Mr. Dalton’s that she must’ve been smiling at him.

  “No more questions,” Mr. Oliver said.

  My shoulders relaxed in relief that the first round was over. I already felt like I needed to go run a couple of miles around town. My knee bounced involuntarily up and down as I took a quick look at the jury while Sheriff Peterson was called up front and sworn in. I couldn’t make heads or tails of how Mr. Dalton’s testimony went over. But I figured it sure didn’t hurt nothing.

  Mr. Garrett was out of his seat once more, slowly pacing in front of Sheriff Peterson as he described pretty much the same scene Mr. Dalton had. He too said that Ruby had no major injuries, but that she had blood on her hands and face. I’d hoped that fact would escape too much notice, but I should’ve known Mr. Garrett would hammer the point home with the jury. That would prove to be trouble if Ruby wavered in her story at all.

  “When did you first take Miss Graves’s statement?” Mr. Garrett asked.