by Denise Daisy
His words stab me like a dagger, and the minute they fly out of his mouth, I know he regrets saying them. His demeanor softens. “I’m sorry, Averie, but you know it’s true.”
I don’t know it’s true for sure, not yet anyway, and I won’t accept it until I get some kind of letter or something confirming her body was found. Quillan turns to me as if he’s expecting an explanation. Right now, I don’t have the courage I did a few minutes ago, and as usual, my best defense is to run away from the situation. I haven’t taken two steps before he pulls my arm, turning me toward him.
“What’s he talking about, Averie?”
“Nothing.” I find an interesting spot in the grass. “He’s got his facts wrong is all.”
Quillan doesn’t let go of my arm. He just stands there disarming me with those penetrating eyes.
“Her mother has been missing since Hurricane Ruby came ashore over two months ago. She was in Florida taking care of her mother-in-law when it hit. It was a category five and the storm destroyed the small home where Mrs. Cooke lived. She was too sick to evacuate, so Averie’s mom told her they would ride it out. Averie hasn’t heard from her since.”
His words are like a punch in the stomach, and I am mad at him for telling Quillan. He’s using it as a ploy to win an argument.
“Is it true?” Quillan’s eyes search mine.
“No! The phone lines have been out is all. It’s probably still a mess down there. I’m sure when I get back home there will be tons of voice mails from her, worried about me. I’m not dead, but I can’t phone her either. It’s the same thing.”
Mike and Quillan exchange glances. I swear, if they bond over something like this, I will hate them both for life.
“We have an hour until sunrise.” I pull free from Quillan’s arm and start making the walk back to the estate.
Chapter 28
The day turned out gorgeous. The sun dried everything out by late afternoon, so I took off to the pond. I like it here. It’s quiet and secluded, a secret garden of sorts. I am in need of some alone time. I’ve been sleepwalking ever since Mike mouth-vomited about my mother to Quillan. I wasn’t aware Mike thought momma was gone. He always agreed when I said she was having trouble getting a message through. Somehow, hearing Mike say it confirmed it for me. Mike’s right. He’s always right. I just didn’t want to admit it, but Momma would have called by now. She would have found a way to get a hold of me.
I don’t know why I still continue to hold my tears at bay. No one is here. If I am to grieve losing her, now is the time to do it. I pick up a small stone and toss it in the still waters the way Quillan does. I’ve never been able to skip a rock before, but this one skims the surface five times. I don’t know why this excites me so, something so trivial in the midst of my grief, but it does. I look around, wanting to show someone what I did, but I’m alone. The tears pour down my face now. Is this how it will be the rest of my life? Will there ever be anyone to share the simple moments with? I’m sobbing now. Although I’m far from the house, I cover my mouth to keep from wailing. Collapsing on the ground, I dig my hands into the grass, uprooting it and clawing at the soil. Tears soak my face and splash onto the grass as passionately as the rain did this morning.
Returning home holds no joy for me. There is no one there to welcome me back, no one to share my adventure with. I have no desire to go home and face the empty apartment. I don’t want to check my voice mails, one more time, to see that her number is not there. I can’t clean out Momma’s things. I just can’t. I’m too afraid of the memories and the pain they will bring. I don’t have the courage to bear the hurt alone. By now, I’m crying so hard that I hyperventilate. I can’t breathe. Air won’t come. I’m gasping and heaving, and just when I think I might vomit, a hand touches my back. I look up, straining to see through blurry eyes.
Quillan sits down beside me. Pulling me close, he lays my head on his lap and strokes my hair. Logically, I should bolt right now. Why get used to something I won’t have? But I don’t. I will not deny myself this comfort. I won’t have him ten days from now, but I do have him now, so I stretch my legs out in the grass, use his lap as a pillow, and cry.
It takes about a half an hour until I drain my body of water. I couldn’t cry anymore if I wanted to. I’m empty and tired, oh so tired, so I lie on Quillan’s lap, staring over the water. The sun sets, disappearing behind the trees as the fireflies make their debut, entertaining me with a simple light show as they quietly hover near the heavy moss.
“I skimmed a rock earlier.” I finally break the long silence.
“You did?” I hear the laughter in his voice.
“Yep, my first ever. It skipped five times. I’ve never done it before.”
“That’s great, Averie. It’s a hard thing to do, especially five times.” He sounds proud, and I’m content for now.
I lay there a little longer before I sit up. My eyes feel puffy, and I am sure my nose resembles Rudolph’s, but I don’t care. He’s never going to remember this anyway.
“Thank you,” I tell him. He smiles at me while he pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket. He dips it into the water and then cleans my face.
“Am I a mess?” I ask.
“Well, dirty hands and wet tears make mud, my dear.”
“Oh, great.” I roll my eyes.
“When I sat down across from you at dinner that first night”—Quillan clears the mud pie off my face—“I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on.”
I laugh. “Oh that’s a good one, Quillan, seeing you haven’t been around for very long.”
“Hey, I come from heaven remember? And you far surpass any angel I’ve ever seen.”
He makes me laugh, and I think it makes him happy. At least it does me, anyway.
He sighs, and somehow I have a feeling his next statement isn’t going to be that funny.
“Averie, as much as I hate to admit it, Mike is good for you. He may be a smart-ass and an egotistical know-it-all, but he loves you. I can tell.”
I don’t want to hear this. Not now, sitting in a romantic garden near a reflecting pond while the man of my dreams gently washes my face.
“Please, don’t say anymore.” I stop his hand from cleaning. “Not tonight, not now, not here. If I end up with Mike, it will be because I realize I can’t live without him, not because it’s the sensible thing to do.”
We watch the fireflies again. I lean back on his chest, and he holds me. It’s nice. I’m safe, at least for now.
“You want to sleep here under the stars tonight? We could, you know. We have no deliveries.”
The thought thrills me. Sleeping outside under the stars has always been something I’ve wanted to do. Of course, I was always too afraid. Tonight, I am not.
“I’d love to.”
The next thing I know we are reclining in the soft clover. Quillan keeps his arm around me, allowing me to use his chest as a pillow. The warm summer night is perfect, not too hot or muggy, just a slight breeze floating across the garden, filling my nostrils with the heavenly scent of night-blooming jasmine. Crickets and bullfrogs are tuning up, ready to serenade us, singing us to sleep as the stars take over for the fireflies, dazzling us with their brilliance. A star streaks across the black expanse, leaving a glimmering trail. Another first. I’ve never seen a real shooting star before.
“Make a wish,” Quillan says.
“I wish, one day, you will lie out here under these very stars and dream of me.”
He says nothing, but he leans over and places a soft kiss on the top of my head. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
Chapter 29
It’s September 9th, a week before the dinner of the damned and already preparations are being made for the last supper. My stomach knots whenever I hear Mrs. Faulkner speaking of the occasion, which she does quite often, so my insides are in a consistent state of turmoil. This morning, she is in rare form, planning the menu and fina
lizing the guest list. Forget my stomach being in knots. It completely falls to the floor when she smiles across the breakfast table and invites Quillan, Mike, and me to the ill-fated banquet.
Our reactions must puzzle her. Instead of giving her the expected response of, “Why yes, I’d love to, and thank you for the invitation,” I break out in a cold sweat and force a smile.
“I’m not sure we’ll be here this weekend.” Mike is quick to send his regrets.
“Quillan and I will be.” There goes the damn ventriloquist again. “We’re honored to attend.”
I pick up my glass of juice and take a quick swallow as if I am downing a shot of whiskey. What have I done?
“Great.” Elizabeth smiles as she adds our name to the guest list. “Sixteen for dinner it is.”
“Make it seventeen.” Mike clears his throat and rolls his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound this defeated. Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, giving him a wary look before adding his name.
At noon, Pearl prepares a big basket of food for Emily and me to deliver to the boys. It’s hard for me to look Pearl in the eye since I know she’s having sex with James Faulkner in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I still have his wedding band. I don’t know why I felt the need to hold on to it, but I have. I consider things like this leverage, so I’ve kept it in the pocket of my dress, just in case.
Emily and I walk into town instead of taking the carriage. The air is fresh outside on this beautiful autumn afternoon, much different from the stifling heat from a month ago. The turning leaves on the massive oaks paint hues of orange, red, and yellow against a cobalt-blue sky, providing a masterpiece for us to enjoy. I inhale deeply, taking in the spicy scents of autumn.
Emily seems extremely giddy and carefree, laughing at everything I say. She always gets this way before she sees Lunar. I can’t blame her. I notice the closer I get to Quillan, my pace picks up, too.
Mike’s been behaving himself. He and Quillan sort of called a truce the morning Mike spilled his guts about Momma. I don’t think the two could ever be best friends, but for now, Mike’s decided to help us until he can take me home.
I hear a loud commotion as we enter town. A crowd is gathered outside the courthouse, listening to someone grandstanding, making a speech on the high portico. Emily and I make our way closer, standing on our tiptoes to get a glimpse. My heart drops at what I see. I turn and face Emily, wondering if she saw it, too. She hasn’t yet, and I panic. I need to prepare her first. My hands are shaking terribly. I can barely control them. I try and pull her back. “Emily,” I choke out.
Her eyes widen when she sees me. “My God, Averie, what did you see?”
“Don’t look, Emily. Please don’t look.”
“It’s Lunar, isn’t it?” Her face pales. “What have they done to Lunar?”
I can’t answer her question because I don’t know. What I do know is he is still alive, and there is no rope around his neck. However, he’s been badly beaten and is tied to one of the pillars supporting the portico. I drop my basket. With one hand, I lift my skirt, and with the other, I grab Emily’s arm and start pushing my way through the crowd. My heart is racing, thumping hard against my chest. I don’t care who I knock down. I’m getting to the front. I don’t know what I will do when I get there, but I press forward, knowing I’ll figure something out. A hand grabs me and pulls me back. How dare anyone mess with me? I’m mad as hell right now and ready for a fight. I turn in fury. “Quillan!” I sigh, relieved. He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me and Emily.
“What happened?” Emily chokes back her tears.
“The men from Georgia are stirring up trouble. They’ve got everyone riled up. They jumped Lunar when we got here this morning, trying to beat information out of him.”
Potbelly Collins is speaking now, hamming it up like some bloated politician.
“These men from Georgia have proof the Underground Railroad cuts right through these parts, and some white folk, possibly your neighbor, is helping your slaves escape!” The people respond in a suspicious furor, which delights Potbelly. I shake my head in disbelief. The dumb ass is inciting a riot and pleased at doing so. Raising his voice, he yells above the crowd, “Rice harvest is next week! Can you afford to lose your workers? I, for one, have lost twenty slaves this month alone!”
I glance over at Jeb and the boys. Their faces show no expression as they stare at their bleeding brother. I wonder what place they go in their mind to get through something like this.
The slimy man steps toward Lunar. “You know anything about those twenty friends of yours?” Lunar doesn’t respond. He stares ahead, deadpan, like his brothers. Slimy takes a Billy club and strikes Lunar hard in the small of his back. Emily covers her scream. I move forward, ready to take the stick out of the man’s hand and shove it up his ass, when Quillan pulls me back. “Averie, no.”
“I can’t stand here and watch.” I struggle against him. “They’ll kill him.”
“Quillan’s right.” Mike joins us and takes Quillan’s side. “There’s nothing you can do right now. They won’t kill him. They’re just working him is all.”
I ball my fist in rage, appalled at how someone could easily treat another human being so brutally. I look around at the faces in the crowd. Not a person bows their head in shame. Their lack of concern for Lunar’s pain makes me think each and every one of them is possessed with the contemptuous power of hatred.
Emily watches, her eyes wide with horror, yet she keeps her composure, staring straight ahead, deadpan like the rest of them. I wonder again, what is she thinking to get through this?
“That’s my Negro!” James Faulkner’s voice booms over the crowd, silencing Potbelly. I stand on my tiptoes again and watch Mr. Faulkner take the steps to the portico. His face is flushed, and he’s not looking too happy. “What gives you the right to cripple my best Negro before harvest?”
Potbelly freezes like a deer caught in headlights. As usual, he tries to win the favor of the crowd. “I do believe losing twenty slaves will cripple my harvest. As best I know, you haven’t lost a single Negro. How do you explain that?”
“I tend to take better care of my property than you do yours. Maybe, if you made things a little better for your coloreds, they wouldn’t high tail it and run off.”
The crowd laughs and Potbelly reddens with embarrassment. Not intending to be outdone, he pulls a card from his sleeve. “These men from Georgia have reason to believe your daughter is working for the Underground. You know anything about that?”
The crowd gasps, and Emily squeezes my hand.
“Yes, the most powerful man in these parts.” Potbelly feeds on the hysteria. “Mr. James Faulkner is working behind our backs, sabotaging us, so he can harvest his crop much faster than the rest of us. How do you think he’s become the rice tycoon?”
“This is absolutely ridiculous and a waste of my time.” Mr. Faulkner waves his arm at the sheriff. “Now cut my Negro lose. I’m taking him home to heal. He’s got work to do next week.”
The Sheriff nods. “We’re done here folks. It’s enough for today. Now go home and keep a look out. Anyone with information bring it to me or my deputy. We’ll be the ones deciding who’s guilty and who’s not.” He cuts the ropes, and Lunar falls to the floor. “Boys, take your brother home,” Mr. Faulkner yells out to Jeb before descending the steps and leaving.
Jeb and his brothers move toward the steps, but Slimy stops them cold. “Now, you know you ain’t allowed on the steps of the courthouse,” he says. “But seeing as I’m an understanding person, I’ll be kind and help your brother down to you.” With a forceful kick, he sends Lunar rolling down the brick steps. Despite her best efforts, Emily gasps, drawing unwanted attention from the slimeball. “Well if it ain’t the rice princess with crimson hair,” he sneers. “You’re looking mighty pretty today, too pretty to be frownin’ like you are. What’s the matter, honey, you worried about your Negro lover?”
; Quillan lunges for the man, punching him in the face and knocking him off balance. Slimy teeters backward before regaining his balance. I brace myself for what’s coming next. Slimy throws a punch, hitting Quillan hard, squirting blood across his shirt. Quillan strikes back, hitting harder than I could have imagined him able. Slimy teeters backward, dazed. Blood covers his face, making it hard to determine where it’s coming from. I see his seedy friend scrambling down the steps after Quillan, hell bent on making it two against one. I scream a warning, but it’s too late. Grabbing Quillan, he turns him around, placing his fist against Quillan’s jaw. Quillan stumbles backward. Before he can regain his balance, Slimy hits him again, sending him to the ground.
Mike is in the air now, landing a flying sidekick to Seedy’s chest. I grin. Finally, a chance for Mike to put his first-degree black belt to use. I’ve seen Mike in competition. He’s good, but I’ve never actually seen him in a fight when it counts. I hold my breath. He spins around, knocking Slimy in the side of the head with a powerful roundhouse kick, and then finishes him off with an axe kick to the shoulder. Slimy hits the ground, and Mike goes after Seedy. After a couple of quick snap kicks to the chest, Mike pulls him close and then turns his fist up ready to strike with the heel of his palm. “One blow to kill!” His eyes narrow in fury. I swallow hard. Surely, he won’t. Instead, he comes down with a hammer fist obliterating Seedy’s nose.
A gun blast stops the action, drawing everyone’s attention to the Sheriff. “Break it up!” he orders, placing his gun back into the holster. “You!” he yells, looking at Mike. “Am I gonna have to lock you up again?”
“He’s with me,” Quillan coughs, wiping the blood from his mouth. “These men here are harassing the women.”
“Now looky here,” the Sheriff gives Slimy a warning. “I’m gonna have to send you boys back to where you came from if you stir up any more trouble, you here?”
Slimy stands up slowly, weakened by the beating Mike gave him. Picking up his hat, he gives Emily a wink before walking away. “See you at the party, Princess.”
