Catching Moondrops

by Jennifer Erin Valent

  On another day, in another situation, I would have struggled not to laugh at the sight. But on this day, with one white man being humiliated by one colored man, in front of a group of colored folk, no less, I knew the minute Delmar Custis kissed the dirt, we were in for trouble the likes of which we’d never seen before.

  You could hear a pin drop in that meadow. Every face in the crowd drooped in worry. Even Malachi’s. There was no way in this whole world retribution wouldn’t come for this, and there wasn’t a single soul who didn’t know it.

  Malachi’s poor momma was standing behind him, held in Noah’s tight grip, crying like she had a crystal ball that foretold all kinds of pain in their future, all over this one encounter. The pain in my stomach didn’t leave me much hope it would be otherwise.

  Luke pulled his gun out, shoved Malachi out of the way, and pointed the weapon at Cole, who was reaching in his pocket, no doubt for something to wreak vengeance with. “You just head on out, Mundy, you hear? You ain’t got your right senses about you just now, so you head on out.”

  Cole lowered his hand the second he stared into the barrel of Luke’s pistol, but the look on Delmar Custis’s face when he peeled himself up off the ground was like a premonition. It held more violence than I’d seen before, and I’d seen some mighty fierce hate in my day. For a brief moment I thought he might reach out and snap Malachi’s neck where he stood. But just now he was in ready range of Luke’s pistol, and he didn’t have much choice but to back away.

  Just before he turned, however, he leaned forward and spit right in Malachi’s face. Buddy wrapped his arms around Malachi before he even had a chance to react.

  “I said, head on out,” Luke repeated through clenched teeth, now pointing his pistol toward Delmar’s chest.

  Delmar aimed eyes at Malachi that carried the kind of hate you’d expect to find only in the depths of hell and pointed one finger in his direction. “You’re dead, boy. You hear that? Stone-cold dead.” He took one last hard look at Malachi and then backed away several steps before turning to saunter off from the group.

  Silence reigned as those men backed away from us, staring us down like wild animals eyeing their prey. The sight of them made my skin crawl, and for those few moments, while time seemed to stand still, the thought ran through my mind that I wouldn’t care one bit if Luke’s gun went off and shot Delmar Custis square between his beady eyes, that Delmar Custis could drop dead in front of me this very moment and I’d smile. But it took only two seconds for me to realize what kind of evil my thoughts were made up of, and I rubbed my arms against the unusual chill that descended on me. I’d had many an idea run through my mind in my life, but this was the first one that had me thinking kindly about seeing a man meet his Maker right in front of my eyes. I swallowed hard and tried to look at Delmar Custis without hate in my heart.

  I had more trouble doing it than I was comfortable with.

  When Delmar and Cole disappeared around the corner, a collective sigh spread over the meadow, but it wasn’t a sigh that spoke of confidence that peace was coming to Calloway County anytime soon.

  It was one that told of coming horrors instead.

  Chapter 14

  Monday evening, Luke’s truck picked up gravel and flung it every which way when he tore into our driveway. I was taking clothes off the line, two clothespins propped between my teeth, but I dropped the trousers I held the minute I saw him drive up like that. There was no other reason for him to do it except that there was trouble brewing somewhere.

  I ran to meet him. “What’s happened?”

  He slammed the door. “You seen Noah?”

  “No, why?”

  “His momma ain’t seen him since this mornin’. She said he headed into town and ain’t been seen since. Malachi was supposed to meet him in town and walk him home, but he ain’t to be found neither.”

  “I reckon we can all guess where he is.”

  Luke stood there for a second, his head down, and then he reared back and kicked one of his tires hard. “Doggone it! What’s he thinkin’? Goin’ off half-cocked like this, throwin’ his life and money away. And on what?”

  Gemma came out onto the porch. “There trouble?”

  “Can’t find Noah,” I said. “You seen him?”

  She shook her head, her hands gripping her apron, twisting it into a thin line. “You goin’ to look?”

  Luke nodded.

  “I’m comin’ too.”

  I untied my apron and tossed it on a nearby tree branch. “Leave a note for Momma and Daddy. They can help look when they get back from Mrs. Tinker’s.”

  Gemma ran inside, and I let Luke help me into the truck.

  No one spoke as we drove, but I knew where we were going. We’d been there once before, that night we’d seen the Klan on the banks of Barter’s Lake. If we wanted to find Noah, the best place to start was with Malachi, and we knew exactly where he’d be.

  The din of raucous, drunken men filtered through the open windows as we approached, and Gemma jumped out before we’d even pulled to a stop.

  Malachi saw her and ducked behind his hand of cards. “Don’t let her see me. She’ll beat me with somethin’.”

  “I see you fine, Malachi Jarvis. I ain’t blind.” She stared him down, hands on her hips. “You put them cards down and get on in the truck.”

  “I can’t go yet.” He talked around a cigarette that hung from the side of his lips, all droopy and ashy. “I’m workin’ a straight flush.” He turned the cards around to show her. “See?”

  The rest of the group muttered and threw their cards onto the crate that served as their table.

  Gemma marched over to him and looked around angrily in search of something. Then she grabbed the hat off the man next to her, knocked the cigarette out of Malachi’s mouth with the back of her free hand and proceeded to whack him over the head with the hat.

  “Hey! Hey! Are you crazy, woman?” He jumped up to escape and tottered toward the woods, but she followed him and whacked him over and over until Luke came and dragged him to the truck.

  “You look like a fool,” Luke muttered. “No, I take that back. You are a fool.” He shoved him into the truck bed so hard, Malachi slid forward and smacked his head on the side.

  Malachi rolled over and glared at Luke. “What’s your problem?”

  “What’s my problem?” He gave Malachi’s chest a shove. “My problem is your little brother’s missin’ and you ain’t been no help to your momma or sister because the only one you can think about is yourself.”

  Malachi froze. “What d’you mean he’s missin’?”

  “I mean ain’t no one seen him since this mornin’. If you hadn’t been so busy gettin’ sauced and gamblin’ your money away, maybe you’d have noticed.”

  “We have to find him.” His glassy eyes were tinted with fear. “He could be hurt somewhere.”

  “No kiddin’!” Luke gave him another shove, then secured the back of the truck bed with an angry slam and hopped in next to me.

  A hush fell over us as we scanned the roadside, except for Malachi, who called Noah’s name with every exhale. I turned to look out the back window and saw him leaning over the side of the truck, peering into the growing darkness. His voice was anguished, slurred by the alcohol that no doubt blurred his vision as well. What help he would be, I didn’t know.

  I turned back in my seat. “He’s bound to fall out if he leans any farther.”

  Luke grunted. “Would serve him right.”

  The ride was the quietest I’d ever had in Luke’s truck. I spent the entire time scanning the roadside with trepidation, fearful of what sort of things I might see. I’d lived less than two decades, but I’d had enough time on earth to see plenty of the violence life can bring. With prejudice rearing its ugly head in Calloway again, all those old memories of violent hate began to trickle back into my mind. Every now and again I would blink hard in hopes of coaxing the images away, but they filled my mind the moment my eyes opened again. />
  But I couldn’t spend the ride with my eyes shut tight.

  Gemma reached out to take my hand. She was shaking like a leaf, and when I met her eyes with my own, I was petrified by the look I found there. We both knew, deep down inside, something was wrong.

  Desperately wrong.

  We were only a quarter mile from the Jarvis house when we discovered how wrong.

  The moonlight lit up the horror with shapes and shadows that magnified what was already a sight that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  There was a slight breeze in the air, but that body hung so still and limp from the dying oak tree, I had to blink three times to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. In the cockeyed light, the arms could have been broken branches, the legs withered tangles of the wisteria vine that had choked the life out of the tree.

  But the sight before us was no trick of the eye, and I reached out to grab Luke’s wrist, my fingernails digging in so deeply, he gasped.

  He pulled the truck to a stop. “Jessie . . . ?”

  “He’s there.” My voice didn’t work properly, and my words came out in only a whisper. Gemma was focused on the opposite side of the road, but she turned to watch me as I spoke.

  “Where?” I could feel Luke’s pulse quicken under my palm. “Jessie, what’d you see?”

  I couldn’t speak after that, but I lifted a hand to point into the moonlit distance. Luke and Gemma followed my finger, squinting.

  They didn’t see at first, but the wail from the truck bed told the story like I never could.

  Malachi Jarvis tumbled out of the truck like an animal. He stumbled past Luke’s window, his breathing coming out in broken sobs from a place I didn’t know existed in a human being. A chill ran down my spine at the sound of it, freezing me in place. Luke and Gemma shot from the truck, but I remained immobilized. He was several yards away, but I could see from where I sat that Noah Jarvis was gone from us as sure as if God had plucked him right out from our midst and rushed him up to heaven.

  There should have been a crowd of mourners here witnessing the loss of life so untimely, it had stolen away the brightest hope our town had. There should have been good men here striving to untie the knot that had stolen the air from his lungs and the life from his body. Where were the decent people who should have had the goodness and the strength to stop the efforts of such wicked men?

  Nobody was here. Nobody had tried to stop the bloodshed. Nobody had defended the innocent.

  And nobody knelt to pray for forgiveness.

  I slipped from the truck and walked on leaden legs toward the place of execution. As I watched, Malachi scampered up the tree, climbing out over the branch until he reached the rope. He was sobbing, searching desperately in his pocket for his knife. “Help me get him down!”

  Luke was beneath the body, holding Noah’s legs in anticipation of his weight falling onto him once Malachi cut him free. Gemma was sobbing, shaking so violently there couldn’t have been any strength in her, but she clung to Noah’s calves as though she could help relieve Luke’s burden.

  I didn’t move to help. I couldn’t. There was barely enough strength inside me to stay on my feet. All I had in me was rage, a feeling that coursed through my blood so quickly, it became part of who I was. That kind of hate doesn’t know how to cry. It barely even lets you breathe.

  Malachi’s moans were otherworldly and filled the warm, clear air, drowning out the night sounds. Or maybe the crickets and frogs knew what they were witnessing and had fallen silent out of respect.

  Malachi’s knife snapped through the rope, and Luke and Gemma fell to the ground with Noah, burdened as much by the weight of what had been done here as by the weight of his body. I dropped to my knees beside Noah, forcing myself to look at him. If he’d suffered alone that night, the least I could do was face what he’d been through.

  The men who had choked the life out of Noah Jarvis had first removed his shirt, beating him ruthlessly, as evidenced by the scrapes and bruises that covered his chest. Blood matted his hair and trickled down from the corners of the mouth that had once spoken wisdom far beyond his years. The hands that had once seemed destined to treat the sick bore the wounds of a struggle to fend off blows. His cheeks were bruised and swollen.

  I guess hanging him from a tree to die wasn’t enough.

  Luke was at my side, his breaths coming in loud gasps, and he ripped off his shirt and laid it carefully over Noah’s face. With that act of finality, Gemma dropped down on the grass, her sobs ringing through the night.

  Malachi slid down the tree and flung himself across his brother, his cries joining with Gemma’s in a dirge. Luke reached out to touch Noah’s arm, but Malachi shoved his hand away.

  “Don’t touch him!” He ripped away the shirt Luke had placed across his brother and cradled Noah’s bloodied face in his hands. “I said I’d come,” he moaned. “I didn’t come.” His words were strung out, the saddest song I’d ever heard. “I didn’t come. I didn’t come.”

  His words of apology tumbled out with every sob, and as the realization continued to sink in, he looked up at Gemma with horror in his eyes, his voice coming out in high-pitched cries. “It should have been me. They wanted me!”

  Gemma put her hand on Malachi’s head, but he pulled away as though her touch were a searing reminder of how he’d failed his brother.

  Without realizing it, I was rocking back and forth on my knees, my arms wrapped around my waist so tightly, my ribs could barely expand with a breath, and I was gasping for air.

  Luke came behind me and pulled me into his arms. “Don’t, Jessie.”

  I struggled against his grasp, but he held me tight until I gave up.

  Malachi’s sobs kept on until I couldn’t hear anymore, couldn’t watch anymore. I slipped out of Luke’s embrace and leaped to my feet. There was nothing we could do to calm Malachi, just as there was nothing we could do to bring his brother back to life, and I had to move. I couldn’t sit there anymore, helplessly watching the living mourn the dead. On legs that felt like rubber, I paced a patch of dried-up grass, gasping for air, squeezing my hands into fists until the blood ran out of them.

  Malachi leaned over and tucked his arms beneath his brother’s body, struggling to rise to his feet. Luke moved to help, but Malachi called him off with a grunt and hoisted his brother on his own. His knees buckled like a new calf’s, but he passed up the truck, seemingly determined to carry his brother home, like Noah was his cross to bear. But I knew that this trip would never be enough. Malachi Jarvis would carry the burden of his brother for the rest of his life.

  We stumbled along behind him down the road, a haunting procession mourning all that we’d lost. For me, it was more than a singular loss. From the day I’d come to know what prejudice could do to people’s hearts, it had stolen from me. It had stolen innocence, security, loved ones . . . and now it had stolen my hope. What hope could I have in a world that took the promise of a bright future and snuffed it out with such force? As I followed behind Malachi Jarvis, who would forever live with a burden no man should have to bear, I no longer struggled to understand. I didn’t want to understand.

  I only wanted them to pay for what they had done.

  Chapter 15

  I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Noah swinging from that oak tree. So I paced the porch into the wee hours of morning, the creak of the floorboards a steady reminder of my pain. Of all our pain.

  Gemma had fallen asleep in Momma’s arms well after midnight, and Momma had followed suit shortly thereafter. The two of them were still on the couch resting fitfully, but even fitful sleep sounded good to me then. Daddy was asleep in his favorite chair, but every so often he’d wake up and peek out at me.

  “You okay, baby?” he’d ask.

  I’d just look at him and then back out at nothing.

  “You should get some sleep.”

  “Can’t.”

  And then he’d sigh and head back to the chair.

&n
bsp; This exchange happened half a dozen times before the sun started to cast a glow over the dark that had haunted me all night long. The birds chirped songs that seemed out of place in my world just then, a ridiculous chorus of happiness for a day that spoke of nothing but sorrow to me.

  Momma opened the screen door and looked at me through swollen eyes. “Baby, Daddy says you’ve been up all night long. Come on in and get some food in you.”

  “I can’t eat, Momma.”

  “You’ll get sick.”

  “I already got sick behind the bushes three times last night. Don’t need more food to throw up.”

  My tone was harsh, and I felt sorry for it. But at the same time I wondered why everyone couldn’t just leave me alone. Momma had her arms wrapped tightly around her, and though any other time she would have given me a slap for speaking to her like that, she just went back into the house without a word.

  I never left that porch all morning. By the time I decided to sit on the porch swing, my legs felt like they weren’t attached to my body anymore. Everything in me felt drained and parched, and I couldn’t do much more than stare in one direction. All I wanted was to see Luke. I needed to hear him say things would be all right.

  Most times that had been Daddy’s place, but more and more I’d been relying on Luke for things I’d once left in Daddy’s hands, and now that Luke and I had shared the horrors of Noah’s death together, he was, more than ever, the only one I wanted to be comforted by.

  But the events of that night had marked him profoundly, and I could see in his face as he’d left our house that he was in a dark place all his own. He needed to be alone, and all I could do was wait for him to be ready.

  Daddy headed into town about ten to talk to Sheriff Clancy, but he was back by eleven, looking like a man beaten to the core. I overheard him talking to Momma a little, but I knew enough of Calloway County justice to know what had happened without even hearing the whole story. Sheriff Clancy would put on a show of duty, promising to interview witnesses and look at evidence. But in the end there wouldn’t be one soul around who would admit to knowing a thing, and Sheriff Clancy would say there wasn’t much any lawman could do to convict people of a crime there wasn’t any evidence or testimony to support.