Summer of the Redeemers

by Carolyn Haines

  “Okay.” I pulled the plug by wrapping the chain around my toe. Even though the water had cooled considerably, I still felt a chill when I got out and started to dry. A premonition of winter tickled my mind. Things would be better when the earth cooled. When summer was over and the oppressive heat was not smothering down on everyone.

  I dried my hair as good as I could with a towel and hurried barefoot to my room. The cool sheets settled over me, and I snapped the light out. Homework would have to wait.

  When the hand grabbed my ankle, I sat up straight in bed and opened my mouth to scream. A strong hand covered my mouth and forced me back to the bed.

  “Bekkah, you idiot, it’s me, Arly.”

  He shook me for good measure, sending the breath from my lungs in rapid bursts.

  I managed to punch his hands off me. “What do you want?” I wanted to kick him as hard as I could in the shin.

  “You stay away from Frank Taylor, you hear?”

  Arly had lost his mind. Lusting for Rosie Carpenter had finally driven him over the edge.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw him playing with your hair at school. He’s been watching you, hanging around the hall where you have classes. Stay away from him. He’s trouble.”

  “Arly, if you ever did have a brain, it must have leaked out your ear.”

  “I mean it, Bekkah. Frank Taylor is trouble. He’s already got one girlfriend.”

  “Well, he can have a dozen for all I care. Now get out of my room.” Frank Taylor had been the very last thing on my mind, even below what I was going to wear to school the next day.

  “He’s going to ask you to the ball game.”

  “Arly, I’m going to count to ten. If you aren’t gone, I’m going to call Mama Betts. She’ll make you go.”

  “He’s only doing it to make me mad.”

  “One, two, three …”

  “He just wants to get back at me because he liked Rosie before she started going with me.”

  “—four, five, six, seven …”

  “He’s telling people Rosie went all the way. He’d say the same thing about you, you know.”

  “Ten.” I took a lung full of air in a real dramatic way.

  “Okay.” Arly opened the door. The hallway had a small night-light burning, and I could see his silhouette. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m trying to warn you so you don’t look like an idiot and a … slut.”

  The word was like a slap. “You stupid boys! All you think about is diddling some girl. None of you do it, but you think about it with everything that happens. And you make everything dirty because of how you think.” The more I talked, the angrier I got. “You aren’t warning me, you’re having some kind of stupid battle with Frank. It’s about you, not me. But just so you’ll know, I’ll do whatever I damn well please. I’ll kiss who I want to, and if I want to go all the way, it doesn’t have a thing to do with you. Get out!”

  Arly was frozen in the doorway. “You’re crazy.” He was whispering. He backed up one step. “You’re just a stupid kid. Can’t you see that I’m trying to stop you from ruining yourself? Frank’s a hound dog.”

  “Fuck you, Arly.” I threw my pillow at him, wishing it was a rock. “Get out!” I screamed.

  Mama Betts’ door burst open.

  “What’s going on here?” She padded down the hall. I could hear her bare feet. “What’s going on? Arly, what is it?”

  “Bekkah’s crazy. She’s saying she’s going to … do things with boys.”

  Mama Betts hit the overhead light switch, flooding my room with light.

  “Bekkah?” she asked.

  “Get him out of here. Everything is crazy. There are people who kill animals and beat people with coat hangers, and he’s worried about Frank Taylor pulling my hair!” My voice rose to hysteria. “Get out!” I threw my other pillow at Arly.

  “Go to your room, Arly,” Mama Betts said.

  “You didn’t hear what she said, Mama Betts. She said she was going to … she used a word that—”

  “To your room, Arly. Now!”

  She waited in the doorway until he went stomping down the hall and slammed the door to his room.

  “Rebekah, where did you learn to talk like that?”

  The question was softly put, but there was iron in it. And disappointment.

  “Leave me alone,” I whispered.

  “Okay. But in the morning, before school, I want you to go for a walk with me.” She didn’t wait for an answer. She shut off the light and closed the door. I was left in the darkness with a burning fury and images that made me twitch in the clean sheets.

  The bus bumped along Kali Oka Road. Arly had gone to the back near Jamey Louise, where he was drilling holes in my head with his stare. There were several other kids already laughing and talking, but I’d taken a seat by myself near the front where I had a clear view of Kali Oka stretching red and dusty. I saw Alice standing at the side of the road with about seven other Waltmans waiting for the bus. Alice had on a pink shift, and her hair was curled under around her jaw. She was smiling, eager for school. On a day-to-day basis her life was far more difficult than mine, yet I was the one who constantly stayed in trouble.

  During our walk Mama Betts had said she was shocked and disappointed in me. No matter what was happening, I had no reason to speak the way I’d done to Arly. She also said that when I got home from school, she wanted me to walk to Nadine’s and check on Greg. But I was to come straight home. I couldn’t work there and I couldn’t ride. Not for the rest of the week. Come the weekend, she would decide then if I could go back, depending on my attitude.

  Since I didn’t say anything back, she said I wasn’t making it any easier on myself by acting like a bloated toad.

  Alice hurried toward me, her smile slipping off her face as she looked at me.

  “Jesus, you look like you’re going to prison.” She slipped down beside me on the green vinyl seat.

  I tried hard to smile, but tears threatened instead. I cleared my throat and looked down at my books. In a moment she swung around and looked back at Arly. Even she could feel him staring at me. “What’s going on?”

  The kids in the back of the bus were laughing, and one of them hit Alice in the back of the head with a rolled-up sheet of paper. Alice ignored them. “What is it, Bekkah?”

  “It’s a lot of things.” I looked at her. “Alice, the preacher beat Greg with a coat hanger. He’s real sick.”

  “How sick?”

  “I think he ought to go to the hospital.”

  The bus churned forward, stopping every quarter mile or so to let children on. Alice and I huddled together whispering, oblivious to everything except the feelings of horror and guilt.

  “We should have told someone—”

  “Told ‘em what?” Jamey Louise nudged down on the seat beside Alice. It was a tight squeeze, but we could all fit. We made room for her, but we didn’t answer.

  “What’s going on with you and Arly?” Jamey asked. “You usually ignore each other. He’s back there acting like he wants to kill you.”

  “He does.” I almost wanted to laugh at the stupidity. “He thinks Frank Taylor is going to ask me to go to the football game, and it’s worrying Arly that Frank might try to make time with me.”

  “Because of Rosie,” Jamey said. She followed Arly’s thinking perfectly.

  “He’s such a jerk.”

  Jamey laughed. “Frank or Arly?”

  “Both of them.” I smiled for the first time in a long time.

  “Jamey?” I hesitated, then plunged on, “Greg’s sick. He’s been sick.”

  The smile froze on her face and then melted away. “What kind of sick?”

  “He got hurt. At the church.”

  “Is he bad?” She grabbed the seat in front of her so she could lean out and look at me.

  I shared a look with Alice. “He’s pretty bad. He’s at Nadine’s house. That’s why he didn’t see you at the barn. I don’
t think he wanted you to know.”

  Jamey Louise rearranged her books. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. When she looked up, her eyes were a clear, dark brown. “I hope he gets better. I guess maybe he doesn’t fit in my life much, but I wouldn’t want him to be hurt. I mean, Greg’s a nice guy. But, well, the summer’s over. School has started again.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Alice looked out the window. “Are you going to the game Friday?” she finally asked.

  Jamey nodded. “It’s going to be great. We’re going to stomp the Bulldogs this year. Mark Soloman said we have the best offensive line we’ve ever had. The Panthers are going to smear Dykesville. Are y’all going?”

  “Probably,” Alice answered. She nudged me with her elbow, trying to get me to participate. “I’ll have Maebelle V., though, so it won’t be the most fun I’ve ever had.”

  “Is your mama going to let you date?” Jamey asked. “I mean, this year.”

  “Even if she said yes, which she wouldn’t, I’d still have to take the baby.” Alice laughed. “Can you imagine anyone taking me on a date with a six-month-old?”

  “What about you, Bekkah?” Jamey pressed. “If Frank asks you, will you go with him?”

  “I can’t date.” It was almost as if they spoke another language, one that I understood but didn’t appreciate.

  “Effie Rich would have a duck if she thought her baby girl was going to a game with a boy,” Alice said. “Can you imagine that?” She nudged me in the ribs again, trying hard to get some response.

  “Then why’s Arly so worked up about Frank Taylor?” Jamey asked.

  “Because all of the blood’s gone to his pecker,” I answered. “His brain’s gone to sleep.”

  Jamey and Alice laughed so hard they held the back of the seat. The only problem was I hadn’t meant to be funny.

  Thirty

  KALI OKA was so hot it burned all the way through the soles of my new penny loafers. Thick lavender clouds hung on the eastern horizon, inching over the sky with the promise of rain, a brief shower that would only thicken the humidity and bring no relief from the heat. School had been endless hours of hell. The classrooms were hot and the teachers irritable. Frank Taylor had indeed asked me to meet him at the ball game. I’d agreed, just to show Arly that I’d do what I damn well pleased. He could stew in his own juices.

  I hadn’t bothered to change out of my school dress, and Kali Oka seeped over the sides of the loafers. Hot, dry quicksand that left my footprints wide and wallowed behind me. I’d wear a blister if I wasn’t careful, but I was almost to Nadine’s.

  If Greg had gotten worse, Nadine would have gone to Mama Betts for help. I had to believe that. Still, my feet dragged as I ambled toward the line of chinaberry trees, dark green in the blistered sky.

  I made it to the driveway and stopped to check on the crucified Jesus. He was still hidden in the weeds and shrubs, still blackened and still heavy. Open and upturned toward what should have been heaven, his blackened eyes seemed to expect no help. I took care to hide him well and went to the back door and knocked.

  Nadine looked rough. She was still wearing her holey T-shirt, but she’d added a pair of riding pants with holes and white cotton socks like the boys wore with their jeans.

  “How’s Greg?” I asked when she didn’t invite me inside.

  “He’s sleeping.”

  I smiled. “Then he’s better.”

  She nodded, her golden eyes sparking for a moment. “Just a little, but I think with some rest and that penicillin, he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

  “Nadine, what if the Redeemers come looking for him?” I’d thought about that all day at school. “Will you give him to them?”

  Nadine laughed. “You want him for yourself, Bekkah? Did you like something you saw?”

  “No.” I could feel the heat rushing to my face. She’d made me remember him naked. It made me angry. “I don’t want him. But I don’t think they should have him.”

  “Well, I want him,” Nadine said. She was smiling again, tormenting me the way she loved to. “Maybe I’ll keep him forever. Make him my fourth husband.”

  If she was being funny, she wasn’t laughing. I didn’t know what to say. Greg was just a kid.

  “Of course, he’s more suitable for you, isn’t he, Bekkah?”

  I ignored her jibe. “Jamey wouldn’t come see him. She wanted me to come over and learn some new dance steps.” The smell of the garbage was sweet, cloying. I knew if I looked close, there would be live things in it so I looked at my shoes, the pennies winking in the brown leather. “Greg was Jamey’s boyfriend, but since they aren’t a couple anymore, you can have him.” I tried to sound grown up, like she did.

  “Well, thank you.” She smiled at last. “Greg will be delighted to know that he’s been handed from woman to woman.”

  “I can’t work this week, or ride.”

  “Punishment?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For staying here so late?”

  “Naw. I said something to Arly that got me in trouble.” I grinned.

  “Must have been fuck,” Nadine said, laughing. “Women shouldn’t say that word, Bekkah. Men do and say what they want, and women are punished for the same thing. That’s fucking justice for you.” She grinned at my expression. “Well, work out your prison sentence and hurry back. Cammie will be eager to get out for a workout.”

  “You’ll ride her for me, won’t you?” The idea that she might be trapped in a stall bothered me. She’d be helpless if someone came around to hurt her. I realized I couldn’t stay away, no matter what Mama Betts said. Not after Caesar.

  “I’ll do what I can, Bekkah. Cammie is sort of your responsibility. I’ve got all the others … and Greg.”

  “What about your ex-husband? Have you found him?”

  “I haven’t heard a word.”

  “Maybe we can go down to the Redeemers. If he’s there, you’ll see him.”

  “Then again, maybe they’ll come up here for Greg,” she answered. “Listen, I’d better go see how our boy is doing. I’ll tell him you came to check on him.”

  “Nadine, if he needs a doctor, Mama Betts would pay for it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Bekkah. If he keeps getting better, there won’t be a need for that.”

  She stepped back, disappearing into the darkness of the small room. I turned and jumped down the steps, eager to get away from the smell. Where was Greg staying? On the sofa? There wasn’t much other place in the house. I’d only seen Nadine’s bed and the sofa. It would be a lot better than what we’d seen in the Redeemers’ church. Still, if I’d had a choice, I would’ve had Greg down at the house with Mama Betts. I walked home, feeling strange that I hadn’t seen him.

  The rest of the afternoon I worked in the flower beds with Mama Betts. We didn’t talk much, but it wasn’t because there was trouble between us. I had a lot to think about, and she wanted me to think. We cleared out the dying begonias, each trying to remember exactly how the spider lilies would come up in another week or two. They were the old-fashioned red ones, blossoming overnight into lines of vivid powder puffs. Mama Betts loved flowering bulbs, and the yard was filled with lilies in the summer and fall and daffodils and paper-whites in the spring. She called some of the big yellow daffodils Prince Alberts. She’d had a son named Albert who died when he was seven months old. There was a picture of her holding him on her lap, a fat, happy baby. No one ever said why he died, but Effie was born several years later, the only other child Mama Betts had.

  Mama Betts wore her big old garden hat, a flop-brimmed straw antique that she’d had ever since I could remember. She was on her knees, digging in the dark soil. The skin on her arms hung loose and jiggled as she worked. I realized suddenly that she was old.

  “How old are you, Mama Betts?” I asked.

  “Old enough to know that’s a rude question.”

  I laughed. “Really? We always have a cake for your birthday, but never any
candles.”

  “We’d burn the house down, child.” She was putting the weeds in a small pile.

  “Really?” I pressed.

  “I’ve tended this garden for sixty-seven years, and I was six when I first started.”

  I did the math in my head. “You’re seventy-three!”

  “I was born in 1890.”

  I sat back on my heels and looked at her. She kept working, ignoring the way I stared.

  “You’re finding that hard to believe, are you?” She laughed. “Just think, when you’re my age, you’ll probably be living on Mars, where the sky is pink and folks rent wings to get around.”

  “When I’m seventy-three, I’ll still be living right here on Kali Oka Road, just like you.”

  Mama Betts’ hands fumbled in the dirt. “Keep your options open, Bekkah, there’s a lot of world out there.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “This is a different world for women than the one I grew up in. You have different choices. You can travel, go to school.”

  “And I can stay here and ride horses.”

  She didn’t miss a dig with her trowel. “And that, too, if that’s what you truly want. Plenty of your girlfriends will make that choice—to marry young and stay right where they are.”

  “You did that. And Effie.”

  “No, Effie did not. She waited to marry. She was considered an old maid.” Mama Betts laughed. “She was twenty-four.”

  “She was old.”

  Mama Betts put her trowel down and used her hands to balance she laughed so hard. It was funny at first, but then I felt left out. “Well, Nadine’s not much older and she’s been married three times.”

  Mama Betts’ laughter sputtered, then died. “Three times?”

  I knew I’d messed up. “Well, she says a lot of things to try to, well, upset or shock me.”

  “Did she say if these husbands divorced her or if they’re dead? Maybe she’s just had a run of bad luck.”

  I hoped Mama Betts was kidding, but I didn’t think so. “Her parents are dead. They died in a car wreck.”

  “Along with her three husbands. Must have been a car load.”