by BobA. Troutt
Thistles and Thorns
By Bobby A. Troutt
Copyright 2011 Bobby A. Troutt
Table of Contents
Masquerade
Bay Point Island
Wages of Sin
The Caw of the Crow
Weeping Waters
Masquerade
It had been three years since the attack on Pearl Harbor and its after-effects were still being felt. The war in the South Pacific was taking its toll. The people back home prayed for the soldiers and their loved ones to return home safely.
In New Orleans, Mardi Gras was in full swing. As some of the city slept, street dancing, music, and laughter lasted from sunrise to sunset. Parades of floats adorned with confetti covered Bourbon Street.
At Mardi Gras, you could unlock the chains of life and be free to follow your desires. The festivities lasted all week, and Cajun food in the French Quarter fueled the excitement.
My name is John Oliver Towns. After I retired, my wife, Elizabeth, and I moved here from up north. I have always loved the south with its slower pace and laid back atmosphere. Last year I sold my business to my partner for a substantial amount of money. Elizabeth and I are now financially stable and should never have a need for anything. I still do some consulting work, from time to time, to get out of the house.
I’ve worked hard all my life and I’m tired of working so hard. At fifty-three I am ready for retirement. I want to enjoy life to the fullest. That’s what brought us here to New Orleans. Besides, I love Cajun food!
We love to dance, laugh and enjoy the southern charm. This is living the good life.
Mardi Gras was all I thought it could be and more. The twist of jazz, along with the parade, worked its way down Bourbon Street as we watched in amazement. That’s when I saw her across the street.
Her smile was like morning sunshine piercing the blue sky. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was radiant and young. I slightly tilted my head and thought to myself, “That’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” She looked back at me with that same smile. My eyes dropped; I didn’t want to stare. When I looked back up again, she was gone. My thoughts silenced quickly when I felt Elizabeth tugging on my arm.
“Look, honey,” she said pointing to a passing float.
I looked and automatically replied, “Yes, dear,” but my mind was still on her.
We made our way down the enchanting street, and I wondered if I would ever see her again. However, the chance of that was probably one in a million. I was bewitched by that one glimpse with a foolish childlike crush. She had been masquerading as a princess, and I was dressed in black.
“Look, John,” said Elizabeth. “It’s the Lobster Trap. I heard they have the best gumbo there. Let’s grab a bite to eat, okay?”
“Sure honey, sounds good.”
We made our way over to the Lobster Trap. My mouth watered thinking of the gumbo. We went in, sat down, and ordered. Eating that food was like heaven on earth. From there we made our way home.
At dawn the next morning, she was still on my mind. That night and the next Elizabeth and I romantically roamed Bourbon Street and the French Quarter. We ate, drank, and were merry until way after midnight, caring nothing about what tomorrow would bring.
We lived on black beans, jambalaya, crawfish, Cajun rice, and fried okra. Every day was an adventure, and every night lead to a mystery. It was the last night of Mardi Gras, and we were getting ready to go out when suddenly Elizabeth came down with an awful headache. I told her we didn’t have to go, that we could stay home. But she insisted I go on, and she would stay home and rest. I told her I would be in early. Dressed that night as a tall, dark stranger, I had no idea what lay ahead. “New Orleans, you’re mine for tonight!” I cried as I danced about the street, keeping step with the sounds of the music, gathering beads, and inhaling Cajun food.
After a while, my age started catching up with me, so I decided to slip into Joe Johnson’s Bar and Grill to rest my tired feet. The place was packed and you could cut the smoke with a knife. Making my way up to the bar to sit down, I ordered my drink, a double. On stage, a young talented jazz band played while customers were sitting around eating. I guzzled the first double and asked the bartender to get me another one. The food smelled great, and the music was tops. As I sipped on my second double, I spotted her across the room sitting with a man in a booth. She hadn’t seen me. I quietly observed as the second double shot went down. She was as I had pictured her the first time. She seemed so full of life, energetic, and her joy seemed so pure. I asked the bartender if he knew her, and he told me he did.
“Her name is Magnolia,” he said. “She comes in quite often, and that man she is with is her pimp, Benny.”
“Her pimp?”
“Sure, Magnolia is a prostitute,” he clarified, “a call girl. Do you want to meet her?”
“Oh, no,” I replied. “I was just wondering who she was.”
As I turned to leave, she saw me. Our eyes met in the middle of the room, and the moments seemed to last a lifetime as my feelings stirred. I motioned for the bartender to bring me another double. Benny noticed our eye contact and sat motionless for a moment, but soon came over to me and introduced himself. After we talked, he motioned for Magnolia to come over. He introduced us. We both said, “Hi.”
“I hope you will forgive me for staring,” I apologized.
“I will if you forgive me first,” she responded.
From there the night was young. We talked until the early morning hours.
“You know, we have sat here all night and I still don’t know your name,” she stated.
“Let’s keep it like that,” I insisted. “Like a mystery.”
“Ah, you like intrigue,” she purred. “I like that.”
“May I see you again?” I asked her as I gathered my things.
“Sure,” she answered. “Like a regular thing.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll see. How much do I owe you?”
She made her way over to me and rested her hands upon my chest. “Conversation—nothing, company—well, I’ll see if you liked it enough to come back,” she whispered as she slipped a card into my coat pocket. “The next time we’ll do less talking.”
When I got home, Elizabeth was waiting for me.
“Where on earth have you been?” she asked. “I have been worried to death.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said. “I got to talking to some people and lost track of time.”
“I was about to call the police,” she cried.
“Everything is alright,” I assured her. “What about you?”
“Well, I took a couple of pills for my headache,” she explained. “I slept most of the night.”
“That’s good,” I replied.
“Did you have fun?” she inquired as she poured the orange juice.
“Yes, I guess you can say that,” I responded. “I brought you some more beads.”
“Oh, thank you, James,” she said as she placed them around her neck. She eased over to him and whispered in his ear as she slightly bit it, “My headache is gone.”
As Elizabeth made her play on me, I couldn’t help but think about Magnolia, but Elizabeth lingered in the back of my mind. I was being torn between the two. I quickly wrapped my arms around her and held her close. I didn’t want to let go because I knew if I did she would be gone forever. We turned back the covers and slipped into bed.
That day, Elizabeth and I sat on our front porch sipping lemonade and relaxing. We love our retirement home in the Roundtree Estates. The neighbors are great around Gribbs Drive in the city of Le’mon, across the river from New Orleans in the Victorian Parish.
Elizabeth and I spend time together shopping, gardening, and doing some remodeling. But no matter how hard I try to block Magnolia out of my mind, I can’t forget the time we spent together.
Magnolia is thirty-six and I’m fifty-three. Somehow it doesn’t seem right, but it didn’t seem to matter. After a few weeks, I couldn’t fight it any longer. I had to see her, and I did. From that time on, I was with her often. It was the start of a masquerade adventure that would turn my world upside down. My life had unexpectedly become enchanted with her. As the months passed, I told Elizabeth more and more lies of doing consulting work in New Orleans to be with Magnolia. Elizabeth was no fool, and I knew that. I’m sure she suspected, but she held back. Could it be the change of life? Could it be something missing in my life, or was it simply sin?
I dropped by to see Magnolia that evening. I found her waiting for me dressed in a negligee that trimmed the shape of her body like I had never dreamed of. Her radiant glow drew me. She was silent as I stood before her. Slowly, she turned toward the bedroom, tilted her body slightly as her covering fell to the floor. My heart raced as I gazed upon her beauty. I felt so young, innocent, and enchanted that I followed her in and closed the door. That night our souls entangled in forbidden love that would bring us even closer than we had ever imagined.
Little did I know, at the same time we lay making love, I was being watched from across the street. I would find out later that Elizabeth had hired a private detective to follow me.
The rest of the evening, Magnolia and I talked. She told me she was from Mississippi. That’s where she got her street name. I asked about her family, and she told me her daddy was dead, but her mother was still living in the old home place. I also learned she had no brothers or sisters. Out of curiosity, I asked how she became a prostitute. She disclosed how her stepfather raped her; it started from there.
“Whenever he wanted me he took me. I ran away from home and lived in Houston for awhile, then Galveston. I couldn’t find a job because I was too young. Benny took me in when I came to New Orleans.”
“Did your mother know?” I asked.
“No, she never knew,” she responded. “She told me he left not long after I did. He tried to find me, but he never did. His body was found burned in an old abandoned warehouse. My locket, the one he had jerked from my neck the last time he touched me, was in his hand.”
I reached over, hugged her and told her none of that mattered to me. Our love would get us through it, and that’s what mattered. She wanted to know about me.
“There’s not much to tell,” I lied.
“Sure there is,” she insisted. “Everyone has a dark side. Life is a masquerade. You put on your happy face when you go out into the world, but your real face is covered from your hurt, pain and anguish.”
“I guess there is a little something there,” I said. “Elizabeth and I could never have children. I wanted a child, but I was so busy in my work I felt it would be a drawback. She always wanted a child, but she couldn’t have one. We tossed the idea around for years.”
“Why didn’t you adopt?” she inquired.
“Adoption would have been okay,” I said, “but I didn’t think it was the right time. Now, we are too old to raise a child.”
The day lingered on as we talked. We laughed and we cried. We were friends, something I guess Elizabeth and I had never been. Somehow, some way time had slipped by and it was time for me to leave.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked.
I thought a moment and replied, “No, not tomorrow. I need to stay around the house some. But, I’ll call.”
As she reached up and kissed me goodbye, I immediately began thinking of reasons for being gone so long—something that Elizabeth would believe and accept. What would that be I thought, “An old friend dropped by and took me out to lunch. We got to talking and time slipped by. I don’t know,” I thought, “I’m getting too old for this masquerade bit.”
Not long after I left Magnolia’s someone knocked at her door. She thought I had come back. She opened the door without hesitation; two policemen had come by to ask her some questions. At first she didn’t tell me. As they talked, the officers showed her three photographs of three men. They asked her if she recognized them. Carefully, she looked at the pictures and acknowledged they looked familiar. She told them she may have seen them in a bar and asked what they had done?
“They’re dead,” stated the policeman.
“I don’t understand!” she cried. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Their bodies were found not far from here and each one had this card in his pocket,” replied the other officer.
The officer showed her the card which had her name, address, and phone number on it.
“That doesn’t mean anything!” she cried. “They could have gotten that card anywhere.”
“We only wanted you to be aware,” said the officers, “and to be careful. These men are connected to you some way, and we plan to find out how. Good day,” they said as they turned to leave.
Magnolia evidently told me about the officers coming by. I guess it didn’t matter. It was summertime in New Orleans, and it was the time to live it up. For the next few months, Magnolia and I spent a great deal of time together. I filled her apartment with flowers and gifts. We ate at some of the finest Cajun restaurants. She loved crawfish, shrimp, and jambalaya. My favorite was gumbo. That summer in New Orleans was one of the best times I’d had in years.
I told Magnolia one day that I had to fly to Nashville for a conference meeting with a business acquaintance. I would be gone for two weeks, and I asked her to go with me or if she would fly up later, but she couldn’t. She seemed a little distant, bothered by something. However, she did tell me something the day I left for Nashville.
She whispered in my ear, “I have a surprise for you when you get back.”
I laughed, hugged her, and replied, “You’re full of surprises, girl.”
As the plane rose into the air, she headed back to her apartment. The two weeks ahead would seem like countless hours of endless days. Elizabeth didn’t come with me. She had been feeling bad lately and hadn’t been herself. Something was bothering her and I hoped she hadn’t found out about Magnolia.
Later on that day, as Magnolia waited at home for my call, there came a knock at her door. As she cracked the door slightly she saw Elizabeth, my wife.
“We have to talk,” Elizabeth demanded. “Open this damn door.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Magnolia responded. “I’m expecting someone.”
“It’s not James!” she yelled. “You whore. He’s in Nashville, remember.”
Magnolia reached up and took the chain from the door.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, coming in here calling me a whore!” shouted Magnolia.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” screamed Elizabeth. “Sleeping with my husband, you don’t know about that? Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve had you followed for a long time now. I know all about your little rendezvous, your dinners, and night flings. I know about the baby, too.”
“Baby!” cried Magnolia.
“Yes, you’re pregnant,” hollered Elizabeth. “I know about your visits to Dr. Garrett at that little dark clinic downtown. Are you going to have the baby or abort it? I’m not going to sit around and let you claim that James is the baby’s father and take the money we have worked all our lives to get.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and besides, it’s none of your damn business,” said Magnolia.
“I make it my damn business when it’s my husband!” screamed Elizabeth.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” shouted Magnolia.
“I know a whole lot more than you realize. I guess James told you why we can’t have children. It is because of me. Wrong, the reason we don’t have children is b
ecause of him. He can’t have children. James always blames me because the truth hurts his manhood. But James is the reason, not me. Pick one of your other Johns to be the child’s daddy. He didn’t want to adopt children because he was always so busy. James had no time for family or me. So if you got some big idea of having his baby, then you’re headed down the wrong path.”
“But, but he said…,” stuttered Magnolia.
“James says a lot of things,” replied Elizabeth. “He’s a man. I bet he said he loved you; I hear it, too.” As Elizabeth looked about the room, she saw all the pretty flowers and gifts. “I get roses all the time from him. James loves to spend money. What will it be? Are you going to have the child, give the child up for adoption, blackmail, or what?”
“I want my child,” she said, “even if James is not the father.”
“Who is the real daddy,” questioned Elizabeth, “some two bit John on the street or somebody else’s husband? I knew when I found your card in his coat pocket this was going to be a mess. Do you know how I know? You think you’re the first whore he’s been with? I have done this several times through the years. You’re no more than another card in his pocket.”
“What do you want to do?” asked Magnolia.
“I’ll tell you what I will do if you leave my husband alone. I’m willing to offer you fifty thousand dollars to leave New Orleans and never come back. You can stay at the Rock Spring Home for Unwed Mothers outside of Baton Rouge until the baby is born, then give it up for adoption to the Winding Way Orphanage. When you give the baby up, you’ll receive another fifty thousand. Then you can find somewhere else to lay on your back and make a living if you want to. But if you dare say anything to James about this, accidents do happen. Lord forbid if anything happens to that precious ‘love child,’ so you say.”
“I don’t know what to do,” cried Magnolia. “I’m confused. May I have some time?” she asked.
“You’ve got forty-eight hours,” warned Elizabeth. “Think about it this way, you can do quite a bit with one-hundred thousand dollars. Besides it’s not even James’s baby. You really don’t know who the daddy is. Call me.”
As Elizabeth left, hurt and broken, Magnolia didn’t know what to believe or what to do. All she could think was that Elizabeth was evil. She had to protect her baby and herself. Then the phone rang, startling her. “Probably James,” she thought, but she never answered the phone. Throughout the night she lay awake, tossing and turning with the things Elizabeth had said echoing in her mind. She was afraid, broken, hurt and desperate. It was her first child and she wished it were James’. “If James isn’t the daddy, then who is? I need to tell Benny,” she thought. “No, I can’t. Oh, God, what do I need to do?”
The long night brought an early morning with a knock at the door. It was a John. As she escorted him in, she quickly took a bath and hurried to get ready.
“What’s your going price?” he asked as he waved some big bills in front of her eyes.
“Oh, that will do fine,” she replied and took it from his hand.
“What’s your pleasure?” she questioned.
“The house special,” he responded, “but nothing too wild.”
He took her into his arms; his hands searched her, finding their way about her. She leaned her head onto his shoulders and began to smell his hair; she recalled the bad memories of her distant past. Willfully she made the motions as he followed suit. The closer he got, she realized she was making a mistake. There was something wrong. Abruptly, she pushed him away. He continued kissing her, throwing her onto the bed. He never said a word, but kept advancing against her wishes.
“No, no!” she screamed as she struggled to get out from under him.
His whispery voice called, “Misty.”
“What’d you call me?” she asked as she kept fighting him.
“Misty,” he replied.
“But no one except my mother ever called me that! Oh, no, let go of me! Get off me you son-of-a-bitch.”
“Now, now Misty,” he replied. “You behave yourself like a good little girl, and it will be like old times.”
She started screaming, but he covered her mouth with his hand. She tried to fight back, but he overpowered her. She bit his hand and he screamed, “Damn it, Misty, you’re mine.”
He took his fist and struck her in the face, knocking her out. As she lay across the bed unconscious, he had his way with her then her stepdad put on his clothes. Next, he reached for the money on the dresser and stuffed it into his pocket.
“That’s my homecoming present,” he laughed. “I’ll be back for more. I’ve killed four already, one more won’t matter.”
Slowly, she eased up off the bed as he slipped out the door. Her life had become a nightmare. Her world had been turned upside down. What was she to do? She knew he’d be back. She reached for the piece of paper with Elizabeth’s phone number. She hesitated for a moment as tears filled her eyes. She wanted to call, but she didn’t. She thought if she could get away for a while and sort things out, she could figure things out. As tears ran down her face, she dialed the number and placed the receiver to her ear.
“Elizabeth,” she said.
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth.
“I’m ready to talk.”
“Good,” said Elizabeth. “You won’t be sorry. I’ll have everything ready by tonight. I’ll pick you up about eight. Keep your mouth shut.”
“Okay,” replied Magnolia. “I’ll be ready.”
Magnolia hid in her apartment until she saw Elizabeth pull up. The two hurried off into the night for Baton Rouge.
“You know you’re doing the right thing,” stated Elizabeth. “You may not see it now but you will.”
Magnolia never said a word as she stared out the window.
“What changed your mind?” asked Elizabeth.
“Several things,” responded Magnolia. “Are you sure no one will find me here?”
“Trust me,” assured Elizabeth. “I’ve been through this before. When we get there, let me do all the talking.”
“What’s this?” inquired Magnolia.
“It is part of your money,” replied Elizabeth. “You have to stay here until the baby is born. The Winding Way Orphanage takes the babies in and finds them a good home.”
“Are you sure?” questioned Magnolia.
“Trust me. They are good people,” replied Elizabeth. “Quit worrying. I have taken care of everything.”
“Will I get to see and hold my baby?’ she asked.
“That won’t be possible,” said Elizabeth. “It’s best that you don’t. If you try to back out and try to see James or the baby, I have friends on the inside that have access to your baby. You wouldn’t want anything unexpected to happen to your child, would you?”
Magnolia turned and dropped her head. That day Elizabeth saw something in Magnolia’s eyes that would haunt her for the rest of her life. They finally reached Rock Spring just outside of Baton Rouge. The home was an old French-style boarding house nestled between giant trees and laced with Spanish moss. It was still early when they arrived. Some of the women sat out in the yard, others on a porch. Magnolia remained silent. She let Elizabeth do all the talking. As they made their way in, Magnolia noticed several pregnant women sitting outside. Some spoke and others smiled. Once inside Elizabeth spoke to the lady in charge. The lady turned to Elizabeth and said with frustration, “James again.” Elizabeth nodded her head.
“I’ll have a little extra in my donation each month,” assured Elizabeth.
“We’ll be looking forward to it,” replied the lady. “Magnolia, take your things and follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
As Elizabeth drove off, she felt a little relief—not much, but some. She still had a long way to go and would have to cross each bridge as it came.
By the end of the second week, I was back and the first place I went was Magnolia’s
apartment. But, when I got there she was gone. There was no sign of her at all, so I went to talk with the policemen who questioned her earlier. The officers told me about a possible connection with the three murders. They told me they went by her apartment earlier, and it appeared she had left. No one had seen or heard from her in about two weeks. I told them I was just a friend, and that I had been out of town. I had called several times while I was away but could never reach her.
“It appears she may have left town in a hurry. If you hear from her, would you please let us know?” requested the officers.
“Sure. Do you think something has happened to her?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” they replied, “but we do have three dead bodies, and each one had her card in their pocket,” stated the officers.
I didn’t know what to think or even believe. I knew she didn’t seem right when I left, but I didn’t believe it would come to this. “There has to be an explanation,” I thought, “and I have to find her to get the answers.” I made my way home and Elizabeth greeted me at the door.
“Good trip?” she asked.
“Yes, yes it was,” I replied, “a very good trip. Have I had any calls?”
“Just the usual,” she replied. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing, I’m tired. I think I’ll lie down for a while,” I said.
“Do you want me to lie down with you?” she suggested.
“No, not now,” I grumbled. “I am really tired. We’ll talk later.”
By early morning I was up and had left the house. Elizabeth was still asleep. On my way into New Orleans, I tried to put the pieces together, but I couldn’t. I thought and thought about all the things Magnolia had said, thinking maybe a piece of the puzzle would come together. My first stop was to talk with Benny. If anyone should know, he should.
Carefully, I combed Bourbon Street, spending hours looking. I went over to the French quarter and looked. I asked some of the girls on the street, but they acted like they didn’t know him. No one had seen him or Magnolia. It was like they had vanished off the face of the earth. I made my way back to Bourbon Street, and suddenly I saw him. He was talking with the two policemen I had talked with earlier. I patiently waited for them to leave. When I got my chance, I whipped the car back into the traffic. Benny was going into a strip joint. Quickly, I pulled up to the front and got out.
“Benny!” I yelled as he stopped and turned around.
“Hey, man, I’ve been looking for you!” he yelled.
“Come on, let’s get into the car,” I motioned.
Once inside he began to yell, “Hey man, what’s going on? Where’s Magnolia?”
“I don’t know,” I explained. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“You’ve seen more of her in the last few months than I have, and you ask me where she is?” cried Benny.
“I don’t know where she is!” I exclaimed. “I’m trying to find out.”
“The cops are looking for her,” he said with concern.
“I know,” I replied. “Do you have any idea where I can look—friend or relative?”
“I knew I should have canned your ass from the start,” threatened Benny. “But I didn’t because of Magnolia. She made me promise to leave you alone.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“A few years ago, Magnolia saved my life in a gang-related incident, and I owe her one. She wanted me to leave you alone so ya’ll could spend time together. Now look, I’ve lost my best whore.”
“If you think of anything, please let me know,” I said. “If you hear from her, get in touch with me; here’s my number.”
“Yeah, man, if you see her, tell her I’m going to break her face for worrying me.”
After searching the next few months, nothing turned up but heartache. The more I tried to find her the better Elizabeth hid her. Elizabeth would have been the last person I would have thought to ask. Slowly, the months rolled by into a year. I gave up all hope.
Things seemed to change after that. Elizabeth and I were not as close. For a long time, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of Magnolia.
Finally, Magnolia had her baby. It was a boy. Although she never saw or held him near her heart, she still longed for him. The day Magnolia was to leave Louisiana, she called her mother.
“Hello,” answered her mother.
“Hi, Mom, it’s me,” she said.
“Misty, is that you?” she questioned.
“Yes, Mama, it’s me,” Misty replied.
It had been a long time since she had heard a familiar voice. As they talked, her mom told her about what had happened to Charles, her stepdad.
Charles had come home. The police were after him, and he was shot and killed. The officers said he was a suspect in three murders in New Orleans and one in Birmingham. Evidently, Charles had staged his death in a warehouse. They believe the man burned in the building was a homeless man who lived there. The evidence showed the homeless man was already dead when the building burned, and the locket was what led them to Charles.
Magnolia was relieved to hear it was over. She didn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder. Maybe now she could go on with her life and even go home to see her mother. As they talked on, they laughed and cried. “It’s so good,” she thought, “to be free again.”
The original agreement between Elizabeth and Magnolia was that Elizabeth would give her fifty thousand dollars when the baby was born, and put her on a plane out of Louisiana. Elizabeth sighed with relief when the baby was born, but only for a moment. Her work was not over. She had to move the baby to another orphanage out of state as quickly as possible in case Magnolia decided to change her mind. Time was of the essence.
Martha was a nurse who worked at the orphanage. She was Elizabeth’s inside connection. Martha had already drawn up the falsified papers for Magnolia’s baby, and tonight she would make her move. The timing was crucial. Everything had to be just right.
Elizabeth had first met Martha as a nurse at a mental hospital. Several years ago when Elizabeth had a nervous breakdown, after a miscarriage, Martha had slipped her pills for money. Later on, Elizabeth was well enough to go home.
One day, out of the blue, Martha ran into Elizabeth in downtown Baton Rouge. They went out to lunch and talked. Martha had lost her job at the hospital, not long after Elizabeth had gone home, for giving other patients pills. She needed a job and there was an opening for a nurse at Winding Way Orphanage. Martha asked if she could pull some strings for her. Elizabeth told her she would see what she could do.
That night, when it was clear, she took the baby and put him in her car and headed to the Thornhill Orphanage in Wiggins, Tennessee, just outside of Memphis. Martha didn’t know there was someone hiding in a room of the orphanage. A set of eyes stared and watched her place the baby in her car. As the window curtain slowly fell back into place, a shadowy figure clicked the light off.
The next day, life went on at the orphanage. As far as everyone knew, Magnolia’s baby had been adopted, according to the falsified papers. Martha was on vacation for a few days, Elizabeth was making her move to restore our marriage, and I was still searching for Magnolia.
In Memphis, Martha had presented the baby as hers, and she wanted to give him up for adoption. She had taken the necessary papers she needed with her. She left the baby behind and headed back to Baton Rouge. In a few days, Martha was back at work. She was the only one who knew where the baby really was. Elizabeth told her she didn’t want to know, just as long as it was out of the state of Louisiana.
I decided to hire a private detective to find Magnolia. It was like she had completely disappeared off the face of the earth. No one had seen her. The police couldn’t find her. If Elizabeth suspected anything she never let on. She was good at that. Elizabeth seemed so happy and carefree, I thought, but a little worried.
Then one day Elizabeth rec
eived a phone call.
“You don’t know me, Mrs. Towns, but I know you. I know what you did and how you did it,” threatened the strange voice.
“Who is this?” she cried out.
The line clicked and the receiver slipped out of Elizabeth’s hand onto the table. She knew what they were talking about, but that was not the question. The question was who it was and how they knew. It couldn’t be anyone but Martha … or could it?
Hurriedly, she slipped on her jacket and headed out. On her way to Martha’s, Elizabeth racked her brain to come up with a solution to her problem. Why would Martha double cross her? Quickly, she turned her car into Martha’s drive. She repeatedly pounded on Martha’s front door.
“Who is it?” asked Martha.
“It’s me, Martha,” Elizabeth replied as Martha unbolted the door.
Elizabeth barged in furiously.
“What the hell have you done?” she yelled.
“What…?” replied Martha. “What are you talking about?”
“Who have you told?” she cried. “I trusted you! I helped you!”
“But, Elizabeth…” she tried to explain. “I haven’t told a soul, I promise. Calm down and tell me what you are talking about.”
As Elizabeth began to tell her about the phone call, Martha remembered someone looking out the window at the orphanage the night she left.
“Somebody knows,” Elizabeth explained. “You and Magnolia are the only two that I know.”
“I haven’t told anyone,” replied Martha, “unless someone found out about the false adoption. But I don’t see how; everything went perfectly. What are you going to do?” asked Martha.
“I don’t know. They haven’t given me any demands. Are you sure you haven’t told anyone?” questioned Elizabeth.
“No ma’am,” replied Martha.
“Then it must be Magnolia. She must be back,” said Elizabeth.
“I didn’t believe she would come back,” replied Martha. “If James even knew what she had done, he wouldn’t want her back.”
“James is a damn fool!” exclaimed Elizabeth, “And a blind fool at that. You better hope like hell I never find out you are double crossing me. I’ll claw your eyes out.”
On the way home all she could think about was James and Magnolia together. Where did I slip up? she thought. The first thing she thought of was that she should have never offered her money. I should have let her stepfather take care of her. The old two-bit hood I hired to kill those two clients of Magnolia’s. How would I have ever known that he was her stepfather?
It had been a few days since the first call when late one evening the phone rang. Elizabeth grabbed it before the second ring.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Is this Elizabeth?” the voice asked.
“Yes it is,” she replied. “What the hell do you want? What will it take to get rid of you?”
“Now, Elizabeth, there’s no need for you to get upset and cuss,” said the voice. “I just wanted to remind you that I know what you did and how you did it. Do I need to say anymore?”
Click went the phone as they hung up.
“Damn!” she cried out as she slammed the phone down on the table.
“Who was it?” I asked as I came into the room. “Elizabeth, you’re shaking. Is everything alright? Is there something wrong?”
The phone rang again. She and I slapped our hands around the receiver at the same time. She looked at me; I looked at her. I carefully removed her hand and told her that I had it. She looked puzzled and at a loss for words as I started to answer. But it only rang once. I chuckled and told her it was probably a wrong number.
“Hurry up and get dressed. I’m taking you out for supper,” I told her.
A cold, clammy fear ran over her. Was it James? Did he know? Was it both of them? She wondered what on earth was going to happen next.
As the evening passed, Elizabeth and I sat down to a luxurious Cajun meal in the French Quarter. We didn’t have all that much to say. I guess she felt bad, and I had a lot on my mind. She did tell me that she had a doctor’s appointment in two weeks. I guess it wasn’t anything I needed to be concerned about. She immediately let me know everything was fine. It was just a routine checkup. Suddenly, someone paged her name over the speakers of the restaurant. I raised my hand and motioned toward our table. The waiter worked his way over and told her she had a phone call at the front desk.
“Who in the world would call me here?” she said. “How did…”
“Oh, Elizabeth, that doesn’t matter now, just go to the phone,” I replied. “It may be important.”
As she made her way to the front desk, I thought, “Sometimes she acts like she has seen a ghost.”
Hesitantly, she picked up the phone and put it to her ear.
“Hello,” she answered. “This is Mrs. Towns.”
“I know who you are,” said the voice sarcastically, “and I know what you did and how you did it.”
“How did you know I was here?” she asked.
“That’s not important, is it?” replied the voice.
“What do you want?” she questioned, “and how much?”
“I want one hundred thousand dollars,” demanded the voice.
“I don’t have that kind of money just lying around!” she exclaimed.
“Shut up and listen to me. I want four twenty-five thousand dollar payments packaged in four separate boxes. I want them mailed one at a time to the name and address that I will give you later. Each box will be mailed on a different day and month. I will give you those dates later.”
“But—but…” cried Elizabeth.
“There are no buts. Either you send the money like I say, or your husband will know what you did and how you did it.”
Click!
As Elizabeth pulled herself together she thought about the demands and how it was a different voice this time.
When Elizabeth got back to the table I could tell she was a little uptight. I noticed her hands trembling a little.
“Honey, are you alright?” I inquired.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied.
“Maybe you should go see the doctor,” I suggested. “It might be a good thing.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Who was who?” she responded.
“On the phone,” I said.
“Oh, that,” she laughed. “It wasn’t for me. Someone wanted Elizabeth Tams, not Towns.”
“Oh, I see,” I replied. “What about after supper we take a walk down Bourbon Street?”
“That will be nice,” she said with a smile.
Who knew who we might run into?
New Orleans was beautiful at night. The sounds of jazz dancing off the midnight sky, and the smell of Cajun food warming the air made it quite a romantic evening.
“We ought to let it all out and flow with the moment,” I said to Elizabeth, “and enjoy what time we have left.”
That night we waltzed with the steps of jazz, but ballet was in our hearts. It had been a long time since Elizabeth and I were this close. Maybe I was an old fool with boyish dreams. Little did we know the dance that night would revive a romance that had been overlooked for too many years.
The next two weeks were dreams come true. Elizabeth had gone to the doctor and was told everything looked good, but should return in six months. We talked more in those two weeks than we had since we first got married. Life seemed like it was turning around for us. I had about given up hope of seeing Magnolia again. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be found; I believe she didn’t want to be found. I guess it was for the best.
Out of the blue one day, while Elizabeth sat on the front porch, a little boy on a bicycle came up to her.
“Mrs. Towns,” he said.
“Why, yes,” she replied.
“Here’s someth
ing for you,” he said as he took off on his bike.
“But—wait a minute!” she cried.
Slowly, she opened it. It was a letter from the blackmailer. She jumped up and ran out into the yard, but there was no one. The blackmailers wanted twenty-five thousand dollars in cash—small bills, boxed, and packaged in brown paper sent to—Home of Innocence, P.O. Box 1213, Atlanta, Georgia, 34170. She was instructed to make four deliveries on the following dates: May 23, July 18, September 4, and November 31. If any one of the drops was not delivered on time, without the money or short, Mr. Towns would have to make a sudden trip to Atlanta. The letter also stated they would be watching, and if she told anyone or the police got involved there could be a deadly accident with Mr. Towns in Atlanta.
Angrily, Elizabeth gritted her teeth. She started to wad the paper in her hands but stopped.
“Damn it, I wish I knew!” she angrily shouted.
She stopped and began to think. “Things with James are so great now,” she thought. “I can’t afford to mess them up now. I’ll go ahead and pay for the sake of having a life together, but I hope to hell I never find out who they are.”
Elizabeth did as they requested. Things were too good with James, and she had worked too long and too hard to mess them up.
Little did Elizabeth know the blackmail money she was paying would go to an Atlanta post office box with a forwarding address. It would be sent from Atlanta back to a post office box in Shreveport, Louisiana, belonging to a Denise Johnson, the younger sister of Martha. Both of them worked at the orphanage until she and Martha were caught falsifying adoption papers. Denise was the one looking out the window watching Martha’s getaway. This wasn’t Magnolia’s baby but another one. The orphanage didn’t want the scandal to get out so they decided to keep it hush-hush. There was no way they could tell how many documents had been falsified. They fired the two sisters, and Martha and Denise moved back home to Shreveport to enjoy Elizabeth’s money.
Elizabeth was on top of the world. It was like the Lord had given her a second chance in life. Who would have ever thought that falling in love a second time would be so great? Time soon passed and the month seemed endless, so perfect and wonderful. It seemed like she was living the first day of the rest of her life. Down the road Elizabeth’s joy and happiness would soon be robbed with a visit to the doctor.
“It can’t be!” she cried. “Not now!”
“Calm down, Mrs. Towns, and let me explain it to you,” replied the doctor. “You have cancer. There’s no cure for it, but there are treatments.”
“But, Dr. Jones, I don’t want to die!” she cried. “There’s got to be something you can do.”
“There are some new treatments we might try, but there’s no guarantee,” he said. “We can try a series of them to see how it goes, but only if you want to.”
“How long do I have,” she asked, “without the treatments?”
“A year at the most,” he answered. “With the treatments you may have a month or two longer. It’s all still experimental.”
“Dr. Jones, I don’t want you to say anything to James,” she pleaded. “I want to tell him myself when I feel the time is right.”
“Sure,” he agreed. “I understand. But let me know about the treatments so we can get you started on them as quickly as possible.”
“I will,” she consented as she broke down crying.
“Here’s a prescription for some medicine that will help with the pain,” he said. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
“Maybe,” she mumbled as she left the room.
When she got home, James was not there. She collapsed on the couch and began to cry.
“Why! Why me? Why now, God? Please don’t let me die, ” she screamed as she began throwing things. “I promise, Lord, I’ll straighten up! Please, God, don’t take this away from me!”
She fell to the floor.
As she laid there in a puddle of tears she cried out, “Damn it.”
A short time later, she picked herself up. “I can beat this thing,” she said to herself. “I’m tough. I can make it work. I can do anything I want to when I put my mind to it, even cheat death.” She straightened up a bit and began to feel stronger.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked Elizabeth as I came through the door.
“Oh, he said everything was fine,” she answered.
“Did you ask him about those weak spells and being sick to your stomach?” I questioned.
“Oh, yeah, he said it was probably a bug because I wasn’t sleeping very soundly,” she explained. “He wants me to try some new medication to help me sleep at night.”
“How do you feel about spending the weekend on the Gulf?” I asked.
“This weekend?” she responded.
“Sure, this weekend,” I laughed. “Is there something wrong?”
“Oh, no,” she answered. “Everything is fine. I want to get a new bathing suit for the beach.”
“That will be great,” I replied. “It has been a while.”
“I know,” she said, “too long.”
I don’t know if it was Elizabeth or me, but I had Magnolia in the back of my mind while I was with her. Right now it really didn’t seem to matter. We were happy for the first time in a long time. Unknown to us, the weekend ahead would take us on a romantic rendezvous vacation around the country over the next few months. From San Francisco to Chicago, Boston, and New York, from city to city we were like young teens on a first date. By the time we were back home in New Orleans, Elizabeth had gotten worse. For the next few days she lay in bed as I sat by her side. She wouldn’t let me call the doctor. She said it was all the excitement from our vacation that had worn her down; she would bounce back in a few days.
I never thought that dreams came true. I’m talking about the ones so impossible, unreal, wanted and desired, especially people my age. But God sometimes answers prayers, even when you’re not always at your best. I’ll never forget it as long as I live, Elizabeth and I in love again.
Elizabeth was asleep, and I slept too, in a chair beside her bed. Startled, I awoke as I felt someone staring at me. I slowly opened my eyes; Elizabeth was looking at me with the most pleasant smile I had ever seen. She reached over and took my hand, and said to me, “Lean over a bit, honey, I want to tell you something.” Carefully, I eased over to the edge of the bed to her and she said, “I want a child.” I didn’t know what to say. A big lump came up in my throat as a tiny tear ran out of the corner of my eye.
“A child,” I said.
“Yes, dear, I want a child,” she replied.
I took a deep breath as my head fell into my hands. I couldn’t help it, but I started to cry. Gently she ran her fingers through my hair. As I laughed and cried, I didn’t know what to say or how to feel. I was so happy.
“What does a daddy feel like?” she asked.
Before she could say another word, I yelled out, “It feels good!”
“Tomorrow,” she said, “we’ll check with the adoption agency and see what we need to do.”
I reached over, kissed, and hugged her. I told her that I loved her.
“I love you, too,” she replied.
It was early the next morning, and I had to go to New Orleans for some business. Elizabeth was up and feeling better. The phone rang and she reached to answer it.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Mrs. Towns,” said a voice.
“Yes, this is she,” she replied.
“This is Jim at the bank. You asked me to notify you when the marked money started to appear.”
“So they have finally started spending the money,” she replied.
“Yes, ma’am, there has been a little of it turning up in Shreveport,” he stated.
“Do you know who it is?” she questioned.
“No, not yet,” he said, “but we are working on it. It was a good thing you marked the money,” he
explained. “That’ll help make it easier to trace.”
“Keep on top of it, and keep me posted,” she instructed, “and keep your mouth shut until I tell you different.”
“You got it, Mrs. Towns,” he agreed.
Click.
By the time James returned, Elizabeth was ready to go. I was so excited, I was jittery inside. She was excited, too. That was all we could talk about. There were two orphanages in New Orleans and one in Baton Rouge.
“Where do you want to go first?” I asked.
We spent the next two days visiting the ones in New Orleans. It was amazing the number of children without homes. We really didn’t know which one to choose. We wished we could give them all homes, but we couldn’t
I thought about a boy, but Elizabeth leaned more toward a girl. I guess that was natural. We didn’t want one too old or too young. I guess one about three or four would be nice. It was amazing to see all the little faces with lonely smiles. There were some with lots of troubles and others with handicaps. But they were all wanting to be loved and be a part of someone’s life.
After our interviews, we spent time with the children, looking and talking with them. We played with some, but I was a little too old for some things.
Considering our ages and situation, money does talk. It talks loud when you want it to. They told us they didn’t see a problem with us adopting, especially when I mentioned a new wing could be added on the orphanage. But after hours and hours of time spent in New Orleans, our child just wasn’t there. Elizabeth had some favorites, but I wasn’t pulled in the same direction as her. The week soon passed so we thought we would try the orphanage in Baton Rouge. Maybe we would find our God-sent child there.
After arriving, it didn’t take long for me to make up my mind. After about an hour there, I was ready to go. I didn’t have too much to say about it. On our way home we sat quietly. Things seemed so hopeless; our dreams seemed shattered. But, I wasn’t ready to give up. I am a firm believer that where there’s a will there’s a way.
After we got back home, Elizabeth needed to lie down for a while. She was so tired, uneasy, and frightened. She was awfully weak and growing frail. The next couple of days while Elizabeth rested, I went into the city to work. While at work, I started talking to one of my young executives about adopting. I told him about our venture in New Orleans and Baton Rouge. Then he told me about out-of-state adoption. He said he grew up in an orphanage outside of Memphis in a little town called Wiggins in Tubbs County.
“You might have something there,” I replied. “I never thought about going out of state. What’s the name of the orphanage?”
“It’s called Thornhill Orphanage. It’s a good place with caring people.”
“How long were you there?” I asked.
“Until I was fourteen—my parents were killed in a car accident when I was two. There was no other place for me. My mother’s brother kept me for a while until the Department of Children Services placed me in Thornhill. I know several people up there. I’d be glad to call ahead and get everything going for you.”
“That’s great, Bill. I appreciate your help. Let me talk to Elizabeth and I’ll call you.”
“Sure thing, James,” replied Bill. “Let me know.”
I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to tell Elizabeth.
While I was on my way home, Elizabeth received a phone call from her friend at the bank.
“Mrs. Towns, we have found out who has been passing the marked money around Shreveport.”
“Who is it?” she asked.
“It is a woman named Denise Johnson. Do you know her?”
“No, I don’t believe I do,” she stated, puzzled.
“What about the other person?” he asked, “Martha Biggs.”
Immediately, Elizabeth felt weak, her heart racing.
“Mrs. Towns are you there?” he called. “Hello, hello?”
“Yes, I’m still here,” she responded.
“What about the other woman?” he inquired.
“I don’t believe I know either,” she said. “But I want you to do everything in your power to take care of the problem.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll take care of it.”
“Listen and listen good. My name,” she warned, “is to stay out of this. It’s never to be mentioned. You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. I have some good friends on the police force in Shreveport. I can have them busted on a drug charge instead of blackmail.”
“Very clever,” she replied. “I like that, but remember,” she warned, “you don’t want to know what happens if my name turns up in this mess.”
Elizabeth hung up and racked her brain. She figured there was no way they could connect her to the baby. It would be her word against theirs. But the blackmail was something different. Elizabeth knew if it came down to it she could say they were blackmailers. She could tell them when she was in the hospital years ago Martha was a nurse there and had slipped her pills for money. A few months ago, she ran into Martha and she threatened to tell my husband if she didn’t pay her one hundred thousand dollars. Martha was out of work, desperate, and needed money. Elizabeth didn’t want to destroy her marriage and home over a bunch of pills. We were thinking of adopting a child.
When I got home, I raced in to tell Elizabeth the good news, but first I had to catch my breath. I began explaining it to her, but I noticed she acted sort of hesitant.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I thought you would be more eager.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Out of state, James, I don’t know. I don’t see why we can’t adopt in Louisiana.”
“But Elizabeth,” I said. “Bill told me this was a great place. He grew up there.”
“I don’t know, that’s an awfully long ways away,” she complained. “I don’t know if I could make the trip.”
“Sure you can,” I assured her. “You will do fine. How about it, Elizabeth? Let’s go for it.”
After a few minutes of thinking about it, she decided to go. She saw that I was so happy, and that was worth it all.
“I love you, baby. You’ll be happy about it, you’ll see. I’m going to call Bill. I’ll be right back.”
Elizabeth took a long deep breath and slowly sighed. She sat in silence, wondering where Magnolia’s baby was. She had no idea. She had never wanted to know until now. All she knew was that it was out of state. To beat it all, she had no way of finding out. She hoped the baby wasn’t in Memphis. Besides, if it was, what would be the odds of me choosing her child over all the other children? Furthermore, what would be the chances the child would still be there after three years?
I never knew what walking on clouds felt like until now, I thought.
But this time it felt good. Like something good was going to happen.
We packed that night and left early the next day. I was as happy as a child at Christmas. Elizabeth kept sort of quiet. She felt bad a lot and seemed to be getting weaker. I could tell she was troubled, but she was happy for me.
It was a long drive. But finally we pulled up to the front door. It was still early, about 8:30 or 8:45 in the morning. We went in and made our way to the main office.
They were expecting us. Bill had already notified them. It took us about two hours to complete all the paperwork. Afterwards, we toured the orphanage and met some of the children. Bill was right; it was a very nice home.
As we visited about the orphanage, I noticed Elizabeth was a little uptight, but I figured she was tired from the trip. We spent the entire day there. As we talked with some of the children, Elizabeth became weak and had to lie down.
While Elizabeth rested, I continued touring the orphanage and noticed a small boy. I assumed he was about three or four years old. He was sitting in a chair looking out the window. I made my way over and sat down beside him. At first he acted like he didn’t no
tice me and kept staring out the window. I spoke, but he didn’t say a word. I pointed to some squirrels playing in the yard; he never spoke.
When I got up to leave, he quickly grabbed my arm, looked up at me, and called me Daddy. I didn’t know what to say. I was honored that he would think that much of me. All it took was for me to look in his eyes. I had seen those eyes somewhere, but I couldn’t remember at the time. This was the child. He was the one; I knew it. I knew something good was going to happen. I turned to him again and asked him his name.
“James,” he answered.
“James,” I said. “That’s my name, too.”
He looked up with those eyes and giggled, “We both have the same name. Are you going to be my daddy?” he said. “I think you would make a good daddy. I’ve never had a daddy before.”
“What happened to your dad?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“What about your mama?’
He humped his little shoulders, I brushed his hair back out of his face, and he said, “I don’t know.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that,” I replied. “Wait right here. I want you to meet somebody.”
When I reached Elizabeth she was getting up. I told her I wanted her to meet somebody. We made our way over to little James; Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. As she looked into the little boy’s eyes, a chill ran down her spine. Her worst fear stood before her; she was at a loss for words.
“Little James, this is Elizabeth, my wife, and hopefully your mother,” I said with enthusiasm.
Elizabeth grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side. Elizabeth pleaded and begged me to go and try somewhere else, but I wouldn’t hear of it. This was the child. This was to be my son.
Suddenly, Elizabeth passed out. Everyone gathered around and tried to assist her. When she awoke, the workers took her back to the clinic to lie down.
As they were carrying her away, little James called out her name. I turned to the director and told him I wanted to adopt little James. He asked me about my wife. I told him everything would be fine; she was just tired from the trip. I assured him, if he would take care of all the legalities as soon as possible, there would be a substantial donation for the orphanage.
“Well, Mr. Towns, why don’t you take little James home with you for a few weeks and see how it goes. I’ll get with our lawyer and yours to work out the final papers.”
“Sounds good,” I replied.
“Me, too!” little James cried.
“Go ahead and get your things together, son,” encouraged the director, “while we go check on Mrs. Towns.”
Shortly, we were ready to go and headed out. Elizabeth slept all the way home. Little James and I talked, laughed, and sang songs.
“She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes. She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes…,” we laughed and sang.
Finally, the road lay behind us and we were home. We had been home about a week when I got an urgent business call and had to go out of town for about three weeks. Elizabeth still wasn’t feeling well so I decided to take little James with me. That would give her some time alone to rest. We took a cab to the airport. I asked little James if he had ever flown before, and he said, “No.” I told him not to be afraid, that it was quite fun. I told him I would be there with him. He hugged my leg and replied, “We will do fine, Daddy.” It wasn’t long before the plane was up in the sky and leaving the New Orleans skyline, headed to Houston, Texas.
Not long after we left, the police and D.A. stopped by the house to talk with Elizabeth. They introduced themselves and asked if they could speak with her for a moment. She agreed. The police told her they had been trying to get in touch with her for the last few days. She told them she had been out of town with me. Elizabeth was trembling all over. She didn’t know what to say when they asked her why she seemed a little jittery. She told them she was weak from cancer.
“We’re sorry to hear that, ma’am,” they replied with concern. “This won’t take long. We want to ask you about the blackmail and your relationship with a Ms. Martha Biggs and Ms. Denise Johnson.”
“Please sit down,” offered Elizabeth.
As they sat down, Elizabeth started explaining the situation. She said she first met Martha in the hospital several years ago after having a nervous breakdown over her miscarriage, but had never met her sister. Elizabeth also stated that while she was in the hospital she had bought pills from Martha.
“I know it sounds crazy, but I was a messed up woman. I rejected my husband, blaming him for the loss of our child, and I guess you could say I did it out of revenge. Martha found out James had a lot of money. When I met her a few months back, she confronted me. She was in desperate need of a job and asked me to help her get one at the orphanage. She said she was going to tell my husband if I didn’t help her. I couldn’t give up James. Finally, I agreed and helped her. Later on after she started working, the phone calls started. She wanted money. I assumed she got greedy and wanted more.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” questioned the D.A.
“I was afraid the scandal would cause me to lose my husband. I didn’t want that. I thought if I gave her what she wanted she would go away.”
“What about the baby?” probed the D.A.
“What baby?” she asked puzzled.
“The baby she supposedly took to the orphanage and swapped.”
“I don’t know anything about a baby,” she responded.
“Martha and Denise, her sister, were caught falsifying papers at the orphanage. Both of them were fired. The orphanage didn’t file charges. They wanted to keep everything low profile. The bad publicity would hurt the home,” explained the D.A. “We have only charged them with blackmail. I think this will be enough for now, Mrs. Towns. The trial starts the first of the week. I need you to testify. Do you think you’ll be able to be there?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I believe I can make it.”
“Okay,” he said. “Have a nice day. Hope you get to feeling better.”
Later on that evening I called to tell Elizabeth that little James and I had landed in Houston. I also wanted to see how she was feeling. She didn’t have too much to say. I guess I had disturbed her nap. I told her I would see her when I got home and if she needed me to call. I left her my number and little James told her he missed her.
“I miss you, too,” she mumbled.
The week before the trial flew by.
Elizabeth made her way into the courtroom. As the trial began, Martha and Denise sat staring at her. Elizabeth ignored them as if they weren’t in the room. When the time came for her to take the stand, she placed her right hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. The attorney addressed her and the situation. She explained it all to the jury and judge exactly as she had told the police and D.A. at her home.
“She’s lying!” cried out Martha from across the room. “Ask her about the baby!”
The judge slammed the gavel down upon the bench and told her that one more outburst like that and she would be held in contempt. It appeared the case about the baby boiled down to Martha’s word against Elizabeth’s. Denise wasn’t there when the deal was made. The fact was that these women were caught passing marked money, and a large sum of it was found on them.
“Are there any further questions?” asked the judge.
“Yes, your honor, there is one. Mrs. Towns, do you know a woman by the name of Cynthia Taylor?”
“Why, no, I don’t believe I do,” she replied. “Why, should I?”
“Maybe you know her by another name, Magnolia.”
She paused for a second, but never blinked an eye. Her heart raced as a knot started to rise in her throat. Then she took control of herself, leaned back in her chair, and looked the attorney dead in the eye and said, “No.”
“That’s a
ll, your honor,” rested the attorney.
“Mrs. Towns, you can step down,” ordered the judge. “You may call your next witness.”
Slowly she walked across the floor. Her legs felt like they were going to buckle out from under her. Carefully, she took her seat as her eyes searched the courtroom to see if anyone noticed. When she looked Denise’s way, Denise was moving her lips but she couldn’t hear what she was saying. She could tell Denise was repeating the same phrase and was finally able to read her lips—rich bitch.
Shortly afterward, the judge called for a recess. Elizabeth made her way to the back of the courtroom where the D.A. stopped her. “Are you alright, Mrs. Towns?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Why don’t you go on home? You probably won’t have to testify anymore. I will contact you if we need you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied. “I do believe I can rest better there.”
“Let me help you to your car,” he insisted.
Carefully, she made her way out of the courthouse to her car.
“Thank you,” she said. “You are so kind.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Towns,” he replied.
As she drove off, he thought to himself, I know she’s lying, but I can’t prove it. She’s involved in it a lot more than she is letting on. But if she’s dying with cancer, what good would it do?
The trial went on; the days passed. Elizabeth went to see her doctor for some tests. The tests showed the cancer was in its final stage. The doctor gave her three to six months at the most.
“Elizabeth, you’re going to have to quit fighting it,” he explained, “and spend more time in bed and rest. It would help you so much.”
“I know,” she agreed. “I know.”
After she pulled up in her drive and got out of the car, she picked up the paper lying in the yard. She went in the house and sat down to look at it. The front page read, ‘Two women get 15-20 years for blackmail.’ As she scanned the article, she didn’t see her name at all. “Thank God,” she softly spoke as she headed for the bedroom to lie down.
It was early the next morning when Elizabeth awoke. Quietly, she made her way about the bedroom. She happened to look out the window and noticed a car parked across the street. She stood and watched for a few minutes, and then it drove off. She didn’t think too much of it until later on in the day when she saw the same car parked in front of the house again. As the days went by, she kept an eye on it. The day James returned, she noticed the car didn’t come back.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” I said as I poured each of us a glass of orange juice. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m still tired a bit,” she replied.
“Have you told the doctor about it?” I questioned her as I poured little James a bowl of cereal.
“James,” she spoke. “We have to talk.”
“Now Elizabeth if it’s about little James,” I grumbled.
“No it’s not,” she replied. “It’s about something else, something bad.”
Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks, turned to her, and asked, “Is everything all right?”
“No, James, it’s not,” she replied.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know how to tell you, but I have cancer.”
“Cancer!” I yelled. “How, how long?” I questioned her.
She broke down and started to cry. I reached over and took her into my arms. As she cried, she told me the doctor said she had three to six months to live. I was devastated. I didn’t know what to think, much less how to feel. For the next few days, I stayed around home, worried and angry. My feelings were so mixed up I didn’t know which way to turn.
“How could you not tell me!” I yelled. “How could you keep it from me?”
From then on, Elizabeth stayed in bed most of the time, except for getting up occasionally to walk around a little and to go to the bathroom. She liked to sit at the window during the day and look out. I tried to stay home as much as I could with her. Little James was a lot of company to her. They never were that close, but there was something there. I often wondered what.
I was sitting in a cafeteria one day not long after Elizabeth had told me about the cancer. I couldn’t help but notice this woman staring at me as if she knew me. I didn’t want to keep staring back, so I got up and went to the bar to get a drink. When I turned, she was still looking at me as she talked to another woman at the table with her. Finally, I decided to go over to where they were. When I approached her, she scooted over, creating a place for me to sit down.
“Hi, ladies,” I said as I sat down. I ordered another round for everybody. I slowly leaned over to her and said, “I know you’re going to take this as a pickup, but I don’t mean it like that. You remind me of someone I once knew.” She sort of squirmed a little and giggled but never satisfied my question. “Where are you ladies from?” I inquired.
The other woman whose name was Betty spoke up and said, “Houston.”
I asked what they were dong in New Orleans and she replied, “We’re visiting, maybe staying.”
“Would either of you be interested in a job?” I offered.
“What kind?” spoke up the woman, whose name was Cheryl.
“I need someone to take care of my wife. She has terminal cancer. I’ll pay you well, and you can live at the house with us. Do you think you’d like to try it?” I asked as I washed down another shot of bourbon.
“Why not?” Cheryl said. “Some extra money would be good, plus a place to stay is very tempting. Yeah, I’ll take it.”
“Would you like to follow me home,” I asked, “and meet my wife and little boy?”
“Sure, that will be fine,” she stated. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, yes I am,” I replied.
We left the cafeteria and headed home. Cheryl followed in her car. When we pulled up in the drive, I glanced up and saw Elizabeth looking out the window.
“It’s the car!” cried Elizabeth. “It’s the car I’ve been seeing in front of the house!”
She slowly made her way over to the bed and crawled in, pulling the cover over her head. She wondered what was going on and whose car it was. Then she paused and thought, “Maybe it’s not the same car, maybe it just looks like it.”
As she was still wondering, I entered her room and yelled, “Elizabeth, I’m home! I have someone I want you to meet.”
Slowly she pulled the cover from around her head.
“Elizabeth,” I announced, “this is Cheryl. She is going to start taking care of you.”
“Hi, Elizabeth,” she said.
Elizabeth slowly looked Cheryl over. She didn’t look like Magnolia. Her hair was a lot longer and dark. As they talked, Elizabeth began to feel more confident. Unexpectedly, little James ran into the room with a peanut butter sandwich in his hand.
“This is my soon to be son,” I bragged. “Little James, meet Cheryl. She will be living with us for a while to help take care of you and Elizabeth.”
“That’s great!” he yelled. “Can I have something to drink?”
As Cheryl made her way over to him she bent down, reached out, and hugged him. “You’re a big boy,” she said as she brushed his hair back out of his eyes. “How old are you?”
“I’m three, going on four,” he replied. “Can you get me something to drink?”
“I bet you love peanut butter sandwiches,” Cheryl said as she hugged him once again.
“I sure do. Do you want me to make you one?” he asked as she wiped a little peanut butter from his cheek.
“I sure do!” she exclaimed. “That would be great, and I will get you a drink.”
“Come on!” he called.
He took her by the hand and led her out of the room.
“What do you think, Elizabeth?” I asked.
“Where did you find her, at a bar?” she replied.
“No
w, Elizabeth,” I said. “Don’t be like that, give her a chance. Besides little James has already got a shine for her.”
“What about you?” she questioned. “She’s awfully young.”
Cheryl came back into the room with little James riding on her back.
“Giddy up horsey, giddy up!” he yelled.
“What about it, Elizabeth?” I asked.
Elizabeth, already weak and nearly sick, spoke up and said, “I guess.”
“That’s my girl,” I replied as I watched Cheryl and little James prance about the room.
During the next few weeks Elizabeth kept getting worse. She was completely bedridden now, and she couldn’t feed herself. Cheryl was wonderful. She took good care of Elizabeth and little James. Elizabeth slept most of the time, except when she would wake up screaming from bad dreams. The doctor came by twice a week. He gave us little or no hope.
“At anytime, it could be over,” he said.
Late one evening, little James and I were downstairs. Cheryl was upstairs with Elizabeth because she’d had another bad night. As Cheryl reached over to fluff Elizabeth’s pillow, she opened her eyes. As she lay there motionless, she looked into Cheryl’s eyes.
“Oh, no, it can’t be!” cried Elizabeth.
Cheryl stared into her eyes, winked and whispered, “Surprise.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, and she whispered back, “Magnolia, is that you?”
She closed her eyes, gasped for a deep breath, and stopped breathing. Cheryl cried out. When I entered the bedroom, I saw Elizabeth lying on the bed with her arm hanging off the side, and Cheryl was at the foot of the bed in tears. I rushed over to the bedside, but it was too late. Elizabeth had passed. I reached over and took Cheryl in my arms to comfort her. Little James started to enter the room but Cheryl ran over, took him by the hand, and led him back downstairs. I called for an ambulance. She was taken to the mortuary and pronounced dead by the medical examiner.
The funeral was nice. I had all of Elizabeth’s favorite flowers. She looked beautiful in her flowing gown that I picked out. It would be hard to give someone up that I had been with all those years. I was but a young business man just starting out when I met her. We’d had some bad times along the way, but there were a lot of good times, too.
When I got back home, I looked around the big old house and thought it would be good to sell it and buy something smaller. The next day or two, I stayed to myself and studied on what I needed to do. The lawyer notified me by mail that the adoption papers were finalized. Little James was officially mine. I was glad of that. I guess we needed each other now more than ever.
It was late in the evening and Cheryl had been shopping with little James. He was tired and worn out. When he came home he fell right to sleep. I was downstairs sipping on some brandy when I heard someone come into the room. I slowly turned around and sat my glass on the table. Magnolia was standing there as beautiful as I had ever seen her.
“May I pour you a drink?” I asked her.
“Why, yes, James that would be nice,” she replied. “I’m so glad to get out of those clothes and get my hair dyed back to its natural color.”
“I am, too,” I said. “You have never looked so beautiful. I’m glad you decided to come back to New Orleans and look me up. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” she said as she ran her hands up under the lapel of my jacket and lightly kissed me.
“I was hoping she would lead us to little James sooner,” I replied. “She always did blame me for the miscarriage, and believe me I have paid for it down through the years.”
“So she is the one who couldn’t have kids,” said Magnolia. “She had me believing it was you for a while.”
“That miscarriage did something to her,” I explained. “She never was the same after that. Time passed and as the years went by we drifted further apart. I had often wondered how it would have been if we hadn’t lost the child.”
“Then you might not have met me,” she chuckled. “If you hadn’t found Elizabeth’s diary you would have never known the truth.”
“That was one thing about Elizabeth,” I replied. “She wrote everything down with every little detail, except one thing.”
“What’s that?” asked Magnolia.
“She didn’t know for sure if Martha had taken our baby to Memphis or not. It could have gone to California.”
“Oh, no!” she cried, “it couldn’t be.”
Or could it, I thought.
Bay Point Island
