Bound by Blood and Brimstone (38 page)

“Why on earth would you want to give such a valuable heirloom to Lorrie Beth? She’s

too young to even know how to take care of a piece of jewelry like that.”

Clearly, this wasn’t unfolding the way Noah had anticipated. He must’ve thought

Momma and Reese had just returned from a jaunt to Stupid City, but I knew the light was about

to dawn. With eyes riveted to the ring and her jaw unhinged, Lorrie Beth wore the singular look

of a girl who’d just found a genie in her sock drawer.

Noah glanced at each of us in turn before settling his serene gaze on Momma’s face. As a

tiny smile played about the corners of his mouth, he laid Momma’s questions to rest.

“I want Lorrie Beth to have it because I love her. I’d die for her. Actually, I intend to

marry her.”

Momma capped her hand over her mouth before letting loose a jagged twitter. Beside her,

Reese’s expression was guarded, his body rigid. Nerves jangling, Lorrie Beth practically vibrated

in her chair as she reached tentatively for one of Noah’s hands. Caleb’s ashen face and bleak

eyes were so painful to see, I was barely able to restrain myself from swooping up Sam and

fleeing.

Meanwhile, Momma’s twitter, bordering on a cackle, ended abruptly. “No, I’m serious,

Noah. Why would you want to give something like that to Lorrie Beth? Why, she’s only thirteen,

just a baby!”

Noah’s eyes never wavered from Momma’s, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped

Lorrie Beth’s hand. In the strained silence, I could’ve heard a hair hit the floor. Dawn had broken

and shattered, flinging its cruel shards in Momma’s face. Her features had tightened, hardened.

She began to shake her head slowly. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,”

she said. “Lorrie Beth? Married?” She jerked her eyes to Reese, seeking backup. “I don’t like

this. This isn’t funny.”

“Momma, please.” Lorrie Beth, eyes filmed in tears, attempted to interject, but Reese

halted her by slashing the air with a stout finger.

“Don’t say a word, young lady. Not one word. I think we’ve heard enough of this

nonsense. And I think you’ve worn out your welcome here, Noah. You’d best pack and head

back to Miss Molly’s tonight.”

Unperturbed, Noah kept his seat, and in cool, measured tones, pled his case. “Mr.

Watkins, I wouldn’t offend you by asking for Lorrie Beth if I couldn’t provide for her. I have my

own home and a business to go back to, thanks to my father.

I’ve never been afraid of hard work. You knew that, or you would’ve never hired me. I’ll

see to it she finishes school, even college, if she wants. And I know she’s only thirteen, but I’m

just seventeen, myself. I skipped a couple of grades and finished early. Age is just a number,

and...”

Reese shoved his chair back hard enough to whack the sink behind him, cutting Noah’s

pretty speech short. Standing at the head of the table with his nostrils flaring, he put me in mind

of a bull ready to charge.

“I guess you don’t hear very well, Noah,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “Our

daughter isn’t going anywhere with you. She’s not going to marry you, and she’s not going to lay

eyes on you ever again. Now, I’m only going to say this once more. Take your ring, pack your

clothes, and get out of this house.”

“No! You can’t do this to me! If he goes, I swear, I’ll go with him!” Clutching Noah’s

sleeve, sobbing, desperate to keep her anchor, Lorrie Beth interceded with ferocity. “Momma,

you can’t let Reese throw Noah out of this house. It’s your house, isn’t it? What’s the matter with

you? Can’t you stand up for me, just this once?”

She jumped to her feet with Noah in tow and faced her adversaries. Her chin jutted in

defiance, her voice raw and near to breaking. “I love him! I love him, and I’m going to be with

him, and you can’t stop me!”

Noah’s arm encircled her waist protectively, and he gave her a subtle squeeze for

encouragement. The movement wasn’t lost on Reese, who looked like he’d just stepped in

someone else’s nightmare.

“Take your hands off her, Noah.”

Suddenly, Lorrie Beth stilled. Her features settled, composing her face and quieting her

tirade. Her expression remained closed, her gaze chilly. “He doesn’t have to take his hands off

me, Reese. And I’m not staying here another minute. You won’t stop me either.”

Reese blanched and leaned over to splay his hands on the edge of the table. A bulging

vein throbbed thickly on the side of his neck.

“What did you say? I won’t stop you? And why is that?”

She linked her arm through Noah’s and turned her white face to Reese. “Because I’m

pregnant.”

In the next blink I saw something intense but lightning-quick flare in Noah’s eyes. It was

shock.
He didn’t know! She
hadn’t told him yet!

Reese’s face crumpled, caving in on itself. Momma’s hand flew to her heart, her mouth a

small, round “O.”

Then, the room exploded. With a savage cry, Caleb catapulted across the table. Dishes

crashed to the floor, launching glass splinters in all directions. Fried chicken crumbs and gravy

splattered the walls. Lorrie Beth screamed. Ducking to avoid being stabbed by a flying fork, I

snatched Sam and lurched back against the stove.

Caleb sailed over the table head first, slamming Noah to the floor, pinning him like an

insect. Thrashing, bucking, kicking for all he was worth, Noah attempted to free himself from the

madman straddling his chest. With both hands in a death grip on Noah’s throat, Caleb began to

throttle him, blubbering, spraying spittle in his face, shrieking, “You ruined her! You shot her

full of your filthy seed, you bastard! She’s dirty now! Ruined!”

Sheathed in cold, blind fury, Caleb was shielded by walls our frantic yells couldn’t

breach. Mere seconds had passed since he’d unraveled, and in that short span, I was positive we

were about to become witnesses to a killing. I tightened my grip on Sam and pulled his head

against my leg to shield his eyes.

Before I could wrap my mind around the spectacle in front of me, Lorrie Beth made a

mad dash for the bucket of spring water Momma kept by the dish cupboard and upended it over

Caleb’s head. It happened in the blink of an eye. A spasm shuddered through him, and he inhaled

hard enough to gag.

Reese charged over fallen chairs and rubble to wrench Caleb off his victim. Blue-faced

and glassy eyed, Noah rolled over slowly, wretched once, and vomited on the floor. Lorrie Beth

stood over him, pale and trembling.

It all ended as suddenly as it had started. Reese tossed Caleb out the door and into the

afternoon drizzle like a sack of potatoes, with a curt order to “go to the barn and soak your fool

head.”

Momma nailed Noah with one withering look before turning her narrow back to him.

“Show him the door, Ember Mae,” she said woodenly. Shaky, on his feet again, Noah swayed

unsteadily and risked one heart-breaking glance at Lorrie Beth.

“Don’t ever think I’d leave you now,” he whispered. “I’ll be back.”

I’d never seen a human face so wracked by desolation. Lorrie Beth’s news had broken

something inside of Reese. He’d stood in the kitchen doorway, bracing himself as though he

might fall, his features slack and gray, lines of agony bracketing his eyes and mouth. Torment

shadowed his eyes and shriveled him somehow.

Tears were brimming, threatening to spill over as he sought Lorrie Beth with his tortured

gaze. He kept shaking his head slowly, like someone who can’t remember his name.

“How could you? How could you do this to your mother? How could you do this to me?

We’re dead now, you know. I’m finished as a preacher.” The tears flowed freely, and he didn’t

offer to lift a hand to wipe them away. “Harlot. You’re nothing but a harlot. I can’t bear to look

at you.” Like a doddering old man with palsy, he swiveled and grabbed his hat from the counter

with a tremulous hand.

“Reese? Where’re you going?” Throughout his graveyard monologue, Momma hadn’t

raised one word in protest or defense of her own daughter. Her heart bled only for the shell-

shocked man leaving the room on heavy feet.

“I’m going to the church,” he stated. “I need to be somewhere where I can feel clean.”

Like a rabid rat, misery gnawed my gut until long after I’d gone to bed. Momma and I

spent until dark shoveling out the train wreck in our kitchen. Lorrie Beth disappeared into her

room at Momma’s command, unfit even to occupy our space. Afterwards, the only sounds heard

throughout the house were those of two hearts fragmenting behind closed doors.

Left to his own devices, Sam spent the evening curled up on my bed, hammering me with

questions I couldn’t answer. When I’d talked myself hoarse, we lay snuggling under my quilt

with a book until fatigue finally got the better of him. I dozed fitfully long into the night, ears

trained for Reese’s return, more alone than I’d ever felt in my life. At last, blessed sleep took me.

Sometime before dawn, a sharp rapping on the front door awakened me. Stealthily,

careful not to rouse Sam, I padded my way down the hallway where Reese stood at the open

door. Sheriff Bates towered on the porch. Unbidden, Sue Lee’s face came to mind, and I shivered

in my flannel nightgown. Concealed behind the threshold, I strained my ears to listen.

“Sorry to have to wake you like this, Reese, but I don’t know what else to do,” Les Bates

was saying. “I swear, people are going crazy in this town. First, Sue Lee, and now this.”

“What is it, Les? Just tell me,” Reese said, his voice strained with barely-concealed panic.

“You’re going to have to come down to the courthouse with me. There’s no other way.”

“Les, for the love of heaven, will you tell me what this is about?”

Les Bates paused and cleared his throat. His voice warbled when he gave Reese his

answer. “Caleb’s in jail, Reese. He’s asking for you. Says he won’t talk to anyone else.”

“Jail? What’s he in jail for?” Reese demanded, jerking back a step from the door jamb. “I

thought he was out in the barn.”

Sheriff Bates sighed and responded in a weary tone. “He’s in for cold-blooded murder,

Reese. He stabbed Noah Lunsford to death.”

“So, where’s your famous ginseng tea?” I teased, shedding my coat and scarf. On the

small, plain table Wonnie had laid out a pot of strong, black coffee and bowls of cream and

sugar. Smoothly, she turned from the hearth to slide cakes of gingerbread onto a wooden platter

beside the coffee pot.

“I knew you were coming,” she said simply. I sighed, sinking onto one of the stools by

the table and fought to steady my hands as I poured our coffee. I’d taken the coward’s way out

after hearing Sheriff Bates’ news and, like the homing pigeon, had flown to my haven. Only with

Wonnie could I find my last connection to the past, where strong arms and a cool hand for my

brow waited.

“Momma wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I just did the milking for her and let her

sleep. I left her a note on the kitchen table.”

“Nice of you,” she mused, spreading the gingerbread with butter and honey and sitting to

face me. I knew she wasn’t fooled for one instant. Wonnie knew no farm wife would ever sleep

past milking time unless disaster of massive proportions had fallen. “You are a good daughter,”

she said, resting calm, black eyes on me.

“Yeah, well, she got some news yesterday that really upset her,” I explained, “and I guess

she was too exhausted to get up.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, lowering her gaze to take a sip of coffee. I stuffed my mouth

with buttery gingerbread to keep it busy with something besides spilling my guts. In my numbing

urgency, tearing through the woods in the breaking dawn, it had been easy to shove aside the

shock and grief. Now, it boiled and churned within me, threatening to erupt.

She was watching me, sorrow in the depths of her eyes. A sad, crooked smile deepened

the network of lines crisscrossing her beloved features. “I have often thought God puts the

heaviest burdens on the smallest shoulders,” she said. “Even when the shoulders are young, He

knows when they can carry the load.”

I won’t cry! I won’t! I can’t waste my time here
blubbering like a baby
. I added another

spoonful of sugar to my coffee and stirred. “Looks to me like He’d save the biggest loads for

men with jagged scars and skulls tattooed on their arms,” I muttered, trying to ease the knot in

my stomach. “Doesn’t seem to me like God’s always fair.”

She cackled, unfazed by my blasphemy. “Moses probably thought the same thing, but

God still put His load on him, and Moses was an old man when God called him. He sure put up a

fuss about it, too. Tried every way he knew to get out of it.”

I slurped my sweet coffee and poured honey on another piece of gingerbread. “Yeah,

maybe so, but I don’t have a direct hotline to God’s ear like Moses did.”

She let me stew in my own juices for a moment while I busied myself with more