Treason in the Secret City

by Diane Fanning

  Back in the kitchen, sitting at the table, I was amazed. ‘Aunt Dorothy, I didn’t know you knew how to make biscuits,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, fiddlesticks and nonsense, my child. As you said, there are some things in life you never forget how to do.’

  ‘Sure are good,’ I said after taking a bite. ‘What’s the plan for today?’

  ‘While you take care of the pigs, I’ll get started in the bedroom. I don’t know if we’ll get the cleaning finished before we have to meet the attorney and go to the jail to see Annabelle.’

  ‘We’re going to visit my mother with an attorney?’

  ‘That’s simply for easy access, dear. You will have time to speak to her alone if you want.’

  ‘I don’t know, Aunt Dorothy.’

  ‘You have a couple of hours to decide. Go on, finish tending to the stock. I’ll clean up the kitchen and then move upstairs.’

  While I was out tending to that chore, I noticed that the barn was in need of repairs as well. I’d have to make a top-to-bottom inspection and decide what was the most critical. At one end, I could look up and see through a hole in the tin roof – that was probably on the top of the list of items needing to be patched or repaired. Running a close second was one of the doors to the outside that hung by a single hinge and another one that had signs of rot along the bottom six inches of wood. Even if I wanted to stay, the state of this place was apt to send me running away as quickly as possible.

  I returned to the house and passed the bloodied linens piled in the hallway with an equally stained braided rug balanced on top of them. In the bedroom, the headboard now gleamed without a speck of blood in sight. The mattress was another matter.

  ‘You’re just in time to help me move this mattress,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘Move it where?’ I asked.

  ‘We have to get it out of the house,’ she said.

  I wasn’t sure how the two of us would manage that but I was willing to try. A lot of pulling and tugging later and we’d gotten it off the bed frame and onto the floor. We pushed it over to the door and then struggled to get it up on its side so it would fit through the opening. Our arms didn’t seem long enough or strong enough to get it up and hold it up. ‘Face it, Aunt Dorothy. We’re going to need some help.’

  ‘Oh, don’t give up yet. We’ll manage if we keep trying.’

  ‘Your face is flushed and you’re out of breath. You’ll keel over if you keep this up.’

  ‘Libby, don’t be a quitter.’

  I sighed and picked up my end again and tried to shove. We both dropped it when we heard footsteps on the stairs. I know it was ghoulish but my first thought was that Ernest, with his bloodied face, was marching up the stairs. By the look on my aunt’s face, she had some equally dreadful thought.

  ‘Hello! Hello! Miss Clark! Miss McLeod sent us over to give you a hand.’

  We popped our heads out of the door and both said, ‘Thank heavens.’

  ‘Interesting choice of words, ladies. I was just telling the little woman this morning that she should count her blessings because I was heaven-sent. Only an angel could put up with all her griping. I’m Andy,’ he said and pointed down a few steps and said, ‘and that’s Larry. What seems to be the problem here? Y’all look tuckered out.’

  Waving my arm behind me, I said, ‘We’re trying to get this thing out of the house.’

  ‘A mattress. Well, shoot, that’s just too much for a couple of ladies. Me and Larry will make short work of it.’

  The two men picked it up and carried it downstairs as if it were as light as a pillow. ‘You need this hauled off? We drove the truck over and I know where you can dump it.’

  ‘Why, certainly, sir. That is most kind,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘You gonna be wanting a new mattress?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but I hadn’t thought that far yet.’

  ‘Go into town to Peoples, see Mike Reynolds and tell him Andy sent ya. He opened up the furniture store about eight or nine years ago and he believes in customer service. He’ll get it delivered out here, bring it upstairs for you and put it in place.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr …?’

  ‘Andy. Just call me Andy. If folks called me anything more formal, I’d feel like I’d need to work in my go-to-meetin’ clothes. We’ll go get rid of this thing and come back and see if you need help with anything else. Miss McLeod said we could stay here as long as you need us.’

  My aunt pulled out a tip from her purse and tried to hand it to Andy. But he backed away.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Miss McLeod is paying us. No need for payment for helping a friend of the family.’

  ‘But I feel as if I’m taking advantage of you,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘No, ma’am, not at all. You get in the mood to bake some pies, Larry and I wouldn’t be able to turn them down.’

  ‘I’ll have to find that mood, Andy,’ Dorothy said with a smile. ‘We have to leave shortly to go into town. If you could fix the bottom step on the porch and the broken railing today, that would be wonderful.’

  ‘We can do that and maybe clean up the leaves and twigs out of your front yard, too.’

  On the drive into town, Aunt Dorothy, the social worker, marveled that after all these years, the spirit of neighborliness still flourished in the rural population. ‘I wish I could generate more of that feeling in the urban areas. Certainly the war has united us in a common cause but when it’s over, can we transfer that drive and determination to other areas of our lives?’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  My mother has never been an outdoors person and, as a result, she usually sported winter white skin all year round – I used to call her Snow White when I was little. Nonetheless, the sight of her this morning was still a shock. Her face looked wan and pasty with a texture that looked as if a touch would cause it to crumble like pie crust dough. When the three of us walked into the room reserved for attorney-client meetings, her eyes remained riveted on me even when Aunt Dorothy and Mr Coxe greeted her. ‘Libby,’ she said in a whisper that reverberated with remorse and redemption.

  When I uttered my curt, ‘Mother,’ I saw the hope in her eyes replaced with pain. And I felt guilty and hated myself for feeling that way.

  Mr Coxe sat in the chair directly across the table from her and Aunt Dorothy and I slid into the seats on either side. ‘Mrs Floyd,’ Coxe began, ‘you have given your daughter control of all your property and your son. She will make all the final decisions and has no obligation to comply with your wishes but this is your opportunity to make them known to her.’

  Annabelle swallowed, the dryness of her mouth made clacking noises before she spoke. ‘Libby, I am so sorry—’

  ‘Mother, what do you want?’ I snapped.

  Annabelle closed her eyes and straightened her spine. Looking straight at the attorney she said, ‘I would like my daughter to take over the running of the farm and to raise her little brother there.’

  Dorothy interrupted. ‘Annabelle, please don’t pretend as if Libby is not here. Talk to her, for heaven’s sake.’

  Annabelle clenched her jaw and pivoted her head in my direction. ‘Libby, would you be willing to stay here and raise your brother?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Will you sell the farm?’

  ‘I haven’t decided. I think Ernie should be part of that decision – and, of course, Aunt Dorothy since she owns half of it.’

  ‘What about Ernie? If you sell the farm, what will happen to him? Will you take him back to Tennessee?’

  ‘With the long hours I’m working, Mother, I do not think that I could provide him with adequate supervision.’

  Annabelle jerked her attention over to Dorothy. ‘Will you take him up north with you?’

  ‘As Libby said, nothing has been decided yet,’ Dorothy answered.

  ‘But he loves it here. It’s his home. He has friends. He has his roots here. He’s only twelve years old.’

  ‘I adjusted just fine, Mother,’ I said. ‘And, if you re
call, I was twelve years old, too. It didn’t bother you then.’

  Annabelle’s face twisted, her eyes welled and a sob escaped her throat before she dropped her head into her crossed forearms on the table. Mr Coxe pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it into one of her hands.

  I felt far less merciful. ‘Let’s not get dramatic, Mother. It has never been a good response to your problems and yet, you revert to it again and again.’

  She raised her tear-stained face to mine. ‘Did living up north give you a cold Yankee heart?’

  ‘No. Having a heartless mother did that. The Yankees have nothing on you,’ I said.

  The attorney spoke again. ‘This confrontation is not doing my client any good. I need to have her in a good frame of mind to work on her defense. Perhaps you two should leave now.’

  ‘No,’ Annabelle said. ‘I deserve this and much, much more. I should have been there for Libby. I should have thrown Ernest out the first time he bullied her. But I didn’t and now I have to pay the price. I knew Ernest was not half the man Libby’s father was but I was frightened by the future. I have seen the error of my ways. At last, I understand that I need to stand up for myself and my children. That’s why I shot Ernest. That’s why I aimed to kill. I should have done it a long time ago. And that’s why I need to take anything that Libby wants to say to me. I was a miserable mother and an equally miserable wife to my first husband. I betrayed the memory and legacy of John Clark by placing his family farm in the hands of a man like Ernest Floyd. I will never stop regretting it.’

  I sat in stunned silence, my thoughts and emotions in turmoil. My early childhood affection and love for this woman battled the feelings of betrayal and resentment that came in my adolescence. My stubborn desire to hold her responsible fought with my urge to just let it all go.

  My Aunt Dorothy was more resilient. She reached out a hand and laid it on my mother’s arm. ‘Annabelle, I know my brother forgives you.’

  A bitter laugh erupted from my mother’s throat that seemed to surprise her. ‘Of course, he does Dorothy. He always did. He knew I was weak and helpless. I think a large measure of the attraction he felt toward me was his desire to protect me from the world. Once when he was frustrated with me, he said, “Good God, woman, is my spine the only one available for you to use.”’ She blew out a huge sigh and then turned back to me. ‘Libby, do you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me?’

  I looked down at the table at my hands folded neatly on its surface. I listened to the sounds of scraping chairs and footsteps as my aunt and the attorney rose and left the room. When the door shut behind them, I raised my face. ‘Mother, I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet.’

  ‘Oh, Libby. Maybe one day? I know I don’t deserve it but I so hope you can forgive me before I die.’

  The flow of my tears now matched hers. ‘I hope so, too, Mother. I do. I really do.’

  She reached across the table and squeezed one of my hands. ‘I do love you, Libby, and I always will.’ After speaking the words I’d waited too long to hear, she stood and followed the guard out of the room.

  I just sat there, still feeling her hand on mine, lost in a jungle where misery and anger swallowed one another whole.

  A hand fell on my shoulder and a male voice said, ‘Miss, it’s time to go now.’

  I looked up at a guard’s face and nodded. Then, I rose and walked out to the hall.

  That evening after supper, Aunt Dorothy and I sat together at the kitchen table drinking tea as we talked. I probed her with questions about the progress she was making in organizing and running the new school of social work at Bryn Mawr, the well-being of her cook, Mrs Schmidt as well as neighborhood gossip.

  We were interrupted by the telephone. When I answered, Teddy was on the line. ‘Teddy! So nice to hear your voice,’ I said, and realized at that moment, how much I really did appreciate him.

  ‘I’m glad you think so, Libby. I volunteered – no, I’ll be honest – I begged to be the one to call you. But Gregg and Joe are standing nearby in case you have any questions for them. And, boy, is it good to hear your voice. Are things going well over there? Did you see your mother?’

  ‘Yes and yes. It’s difficult to see your own mother locked up but she finally said some things that I wish she said years ago. But the past is that way – when you ignore something, it doesn’t go away, it just puts its sticky fingers all over the present. But I’m sure if all three of you thought I needed to be called, it wasn’t because you all wanted to see how I was doing. So what’s on your mind, Teddy?’

  ‘We went back into Hansrote’s house tonight while he was in town visiting Mabel. I think we passed him on the highway when we drove in to call you. We took turns transcribing and got down all of the notations he’d made in that little book.’

  ‘And what does it look like?’

  ‘It’s tricky, Libby. It does look like he is keeping some sort of record of what he’s sent to Raymond and of funds deposited somewhere. Joe thinks it’s a Swiss bank account but we don’t know that. We found some of his local bank books but what we are seeing in the notebook doesn’t match up with any funds put in those two accounts. We also found a new phone number by Raymond’s name on a slip of paper. We jotted that down, too.’

  ‘Great work, Teddy. Is Hansrote going to know you were there?’

  ‘We made sure everything was back exactly as we found it. And we strolled out of the house like old friends in case anyone was watching.’

  ‘Ah, good. See, you all don’t need me. You’re making great progress.’

  ‘We do need you. We’re like a ship without a captain, a company without a commander, a—’

  ‘Enough, enough,’ I said as I laughed. ‘You made your point. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be careful. All of you.’

  I was grinning when I sat back down with Aunt Dorothy. ‘Now, where were we?’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ Dorothy said. ‘You’re not getting off the hook that easy, not with that Cheshire Cat grin on your face. Is that the young man you’ve not been telling me about?’

  ‘We don’t have a relationship – not that kind.’

  ‘Oh really? Then what did I hear in the tone of your voice when you were talking to him and why are you blushing now?’

  She knew me too well. I should have never thought that I could slide this one past her since she was the keeper of all the secrets of my heart throughout grade school and into college. ‘I admit it. He is a possible. He really likes me. I could maybe see it developing into something serious but we’re not there yet.’

  ‘I’ll accept that at face value but what else is going on? What are you not saying, Libby? And don’t say nothing. I could tell by the worried little furrows that danced across your brow when you were on the phone. Something back in Tennessee is bothering you, isn’t it? Can you tell me what it is?’

  Although I shared a lot about my life down south with my aunt in letters and phone calls, I didn’t dare mention anything about Hansrote’s treason, Frannie’s fugitive status or Marvin’s murder in communications going through the censors. Now, I let it all spew out in a cleansing rush that shocked and dismayed Aunt Dorothy. As I expected, she instantly grasped the gravity and sensitivity of the situation. She pulled out a piece of paper and pencil to make a list of what needed to be done to get me back to my work as quickly as possible.

  We pulled all the information about the farm out of the roll-top desk and stacked it on the table. Considering Ernest’s lack of business acumen, the farm seemed to be thriving and turning a profit – not as flourishing as it was when my father was in charge but better than average. That meant there was ready money to hire a manager and a dependable hand. Aunt Dorothy volunteered to invest some of her personal funds into replenishing the herd and making needed repairs to the property.

  The big question remaining was what to do with Ernie. He certainly couldn’t stay out here on his own even with a farm manager at hand. My aunt wasn’t sure if she was up to
raising a boy in her home but she was willing to try if that was what Ernie wanted. However, we both suspected that he’d want to stay in the area.

  When we finished for that night, we had a long list of things to do and an even lengthier list of questions that needed answers. But, we did have a plan of action. If all went as it should, I could leave on Monday and Aunt Dorothy, who was not teaching any classes this summer, could stay a while longer to get everything running smoothly.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The next morning, Peoples delivered the new mattress and the men who brought it in were willing to move the bed over to another wall. I found the lovely barn-raising quilt my grandmother made along with several other decorative pieces to put in the room. We wanted it to look as different as possible for Ernie’s sake. We placed the contents of the dressers and the closet upstairs in the attic storage area. Finally, we moved my Aunt Dorothy’s things out of Ernie’s room and settled her into the master bedroom.

  We drove off in the countryside, stopping at farms here and there to talk to my father’s old friends about men who could be trusted and were suitable to run the farm with an absentee landowner. When we finished our rounds, we had a short but promising list of prospects. The last stop of our outing was at Mrs Early’s house to pick up Ernie.

  We sat down for coffee and coffee cake as Jessie’s mom plied me with questions about her daughter, what she was doing and what was going on in that strange place we called home. There were, of course, a lot of them that I couldn’t answer but that didn’t stop the rapid-fire flow. Mrs Early simply wanted to know every little thing I could tell her.

  Abruptly, she changed the subject. ‘Ernie really does not want to move to Tennessee or Pennsylvania. He says he wants to stay right here. He thinks he should be able to live in the house on his own, but as you all know, that’s not possible. But, Libby, he could stay here. He’s a good kid – I can’t believe I’m saying that about a child of that worthless Ernest Floyd but it’s the God’s truth. He’s a hard worker, wants to learn as much as he can and has already been a big help to Henry. Come harvest time, he’ll be a godsend.