by Greg Lilly
I whispered to Valerie, “Did you tell her I would be here?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“You ruin my fun,” I faked a frown.
Mark and Kathleen, Mike and Sheila, and Margaret and Gerald, Vernon and Irene’s offspring and their spouses brought up the end of the line. The parade mounted the stage and took their seats. As if taking a cue from the royal family, we groundlings seated ourselves too.
Vernon stepped up to the podium to welcome everyone. He droned on and on about the company and the importance of family. Finally, he mentioned Dad and another round of applause broke out.
I watched Mark as his father talked. He kept his eyes on Vernon and nodded occasionally. He caught me watching him and grinned at me. I smiled back.
When Vernon announced dinner, a wave of excitement swirled through the room. Charlotte ‘s society likes to honor one another, but they love to eat.
A brigade of handsome waiters served salad. Tim ordered another beer, and Laura shot him a disapproving look.
Apparently, Sylvia Goldberg noticed the tension building between my brother and his wife, so she focused on me. “Derek, do you work for Harris Construction?”
“No, ma’am. I work for a small startup Internet company in San Francisco. I build Web sites, not buildings.”
“Private or public?” Jack asked.
“Private, but we expect to IPO later in the year.”
“That’s exciting,” Valerie said. “How many employees?”
“Some friends and I started it last year, but as of today, we’ve grown to fifty-four employees.” Their attention amazed me; I didn’t think they would be interested in my work.
“Do you enjoy the actual work of the company, or was the startup the exciting part?” Jack asked.
I picked at a tomato and thought about it. “Honestly, I enjoyed the startup of the company more than the day-to-day operations.”
Tim joined in. “You could IPO and sell once the stock hits big, then start another company. The idea for a great business is the hard part.”
“Yes, that’s what is so amazing about your great-grandfather starting this company,” Jack commented. “He was there for the beginning of the boom in Charlotte. He helped make this city what it is today.”
The handsome waiters came back to replace our salad with prime rib. I thought about Papa Ernest working like I had to get his company started; could this have been the same man I read about in Walterene’s diary? Where would he find the time to be part of the Klan, or maybe that was like being part of the Chamber of Commerce today? I looked up from my plate and caught Gladys the Bitch staring at me.
Her stiff smile had dimmed to a flat sour line.
I glanced at Dad; he smiled and winked back at me. I raised my glass to him. He laughed and raised his to me. Gladys jerked her head to look at him, but he joyfully kissed her cheek. She actually smiled at him for a second.
Valerie had seen the exchange, and squeezed my hand. “I’m so glad we’re all here together.”
“Me too,” I admitted.
During the main course, conversation at the table lulled. Tim drank; Laura ignored us; Valerie and I talked with Mr. and Mrs. Goldberg.
“I have a question,” I announced. “Back home, my friends have a dinner party game called Jung’s Shadow.”
Sylvia perked up. “As in Carl Jung?”
“Exactly,” I said. “Carl Jung said everybody has a persona developed in childhood that projects to the world who they are, but there is also a shadow; a dark side where we put aspects of ourselves that don’t fit our persona. You follow?” I looked at Tim and Laura to see if they would participate.
“Got it,” Tim tapped his forehead.
I looked to Laura.
“Yes, I took psychology,” she huffed.
“Okay, then, persona and shadow are complicated aspects of each person,” I explained, “so, in order to make this work in a short time period, we’ll each pick one face we show to the world, and admit one contradiction to that public image.”
Valerie’s brow furrowed.
“It’s not that deep or difficult. Let me give you an example.” I thought for a moment. “Say you’re a priest who has taken the vow of poverty, but you love expensive cars.”
“Okay,” Valerie conceded, “you can start.”
“My persona,” I searched my mind for a good one to use, “is I’m independent and can take on the world, but,” I realized this game was harder with my family present, people who had raised me, “but, I need people to be close to,” I looked to Valerie, “people I know love me.”
Tears came to Valerie’s eyes.
“Aww,” cooed Sylvia.
Even Laura smiled.
“Okay, okay, Val, your turn,” I said, and took a sip of merlot. I glanced up at Mark; he and Kathleen seemed to be engaged in a lively conversation with his sister and brother-in-law. I focused back on my own sister and the game.
Valerie straightened up and said, “My persona is I’m an old maid-”
“Val,” I scolded, “you’re not.”
“Yeah, she is,” insisted Tim.
“But,” she continued, “I have maternal feelings, and one day,” she took a breath, “I’ll be a mother.”
Laura perked up. “Valerie, are you,” she whispered, “pregnant?”
“Oh, no. I just want to be a mother one day.” She looked at me, and I could see her eyes had welled with tears. She sniffed them back and said, “Okay, Sylvia, you go next.”
Sylvia looked at Jack and smiled. “Well, I am a mother, and I guess that’s the face I show the world, but I love to dance and travel, to have the freedom of a gypsy.”
“Darling,” Jack held her hand, “I didn’t know that.”
She smiled. “I’m saving it for us for when the kids leave for college. You go next.”
Jack scratched his head and thought. “I’m a business man,” he said with a shrug. “My shadow is I don’t enjoy golf, I’d rather go camping on weekends.”
Sylvia squealed, “We’ll leave the kids at home next weekend and go to the mountains, sleep under the stars.”
I loved how the game brought out things people didn’t realize about each other. I nibbled on green beans, waiting for Laura or Tim to pick up next. Since neither volunteered, I pointed my fork at Tim,
“Okay, my persona is that,” he picked up his beer, “I’m a good ol’ boy, a womanizer, a dumb ass, but I’m smarter than most people think.” He caught and held Laura’s gaze. “I don’t cheat on my wife; I never have.”
All eyes turned to Laura; I knew Tim’s drinking had brought out something that had been on his mind for a while, probably on Laura’s mind, too.
Her stone face showed no emotion as her eyes darted back and forth. She looked like she was computing his honesty. Finally the calculation totaled, and the result was: “I believe you.”
He kissed her cheek. “Now, it’s your turn.”
Since he had warmed up to her, Laura’s iciness had melted. She thought for a moment, knitting her brow and twitching her nose. “My persona is I’m a bitch, but honestly, I’m not. That’s just how to get things done in this town. When I’m nice to people, I feel like I get walked on.”
“Oh, Laura,” Valerie soothed, “you don’t have to be that way with your family.”
“Val, where do you think I learned it?”
I laughed in spite of myself. “She’s got a point there.”
WITH CHEESECAKE AND coffee served, Vernon took the podium again. He made a few remarks to honor Dad and mentioned the contribution of Gladys to Dad’s career. Vernon also acknowledged Tim as an indispensable part of the company.
“Then, why am I not up on the stage with his boys?” Tim whispered across the table to me.
Finally, Vernon introduced Dad and presented him with a certificate and a crystal trophy to show the company’s appreciation for his years of service. Vernon left him at the microphone. Dad smiled and looked across the room. “I
’m so happy to see my family and friends here tonight.”
I saw him glance down at a sheet of paper he had slipped out of his coat pocket.
“I want to thank my wonderful wife, Gladys, for her support and guidance. My children,” he looked directly at me, “who are all here tonight. Tim, you are my legacy; Valerie, you are my joy; and Derek, you are my hope.”
For the first time in my life, I felt part of the family. I wiped tears with my napkin and swallowed hard. I missed being around him.
Dad continued, “After all the years of working, now as an old man, I know that my wife and children are the most precious gifts the Harris family could ever give me. I honor the friendships I made during my years here; we have the best people in Charlotte working with us. The Harris name may be on the building, but it is the employees who make this company great. We are one big family.
“So, I leave the work to the younger men and women, knowing that they will take pride in giving our customers the best. Thank you all.” With that, he turned to shake hands with Vernon and the boys. The crowd stood and applauded my father. Gladys embraced him as he returned to his seat.
Valerie pulled Tim and me to her in a hug, each of us a little misty over our father’s tribute to us. He wasn’t a man who verbalized his emotions, especially in public, and I was glad I had been there to hear it for myself.
AFTER THE PARTY, people lined up to congratulate Dad on his retirement. I watched as the line grew and decided to wait to talk to him in private; besides, Gladys the Bitch stayed by his side. She had shown rare emotion during the ceremony. Could there be a crack in her wall?
“We’re leaving,” Tim announced with Laura on his arm.
I hugged him and Laura good-bye; I couldn’t remember if I had ever hugged Laura before. It felt like I had another sister, at least for that moment.
Valerie talked with a group of people while I nodded to the departing guests. I felt hands on my shoulders and turned to find Mark.
“The party went well, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Yes, good turnout; I know he’ll miss going to work each day.”
Mark kept a hand on my shoulder as we talked. “Listen, it’s still early; do you want to come over for a nightcap?”
“Thanks, but I need to get Valerie home. And check on Ruby.” What’s up with the touching? I thought. The man ran hot and cold; I couldn’t figure him out.
“Okay,” Mark rubbed my shoulder, “but we need to get together, soon. We still have some things to discuss.”
“Yes,” I agreed pulling away from his grip, “we need to sort things out.”
Valerie joined us. “Hello Mark.” She watched his eyes like a snake charmer. “Can I steal Derek away? These new shoes are killing me; I’m ready to go home and kick them off.”
“Sure, Val,” he said. “Derek, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
We waved to Dad on our way out the door.
“Mark sure takes an interest in you,” Valerie commented while we waited for the elevator.
She doesn’t know about our past… Or does she? “Well, you know Mark and I always hung out together. He’s closest to my age of all the cousins,” I rambled; the wine had made me chatty. I didn’t look at her; I had a pact with Mark to keep our past relationship secret.
I dropped her off at her condo and headed down Park Road; the clear, warm night prompted me to roll down all the windows and open the sunroof. The breeze smelled of freshly cut grass. The comfortable feel of being part of a group, a family, wrapped around me in the night air-I smiled as I turned onto Poindexter, then onto Sedgefield.
Darkness covered Ruby and Walterene’s house. The fact that Ruby hadn’t left the porch light on surprised me, but I guessed she had turned it off out of habit when she went to bed. I remembered her “Peter Beater” and chuckled, then decided to honk the horn when I pulled in the driveway just to remind her I was coming in.
I closed the windows and sunroof, grabbed my suit jacket from the back seat, and locked the car. The oak’s limbs spread over the driveway casting dark shadows around the porch. A movement in a boxwood caught my eye, probably just the neighbor’s cat, or a squirrel.
I pulled out the key for the door. Something rough brushed my cheek.
I spun around and swatted near my face, making contact with… something hanging from the tree limb? My mind snapped to the image of Mr. Sams, head slumped to one side, eyes open in an empty death stare, the limb sagging from his weight.
The rough scrape of hemp hooked under my chin, then I heard the thud of a heavy object falling to the concrete driveway. Pressure tightened around my neck. I grasped at my collar and jerked my tie loose, but I still felt the strangling sensation. The old oak’s branches seemed to close down on me, blocking me from the safety of the house; I reached up and batted toward the suffocating limbs, pulled at the rope around my neck, imagined a phantom body lying limp in the driveway.
I tried to scream, but it caught in my throat, only a low augghescaped. Dropping my keys, both hands fought off the thing suffocating me, holding my throat. My head drooped. A roar rose in my ears, and my knees buckled.
Chapter Fifteen
STRUGGLING FREE, I scrambled up the porch stairs. The door knob wouldn’t turn. My keys?
Back against the door, I struggled to see in the shadowy darkness. My elbow slid up the doorjamb, attempting to locate the doorbell to summon Ruby. Nothing moved in the yard or driveway. Finally, I felt the button with my elbow and jabbed at it.
I waited.
Leaves rustled in the oak; I scanned the limbs for a noose, something hanging from the tree-nothing. Was it a panic attack? The specter of Mr. Sams? My heart thundered in my ears, but I couldn’t pick out any sound from inside the house; no lights flicked on to indicate that Ruby heard me. I hit the doorbell several more times. I surveyed the neighborhood for other signs of life; every dark house had black lifeless windows staring at me. A glint of silver caught my attention in the driveway-my keys.
Easing my way back down the four steps of the porch, I stayed alert, ready to fight. I stopped and glanced around the darkness. A shimmer of light hit the side of the house; headlights scanned the front yard as a car came to the stop sign at the corner. It turned and drove past the driveway. The encouragement of another person so close allowed me to run for my keys. As the taillights faded in the distance, I found the door key and headed back up the porch.
With a watchful eye on the dark shrubs and trees, hiding places for evil, I fumbled with the lock. I took a deep breath and steadied my hand; the door opened and I slid in, locking the deadbolt quickly behind me.
The blinds had not been closed in the den, and the television flickered with the late-night infomercials of faded celebrities. I walked into the kitchen to find a pitcher of iced tea sweating on the counter and a plate of half-eaten chicken in the sink. The brick Ruby used as a doorstop held the dining room door open. She always closed that door when it started getting dark. I eased through it and found the front door standing open. Ruby!
I ran back to the bedroom, “Ruby!” I yelled. “Ruby!” All the blinds hung open, no lights on, and her bed still neatly made. “Ruby!”
MY HAND TREMBLED as I dialed the police. “My aunt’s missing.”
“How long has she been gone, sir?” a mechanical-sounding dispatcher asked. She didn’t realize the urgency of my call.
“I don’t know. I just got home, and she’s gone.”
The dispatcher sighed. “And why do you feel this is an emergency?”
“Someone is terrorizing me, and now my aunt is missing!” I yelled.
“Sir, calm down and let me get the facts. What’s your name?”
“Derek Mason. My aunt, Ruby Harris, is missing. The front door was open when I got home, and her dinner dishes are still in the sink. The lights were never turned on, the blinds weren’t closed, and her bed hasn’t been slept in. Someone kidnapped her.”
The dispatcher answered with another question. “Is t
here anyplace she might have gone?”
“Oh, I don’t know, it’s almost one o’clock in the morning, maybe she went shopping,” my sarcasm smacked back at her.
“Now, sir, there’s no need to get smart-”
“Someone on this phone needs to be smart. She’s in danger. I came home and there’s something, probably a noose, hanging from the tree at the driveway! Someone was outside the house,” a cold chill hit me, “probably inside the house, too. They got Ruby.”
“Stay where you are. I’m sending a patrol car over. You’re at 3003 Sedgefield Road?”
“Yes.” Relief swept over me for a second, but I had to find her. “How soon will they be here?”
“Soon. Turn on your outside light and watch for them.”
“Thanks.” I hung up the phone, hesitated, then picked it up again and dialed. “Mark? It’s Derek. Something’s happened to Ruby…”
THE POLICE ARRIVED a few minutes later, no lights flashing or siren shrieking, just a tall older white man and a pretty young black woman. The man appeared to be in his fifties, heavy set and in charge. The woman, in her twenties, moved with assurance beyond her age. I let them in through the den door from the driveway. After going over the story again, Officer Gloria Blevins checked the front door while her partner, Officer Jack Hartford, inspected the oak tree for the noose.
“There are no signs of forced entry to the door,” Officer Blevins reported to Hartford.
He nodded and looked at me. “There’s a potted fern lying in the driveway; its macramé hanger is still on the limb. Is that your noose?”
