“Yes, yes, of course,” she mumbled back. “That orderly raped Cissy and needs to be punished. We need the facts.”
“That’s nonsense. We both know the child is Richard’s.”
When Caroline slammed both feet on the brake, Janelle’s shoulder connected with the dashboard and her head with the windshield.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Do you want to kill me?” Janelle felt her head for a lump.
Caroline let out a high-pitched scream that filled the space between them. Janelle shrank back against the passenger door. “The entire world’s gone insane! Now you’re trying to convince me that my own daughter, my flesh and blood, is pregnant by . . .”
Janelle put a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I agree. This all feels insane.”
“Mother, why can’t you have just a shred of doubt? Why can’t you give that to me?” Caroline asked.
Janelle pondered two horrific explanations: Cissy was carrying her father’s baby or Cissy had been raped yet again, this time by a hospital employee. How could the latter make Caroline feel any better? Would proving the baby wasn’t Richard’s make any difference in her ability to live her life, to be a mother to Lily and Jessie? Did her sanity or reputation rest on this one outcome?
“I’m here for you as much as Cissy,” Janelle said. “Let’s see what Dr. Guttman can tell us.”
* * *
They made their way up to the women’s ward, Caroline taking in every detail. Janelle had forgotten that her daughter had never seen the inside of the hospital. She wondered if the reality of the place matched Caroline’s expectations or fears.
Dr. Guttman led them into his office and they took a seat on the sofa while he went to get Cissy. He said he planned to tell her they were there, but not the reason until everyone was in the same room.
They heard Cissy’s excited chatter long before she burst into the office and ran toward them.
Janelle stood first and hugged Cissy with a rocking motion. She wanted to give Caroline time to process what it’d feel like to see her daughter after so long. But Caroline stood almost instantly, arms outstretched. Seeing Caroline and Cissy embrace sent shockwaves through Janelle’s limbs. She couldn’t imagine what they must be feeling, but the amount of tears being shed surely indicated each had needed the other desperately these past weeks.
It was clear Cissy had no intention of letting go. “Honey, let’s sit down,” Caroline whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Janelle wasn’t the only one who noticed that Dr. Guttman struggled with the gravity of the meeting. Cissy instantly called him out on his long face and stooped shoulders. “Why so glum? Fall on your bum?”
The phrase was familiar. Janelle remembered Cissy using it on her a time or two, but when the girl was much younger. Janelle looked down, ashamed that she wanted to be rescued from the room, to be free of them all—Caroline and her rage, Cissy and her sometimes tenuous hold on reality, Dr. Guttman and his talk therapy.
“Cissy, we have something very important to discuss. I need you to be serious.” Dr. Guttman motioned for her to sit down between Janelle and Caroline.
A rap at the door caused all four of them to jump. A nurse ushered in a tall man in uniform.
“Sheriff Talbot, this is Cissy Pickering and her mother and grandmother,” Dr. Guttman said. “Why don’t you pull up a chair for our conversation?”
The man thanked them for coming all the way from Biloxi on such short notice.
“Please, someone tell me what’s going on.” Cissy seemed to survey the room’s occupants. “Is this about me shooting Daddy? Am I going to prison after all?”
Janelle’s heart broke to see Cissy frantically trying to understand the true meaning of their visit. She doubted how wise it was to include the sheriff.
“Cissy, you’re not going to prison. This is about Lucien,” Dr. Guttman said. “He’s been accused of hurting you. The hospital suspended him from his position until we can investigate.” The doctor’s words didn’t match the calm behind them. Perhaps it was a technique to keep them all from running from the room, stark raving mad.
“What lies has Martha been telling you? She’s not well, Dr. Guttman. You can’t believe her lies!” Cissy leapt from the sofa and backed up against the closed door, her hand grasping for the knob and possible escape. Her eyes darted between Caroline’s drawn, pained face and the doctor’s placid one.
“Dr. Guttman, is this necessary? Perhaps we could meet with Cissy first and then the sheriff could ask his questions.” Janelle tried to mimic Dr. Guttman’s tone, slowing her speech in an effort to soothe Cissy’s agitation. She motioned for Cissy to return to the couch, and her granddaughter reluctantly obliged.
“Mrs. Clayton, it’s the hospital’s policy. It can’t be helped.” Dr. Guttman’s words sounded hollow to Janelle as if traveling through a paper towel tube. “Cissy, we have some difficult news to share about your recent checkup. I don’t know how to begin. . . .”
The sheriff took out a small spiral notebook that looked a lot like the ones Cissy used. “I can take it from here, Doctor. Young lady, I need to ask you a few personal questions so we can start sorting out this matter. I hope that’s okay. I promise to make it quick.”
Cissy began humming, soft and low at first, then louder before she started counting—one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four—at the top of her lungs. Although her hands were in her lap, she used an index finger to point at each of them as she counted.
“For God’s sake, Cissy, stop that counting,” Caroline said. “We just need you to tell us what Lucien did to you. You aren’t in any trouble. I promise. The sheriff just needs to know what happened.”
“We don’t know if this is Lucien’s doing,” Dr. Guttman replied.
“Doctor, I’d advise you not to jump to any conclusions about the girl’s daddy and the pregnancy,” the sheriff said. “Mr. Thibodeaux may well have taken advantage of Miss Pickering in her confused mental state. This sort of thing isn’t uncommon in mental institutions. We need to look at all possibilities.”
Cissy blinked her eyes several times and seemed to sway.
Janelle jumped from her seat and begged everyone to be quiet. “Can’t you see you’re upsetting Cissy? We agreed to handle this differently.”
“Lucien didn’t do anything to me. He’s my friend,” Cissy screamed before going completely slack.
* * *
Janelle could tell the exact instant Cissy’s brain refused to cooperate further. She had watched in slow motion while Cissy’s pupils grew large and murky, and her shoulders slumped, sending her to the floor. The girl hadn’t fainted. Her eyes blinked and seemed to follow the shouting around her. Her lips moved as if searching for a lost pacifier.
Caroline, hands balled into peach-sized fists, towered over Dr. Guttman as he loosened Cissy’s blouse and listened to her chest.
“You’re her goddamned psychiatrist! Why did you and the sheriff just blurt everything out like that? How could you not know she’d react like this?” she screamed.
“Give me some room, Mrs. Pickering,” he said, and pushed her away. “Now!”
The sharpness of his order sent Caroline scrambling into a corner of the office, her eyes never leaving Cissy’s unresponsive body. Her hands shot to her mouth when two orderlies picked up Cissy by her underarms and led her away. Cissy’s feet dragged behind her, useless like a rag doll’s cotton-stuffed appendages, so the larger orderly scooped her up in his arms.
“Stay here. I’ll be back.” Dr. Guttman spoke in Janelle’s direction before running after the orderlies and shouting instructions to a nearby nurse.
“Well, ladies, I don’t guess you’ll be needing me anymore this afternoon,” the sheriff mumbled, hat in hand, shifting his weight like he was ready to bolt. The keys on his belt jingled an absurd tune. “That is, unless you can shed some light on the girl’s relationship with her daddy. What’s the likelihood he’s the father of the young lady’s unborn child?�
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“How dare you!” Caroline pointed a skinny finger at the sheriff. “I won’t stand for you to make those kinds of accusations without any proof. Get the hell out of here.”
Sheriff Talbot turned to Janelle.
“Yes, please go.” She nodded toward the door. As he left, Janelle could see a number of patients and staff standing nearby. They’d obviously seen Cissy being removed from the office. And they’d likely overheard Caroline’s tirade.
When they were alone again, her daughter sank to the floor and whimpered. “Let’s go, Mother. Please let’s go home.”
“Shut up, Caroline. Just shut up.” Janelle doubted Caroline had heard the impotent order, but no one was going anywhere until they knew more about Cissy’s state of mind and where she’d been taken.
Janelle slipped off her shoes and reclined on the leather sofa. Closing her eyes, she could almost convince herself that she and Caroline hadn’t left Biloxi yet, that she hadn’t received Dr. Guttman’s phone call, that Cissy hadn’t pulled the trigger that June morning. While Caroline’s lack of composure alarmed Janelle somewhat, she envied her ability to make this about her own suffering, to languish in all its grotesqueness. Janelle had felt something similar when she desecrated her garden.
She imagined she could drift off to sleep to escape the incredible fatigue that invaded her body. Was this the cancer at work, or just her inability to absorb what unfolded around her?
They waited close to an hour before Dr. Guttman returned to his office.
“Mrs. Clayton, Mrs. Pickering, I’m sorry for the delay,” he said. “I wanted to be sure Cissy was settled and comfortable before I left her.”
He told them that she’d been taken to the infirmary. She was awake, but still non-responsive. Janelle and Caroline looked at each other.
“She’s in a catatonic state,” he clarified. “I like to think of it as her brain’s way of shutting down before becoming overloaded.”
Caroline joined Janelle on the couch. “Is it permanent?” she asked.
“I can’t answer that question just yet,” he said. “We’ll monitor her closely over the next few days and contact you should there be any improvement.”
“I’m staying,” Janelle said, and planted her feet on the rug.
“What do you mean you’re staying?” Caroline’s eyes grew wide and unsure.
Janelle formulated her plan on the fly. “You take the car back. I’ll get a hotel room. Have Ruth pack me a suitcase and drive up in my car. She can stay with me.”
“You’re going to let your housekeeper drive your Cadillac and then share a hotel room with her instead of coming back with me? Don’t you care how hard this is for me? I need you now.”
Dr. Guttman sat perfectly still, allowing the drama to play out.
“As much as you want to make this about you right now, it damn well isn’t,” Janelle said. “And Ruth has always been more than my housekeeper and you know it.”
Caroline looked to Dr. Guttman for support, or possibly to serve as mediator, but he gave her nothing.
“Fine.” She grabbed her handbag with an exaggerated yank and moved to the door. “And you’re both wrong. I’ll get a paternity test.”
No words from Caroline or anyone else for that matter could shock Janelle now, but Dr. Guttman paled at the sharp change in Caroline’s demeanor.
“Your family might benefit from talking to a counselor,” he said after she slammed the door. “You’re all under a tremendous amount of stress.”
Janelle laughed at his understatement and he shot her a puzzled look.
“Caroline and I won’t be talking for a while. I appreciate your concern, though.”
He offered to give her a lift to the Howard Johnson, which she gratefully accepted. A strange room and bed held some appeal at the end of this surreal day. She looked forward to slipping into the unfamiliar surroundings and hiding from the realities before her, including how she would arrange an abortion for Cissy.
Chapter 23
Janelle wondered about her motive in asking Lucien to meet her at the Howard Johnson’s coffee shop. Maybe she hoped to confirm her belief that he was not the father of Cissy’s baby. Maybe she wanted to offer her support knowing he was one of Cissy’s few friends at the hospital.
He wore his white uniform as if he’d be heading to work after their meeting. Perhaps it’d become habit to dress in the uniform, or maybe he thought it was more respectable than his street clothes for their meeting. As he raised the cup to his lips, his hands wouldn’t cooperate and their tremor threatened to slosh the coffee from its ceramic confines onto the blank canvas of his shirt. He placed his hands under the table, but his body betrayed his nerves. One eye winked in a telling tic every few seconds, and he moved his head from side to side until the bones in his thick neck cracked and popped.
“I would never hurt Miss Cissy, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t know why you asked me here, but I’d just as soon put that out on the table first.”
“I like your bluntness, Mr. Thibodeaux.” She spoke quietly so the other diners couldn’t hear. “I don’t suppose I would’ve asked to meet you if I suspected you had done what you’ve been accused of doing. I’m here to help you.”
The brown spots dotting her aging hands mocked her. She had forgotten her gloves and felt unmasked in front of this young stranger who waited patiently for her to get to the reason for the visit. The vinyl booth sat so low she could’ve used a child’s booster seat. Janelle had to raise her eyes to meet his. She’d seen those eyes before, reproduced by Cissy’s hand in a portrait hanging on the wall of her hospital room alongside portraits of others she cherished.
“Cissy wrote me that you and she were friends. I’m grateful for your kindness to her,” she said. “Given those letters and her feelings, it seems far-fetched to think you’d do anything to harm the child.”
“Ma’am, I don’t understand. What would I have done to harm Miss Cissy? Nothin’ changes just ’cause the hospital took away my job. We’re still friends. Maybe I can even visit her soon.”
Janelle told Lucien she feared more than his job was at risk. Cissy’s pregnancy had caused a firestorm of supposition. “Accusing a young man of simple means, one who’d just moved to Mississippi, seems more palatable to law enforcement than admitting a father impregnated his teenage daughter,” she said.
Lucien’s expression went from shock to alarm. “Miss Cissy is with child?”
“Please forgive me for being so explicit, but the hospital thinks you may have raped Cissy. They’ve called in the sheriff to investigate. Son, you may be in quite a bit of trouble.”
Lucien hadn’t grasped that his dismissal could lead to criminal charges. He said he thought he’d been punished for the late-night reading lessons with Cissy and nothing more. “And you think her daddy got her in that way?”
His face distorted, not in anger, but something raw and grotesque. His lower lip, pink and chapped, stuck out over his chin. Janelle glanced around the room, fearing the other patrons had noticed the change in his posture. Lucien now slumped forward, upper arms pressed against the edge of the table, shoulders rising and falling. Fat tears dropped onto the tabletop, but he made no move to wipe them away.
“Mr. Thibodeaux . . . Lucien . . . you mustn’t.” She pushed a handful of paper napkins toward him. “Get yourself together. I know you’re afraid. . . .”
“I ain’t afraid, Mrs. Clayton,” he blubbered. “My head wants to bust wide open. I can’t bear to think about her daddy hurting her in that way. Lord, help me. I wish you’d never put those thoughts there.”
His words summed up her mental state so simply. Over the last month she’d been pummeled by one revelation after another, each threatening her sanity in a more concrete way. Her brain cells kneaded the details of Cissy’s abuse and left them to rise into an amorphous dough pushing against Janelle’s skull. She woke with excruciating headaches and babysat them until sleeping pills coaxed them to leave her for eight blessed
hours. Her head had no room to hold the news that the rape had resulted in a pregnancy.
“Lucien, did Cissy tell you she killed her daddy?”
Their coffee cups danced on their saucers when his forearms hit the underside of the table. He sat erect, shocked by the question. Cissy hadn’t told him why she’d been committed to the hospital after all.
“The Bible tells us killing is wrong.” His voice boomed. “And my mama told me two wrongs don’t make a right.” Like Cissy, Lucien probably adhered to rules that made his world safer, more straightforward. Gray areas became wide-open terrain with chasms eager to swallow rule-breakers. Janelle had shocked him twice in just these few minutes and he could take no more.
“Yes, son, killing is wrong, but Cissy felt she had no other choice.”
“Ma’am, there’s always another choice.” He shook his head furiously.
Denying this truth made it easier for Janelle to stomach the murder. Murder. The word that Cissy had placed on her list of banned words and they’d all followed suit in never speaking it. But for the grace of God, the judge could have felt as Lucien did. He could have withheld mercy, holding her responsible for the very adult act she’d committed.
Janelle reached across the table and touched Lucien’s hand. Maybe she calculated her touch could erase whatever judgment pulsed through his mind and heart. Even though Cissy would never know Lucien’s reaction, Janelle stood in as proxy and felt the rejection of her friend.
“Cissy’s not well,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
She explained how the news had been too much for Cissy to comprehend and her mind was sleeping now until she was able to understand all that was happening to her. Lucien’s brow creased as he took in this development.
“Well, ma’am, if it’s too much for me and you to think about, seems normal that Miss Cissy would suffer from the truth more than anybody. I wonder if there’s any way to fix what’s broken in her.”
Janelle said she didn’t know, but planned to stay in Meridian, to be close in case her granddaughter needed her.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Lucien whispered as if talking to himself.
Forgiveness Road Page 18
