“Okay. Ten up front. Ten when you get me back here. I’ll buy your drinks.”
“Deal.” The smaller man grinned. “I guess I will take another drink. And that ten up front.” Rabbit grinned even larger, gold flashing in his mouth.
The two men sat for a while, smoking Rabbit’s cigarettes, drinking Ingram’s whiskey. It was night now; Ingram reached out and flipped on the radio, began searching through the frequencies, static hissing. After a while, Rabbit stood, straightened his pants legs, and said, “Well, I best be on my way home. Dark already, and I need to lay out some clothes for tomorrow night. Been a long time since I’ve been to Ruby’s so I need to look tight.”
Ingram dug out his keys, tossed them to the smaller man. “Take the coupe, green, parked out front. Make sure you can drive her. Gas comes out of your end—you’re getting paid enough. If you’ve got a gun, I’d take a little time and make friends with her again, if you haven’t held her for a while. Just in case.”
“I guess you’re paying me enough. But we’ll have to settle up if I actually have to shoot some fool.”
“Understood. Be here in time to get me there before the main act starts. Hastur.”
“Mr. Ingram, I’m your man, tomorrow at least. Be here, bells on, five o’clock.”
When the door shut, Ingram poured another drink and turned back to the radio, searching.
Chapter 8
After the night Franny went missing, Sarah relented on the child’s sleeping arrangements. Some nights, she would allow Franny to sleep with Lenora and Fisk. But the nights when she kept Franny with her, they slept together. Those nights, she curled against her daughter in a quiet, desperate half-circle, her body curled around the sleeping form of her child, her arm laid over Franny, her nose in the child’s hair, breathing her scent, watching her chest rise and fall. Watching her eyes move underneath her eyelids.
Sarah, as she bathed Franny, treated the luminous child like some object of worship, silently ministering to the girl as Franny talked through her day.
“Then Fisk said he saw a snake in the woods and Lenora said he didn’t and I was scared, a little. But Fisk is brave and he told me to stand behind him when we went into the woods, and we walked for a while, Fisk was going to show us the snake. He called it a fat snake. That’s funny, don’t you think, Mommy? A fat snake.”
Sarah lathered up Franny’s hair with baby shampoo. She loved the smell and feel of the soap, so soothing to her. “That does sound funny, baby. Did you see one? Did Fisk show you a fat snake?”
“We walked to the river, not too far from here, through that wood.” Franny pointed to the window, out over the fallow field, toward the dark wood. Sarah leaned over the claw-footed tub and dipped a ladle full of water, then gently poured it over Franny’s head, rinsing soap away from her hair in rivulets.
“You all go there? Into the woods?” She frowned. “I don’t know if you should be going in there without an adult.”
“Mommy.” Franny was irritated and frightened all at once. “Mommy, it’s fine. I’m with Fisk and Lenora. Fisk is eight and Lenora is ten. And I’m not scared. It’s not scary. It’s just dark but the sun comes through the leaves some too.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about, honey. I need to know exactly where you are at all times. It can be dangerous in the country. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll tell you.”
Sarah placed her hands on Franny’s shoulders and turned her gently toward her. “Really? Promise me you won’t wander off and not tell me where you’re going.”
“I promise, Mommy. Really. I will.”
Sarah took a deep breath, sighed, and chewed her lip. “Okay.”
Sarah thought about her endless summer afternoons exploring the fields and forests around the Big House as a girl; with Alice there had been adventures, a wonderful sprawling childhood, field upon field and day after day, wide open and unrestrained.
She smiled and tweaked Franny under her arm, tickling her ribcage. Franny squealed, splashing in the murky water.
The laughing felt good. She wished there was more times like this with her daughter, more time spent together, happy. Fisk and Lenora filled Franny’s world right now, and Sarah was just a touchstone to visit while the children tested the boundaries of their bodies, their minds, and the land around them.
“So, did you see a snake?”
Franny nodded. Then giggled. “He was fat! And black all over, lying on a log right by the water. Fisk threw a rock at it, and it slithered into the river.” Franny held out her hands to indicated something large. Water splashed Sarah’s leg. “And the river… it was huge. Have you ever been to the river, Mommy? We could barely see across it. Fisk said it was the Arkansas River, and Lenora said that’s right and then I saw a man across the river standing in the trees. He was a black man.”
She held up her hand to her eye, the index and thumb barely separated. “And he was only this big. That’s how big the river is. And he was looking at me, I could tell. Fisk and Lenora didn’t see him, but I did. They were looking at the big boat that was coming up the river. Fisk said its name was the Hellion, said it was painted on the side. What’s a hellion?”
Sarah smiled and said, “I don’t know, baby. I’d have to see the boat. Was it big?”
Franny looked puzzled, then nodded again. “But it was kinda hard to tell how big it was because the river is so much bigger. Mommy, do you think someone could swim across the river?”
Sarah poured more bath water on the girl’s pale shoulders. “No, honey, I don’t think there’s any way a person could swim across the river.”
Franny looked slightly relieved. Sarah asked, “Did Fisk say that he was going to swim across the river?”
Franny didn’t answer, just looked at the wall and shook her head again.
“Well, if he ever tries to, you run and tell Alice or me, because the river is very dangerous. It’s not like swimming in Old River Lake. The river has currents that can carry you off, or suck you under water. Promise me you’ll never swim in the river.”
“I don’t want the black man to swim across the river.” Franny turned in the bath, and said earnestly, “I will never swim in the river, Mommy, because there are snakes in the river. It’s scary.”
Sarah leaned forward, kissed her daughter on the nose. “Good, punkin. But we’ll go to Old River Lake real soon, and you and Fisk and Lenora can swim again. How’s that sound? Good?”
I hope to God she doesn’t find out that Old River has snakes too.
The girl nodded. “Can I sleep with Lenora and Fisk tonight?”
“I wanted you to be my snuggle buddy.”
“Please?” She drew out the word into multiple syllables. “Please, can I?”
Sarah brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. “If you get dried off, comb your hair, and brush your teeth, then we’ll go down and ask Alice.”
Franny squealed, sloshing gray water in the tub. “You’re the best-est Mommy in the whole world.” She splashed Sarah with water again as she held out her arms to encompass everything.
“I hope so, baby. I hope so.”
Alice was puttering around in the kitchen when Franny and Sarah entered. She took one look at Franny, glanced at Sarah’s despondent face, and smiled ruefully. “Franny, I think they’re still up. You go tee-tee and then get in bed, child.”
Franny scampered off, disappearing into Alice’s quarters. Alice turned to Sarah, said, “Don’t look at me like somebody shot your dog, girl. Looks to me like Fisk and Lenora are her first friends, and living here under the same roof, they’re gonna want to be together.” Alice turned around to the sink, started washing the dishes.
“I feel like I’m losing my baby to you. This place.”
Alice stiffened. “You done some stupid things in your time, girl—and that Jim was the most—but that’s the dumbest thing you ever said.”
It was surprising that she could feel such anger toward her
oldest friend, but there it was, burning bright. It felt like a hot ember smoldering in her stomach. Blood rushed to her cheeks.
“And Calvin was—”
Alice slammed a plate down into the sink. There was a sharp crack. She turned, her eyes pained and weathered at the edges.
“We ain’t talking bout me, Sarah. We talking about you.”
Her hands were clutched into fists, Sarah saw, and dripping water onto the floor.
“Something wrong, Alice? Mommy?” Franny stood, jammied and frizzy, in the door to Alice’s rooms.
Sarah made her body unclench, loosened her shoulders. This was Alice. If there was anyone she should listen to, to trust, it was her.
“No, baby. We were just talking.”
“Girl, you go brush them teeth. Now,” Alice said, and Sarah marveled at how brusque she could be yet still put love in her voice.
Franny stuck out her tongue at Alice, turned, and disappeared.
And suddenly, Sarah couldn’t find any reason to be angry with Alice anymore. It was as if anger in her had been snuffed out, like a candle.
Alice eased, opened her dripping hands, and then turned back to the sink.
“Your momma asked for you this afternoon, wants you to bring her sip. She’s a little cranky, to be honest.” Alice paused here, slumped her shoulders and leaned into the counter. “Or she was earlier. Might be better now, but I doubt it. I’ll make sure the kids get to sleep real soon. You go on and talk to your momma. Don’t let nothing she’s got to say bother you.” Alice winked at her. A peace offering. “Oh, there’s another bottle of Wellings in the Library. Saw you been working in there. You getting ready to go back to school?”
Sarah shook her head, laughed a little at the idea. “No, of course not. That night I couldn’t sleep, I just started remembering the two years I spent at Hollins before the war, and Latin class.” Sarah almost said translating the little book kept her mind off things, but stopped when she realized she didn’t want to say what.
“Always knew you were happy when you were at college, though I missed you something fierce. After you see your momma, I’ll have a toddy waiting for you down in the library, if you want. You can do a little more reading, or whatever, and drink it there. After talking to you momma, you might need it.”
“That sounds wonderful, Alice. What would I do without you?”
“Don’t have to flatter me, none, Sarah. I’m here. You know that. I’ll always be here.”
Alice stopped her dishwashing, looked down into the water.
***
Sarah went to the library, glanced at the open book on the green ink blotter of the oak desk, then retrieved the port from the dry bar nestled amongst the volumes.
The gallery was dark as Sarah walked up to the second floor where her room, the bathroom she’d just bathed Franny in, and her mother’s room were located. Around the other side of the gallery were two more rooms, one a ladies’ den and the other an unused guest room. At her mother’s door, she knocked.
There was no answer. Sarah rapped again, louder. Again no answer.
Sarah pushed her way in to the room, totally black except for the blue light coming from a big open bay window, ruffling the sheer drapes in the breeze. Sarah’s mind went briefly back to the night that Franny went missing. Sometimes, the sensation of her fright and pure terror of that night came back to her unwillingly and unwanted, catching in her chest and making her breath come in hard gasps.
She moved to her mother’s bed, realized it was empty, and looked around. In the shadow by the window, her mother sat on a padded bench, pulled from her vanity. She stared out the window, looking at something in the yard, or the field beyond it. Sarah came closer, walking up behind her mother. The old woman’s hair shone whitish blue from the moonlight streaming in through the window. Her shoulders slumped a little, but otherwise she looked at ease. As Sarah drew near, she could make out black shapes moving in the yard.
“Momma?” Sarah whispered.
Sarah’s mother muttered something she couldn’t make out, words in a low tone that hovered just beyond understanding. Sarah turned away, placed the tray of Wellings down on the bedside table, and returned to her mother.
“Momma? Are you okay?”
Sarah walked as softly as she could, rolling on each foot ball to toe, ball to toe. She paused, squatting, trying to hear the mutterings her mother made. But they were nonsense, breathy and unintelligible, like the Pentecostals speaking in tongues that she’d seen at a tent revival as a child. She tried to read her mother’s lips, but the older woman’s wild white hair covered her mouth. Sarah reached out and softly touched her mother’s hand, white with age, thin as parchment.
The moment Sarah’s hand came into contact with her mother’s, the old woman whipped her head around, snarling. Sarah, startled, fell backward, onto her haunches, sitting down heavily.
For an instant—a fleeting moment like the after image of a photographer’s flash—her mother’s face had been vicious, enraged. Her eyes appeared totally black, her cheeks mottled, her lips pulled back like those of a feral, savage dog, showing yellow teeth in black gums.
But then the image passed and Sarah wasn’t sure what had happened, what she had seen. She rose up from her seat on the floor.
“Sarah, don’t sneak up on your mother like that, goddammit. At least Alice has got the sense to just leave when I’m in my reverie.” The old woman smoothed the empty bust of her dress. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m not feeling too well, so I’m gonna be a little short. And sneaking up on me like that! I was lost in my own thoughts, staring out at the moon in the yard.”
“Momma, I knocked twice. Then I called your name a couple of times too. You didn’t answer. What were you saying?”
Sarah’s mother looked at her with narrowed eyes. “That’s none of your business, missy. You ought to let an old lady have her secrets. Anywho, I was just sitting here—”
“In the dark.”
“That’s right, in the dark, watching the peafowl out in the yard. If I turn on the light, they can see my silhouette and they know I’m watching them, which won’t do at all. Not at all.”
She turned toward Sarah, white hair a tangled spray in the blue light. Her dark eyes brightened. “Did you bring my sip?”
Sarah nodded and retrieved the tray by the bed.
“No, come help me get back in bed and then pour one.”
Sarah started back across the room, and her mother hissed, “Turn on the damned light, you ninny, so I can see.” Sarah turned once more, switched on the beside lamp, and then returned to her mother. She helped the old woman rise, and led her back to bed. Once her mother was comfortable, tucked under a goose down comforter, she poured a glass of the port. Her mother downed it immediately and held out the glass for another. She downed that one as well, and then sipped the third.
“Tell me, daughter. Why hasn’t that miscreant child of yours come to see me more often since she’s been here? I can hear her and Alice’s brood tromping up and down the halls—”
“Have they been bothering you, Momma? If they’ve been bothering you, we’ll stop them from coming up on this floor.”
“It’s not that, girl. Why hasn’t my granddaughter come to see me more?” Her mother stuck out a gnarled finger and jabbed it at Sarah. “More to the point, why haven’t you brought her to me? Hmm?”
Sarah remembered the years growing up in this house, her mother’s fierce interrogations, her rants, her rages. Elizabeth Rheinhart Werner had neither respect nor tolerance for timidity or shyness.
“She’s scared of you, mother. Franny thinks you’re turning into a wolf, to gobble her up. A stupid play on words that Jim made planted that idea in her head.”
Sarah’s mother gave a thick, wheezing laugh that quickly turned into a cough. When the coughs died, the old woman smiled, tears streaming down the sides of her withered, discolored face.
She laughed again, and said, “Whoo-ee, I’m starting to like that girl. I watch
her from my window, you know. She’s a wild thing, not like you or your father. She’s like me.” Sarah’s mother tapped her ribcage with a gnarled finger. “Tell that little dumpling that I was born a wolf, and after many years, I’m finally becoming human.”
At that, Elizabeth settled into her cushions and asked Sarah to read to her from the volume of Dickens at her bedside table.
“I’ve been trying to finish Bleak House for months, my eyes are becoming so bad. And it’s not really a good book for right now, now that the big house isn’t so bleak anymore, eh? How bout young master Copperfield, or Great Expectations?”
Sarah poured her mother another port, leaned back in the chair beside the bed, and picked up Great Expectations.
After the first page, her mother asked for more port, which Sarah gave her, then started to snore, making a light chuffing sound. Sarah remained still, looking at her mother, hands in her lap, lightly holding the big book. Finally, she rubbed away the tears at the corners of her eyes and stood. Sarah carefully maneuvered the bookmark to the right page and quietly crept from her mother’s room.
On the gallery, it was darker than earlier, and a hush had fallen over the old house. The quiet made Sarah uneasy. In some ways coming home had been the most natural thing she’d done in years, but in other ways she felt dislocated, separated from her life and world and daughter.
I can’t compete for her affections against other children. They fill her world now, I only constrain it. If I try and supplant those kids, she’ll never forgive me… and she’d be right not to. But what do I do with—for—myself? Drinking gallons of coffee with Alice every morning and sneaking cigarettes on the sleeping porch… well, it just ain’t cutting it, as Jim would say.
She thought about Jim then, playing with the idea of going home to visit, just her, just to see how he was. He hadn’t called or written in the weeks they’d been here, and every one of her phone calls went unanswered. None of her letters had been returned, though. So he was still receiving the mail.
She lightly touched her breast, shivering in the dark of the gallery, goose bumps rippling over her skin.
Southern Gods Page 10
