I spent an hour or two in the bakery, watching Mara’s strong fingers work the dough. She taught me to knead the dough, to feel the life in it, and then to braid the elastic strands to make the sweet loaves that sold for a penny each. Glad for the extra pair of hands, even if they were inexperienced, she didn’t ask why I wasn’t at home waiting for my husband. In fact, no one I passed seemed surprised that I was not the loving wife I should have been.
Part of the day I spent with Floyd at the boot shop. He was making great progress on the beautiful boots for Sheriff Grissham. Even more wonderful were the boots for Tommy Ladnier, the bootlegger. Mr. Ladnier had taken his occupation to heart when he’d drawn out the type of boots he wanted. They were tall and black, beautiful in their simplicity of line. From the few glimpses I’d caught of him, I knew he’d look like a pirate with his white silk shirts and those knee boots. He struck me as a man who wouldn’t hesitate to run his sword through anyone who resisted him. But Floyd said he was very easy to work with on the boots. Floyd said his voice was like the Pascagoula River washing against the shore, and that he never sounded angry or impatient, not even when Floyd measured and measured again because the boots were cut to fit his calves so closely and went all the way to the knee.
Mr. Moses didn’t mind that I sat on a three-legged stool in the back and kept Floyd company. Once he even asked me to manage the cash drawer if anyone came in. I took it as a sign of trust, and it made me feel welcome in the shop, until it occurred to me that Axim Moses knew about the woman in my house and that his gesture had been motivated by pity. Elikah was the kind of man who would brag about such a thing, I felt sure. I could sometimes go to the window of the boot shop and look across the street to the barbershop. Elikah kept a steady clientele, and the men came out rubbing their freshly shaven cheeks and grinning. Elikah would walk by the window, snapping the barber’s cloth before he placed it around his next customer, and the sound of laughter would tumble out into the road. The sound of that laughter scalded me, sending me to the back, where Floyd labored in the light of a window.
It was Floyd who told me about Red Lassiter’s funeral. We decided to go together, a united front should anyone try to question us about Duncan. We would go for the McVays.
The funeral was set for ten the next morning, and I awakened from my bed on the sofa to discover that fall had slipped through the town. The trees had been hinting for days, whispering with the rustle of leaves still green, but the sun had burned as hotly as ever. Now there was a touch of chill in the air as I found my clothes and slipped into them. It was time to make Elikah’s coffee and breakfast. Time to feed the hound. If the thumping and groaning of the night before was any indication, she’d be starved.
I put on the coffee, started the bacon and grits, and began cracking eggs in a bowl for Elikah and Lola. In a peculiar way I’d come to welcome her. She hadn’t spoken a word to me since her arrival, and I didn’t want to talk to her. I resented feeding her less, though. Strangely enough, I had to admit to myself that I didn’t resent her at all. Elikah came to the table and ignored both of us. We were women, there to serve. I cooked, she serviced. All in all, it wasn’t a bad arrangement.
“What’s the secret, Mattie?”
Elikah’s question almost made me drop the bowl of eggs. I couldn’t tell him how much I liked the punishment he’d constructed for me. I slid three eggs into the hot bacon grease before I answered. “Red’s funeral is today.”
“And that made you smile?” He tapped the table with his fork, impatient with me.
I flipped the eggs. “They’ve waited three days for some of his family members to show up, but they can’t find anyone. I’m just glad they’re getting on with it. Red deserves a decent funeral. Are you going?”
“No. I’m closing the shop, but I’ve got some accounts to go over. I can use the time to do that.”
I nodded as I scooped up the eggs, put four slices of bacon on his plate, dished up some grits, and put it all on the table. In a few seconds I had four pieces of perfectly browned toast from the oven.
“Lola!” Elikah yelled at her though she sat only three feet away.
“What?”
“Tell Mattie what you want.”
She shrugged, but she eyed his plate hungrily. Her hair was a pale brown, almost blond, and it hung in her eyes, as straight as a board. She shrugged. “Whatever she cooks is fine.”
I fixed her the same thing I’d given Elikah, then took a cup of coffee for myself.
“Eat some food, Mattie. You’re never going to get better if you don’t eat more.”
“I’m getting better, Elikah.” I went to the doorway. “I’ve got to get ready for the funeral. I have some errands to do beforehand.”
Floyd sat beside me on the cushioned pew, the blue of his flannel shirt the perfect color of his eyes. The church had white walls, but the timbers above the high ceiling were dark, unfinished wood. It gave the sanctuary a sense of gloom. A center aisle split the dark rows of pews and led to the altar, where the coffin rested on sawhorses. Black-eyed Susans and wild asters had been woven into a blanket to cover the new pine of the coffin. They gave the room the only color, the only sense of beauty.
We’d arrived early and taken a seat in the back. Folks took notice of us, but not unduly. We were there, showing our respects to the man whose death Duncan had predicted. We were there for JoHanna, and for Duncan.
Janelle Baxley slipped into the seat beside me. “I didn’t think JoHanna would have the nerve to show.” She looked straight ahead. “I tried to warn you about her. Everyone in town is talking, and not just about those McVays. They’re talking about you, too.”
The entire time she spoke she stared at the front of the church, where Red Lassiter’s corpse resided in a varnished pine box. Janelle spoke out of the side of her mouth, never glancing at me or acknowledging Floyd in any way, as if she could not be seen associating with the likes of us. In contrast, Reverend Bates kept casting long, hostile glances at me and Floyd from the small vestibule off to the side of the altar. I had heard a minister from Waynesboro would preach the funeral. If I’d known Bates, who’d sprawled on the bank of the creek while Mary Lincoln drowned, was going to preach, I might not have come. He was not a man of God by any definition I knew. Janelle’s voice buzzed in my ear like a big green blowfly.
“It would curl your hair to hear some of the things JoHanna McVay is capable of doing.” She clutched a handkerchief in her hand, her fingers working it into a sweaty knot. “That woman needs to be run out of town. She and that little prophet of death. Red would be alive today—”
“I was there to see what happened, Janelle. Duncan didn’t have a thing to do with what happened, and Red would tell you that himself, but I don’t think he’s up to gossiping.”
“Mattie!” She turned her blue eyes on me, shock blanking out the tiny wrinkles that had crept around their corners. “He’s dead!”
“Thank goodness for that if we’re going to bury him.” I waited a heartbeat before I went on. She wanted details, gossip, something shocking to gnaw and worry. “I was there when they found the body.” I couldn’t stop myself. “That Spaniard, Diego, hooked him not very far from where he went under the raft. JoHanna said it was unusual for the river to pull someone right down and keep them there. She said it was almost like the river was holding him close, like a lost child to a mother’s bosom.”
Janelle started to rise, but Agnes Leatherwood and her husband, Chas, slid into the pew, a perfectly groomed Annabelle Lee between them. There were a dozen other children in attendance. Agnes leaned forward to look me over, to see if the taint of JoHanna had rubbed off on me like a manure stain. She didn’t speak to Floyd. He sat on the other side of me, unaware of the slight. He didn’t expect to be acknowledged by these women. I understood then that they would have been kinder to an ugly idiot. It was his handsomeness, his perfection of body, that earned such harsh treatment. These women didn’t want to seem to take notice of him because they we
re so painfully aware.
“Did Duncan really tell Red he was going to drown?” Agnes leaned over Janelle to get her question to me. She tried to speak softly, but her whisper carried up the pews, causing heads to turn and stare at us with disbelief, disapproval, and curiosity.
I had rehearsed and rehearsed my answer for this, but it suddenly seemed inadequate. In the end, what answer would best serve Duncan? I felt Floyd’s fingers grasp mine on the pew between us. He would not talk to these women. Somehow, he’d been warned not even to look at them. But he heard.
I turned to face Agnes and Janelle. They didn’t have the intelligence of Pecos. “Duncan had a dream and she told Mr. Lassiter that the rafts were dangerous. That’s it.”
“But we heard she told him just hours before he drowned.” The pleasure of gossip had pushed Janelle over her shock at me.
“Red stopped by for some coffee and cake, and Duncan chatted with him. Then he went out to the river and began working on one of the rafts. He drowned. But everyone with good sense knows those rafts are treacherous. It just so happened Red—”
“That child is dangerous. First Mary, now Red. Who’s going to be next?” Agnes Leatherwood put her arm around the plump Annabelle Lee and pulled her against her bosom. “If she says one word about my baby I’m going to … to …”
“To what, Agnes?” I stared into her, daring her to make a threat. “Duncan did not hold Mary Lincoln underwater. She didn’t push Red under the raft. She’s a little girl and she can’t even walk. Why are you so afraid of her?”
Stung, Agnes had finally straightened her shoulders a bit. “Who do you think you are?” she asked. “You were sold to your husband. Everyone in town knows it, and you act like you’re the queen of England.”
I had turned the ire from Duncan onto myself, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d intended to do.
Janelle looked around the church and found that more than half the people were watching us as we argued in terse whispers. Reverend Bates took three steps toward us, then hesitated as a tall, white-headed man in a black coat stepped toward the pulpit. Janelle put one hand on me and one on Agnes. “That must be Reverend Ellzey. Now calm down, Agnes. Mattie, I told you if you took up with that woman you’d end up in a mess. Now everyone is talking about you. You’ve shamed your husband, Mattie.”
The complete unfairness of that remark was almost my undoing. Floyd’s hand held me down in my seat, but I managed to turn to Janelle. “You don’t know a damn thing about shame. Nothing! If you had any idea …”
“Mattie.” Floyd reached over with his free hand and grasped my shoulder closest to Janelle, turning me forcefully, holding me as I struggled to swing back around to them. “Mattie, be quiet.” He spoke softly, but his hands held me so that I faced the front of the church.
“My God, look at that!” Agnes stood up at the sight of Floyd’s hand on me. “He touched her. He actually had the nerve to touch her, telling her what to do like she was his … Not only is JoHanna raising up a child that has the talents of Satan, they’re letting the town idiot touch them.” Agnes cowered back from me as if I had leprosy. “We’ve tolerated Floyd in this town because we were sorry for him. But now, we’ll call a town meeting and see what’s to be done about him. He can’t be left on the loose.”
Everyone in the church turned to look at us. In my ignorance, I had made a bad situation worse. For myself. For JoHanna and Duncan. But mostly for Floyd. He would suffer for this. They would always turn on the weakest.
I carefully removed Floyd’s hand and rose to my feet facing Agnes in the pew. “Floyd is an innocent.” I wanted to tear her stringy hair from her head and make her swallow it. “He isn’t capable of the evil you’re filled with. He touched me, yes, he did. And that fact saved you from the beating of your life. Whatever dirty things you see in Floyd come from your own filthy mind.”
From the pew in front of me Rachel Carpenter stood, her wide hips almost brushing her husband into the aisle as she turned. Her stout face was white with fury. “How dare you come into our town and threaten us. Everyone tried to help you, to ignore the fact that you were poor white trash. But we won’t be threatened. Not by you or that spawn of Satan or that idiot.”
Floyd rose slowly, his fists clenched at his side. He towered over me, daring any one of them with a look to take this further.
Rachel Carpenter stepped back out of his reach. “I can see plainly how you’ve driven your husband into the arms of a whore.” She pushed her husband’s shoulder. “Let’s find another seat.” She stared at Agnes. Chas had risen also, his hand on his wife’s rounded shoulder. The look he gave me was half pity and half contempt as he dragged Agnes backward with him as he moved, Annabelle Lee crushed between them.
Janelle, her big chest moving in and out in rapid, shallow breaths, scooted away from me. She cast one fearful glance at me and Floyd before she stood up and ran to the other side of the church. I turned to find the out-of-town minister who had come to preach Red Lassiter a farewell sermon standing in the pulpit, doubt and concern tightening his mouth. Even as I looked his expression changed, and I followed his gaze to the front door where JoHanna stood, Duncan in her arms.
“JoHanna!” Floyd’s cry was filled with relief. He brushed past me and rushed toward her, scooping Duncan into his arms.
Freed of the weight of her child, JoHanna stepped forward. Her blue gaze was white-hot as it swept the room. Agnes Leatherwood actually cringed back into her husband’s chest. Rachel Carpenter looked down at the floor. Janelle gave a small cry, as if she’d been stung by a wasp.
“This is a time to show our respects to Red Lassiter,” the minister said softly. “Please, let us take our seats and begin.”
Reverend Bates swept up to the pulpit, his long arm pointing at JoHanna. “That woman doesn’t belong in a house of God.” He pointed at me and Floyd. “Get out of here.”
The visiting minister refused to move aside. “Stand back, Reverend Bates. God’s house is open to all.”
Reverend Bates looked around at his congregation, taking strength from them. “This will not be allowed….”
“You sicken me.” JoHanna’s words echoed eerily in the sanctuary of the church. “You turn on a child of sixteen and a young man who hasn’t the ability or desire to defend himself, and you do it in a place you claim to be sacred to your religious beliefs.” She swept her hand around the wooden sanctuary. “If there were truly an all-powerful God, he would send a blight down on you and take what you hold dear. He would destroy everything you possess.” She nodded at me and I hurried to join them at the doorway. “I’ll pay my respects to Red at the cemetery.” She turned, leading our small procession out of the darkness of the church and into the brisk fall morning. Pecos awaited us, perched on the back of the rocking chair that was once again strapped in the wagon.
The rumbling of the congregation within could be heard out on the street. It was a swarm of hornets, a nest of snakes. The two ministers were shouting at each other, and that was the only thing that delayed the congregation from boiling out of the doors after us.
“I’m sorry, JoHanna.” I had started to cry. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” She was furious. Grasping my shoulders, she shook me until I looked at her. “For what? Because you’re not cowardly or cruel. I heard enough to know that you were defending Duncan and Floyd. Those people are narrowminded, bigoted fools. They see evil because they are evil.”
Floyd had placed a very quiet Duncan in the wagon. He picked up the handle, turned it around, and started toward Peterson Lane. He sensed the need to get away.
“We’re not running away.” JoHanna suddenly realized what he was about and ran after him, grabbing his shoulder. “I came to the service to show them I’m not afraid of them. If they think I’m afraid, they’ll only get worse.”
“We’re taking Duncan home.” Floyd didn’t stop and he looked only at the ground as he moved forward, one long step at a time.
“We are not ru
nning.” She grabbed his arm and dug her heels into the ground.
Floyd pulled her along as if she were a reluctant puppy.
“Floyd, stop it! We can’t run now.”
He finally stopped and turned to look at her. His blue eyes were troubled. “They don’t like me or Mattie.” He shook his head in disbelief. “They don’t like you or Duncan. They wanted to hurt us. Why, JoHanna?”
That finally stopped her. The hand she placed on his arm was gentle. “Because they’re ignorant, Floyd. It’s only ignorance that makes them the way they are.” She sighed. “You’re right. Let’s go home. Now isn’t the time to confront them.”
I hung back, hoping they would leave and get home fast. I could not run to the safety of Peterson Lane with them. What I had done in the church would be at the barbershop in a matter of minutes. Left to brood about it, Elikah would be truly angry by suppertime. It was best to confront him head-on and get it over with.
They had gone two dozen yards before Pecos gave a loud squawk and jumped off the wagon and ran toward me.
Duncan swiveled and found me standing, the bird running around me in a circle, pecking at the backs of my heels, as if he intended to herd me along.
“Mattie isn’t coming.” Duncan’s face was still pale.
Floyd stopped the wagon, and JoHanna started walking back to me.
“I have to stay. I have to face Elikah now.”
JoHanna stopped. Worry etched the fine wrinkles of her face into more permanent lines. The sun had done its damage to her, and in the coming years, it would show. “You don’t have to stay here.”
I nodded. “I do.”
“Is it true what Rachel said? About Elikah?”
Touched Page 24
