Bound by Blood and Brimstone (39 page)

chewing. Then, grasping one of my hands in her gnarled fingers, she squeezed gently.

“You have the blood of my people in here,” she intoned, tapping her chest. “Cherokee

have always had strength. God knows this.” Closing the conversation with a firm nod, she

pushed her stool back with a scrape. “I have fox traps I need to see to. After that, we will talk

more by the fire.”

I spent the better part of the day with Wonnie, locked in a companionable silence. We

checked the traps and returned with a lavish booty of rust-colored pelts. I watched while she

skinned the foxes with deft strokes of her knife.

I admired her agile, cat-like movements as she bustled around the hearth, parching corn,

her gleaming black-and white braid slung over one shoulder. I curled up on a pillow beside her

on the floor, listening to the scratching of her coal on the sheet of canvas as Wovoka’s likeness

took shape. In her presence, my swirling panic subsided. Like a healing balm of exotic origin

smeared on an open wound, her nearness soothed what ailed me.

I no longer felt the need to spew out the dirt of my latest misery. It was enough just to be

with her. On some level, I was certain she knew anyway. “There is darkness around him,” she’d

said of Noah when I’d brought him for a visit.

Fearing to dwell on just how much Wonnie did know, I contented myself with savoring

every detail of her lithe form and dry wit. I lived in the moment.

Still, there was a second I nearly broke down. On the porch, she embraced me for a long

moment, running her hands down the length of my hair, her wrinkled cheek pressed against

mine. Pulling back to study me briefly, her eyes misted over, and she touched my face. “There is

more trouble ahead for your sister,” she said in a tremulous voice. “You will be all she has. You

have to keep on being strong.”

I felt my own eyes well up, but I didn’t look away. “What about me, Wonnie? Who do I

have to be strong for me?”

A pained look shimmered across her features before she responded. “Why else do you

think God has let me live more winters than I can count? It is for you!”

I returned to a house as silent as the grave. Lorrie Beth was nowhere to be seen, and Sam

sat on the floor in front of the fire paging through a book. “Where’s Momma and Reese?” I

asked, hunkering on the floor near him.

“Momma’s in the kitchen,” he said morosely, barely glancing in my direction. “She cried

all day. Lorrie Beth, too. We haven’t seen Reese today at all.”
They don’t know yet! God in

heaven, nobody knows but me, and it’s all about to hit the fan
now.

I found Momma sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, a salad and plate

of sandwiches laid out beside the milk pitcher. I tapped on the door jamb, and she raised her

haggard face, looking dazed. She appeared to have aged ten years since yesterday. “Oh, it’s you.

I found your note this morning. Thanks for doing the milking, but you should’ve awakened me

before leaving.”

“I figured you needed your rest,” I said evenly, refusing to take offense at her accusatory

tone. Quickly, I set about pouring milk and laying out plates. “Where’s Lorrie Beth? Is Reese

still out at the church or did he come home last night?” I knew when the news came, I’d have to

be convincing in my role as shocked spectator.

“Reese came home in the middle of the night, but he was gone when I got up, gone

without a word,” she complained, raking back strands of loose hair. “Your sister’s been in her

room all day, sulking. Matter of fact, I’m glad I haven’t had to look at her.” This last was said

with such vehemence, I paused at the utensil drawer, a catch in my throat.

Turning my head to take a cautious peek, I glimpsed the hardness of her expression, and

my heart sank. “Momma, you mean you haven’t spoken to Lorrie Beth at all today? Have you

checked on her to make sure she’s okay?” I kept my tone low-key and light, but anger was firing

my face, burning my neck. I refused to turn around for fear of igniting us both.

“She’s fine. She’s a big girl now. She thinks she’s all grown up now, fooling around,

doing the nasty!” she said viciously. I cringed and pretended to look for another matching fork.

She sniffed and blew her nose wetly. “I swear, Ember Mae, I’ll never forgive her for

what she’s done, never. She’s not given one ounce of thought to the rest of us. She’s taken this

family and thrown us in the gutter. I don’t have to tell you what will happen to us when this gets

around town. Silver Rock Creek has a long memory when it comes to scandal.”

I set forks by the plates, pulled out the chair next to her, and sat facing her, my heart

thudding sickly in my ears. She had her hand fisted around a damp handkerchief, and I reached

to cover it with my palm. “It’ll work out, Momma. We’ll be okay. We just have to stick together.

No matter how bad a mistake Lorrie Beth has made, she’s still your child. She’s still your blood,

right?”

She snatched her hand from mine, hollow eyes flaring. “No daughter of mine would go

out and do such a thing at thirteen! I’ve taught you both from the cradle how to be a lady and

command respect. I’ve taught you right from wrong. And what about Reese? A preacher of

God’s word can’t have a step-daughter walking around with a bastard in her belly!”

I couldn’t help flinching at her cruelty, and when the door slammed, I nearly jumped out

of my skin. The heavy tread of Reese’s boots echoed in the hallway, and Momma shot to her feet

as she cut me a warning glance.

“Reese, there you are,” she announced, attempting to smooth her mussed hair. “Come sit

down and have a bite. I hope sandwiches are okay. I’ve been worried about you. Where’ve you

been all day, Honey?” She was rushing to take his coat, petting, and cooing, a glaring contrast to

the venomous, granite-faced woman of five seconds earlier.

He practically fell into his chair, his face shadowed with day-old stubble, his eyes

bloodshot. “I’m not hungry, Mona,” he said hollowly, giving her shoulder a brief squeeze.

“Ember Mae, could you go fetch Lorrie Beth? And bring Sam in here, too. I’m calling a family

meeting.”

Seated beside Lorrie Beth, gripping her hand under the table, I braced myself for the

worst. She’d trailed me from her bedroom, swollen eyed and disheveled, looking like an amnesia

victim. I attempted to order my thoughts, even tried to pray, but all that came was
Please, God,

help us, please, help us,
please, help us.

Reese clasped his hands together and glanced at each of us for a moment. Then, with a

heavy sigh, he made his announcement. “I’ve spent the better part of the day thinking about what

happened here yesterday, and I’ve finally come to some decisions about how to salvage this

family.” He looked to Momma for support, who snapped him a nod as if to say,
Yes, Dear,

whatever
you say, Dear.

He directed his next words at Lorrie Beth. “After I tell you what I’ve decided, I have

some bad news. When I tell you this news, I want it understood there are to be no outbursts, no

hysterics, and no dramatics. I’ve had my fill of that stuff after yesterday, and I won’t tolerate it.

Is that understood?”

Like good little puppets, we waited woodenly for him to pull the strings of our fate. His

plan was simple. To avert scandal and preserve our place in the community, we would prevent

the discovery of Lorrie Beth’s shame.

At first, he’d considered sending her away to a home for unwed mothers until the birth,

he told us. Then, it occurred to him she’d benefit more from being home, where she could be

given stringent lessons on proper behavior for a good Christian girl. She would never be allowed

to leave the house or to be seen outside for any reason. The baby would be born at home and put

up for adoption, and her absence would be explained as an extended visit to some distant cousin

of Momma’s.

“I want you all to know I’m not doing this to be mean, and believe me, this is for the best.

I’ve seen first-hand what the gossipmongers can do with something like this. The last young girl

in this town who ruined herself took her own life
.” He’s
talking about Rose Hughes. He

preached about her suicide in
church and said she was with Judas now.

I kept squeezing Lorrie Beth’s hand under the table, trying to transmit my assurance and

support. Her hand grew icy in mine as Reese talked, and her spine stiffened against the chair’s

back. She thrust her chin out and eyed Reese squarely before interrupting him in a cool tone.

“There’s no need to send me away or keep me locked away like a dirty secret. You won’t

have to worry about any scandal. Noah’s coming back for me, and we’ll go away and get

married. He promised.”

God, please, please, help us. Please help us.
Reese gave her a pitying look before cutting

his eyes at Momma, who’d just opened her mouth to give Lorrie Beth a piece of her mind. At

Reese’s glance she snapped it shut so hard I heard her jaw click.

“No, Lorrie Beth, Noah is not coming back for you, which brings me back to the bad

news I mentioned.” He dropped his head a moment as if to pray. When he looked back at her, her

expression was closed, guarded, as if to ward off a blow. “Noah is dead, Honey. Sheriff Bates

came to the house before daylight this morning to tell me he found Noah stabbed to death. He

was found in the middle of town behind the bus depot. Caleb Jacobs was in jail for the murder.”

Momma jerked in her chair, her gasp sharp. “Caleb? No, it can’t be! There must be some

mistake. I know he was mad yesterday, but he wouldn’t!

“No, Mona, no mistake,” Reese said, sinking farther in his chair. He seemed to be

draining away in front of us, growing weaker and smaller. Momma wasn’t buying a word of it.

“I just don’t believe it. Les Bates could be wrong, Reese. He’s not exactly Perry Mason,

you know.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Reese commented wryly. He’s got two eyewitnesses. They heard

Caleb threaten to kill Noah right in front of Nan’s Diner.”

Momma slumped in her seat, her hope deflated. “So, why did Les come get
you
at that

hour of the morning?”

Reese shrugged. “Caleb wouldn’t talk to anybody but me. I went up there, sat with him in

his cell, trying to convince him to confess his sin and his crime. He wanted me to read the Bible

and pray with him, but he wouldn’t say a word about what he’d done.”

During all this, Lorrie Beth had gone as stiff and cold as marble. The screaming hysterics

I’d expected didn’t come. For a second or two, I wasn’t even sure she was breathing. Her hand

had gone as slack and chill as a slab of raw meat.

“He didn’t say a word to Les about what went on here yesterday, either,” Reese said with

obvious relief.

“But there’ll be a trial,” Momma pointed out, her voice getting shrill. “Everything will

come out in a trial. Then everyone will know!”

A beat of silence ensued before Reese soothed her last fear. “There won’t be any trial,

Mona. I stepped out with Les to get a bite of early lunch around eleven this morning. When we

got back, Caleb had hung himself in his cell. He’d left a signed note. It said,
I killed Noah

Lunsford. God forgive me
.”

At first, I was amazed and even impressed with Lorrie Beth’s self-control following

Noah’s brutal death. I’d never seen her exercise such restraint in the middle of tragedy, and

thought it a sign of grace and maturity. What I didn’t realize was the price her restraint cost her.

A few days after Reese’s announcement, I returned from the barn after milking to find

Lorrie Beth in my room. She had her head buried in my closet and nearly knocked herself out

cold on the hanger rod when I spoke to her. “If you’re looking for your green sweater, it’s in

your bureau,” I said as gently as I could.

She jumped, her head connecting hard with the rod. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,”

she complained, rubbing her scalp. Her dull eyes raked me slowly as if she had trouble

remembering who I was. “I was looking for your suitcase.”

“Suitcase?” I said stupidly. “Why do you need my suitcase?”

“Because I’ve decided to sell Fuller Brushes, door to door,” she retorted. “Why do you

think I want it? I’m packing, of course.”

“Packing?” I realized I sounded like a sick parrot, but I didn’t care for her vacant

expression or the way her lips kept jerking back in a parody of a smile.

“Yes, packing. You know, where you put clothes and shoes in a suitcase and go bye-

bye,” she said.

“Well, uh, okay, my suitcase is under the bed, I said cautiously, stalling for a moment to

get my bearings. “Where is it you plan on going?”

Bending over to flip my bedspread up, she peered into the darkness, groping the plank

floor. “I have to be ready for Noah when he comes back for me,” she answered, her voice