Benzer and I had already done the math. “Thirty-seven. Worth over forty-three thousand dollars,” I told them.
Bertie gasped. “Good Lord, we’re rich.”
Everyone laughed—well, everyone except Daddy. He sat next to Mama on the couch, staring at the gold coins. I started to get an uneasy feeling in my stomach.
“What is it, Daddy?” I asked.
He looked around at us all. “I was just wondering who the gold actually belongs to.”
“What do you mean, Tucker?” Bertie asked. “I’ve heard the story about the gold a hundred times. Walter Mayhew was guarding a shipment, and it was stolen.”
Daddy stood and walked around the room. “If the government was sending down a shipment of gold, surely there would be more than thirty-seven pieces.” He turned to look at me. “What’s the story, Lou?”
“It wasn’t actually a government shipment,” I said. “Louise’s diary said the gold was sent to a couple of people helping slaves escape, but some soldiers confiscated it.”
“What happened to the sympathizers?” Bertie asked. “Terrible things happened to people who helped the slaves back then.”
“One of them was arrested. The other one was Louise Mayhew’s cousin Olivia.”
Daddy looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise.
“That’s why Brody Kimmel got shot. He was working with Olivia and tried to get it back.” I looked around the room. “Walter didn’t kill him, the Reverend—Silas Whittle—did.”
Franklin beamed. “Imagine! My ancestor, killed in his effort to be an abolitionist. That’s really something!”
“Wow,” Bertie said. “This is all very interesting. But I want to know how much is going to be left over after taxes.”
Daddy sighed. “Don’t start spending it yet, Bertie. I’m not sure we’re going to be able to keep the gold.”
“What?” five voices yelled at once. Me, Benzer, Franklin, Patty, and Bertie.
“Daddy,” I said, “what are you talking about? We have to keep the gold. It’s how we’re going to save the house.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple, Lou. It’s not our money.”
I stared up at the ceiling. “God, you have got to be kidding me! I prayed to you, I listened to you—are you just going to sit up there and let him do this?”
“Lou, stop being such a drama queen.” This from Aunt Sophie, the woman who called 911 over carpal tunnel in her wrist.
“Why?” I asked. “Why can’t we keep it?”
“It’s not ours,” Daddy said slowly, like he was talking to the baby instead of me. “And that gold was the ruin of Walter and Louise Mayhew.”
“But the money was stolen from Aunt Olivia and her companion. So as her kin, why couldn’t we keep it?”
Mama leaned forward and touched the diary’s leather binding. “I can’t believe you found this diary. That in itself is amazing, Lou.”
“It is pretty cool,” I said.
Patty sprawled on the floor next to me. “If we don’t know who it belonged to, what are we supposed to do? Give it back to the Union army? Are they even still around?”
“Over my dead body,” Bertie said. “And you’re signing up to volunteer at the museum, Patty. You’ve got some history to learn.”
Daddy crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Louise, do you understand what the gold was for?”
The rain that had been threatening all day let loose and pounded on the roof.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until I exhaled. I picked up the diary and started flipping through the pages. “It says that until the soldiers found it, Olivia and her friend were going to use it to help slaves escape. That’s why Brody Kimmel was trying to get it back. Olivia was pretty torn up about it when she told Louise.”
Daddy sat down on the arm of the couch and put his hand on Mama’s shoulder. “Your whole story is pretty remarkable about finding all this. And if you say that a higher being brought it all about, well, I guess I’m inclined to believe it. Have you given any thought as to why you might have found the gold now?”
“It’s what I’ve been saying—it’s to save the house.”
“Well, what if it wasn’t to save the house? What if there was some other reason?” Daddy asked.
“Yeah,” Bertie said. “Maybe God thought it was time the library got a new wall.”
“Mother, be serious,” Mama said.
Bertie snorted. “Surely y’all aren’t planning on giving the gold away because of something that happened that long ago. As terrible as it all was, ain’t a bit of it our fault. None of us was even living! Besides, there’s not a soul that cares about that stuff anymore. People got more on their minds than some old tale about this family. Heck, we’ve got enough recent stuff to keep them talking for another hundred fifty years. What’s one more thing?”
“Daddy, the gold solves all our problems. There is no other reason.” I stared at him, begging. “You promised, remember? You said that you’d do everything in your power to help us keep the house!”
He shook his head. “Lou, I don’t want to lose the house either. But something just doesn’t feel right to me.”
I looked over at Benzer, who just shrugged as if to say, “Parents. What can you do?”
“This can’t be happening,” I said. All of this for nothing? No way. I dropped my head in my hands. If I started crying now I’d die of embarrassment.
Daddy leaned down and picked up my hand. “Maybe Louise and Walter never even looked for it.” He smiled gently. “It’s way too much trouble figuring out what to do with it.”
I picked up the diary from my lap and turned to a page in the back. “Despite Walter being cleared of any wrong doing, there are those in town who still look upon us with suspicion. We carry on despite the stares. There was a time Walter would have given the gold to his regiment out of duty, but no longer. Duty to the Confederacy comes second to one’s duty to God. William Wilberforce said, ‘You may choose to look the other way but you can never say again that you did not know.’ We do know now, this war has taught us much, and were we to find the gold, I need look no further than the impoverished negro settlement to know how we would use it.”
“They were going to give it away too?” Bertie asked. “This family has always been crazy.”
“They weren’t crazy—they were doing the right thing. Lou,” Daddy said, “no matter what we decide, you found the gold and cleared Walter’s name. That should make you feel better.”
I frowned, not sure who I was madder at, Daddy or God. “Not as much as you might think,” I muttered.
“It is rather remarkable,” Franklin said. “Wasn’t Walter a captain? I’d love to read that diary, Lou. I’d be interested to see how he could change so much.”
“People got their fill of war pretty fast, Franklin,” Bertie said. “One out of every three Confederate soldiers said to heck with it and deserted. Glad I missed it. I don’t want any part of anything that makes you crazy enough to part with gold!”
Thunder crashed outside as the rain became a full-force storm. “Maybe we’ll get a tornado,” Patty said worriedly. “Nothing would surprise me about this day.”
We didn’t get a tornado, but the weather was rotten enough for Daddy to suggest everyone spend the night. I wasn’t sure if it was the weather, or he was just too tired to deal with taking everyone home. Aunt Sophie had left her car at the hospital, and all it took was a promise from her to help with the midnight feedings, and Daddy was making Benzer and Franklin a pallet on the living room floor.
“If I hear one creak on those stairs, you two boys will be wishing for a tornado.”
“Yes, sir.”
Patty and I snuggled together in my bed. I was glad her tanner had faded to the point she no longer smelled funny.
“Feeling better?”
“Not really.”
“You sure pitched a fit earlier,” she whispered. “Mama said if you get violent to come and get in bed
with her. Are you going to yell at God some more?”
I pulled the covers under my chin. “I would if I thought it would help.” I stared at the ceiling. “But Daddy’s got me thinking,” I said. “He’s right. It wasn’t Walter and Louise’s gold. I hate to say it, but maybe we shouldn’t keep it.”
“Wow,” Patty said. “I can’t believe you’re saying that.”
“Me either, but remember what Pastor Brian said my first day at church? He said we all have a purpose, even kids, and we don’t have to wait to grow up to be used. Maybe I found the gold so that I can do something that Louise and Walter couldn’t.”
Patty blew a curl off her forehead. “I still think it’s stupid. They were going to give it to the freed slaves. What are you supposed to do, look for their great-grandchildren?”
I sat up and stared at Patty. “Oh my gosh!”
“What?”
“Wait here.” I threw the covers off and jumped out of bed. My parents’ light was still on, and I burst into their room.
“Lou!” Daddy said. “What in the world?”
“I know what we can do with the gold,” I said. “I know the plan!”
“I’m sure it can wait until the morning. Your mama just got the baby down.”
“It’s okay, Tucker,” Mama said. “Go ahead, Lou. What do you want to do?”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “Can we give it to Isaac? So he can go to UT?
Daddy looked thoughtful, then grinned. “Sure. I couldn’t think of a better use, myself. I’ll call him first thing tomorrow. Now, get back to bed, it’s late.”
“Okay.” I headed toward the door.
“Lou,” Daddy said.
“Yeah?”
“I know we say this a lot, but we are proud of you. That was a tough decision.”
“You know Mayhews,” I said softly. “We’re made of steel.”
Patty and I lay still, listening to the sounds of the house settling. I’d filled her in on my idea for the gold, and now I could tell she was drifting off to sleep.
“Patty?” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“If I tell you something, do you swear you won’t tell?”
Patty rolled onto one pointy elbow and yawned. “Sure.”
“Okay,” I said, whispering. “I think Benzer is kinda cute—arggh,” I screamed into my palm.
“Uh, duh. You’ve been totally crushing on him for the last year.”
“I have not!”
She lay back down. “Of course you have. And he follows you around like a love-struck puppy. Geez. How can you not know this?”
I could feel my face turning red in the dark. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Now, can we go to sleep? I need my beauty rest. Some of us don’t have boyfriends yet.”
I rolled over and closed my eyes. The thought of leaving the house and going to a new school still felt like a giant weight pressing on my chest. So why did I have a huge grin on my face?
Bertie made a big deal about breakfast, even going as far as to drive to the Grey Motel to bring back a platter of their biscuits and chocolate gravy. Patty and I came downstairs in our robes. Technically they were both mine, but she wore the same one every time she spent the night, so we’d come to consider it hers.
Benzer and Franklin sat at the table looking rumpled in their wrinkled T-shirts. In fact, everybody looked a little rumpled, except Bertie of course, who was dressed in tight black pants and a black T-shirt with DIVA written across her chest in rhinestones.
Bertie and Daddy were doing most of the serving. They’d planted Mama in a chair and forbidden her to move a muscle.
“Mama, what’s got you so quiet?” Patty asked Aunt Sophie, who was usually running in high gear before most of the adults had swallowed their first sip of coffee.
“I’m worn slap out,” she snapped. “Didn’t y’all hear that baby crying last night? I swear, it took two hours to get him back to sleep.”
Bertie put a handful of cheese into a pot of grits. “Boy, I’d forgotten how grumpy you are in the morning, Sophie,” she said.
“You’d be grumpy too, with three hours of sleep.”
“Mother, Sophie,” Mama said, holding her hands over her ears, “if you wake up the baby, I’ll show you grumpy.”
“Can I have some ketchup?” Benzer asked.
I passed it over, then pulled my notebook out of the robe’s pocket. “Mama, have you guys decided what you’re naming the baby?”
“Still not Peyton, but we’ve been thinking,” Daddy answered, sitting down. “Your mama had a good suggestion.”
“We thought perhaps it was time to bring the name Walter out of retirement,” she said, smiling at me. “What do you think about that? Our very own Louise and Walter.”
“Ooooh,” Patty said, “maybe y’all can get married.”
Franklin rolled his eyes at Patty. “You are such a twelve-year-old.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” I said. I drew a line next to my name on the genealogy chart and wrote in my brother’s name. “Walter was a pretty good guy, I guess. He was sort of a hero after all. At least Louise seemed to think so.” I frowned. “But it just seems weird that we won’t be living here, especially being named after them.”
“Well, I think what you’re doing is awesome,” Benzer said. “My family would have never given that kind of money away.”
“Of course not,” Bertie said, plopping into a chair. “Yankees have no sense of history.”
“Bertie!” I said. “Remember we were going to stop with all the name-calling?”
“Oh, dear, excuse me.” She gave me a knowing look. “I’m sorry, Benzer. I’ll try and limit my prejudice against Yank— er, Northerners to the homely ones. Will that work?”
“That depends,” he answered. “Have you ever met a Yankee you didn’t think was homely?”
“Just one, but you give me hope for the whole lot of them.” Bertie winked. “I declare, you two, with all the bad habits I have, you choose this one to break?”
The back door opened, and Isaac came in. “Morning.” He placed a casserole dish on the counter. “From my mom.”
“Isaac!” I yelled. “Did you hear?”
He turned to me and smiled. “I did. Your dad called me this morning. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Won’t Coach Peeler freak when he sees you playing for UT?”
Bertie lifted her coffee mug in a toast gesture, drawing everyone’s attention. “Congratulations, Isaac. And speaking of Coach Peeler, guess what I heard while I was at the motel this morning?”
“What?” I asked.
“Doris said the school board was calling an emergency meeting after Lou’s interview got everyone talking. People are sick of the superintendent letting Coach Peeler slide.”
“It’s about time,” Daddy said.
“I’ll bet twenty dollars he’s announced his retirement by Friday,” Bertie said.
Patty held up her hand to give me a high five. “I still have to see your interview. I heard your hair looks insane.”
As everyone laughed around us, Benzer leaned closer. “I’m sorry you’re going to have to move,” he whispered. “But we’ll still hang out every weekend.”
I nodded. “I won’t be the girl with the oldest house anymore, but I’ll still be a Mayhew. I guess that’s good enough.”
Benzer rolled his eyes. “Duh! I could have told you that a long time ago.”
“Lou,” Isaac said, “about the money—”
The doorbell pealed the chorus of “Rocky Top” throughout the house.
“Rocky Top,” Bertie started, and we all joined in, “you’ll always be, home, sweet home, to me!”
“Don’t wake the baby,” Mama said, going to the door.
“Walter,” I called after her, “his name is Walter.”
“Tucker, I hope you can take that doorbell with you,” Bertie said.
The door swung open, and Mama walked back into the kitchen
. On her heels was George Neely.
From the diary of Louise Duncan Mayhew
April 1864
We received news that the Yanks were camped a few miles away. Olivia hid the most important things behind the bookshelf, while Molly and I rolled a barrel with our food stores into the woods. We could barely finish for staring over our shoulders like frightened deer. Before long, a group of about 20 rode into the yard, firing their muskets, and walking through the house as though they owned it. We were fortunate that they found little to interest them other than our last silver cup and our candle wax.
Benzer, Franklin, and I stared at him. I couldn’t have been more surprised if Mama had walked inside with an alien on her arm.
Mama offered her hand to Mr. Neely. “Good morning. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“George Neely, historian. How do you do?” He nodded at everyone. “I believe I met these young folks recently, at the museum and …” His voice trailed off when he got to Patty, as if he was trying to place her.
Patty had sunk so low into her chair that she was in danger of falling onto the floor.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you this morning, but I was just having breakfast at the motel and heard the most extraordinary thing.”
“Mother!” Aunt Sophie said. “You couldn’t even make it one day.”
Bertie raised her eyebrows. “No one told me not to say anything.”
“It was more of an unspoken rule, Mother.”
“Well, that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Bertie said with a sniff. “You can’t break an ‘unspoken rule.’ That’s why they’re spoken.”
“So it’s true?” Mr. Neely said, coming to hover over my chair. “You really did find it?”
I pushed my plate away. “I knew it! I told the rest of them that you were looking for it too. Well, you can forget about it. It’s already been given away. Every last piece.”
“What?” Mr. Neely looked like he was going to keel over.
Isaac motioned him to take a chair. “You look like you need to sit.”
Mr. Neely sank onto the ladder-back chair. He really did look ill. “I don’t understand. Was it in such poor shape? Who did you give it to? I could help. I know people who specialize in that type of conservation.”
Last in a Long Line of Rebels Page 18
