Dear God, please watch over Slim. Help him get better. Tell Mama she should have read my letters….
Rain beat on the roof, sharp pinging sounds. Hail? No, a different sound—louder—more metallic sounding. My body felt stiff from sleeping too long in the same position, but when I tried to move, I couldn’t. My arms seemed locked at my side, tangled in my covers. I twisted, thinking how hard my feather mattress had become. Had I fallen out of bed onto the floor? Or gone to the closet in Mama and Daddy’s room? That would explain the blackness when I squinted my eyes trying to make out where I was.
Had I dreamed of the black hole again? This time I wasn’t being sucked into the swirling dark pit. No, definitely not a dream. But where was I?
The smell of dirt mixed with oil and dampness in the air came to me. I tried to lift my head and get a better whiff. No pillow rested under my head. I turned my face and felt the grit of dirt on my cheek. My heart pounded in rhythm to the rain. Take off the covers! Squirming, I worked one arm up across my belly and then the other one. Where am I? How did I get here?
Had I spoken the words or was my mind playing tricks on me? My throat got a tight feeling. Again, I twisted my head and saw a tiny sliver of light, as thin as a pencil, stretching from one side of the room to the other down low, next to the floor. The garage. I must be in the garage, but why?
A scuffling noise came from one corner. I shuddered. What if it’s a mouse? Or a rat?
Don’t be silly. You’ve never seen a rat at Graham Camp.
Shivers zinged along my legs still tangled in… in what? A blanket of some kind. I took a deep breath and heaved my body over to my stomach. Maybe I could free my arms and legs that way. The hard surface of the garage—I knew now that’s where I was—pushed against my arms. Sweat popped out as I lunged to make another roll. And another. I felt the blanket loosen as cold hit my arms and legs. A clap of thunder shook the air. I drew myself into a ball and covered my head with my arms. Click. Screech. The familiar creak of the garage door opening. When I lifted my head, Aunt Vadine stood against a gray sheet of rain, the wind whipping her thin robe like a ghost costume. She stepped inside. The wet nylon of her robe clung to her, outlining the bulges of her hips and breasts.
“Samantha? Are you in here?”
I edged toward the wall, pulling the blanket with me. Mama’s quilt? I knew it was. More light came into the garage, faint and shadowy. I looked again at Aunt Vadine, but something else caught in the corner of my vision. A figure hung from the ceiling, swaying… swinging.
I screamed. And screamed again. More screams, but I didn’t know if they were mine or Aunt Vadine’s. She rushed in and knelt beside me. “You poor child. What are you doing in here?”
“What is that doing in here?” I pointed to the hanging figure. “Who is that?”
The stepladder lay on its side in the dirt slightly away from the center of the garage.
She turned her head and gagged. “Oh dear. What the devil?” She pulled me to my feet and dragged me to the ladder. She uprighted it and said, “Help me! Hold it steady.” She climbed onto the first step, then the second. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to throw up, the phlegm rising but stuck in my throat.
“Oh, Samantha. Look at that. There’s not a body in here at all.”
I forced myself to look. No legs dangled down. But what I saw did make me throw up. Vomit spewed out of my mouth, splatting on Aunt Vadine’s ankles.
Mama’s robe dangled above us, stuffed with something, and tied with a rope in the spot where I imagined Mama hung herself.
Aunt Vadine stepped down and pulled me to her chest. “Oh, you poor dear. You must have thought…” She leveled her gaze at me. “You. You did this? How could you?” She turned away, hiding her face. “All your cries of desperation, and now this?”
The folds of her saggy body enveloped me. I wrenched my head back, her fingers like claws in my back. “What? You… you think I did this? No. No. No! It’s sick. A sick joke. I swear… there’s no way… I couldn’t have.”
Could I? I had been so upset about Mama. Had I slipped over the edge and done this horrible thing? I closed my eyes and tried to think. To remember.
Aunt Vadine’s talking kept my thoughts from coming. “I worried myself plumb sick about you last night. Moaning in your sleep. Thrashing around. I tried to stay awake, but I must have drifted off. When I woke up, you were gone. I turned the house upside down looking for you. In the closets, under the beds, everywhere I could think to look. I felt close to having a heart attack myself, worrying that you had run off. Thank the Lord you’re safe, where we can get you the help you need.” Her palm pushed the back of my head into her shoulder.
I pushed away from her. “Take that thing down. I didn’t do it.”
She held her hand over her heart. “I pray your daddy will be home soon. He’ll have to see it. He’ll be as desperate as I am to get you help.”
My head cleared a little. I turned away from the swaying robe, limp, lifeless like Mama. I knew I hadn’t hung Mama’s robe from a rope. But if I didn’t, who did? Only one person came to mind. Aunt Vadine. She was the one who was desperate. All that talk about confiding in her. I knew it was a lie.
Think. I had to think what to do. The smell I noticed earlier came to me—the smell I thought was oil. It wasn’t. It was Daddy’s kerosene lantern—the Coleman we took fishing. Whoever did this had to have a light. A flashlight wouldn’t have worked with just one person. But Daddy’s lantern would have. I had an idea.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, dear. Anything.”
“How do you think I did this”—I pointed behind me in the general direction of Mama’s robe—“in the dark?”
“I have no idea. A flashlight maybe. Or your daddy’s kerosene lantern. I know I’ve seen one around here somewhere.” She craned her neck and looked around. “Over there. On the workbench. Isn’t that your daddy’s lantern?”
It was. And it wasn’t where I’d seen it yesterday. Was it only yesterday I found the letters? My stomach tightened. How could I call her a liar? Something else. Think. Think. Think.
“How did I wrap myself up tighter than the husk on a corncob in that old blanket?”
“You call the quilt your grandma Grace made an old blanket?”
“How did you know it was that quilt?”
“It’s laying right over there, sweetie. Any fool could see what it is.”
“Why would I do that? Wrap myself up in it?”
“Samantha, I don’t know why you do most of the things you do. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t imagine what demons you fight every day in your mind.”
“Another thing I’ve been wondering. Why did you pick now to be so nice to me? To be so concerned about helping me? Are you afraid Daddy and Mrs. Gray might start liking each other? That she might take Daddy away from you like my mother did? She’s pretty like Mama, you know.”
More light came into the garage, and I noticed the rain had almost stopped. Daddy would be coming back from Mandeville soon. I prayed he would hurry. What if he believed her and not me? I tilted my head and looked at her. Her eyelids twitched, tiny jerky movements.
“Pretty? She’s a floozy, just like your mother.”
My ears pounded in fury. The fact that Mama didn’t love me didn’t make her a floozy.
“What if Daddy fell in love with Mrs. Gray?”
“He’s only helping her out because she’s related to that nasty Slim.”
“He’s not nasty. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever known.”
“And it’s all because of your little friendship with him that your daddy’s involved anyway. You running wild all over the neighborhood, going into strangers’ homes. Heaven only knows what goes on over there. Nothing would surprise me. Not after that outburst you had yesterday. You were over there with that boy, weren’t you? Doing what?”
“Plowing a garden, like I told you. For Slim, because peo
ple at Graham Camp care about each other and stick together.”
“I can tell what a lot of good it did your mother.” Her face had a twisted look. She stepped over to the wall and picked up a piece of wood, a leftover two-by-four, that’s what Daddy called it. “I’m afraid with this latest escapade you’ve gone too far.” She jabbed the end of the board toward me.
I jumped sideways and looked out at the driveway. Hurry up, Daddy. She stood between me and the garage door. I would have to distract her and make a run for it. That or let her attack me. She seemed to read my mind.
“Don’t get any ideas, missy. Your daddy needs to find you in here like I did.” She pointed with the wood toward the swaying robe. “With this.” She swiped through the air like she was swinging an ax. “Go over there and sit down.” She pointed to Mama’s quilt.
I backed up two steps, not taking my eyes from her. “You know Daddy is not going to believe you.”
“I’ve already talked to him about your throwing your mama’s things in the incinerator. He came home to change clothes last night before he went to the hospital. I had to tell him, don’t you see? Or else how would he know how sick you are?”
Her voice sounded tinny. I didn’t know whether Daddy would believe me or not, but I had to keep her away from me. She had a piece of wood as long as a yardstick in her hand. Not something I wanted to get whacked with.
Calm down. Get her to talk about something else. But what?
“I have an idea. Let’s go in the house and wait for Daddy. You can show him the garage later. Besides, I need to go to the bathroom.”
“You’ll run off if I let you out of here. You’ve proved that time and again.”
Goose bumps covered my arms and legs, whether from fear or the cold, I couldn’t tell. “Fine. Then we’ll wait here. It’s kind of chilly in here though.” I stepped back and dropped onto Mama’s quilt. I pulled a corner up around my shoulders, wiggled around, and found another corner. Mama buried her problems in here, waiting, always waiting for a better day. Now I was waiting for Daddy to get home. Would he believe me or Aunt Vadine?
My stomach churned as I drew the quilt closer. Its soft folds hugged against my bare arms, and I thought I felt Mama’s arms around me, caressing my shoulders. Sweet, whispery touches. My eyes closed without me willing them to, and a thickness came to my tongue, filling my mouth, yet allowing me to breathe normally. Heat radiated around me, so close I thought I could touch it like a real thing. I’m not sure when I knew it wasn’t Mama there with me but something more, bigger than I could imagine, yet stroking me like a feather. A swelling came in my chest like I’d had before on that long-ago morning in my church pew. The day I’d given my life to Jesus. And once again, he didn’t call my name, but words appeared in my head, not in my voice or Mama’s.
Say something about the pearls.
The words startled me, brought me back to the garage and the hulking figure of Aunt Vadine. She fiddled with the edge of her nightgown, which seemed to have snagged on the two-by-four she wielded. What did the pearls matter if Aunt Vadine sent me away and got Daddy anyway? Please, God, if this is really you, help me be brave.
My shaking turned into a slight tremor. Breathe. Stay calm. My head cleared, and a voice inside told me what I had to do.
“If you send me off, you’ll never see Mama’s pearls again, you know.”
She stepped toward me, hitting the end of the two-by-four on the dirt. “Just another of your hateful little schemes.”
“I could show you where they are.”
She scrunched her eyes up. They darted around the garage and stopped at the metal shelf in the corner, a few feet from where I sat huddled in Mama’s quilt. I could tell she was trying to decide whether or not to go to the shelf. If she did that, I could make a dash for the door. Her eyes lit up.
“Hand me that box off the bottom shelf.” She pointed with her finger.
I didn’t move.
“Now.” She poked me with the wood, but the quilt protected me from it. She slashed through the air again, bumping the side of my head.
Stars danced before my eyes, but still, I didn’t move.
She inched closer and glared at me.
I looked the other way, craning my neck like I’d seen someone in the drive.
She spun around to look, and when she did, I grabbed the box and tucked it inside the quilt. Working under the folds, I lifted the lid off and reached in until I felt the baby bonnet.
“I have something for you.” I wadded the bonnet in my hand and acted like I was going to pull it out from under the quilt.
Suddenly, she lunged for me and grabbed at the quilt. She twisted my wrist in her iron-like fingers until I opened my hand. Eyes wide, she flinched back, then flew at me, off balance. I held the hatbox up like a shield and it connected with her knee. I heard a crack like a stick breaking. The lid flew off, scattering the contents across the dirt. She screamed a string of curse words and collapsed on top of me.
“You tricked me. Just like your mother did. Taking Joe away from me.” Sour morning breath poured out of her as she tried to get up. The weight of her on me made it hard to inhale. I straightened my legs and tried to push her off, but she yelled again and grabbed her lower leg.
“That’s not what Daddy says.”
“She always got what she wanted from the day she was born. All that red hair. Naturally curly. Never mind her face had more freckles than a speckled chicken. One look at her and no one knew I existed.” Short, raspy breaths huffed from her twisted mouth.
“You mean Daddy?”
She groaned again and tried to move. “Having your daddy wasn’t enough. Oh no, she had to throw it in my face ever’ chance she got. Joe this. Joe that.”
My legs grew numb pinned under her weight.
“Well, she can’t have him now, can she? But I will. As soon as we cart you off to that sanatorium and shock your brain a few times, you won’t be able to stop me. I should have hung you up there instead of your mother’s robe. Put an end to you forever. No one would have been surprised, you know. Like mother, like daughter.” Her eyes had a strange, empty look.
Like my dream.
I wiggled my legs once more and got out from under her. When I looked up, Cly stood over me, his mouth open, his eyes as big as golf balls. Aunt Vadine reached out and grabbed my arm, yanking it out of the socket, it felt like. When I fell on top of her, her hands went around my throat.
Cly kicked her and pulled me away. I landed with a thud on my bottom.
“Sam, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” My shoulders shook, and I pulled my gown down around my legs. “What are you doing here?”
“Slim.”
My head spun, and I waited for him to tell me what I already knew in my heart.
“Your dad called, said he’d been trying to call you. He asked me to come over.” His lips trembled, and he clamped his eyes shut. “Slim died this morning.”
I toppled over on the cold dirt of the garage.
[ FORTY ]
CLY ROLLED HIS JACKET UP and put it under my head. I told him to go get help. “George and Goldie. Brother Henry. Anybody, just go.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“I’m fine. Hurry.”
Numb, I looked around. In the corner Aunt Vadine lay curled on her side, moaning but not moving. Mama’s hatbox lay on its side, with the other bundle of letters and a thin, flat book I’d not noticed before. I raised up and tried to reach them, but it took too much effort, and I collapsed back onto the dirt floor and waited.
George and Goldie came first, and when I saw them, my heart raced. Behind them the clouds had parted and sunlight lit up the outside world like a thousand carnival lights, dancing off the trees, the grass, the world of Graham Camp.
Just like before when Mama swallowed the pills and Mr. Johnson caught fire, our friends and neighbors ran from every direction and swallowed me up with hugs and questions. Cly stood
beside me and told them he saw Aunt Vadine trying to strangle me. Goldie brought a bag of ice for the goose egg on my head. When Norm MacLemore and George loaded Aunt Vadine into George’s Buick, she raised up and called me despicable and vile and some other words that burned my ears. Cly put his jacket around me and took me into the house.
The next thing I knew, Daddy came and swooped me into his arms. Someone outside had told him part of the story. He wanted to know the rest, but I made him tell me about Slim first.
“He had a big day yesterday seeing everyone, said it was the best day of his life. We talked until the wee small hours. He finally went to sleep, a grin on his face, and he… he just didn’t wake up.” Daddy’s forehead wrinkled, and sags drooped around his mouth. He drew me close to his chest. “It happened around six this morning. I’d stepped out for a cup of coffee, and when I came back, he was gone. It ain’t fair, Sis, that’s what. Just getting his life back on track with his girls… his grandkids.”
My chest felt heavy, not like when Aunt Vadine lay on top of me, but something inside swelling up. I wanted to scream and cry, but nothing came out. I looked at Cly sitting in Daddy’s chair, his hands folded. A tear ran down his cheek. I held out my hand to him, and he came, the three of us holding onto one another. Then a thought flashed through my head.
“Tuwana. She’ll need me. Slim was her grandpa. I have to get cleaned up—”
Daddy held up his hand. “Not until you tell me what happened. Every single detail.”
The words tumbled out, bits and pieces of what I could remember, but I didn’t know if any of it made sense. Daddy’s face turned purple, and he stomped across the front room, telling me how sorry he was, that he would make sure Aunt Vadine never saw me again. Cly told him what he saw and heard, which made Daddy madder than ever.
“How the devil did she do all that? It rained all night.”
I shrugged. “She acted so nice, fixing me supper and then hot chocolate before I went to bed. She said she wanted to change, and I believed her.”
Daddy’s eyes squinted, then got fiery again. He stormed into my bedroom and came out with Aunt Vadine’s purse. He dumped it on the floor and pulled up a brown pill bottle. “Bingo.” He read the label. “Chloral hydrate. Take one capsule at bedtime.” He looked at me. “I’d say your dear aunt slipped you a Mickey. Knocked you out cold. Which she had already done when I got home from work, and she told me some tale about you and the incinerator.”
Chasing Lilacs Page 24
