Now, his voice was scarcely audible. "Yes, Your Honor, I killed him."
It was all over. The judge gave Eric ninety days in jail for the assault on Fleur and her friends, then suspended the sentence and released him. Butch and Greg were released as well, with a future court date scheduled for their part in the aggravated assault.
John Daigle was taken into custody.
There was so much commotion on the steps of the courthouse. Reporters vied for interviews. Everyone was talking and yelling at once.
I wanted to congratulate Eric but couldn't get near him. He was the center of a raging storm of well-wishers.
Mr. Adams gave a statement to the press. He came over to us and said, "This calls for a celebratory lunch. Do ya'll want to go to the Café on Main?"
"No," Dad said, "they don't have a bar. Let's go to Zachary's."
"I'll get Eric, and Grandpa, and Clementine." I was wondering how I would get close to them, but I finally pushed my way through and dragged them to the place where the rest of us were standing.
Hunter Alexander was with them. Mom stepped behind me and Dad. Hunter dropped his eyes. He and Mom did not speak.
Grandpa's eyes met Mom's. "No, thank you," he said to the invitation. "I had better get Clem home. This has all been real hard on her."
"I need to be with my Maw Maw," Eric said. "Mr. Adams, thank you." He shook his lawyer's hand.
Clementine was crying. She hugged Mr. Adams, rubbing her wet cheek against his jacket.
My mom looked at her father. A crease formed between her brows. She stared at Clementine, then back at her father. They walked away together, with Eric and his father following.
"I will have to decline as well," said Fleur. "I need to lie down." Then she said to Mr. Adams, "I will call you in a few days. I want you to draw up a will for me."
"Well, it's just us chickens," said Mr. Adams.
Mom said nothing, but followed as we walked to the diner.
I still wasn't sure if I could eat. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich. Dad let me take sips from his beer, which settled my stomach and my nerves.
Mom was silent, picking at her salad but not looking at the rest of us. That didn't matter, because the two men apparently had a great deal to say.
"You know, Tom," said Mr. Adams, "you have a real grasp of the law. Have you ever considered going to law school?"
"Ha! Don't you think I'm a bit old to start a new profession, especially one that involves so many years of study?"
"Maybe not," said the lawyer. "Lots of people start a second career later in life."
"You must be kidding. I would have to go to college first. Then law school. By the time I finished, I would be, I don't know, close to sixty."
"I thought you might say that." Dad's friend must have given this more that a little thought. "Have you considered being a CASA volunteer?"
"What's that?" I asked.
"They are regular people, appointed by judges to watch over and advocate for abused and neglected children. They go to court with the children, keep them from getting lost in the system." Mr. Adams certainly knew a lot about it.
"Yeah, I have heard of that program." Dad twisted his napkin, weaving it between his fingers.
"Of course, there is some training, but not years, like law school." He turned a book of matches over and over on the table.
"I might think about it."
"Can we think about it later? I want to check on my aunt." Mom was disturbed. Maybe she didn't want Dad to have another career.
Dad had driven his own car, so Mom and I left to go to Fleur's house.
45
Fleur took a long time to come to the door. She had taken off her wig and had a silk scarf tied around her head like a turban. The scarf had wildly colored flowers and green leaves printed on it. All she needed was an arrangement of fake fruit hanging onto her forehead and she would have looked exactly like Chiquita Banana. I could tell she was tired by the way she collapsed heavily onto her armchair, so I offered to make the tea.
"How are you feeling?" Mom put her arm around Fleur's shoulders, gave her a squeeze, before sitting on the sofa.
"Kay, I am much better." She didn't sound or appear better. "The important question is, how are you? I got the impression that this trial took as much out of you as anyone."
"I don't know. It was all so confusing." Mom stirred her tea slowly. "I just don't understand why Daddy was so attentive to Clementine, and to Eric. I can't get over the fact that Eric hurt you so badly, just can't forgive him. Yet, my daddy, your brother, acted like they were his family, that they needed his protection."
We were all quiet. I remembered seeing Grandpa Hyrum and Clementine together at the river. After that, I had tried to ask Mom about their friendship. She did not seem to know anything about it. In fact, she acted as if I she didn't believe me.
Fleur got up from her chair and sat next to Mom on the sofa. "Kay, I think there are things that you need to know. It's not my place to tell you, but..."
She was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. "Truly, will you get that?"
"Aunt Fleur, pleeeze don't say anything 'til I come back."
She nodded.
I went to answer the extension in the kitchen. When I picked up the receiver, a deep voice said, "This is Judge Sanders, may I speak to Florenz, please?"
I ran into the living room to tell her. She went into the kitchen and seemed to be there forever.
When she came out her skin was drained of color. "That was the original Jimmy-James." She looked at Mom and said, "There is so much that you do not know. I just couldn't tell you. I phoned Hyrum. He will be here soon."
I went back into the kitchen and put the pot on again. Five or six witch balls hung in the window, glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. Through her back window I could see Michael-Ray's grave. Grass now covered the raw earth where we had buried him last summer. An ivy vine had begun to twist around the cherub figurine. It looked like it was trying to embrace the little angel so it wouldn't fly away.
Grandpa Hyrum came within minutes. I think we were all surprised to see Clementine and Eric with him.
"I had a strange call from the judge," Fleur said. "He and I were friends long ago."
Grandpa snorted.
"He said some very personal things to me, things that made me feel better than I've felt in a very long time. But, there was something else, something you should all hear."
We waited for her to continue. I picked up my mom's hand and held it tightly. Although I had started to figure out a lot of what was going on, I was pretty sure that she was still unaware of some of her family's secrets.
"James felt that he owed me a debt. He told me that he would never have given Eric life—or even very many years in prison—because of his relation to me."
Grandpa rose from his chair. "Sit down, Hyrum," Fleur said. "Do you want to tell your daughter? Please do not make me do it."
"I ain't got nothin' to say." He plopped down without protesting again.
"Have it your way. Kay, your father and Clementine have been lovers for years. Ruby was your half-sister. That means that Eric is your nephew, and my great-nephew as well."
As mom looked at her father decades washed over her. Coincidences, hurts, battles between her parents, were probably swirling in her mind like a tornado. When she finally began to speak, the words fell out of her in a torrent of anger and pain. "I hated Ruby. I never forgave her—or Hunter!" She turned to her father. "This can't be true!" But anyone looking at her knew that she had already accepted it. Her denial was a defense that was crumbling with every second. "Dad, please tell me these are lies!"
Granpa found his voice. "Kay, I couldn't tell you. This all began when you were so young. Then, when you were old enough to understand, there was nothing to say."
Fleur tried to comfort her. She brought in a bottle of sherry and poured everyone a drink. She said, "Kay, you have to understand. Parents have a life. They don't owe their ch
ildren explanations..." (She took a big gulp from her glass.) "...except when those lives collide. When Truly got her crush on Eric, I tried to make Hyrum tell you, tell her. He refused. I hoped that the crush would play itself out. It did, this time."
Mom ran out of the house. I heard her car start.
"Do you think that did any good, Flo?" Grandpa was angry. Clementine's cheeks were wet with fat tears.
"Anyway, how did that damn fool judge know about me and Clem? He ain't no friend of mine."
"I told you, Hyrum, he is a friend of mine. Since I moved back to town he has come to visit several times." She poured more sherry into her glass. No one else was drinking theirs. "We talk about a lot of things—our families mostly."
Grandpa Hyrum motioned to Clementine and Eric as he stomped out the door.
Eric stood up and turned to Fleur. "So, if I had been found guilty, then the judge would have gone easy on me? Because of you?"
She nodded.
He hesitated, then grabbed her around the neck and hugged her, laying his head on her shoulder.
Clementine took her hand and said, "May God bless you, dear."
They followed Grandpa. The sun had set. This night seemed darker than usual.
"Fleur, why didn't you tell me? You and James? I thought you hadn't seen him in years."
"Well, Truly, that is personal."
"But, but, what happened to make him so kind to you? And to Eric?"
"It wasn't much at all. He is married, you know. He was grateful that I didn't out him."
"Is that it?"
"That's it. In this town being gay is as wicked as being a witch. He said, 'Fleur, everyone in town thinks you have snakes in your head; guess I have 'em, too.' You should go now. Your mother needs you."
I walked into the dark. One star blinked over Columbus. I wished that everyone in my family would find happiness.
46
At home Mom was sobbing into Dad's chest. He had one arm around her, gently rubbing her hair with his other hand. This must have been how he comforted her so many years ago.
I saw how kindly he treated her. He wasn't making jokes; that flippant attitude had evaporated. It was the way he responded to the juvenile cases, when we were in Mr. Adams' office—just a compassionate soul trying to heal a hurt.
For a second or two, they didn't notice me. Then Dad looked up. "Sit down, Tru. This has to be very disturbing for you as well."
I sank into a chair and dropped my purse on the floor. "I am upset. It kills me to see Mom so unhappy. I'm worried about Fleur. I'm beginning to hate all men! Eric is a bully. Grandpa is a hypocrite!"
"Well, some of those things will get better. Mom will. I don't know what to say about Eric."
Mom sat up. Her face was distorted and streaky. She held a box of tissues, and pulled out bunches at a time to blow her nose.
"Dad, Eric is so passionate about runaway slaves. How could he be that cruel to my sweet aunt?"
"That's hard to say. But I think he has a kind side. Sometimes boys just get caught up in things. It usually involves other boys. They tend to do stupid things in groups."
He held Mom's hand, giving it a little squeeze. "Eric is a product of his environment. There's a lot of prejudice around here. It was easy for them to perceive Fleur and her friends as, well, not exactly human."
I grabbed some of Mom's tissues and wiped my eyes. "I guess I get it." I didn't really "get" it, but I was beginning to have tiny flashes of understanding.
"And, Tru," Dad continued, "Eric may yet turn into a fine man."
"Yeah, like Grandpa, a genuine son of Mississippi."
Mom kept sniffling, but at lease she didn't revert back to the blubbering.
"Yes," he looked at Mom, probably not sure of her reaction, "Hyrum is a man, a flawed one, but then, most people are."
Mom sat up straighter. "Tommy, I think being unfaithful to your wife and having a secret love-child with the colored maid is horrendous, appalling! 'Flawed' is a bit of an understatement!"
"I can't make excuses for Hyrum," Dad told her. "Maybe you should talk to him yourself."
"No. Not now; not ever. I will never speak to my father again."
"Kay," he said with such tenderness that my heart melted, "never say 'never'."
"I love you, Dad." He was the only man I loved right now.
We sat quietly together for the rest of the evening. Reading with the TV off. Occasionally, the silence was interrupted by Mom's small snivels, but no one spoke until we all said goodnight and went to bed, exhausted.
47
Columbus became a quiet town again. We enjoyed a lovely autumn. The leaves were more vibrant this year. Brilliant reds and deep oranges blazed like flames caught in branches. Ginkgo trees in front of the courthouse made a brilliant golden backdrop to the monument honoring the Confederate War soldiers. Oaks blanketed the sidewalks and lawns with more acorns than I had ever seen. My science teacher said this meant we would probably have an unusually cold winter.
The Dispatch and the Packet went back to reporting arguments between City Council members. A bit of vandalism made the news, occasionally.
The date for Johnny Daigle's trial was set. No one thought he would get much of a sentence. The sympathy of the community was behind him. Patrick Adams would defend him. My Dad offered to help, doing some research, and anything else he could to assist.
Fleur made amends with Grandpa. It was a delicate truce. She once told me, "Hyrum is my only brother. Neither of us will be here forever." I didn't really believe her, and was confident that they would be around for many more years.
Mom, however, still refused to speak to her father. She was less forgiving than Fleur. I think it was because she understood less about how the universe works—karma and all that stuff. Dad thought that she would get over her anger someday. I had my doubts about that. It appeared to me that she would hate him forever.
I was wrong, again. One Sunday evening, Grandpa phoned. Dad answered. He held the receiver out to Mom. "You have to talk to him. It's very important."
I was surprised when she took the phone. She listened without responding. "Alright, I'll come now."
"He's at Fleur's house. She won't answer the door. That's not like her. I'm going because I have a key."
"I'll go with you," Dad said.
"Alright," she responded. Her voice was breathy, as if it took a lot of energy to bring up that one word. It would be easier for her with Dad there.
"I'm going, too."
"Truly, no. I don't think you should be there."
My Mom has never shown any signs of psychic ability. Now, her face was pasty, like she was going into something she dreaded. My stomach took a twist. I swallowed hard to calm the bile in my throat.
I waited for about two hours. Mom and Dad were not answering their cell phones. The phone at Fleur's house rang and rang. I couldn't wait any longer, and decided to see what was going on.
Mom and Dad drove up just as I stepped off the porch. Their expressions were somber. They walked toward the house in slow motion, moving like they had suddenly gained a hundred pounds and their legs had trouble supporting the weight.
Dad came in and poured a glass full of gin with no ice. Mom went into the kitchen and came out with her box of wine and two glasses. She poured the wine and handed one glass to me. Her hand was trembling so much that a few drops splashed onto the sofa cushion.
"Gertrude," she said. "Our Aunt Fleur is dead."
The words pierced my chest. "Mom, what a horrible thing to say! That's not funny. Take it back. Take it back right now!"
Dad put his arms around me with such strength that I thought he might crush me. "Truly, it looks like a heart attack. She didn't suffer."
"I have to see her! I have to go over there right now!"
"Truly, there's nothing you can do. The coroner has already taken her to the morgue. She's really gone."
48
Grandpa Hyrum insisted on making all the arrangements. He wouldn't
let me or Mom help in any way. This made Mom horribly upset. "He better not let that old cleaning woman make any decisions," she said.
A visitation was scheduled for Tuesday, from 6:00 till 9:00 p.m., with the funeral at Memorial Funeral Home, Wednesday morning. Mom and Dad and I went to Noweta's Florist to choose the flowers for her coffin. I selected a huge arrangement of roses from a book of photos they showed us. I kept telling them to add more flowers.
"Embellish. Embellish. Embellish," I told the florist. The roses were a creamy white with wide lavender ribbons. I insisted that the ribbons hang to the floor all around. Some narrow strands of pink and blue lace were to be tied in little bows and woven into the arrangement. They promised that it would be delivered before the visitation.
Dad playfully asked if the coffin could support all that weight. But he didn't give me any trouble when they presented him with the bill.
Tuesday afternoon, I heard Dad on the phone. He came into my room and said, "Pat Adams called. It seems that Fleur had him draw up a will recently. Apparently, she was fairly well off."
"That's nice."
"Tru, she only had two heirs, so to speak. You are one."
I wasn't sure why this would mean anything to me. Who could think of money?
"Pat says she left some to an organization named Lambda, the rest to you. She specifically earmarked enough for your college tuition."
"Okay, Dad. I want to be the first at the funeral home, so let's leave soon."
I knew that everyone would be wearing black. I also knew that Fleur would be mortified by such banality.
Mom came into my room with something wrapped in colored tissue. "Fleur made this for you. She wanted you to have it to wear to a special high school party." She held the package out to me. "I was going to save it for a happier day, but I think this is the right time."
I pushed aside the papers to reveal a taffeta blouse in the colors of a summer sunset. The fabric rustled as I slipped it over my head.
I put on a skirt with big lavender flowers growing from lime green vines. I found a plastic headband in a drawer and wound it with a string of purple beads, giving the appearance of a tiara designed by a crazy person.
Witch Ball Page 13
