by Ann B. Ross
Her shoulders shook as she turned away from us, crying pitiably. Sam tried to comfort her, assuring her that no one had been hurt, that his house was intact, and that he was sure Roberta Baine was now in good hands.
I wasn’t quite so sympathetic. As Cassie accepted Sam’s proffered handkerchief, I stood back and asked, “Why are you so concerned about her, Cassie?”
She slid the handkerchief down her face, looking up at me with brimming eyes and said, “She’s my sister.”
Well, in spite of my previous rampant speculations on the subject, that statement shocked the daylights out of me and, from the looks of him, from Sam as well. We got Cassie situated on the sofa, even though she continued to protest that William would be worried. Sam drew up a chair in front of her.
“Now, Cassie,” he said in a gentler tone than I would’ve used, “tell me about your sister. It’s going to come out sooner or later anyway, and since I’ve been on the receiving end of all the damage, I think I deserve to know.”
“Are you going to write about it?” she asked in a voice that would’ve rent a more tender heart than mine.
“It depends,” Sam said. “But I won’t mislead you, if it’s public record, I probably will.”
“William won’t like it,” she said, tears pouring from her eyes. “He really won’t.”
I could stand it no longer. “What William likes and what he doesn’t amounts to about a hill of beans, Cassie. We’re talking breaking and entering, theft of public records, attempted arson, and assault and battery on me. If you know anything that will clear this up, now’s the time to tell it and let William take care of himself.”
Sam put a hand on mine to hush me, but I saw him hide a smile. “We’ll do whatever we can to help Roberta and you,” he reassured her.
So then it came out. To say that Judge Baine had liked the ladies, as Judge Anders intimated, was putting it mildly. Not only was he Roberta’s father, but Ilona Weaver’s, Rosemary Sullins’s, Teddy Tillman’s and Rafe Felder’s. Oh, and Cassie Wooten’s, too. The man had plowed fields all over the county because every one of them had different mothers. I couldn’t begin to imagine how busy he’d been.
“Roberta,” Cassie said, sniffling and gulping, “has always been so protective of him. She was furious when she learned we were included in the trust he set up. He didn’t leave us much, but enough to confirm what she didn’t want to believe. None of us knew he was our father until then, and it’s still hard to take in. He’d never had anything to do with us, and we hardly even know each other.”
“What about Sheriff Hamilton?” I asked. “How does he fit in?”
Cassie looked up, frowning. “Who?”
“You know, the judge and the sheriff and a couple hundred acres at River Bend.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said, looking confused.
“Never mind,” Sam reassured her. “It’s not important.”
By this time, if Sam’s handkerchief had been a Kleenex, it would’ve been in shreds, the way Cassie was pulling and kneading it. Swiping it again across her face, she went on. “So when you,” she glanced at Sam, “came along and interviewed us, well, I hated the thought of all my sins being published. But, see, all I was thinking about was myself. I didn’t realize that you might put two and two together and come up with the judge. But William did. He was just beside himself when he found out what you were doing. He, oh, I hate for you to know this, but he told Roberta about your book and how, if you looked closely enough, you’d figure out that it was the judge who kept us out of jail, even though we didn’t know it at the time. And, well, Roberta just went crazy. She was still unhappy that her father had acknowledged us, and she was determined to keep us from ruining his name. She threatened us. Told us we’d better not to tell anybody, that she’d deny it to her dying day, and she’d take us to court for defamation and slander and all sorts of things if she had to. She said her father wasn’t in his right mind when he set up the trust, and she’d do whatever it took to keep his reputation pure and unstained.” Cassie trembled as the words poured out. “I believed her, too. That’s why I couldn’t let you interview me again. None of us could. We were afraid of her.”
Well, Lord, I thought to myself as we finally ushered Cassie on her way, they were right to be afraid. I knew I wouldn’t have wanted to tangle with Roberta Baine. Then I had to smile to myself, for I had tangled with her. And it wasn’t me who was locked up on a psychiatric ward.
Sam, bless his heart, was still offering aid and comfort to Cassie as she started out the door. I shifted from one foot to the other while she lingered.
As soon as the door closed behind Cassie, I had a few questions that wouldn’t wait. “I don’t understand, Sam. Why would the judge go to such extremes to keep his children from being prosecuted if he didn’t care enough to acknowledge them?”
“Maybe that’s the reason. He didn’t want the relationship to become known, and one or more of the mothers held it over him. Amelda Tillman comes to mind. When I knew her, she was a woman nobody wanted to cross.” Sam took my hand as we walked down the hall. “Or, on the other hand, he could’ve been exercising some paternal oversight, but in secret, so he could enjoy the power of influencing their lives without anybody knowing it.”
“Well, I hope he enjoyed something, because that’s all he got. Don’t you know he could’ve kicked himself when that developer came along and paid a fortune for what he thought was useless?”
“I expect so,” Sam said, nodding. “Sheriff Hamilton sure hit the jackpot then. But he lost out, too, since he didn’t live long enough to enjoy it.”
“Serves them right—both of them. The idea of manipulating the law for their own ends. Now, though, thanks to you, Sam, their chickens are coming home to roost. But would you have ever figured it out on your own?”
He shook his head. “I doubt it. All I saw was that those five people kept getting free passes, over and over. I was going to point that out in the book, but leave open the question of why. The record shows—when you put all the cases side by side—that somebody was manipulating the system, and the only ones who could’ve done it were the sheriff and the judge. But I couldn’t prove anything against either one. Still can’t, for that matter.”
“Well, but you can point out the kinship and the land deal, and let people draw their own conclusions, can’t you?”
He nodded and put his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll see. A lot of damage has already been done. No need for me to add anymore.”
I hugged him, telling him he was the kindest of men, but wondering if I would be so considerate. But then, I wasn’t writing a book that could get me sued.
But other things were still hanging fire, so I sent Sam to the kitchen for breakfast and hurried to Hazel Marie’s room to wake her. I couldn’t wait another minute to know the upshot of her late night tryst.
“Hazel Marie,” I said, as she sat up and yawned, “you won’t believe what all we just heard about Roberta Baine. Sam is going to have a best seller on his hands. It’ll have everything: Mystery, suspense, courtroom drama, and illicit goings-on. But it’ll all have to wait, because right now I can’t stand it any longer. What happened with Mr. Pickens last night?”
“I guess we’re getting married.”
Tears of thanksgiving sprang to my eyes as relief flooded my soul. Raising my eyes to heaven, I was moved to overwhelming joy at having been delivered of a great burden. And by Mr. Pickens, of all people. Feeling as weak as water and trembling from one end to the other, I had to grab hold of a chair to steady myself.
“Why, Hazel Marie,” I gasped, “that’s wonderful! When? What are the plans?” I watched as she slowly pushed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. “But wait a minute, you don’t sound very excited.”
“How can I be? He’s only doing it because of the mess I got myself in.”
“Well, young lady, you keep one thing in mind: You didn’t get in it by yourself. Besides, that wasn’t
the way he was behaving last night. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you or, as I happened to notice, his hands, either.”
“Yes, and see, he’s already going back on his word.” She stood up and, my word, she was continuing to blossom. This news hadn’t come a minute too soon. “I can’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”
“You mean he might back out? Hazel Marie, we’ve got to get you married before he takes off again.”
She shook her head. “No, I mean he’s pretending to be all worked up and excited, saying he’s thrilled about these babies and being married and all. But I know it’s just an act. He’s just doing it because even he can’t get out of it. So all that touching and looking is just put on. But I told him, Miss Julia, I told him that this was going to be a marriage in name only. And I mean it.”
“Oh, Hazel Marie, you can’t mean it. Now listen, I know you’ve never been married before and don’t know what it’s like, but, honey, that doesn’t sound like much of one to me.”
“Well, that’s the way it’s going to be. He can take it or leave it.”
I didn’t know what to say, but I was thinking that she’d been free enough outside the marital state, and now she was planning to close up shop when she got inside? That didn’t make sense.
“I believe I’d rethink that, if I were you. Why, you know that you and Mr. Pickens belong together, even though I admit I’ve had my doubts about him. But those babies change everything, so his willingness to accept responsibility is the absolute best thing that could’ve happened. You’ll have a husband to go through this with you, those babies will have a father, you won’t have to move away, and, think of this, you’re going to make your son the happiest boy in the land. So the least you can do is be grateful that he’s solving all your problems. And,” I went on, “you might also try to call up some of the loving feelings you had for him in the past.”
She frowned and twisted her mouth. “I’m not about to jump up and down just because he’s been roped into marrying me. I know a shotgun wedding when I see it. We’ll get married, all right, but he’s going to have to keep his hands to himself. He’s marrying me only because of these babies, and I’ve told him that’s the only reason I’m marrying him.” She sniffed and grabbed up a robe. “Besides, he needs to suffer a little, too.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say. It beats all I’ve ever heard. I thought you’d be walking on air and thrilled to death if he ever wanted to get married.”
“That’s just it,” she said, wrapping the robe around her middle tight enough to give me pause. “He doesn’t want to, he’s being forced to, and as soon as these babies are born, I’m getting rid of him.” She snatched up a hairbrush and for a minute I thought she was going to throw it. But we already had one window pane broken, so she just ran it through her hair with a vengeance. “I’m not putting up with somebody who’s just putting up with me.”
I had to sit down then. Of all the terrible ways to begin a marriage, this took the cake. Who would’ve thought that it would be Mr. Pickens who was the eager one, while Hazel Marie nursed her grievances to the extent of planning to divorce him as soon as he’d served his purpose? Poor Mr. Pickens, the man was snakebit when it came to keeping wives.
But I couldn’t worry about him at the moment. I was heartsick that Hazel Marie wouldn’t be a happy bride. After all she’d been through in her life, after all her starry-eyed plans and hopes of someday having a dream wedding, complete with bridesmaids and grooms-men and veils and flowers like the ones in her magazines, to end up like this was the most pitiful outcome I could imagine.
“Well, Hazel Marie,” I said, hoping but not saying that she’d change her tune once Mr. Pickens was securely locked in, “sufficient unto the day and so forth, I guess. I’m sorry to hear that you feel this way. I hate to see you marry with a heavy heart, especially since you’ve waited so long for it. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She was on her way to the closet to select another of those workout outfits that was all she could wear, but stopped when a commotion started up in the kitchen.
Mr. Pickens’s voice, coming nearer, reached us both. “Hazel Marie! Where are you? Your honey’s here, needing some lovin’. Come on out here, little girl. We’ve got plans to make, ’cause I’m gonna marry you in the morning.”
Lillian shrieked, “Glory! Glory!” and Lloyd yelled out in surprise and joy. A chair fell over somewhere, and something or somebody tumbled down the stairs.
Hazel Marie stopped and turned to me, her face suddenly alight with a rush of color. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. I could almost feel the waves of excitement rippling off her. The whole room seemed to vibrate as she trembled at the sound of his voice.
In name only? I thought with a wry, but greatly relieved, smile. A likely story that would be. Why, just the thought of her long-held dream becoming reality had created a shimmering and magical field around her.
I stood there marveling at the transformation she’d undergone. And then, as all her angry independence fell away, my starry-eyed, naive, and artless Hazel Marie reasserted herself.
“Miss Julia,” she said, almost gasping for breath, “there’s one thing you can help me with. Would it be all right for me to wear white at my wedding?”
“Hazel Marie,” I said, as I surveyed her burgeoning figure and thanked the Lord that I wasn’t having to contend with her over a big church wedding. That being the case, I could afford to give a little. “Honey, we don’t have time to look for a maternity wedding dress, if there is such a thing. But if you have another one of those sweat suits in white, there’s not a reason in the world you can’t wear it.”
