Cast a Road Before Me (24 page)

“Want to hold your daughter?”

That’s when Miss Wilma burst into tears.

A
couple of hours later I drove Miss Wilma back to Bradleyville. We’d taken turns holding the baby—named Katherine May—reluctant to give her up. We’d watched in awe as she learned to nurse, Connie awkwardly poking a nipple into her mouth. We’d sponged Connie off, gotten her into a clean gown, propped her on pillows. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep. An efficient nurse whisked the baby away and told us to beat it home—Mama needed her rest.

So did we. Miss Wilma could barely hold her cane, and my muscles felt like wilted leaves. All the same, I dreaded returning to town. I’d called Aunt Eva at home to announce the birth, and Uncle Frank had picked up the phone. He said he’d return to the fire site and tell Lee. “Why didn’t he come? Did you go talk to him?” I demanded.

“Yeah. And he said he’d get back. But he was just rooted to the spot, watchin’ those strangers poke around in what used to be his home. He was standing so still I thought he’d gone unconscious on his feet.”

“I don’t care; he should have come.” My voiced throbbed with resentment.

“Jessie, go easy on him. He’s been through a lot.”

“We’ve
been through a lot! You have no
idea!”

“I know. You’re really tired right now; everybody’s tired. Why don’t you just come on home and get some rest?”

“I’ve got to get Miss Wilma settled at Miss Elsa’s first. Has anybody brought baby stuff to her house yet?”

“From what your Aunt Eva says, the room’s already near full. You can sort through all that tomorrow.”

Yes, I would do that. And perhaps I would face Lee tomorrow too. Perhaps not. What did it matter; I’d be gone in three days anyway. I couldn’t
wait
to be away from all this. Particularly after today’s events, my heart had already flown, whisked away on the wings of my guardian angel. I simply could not allow anything else to stand in the way of my plans. Including any trouble brewing in Bradleyville. Besides, with less than two hours’ sleep in the past thirty-six, I was simply too spent to care. Even if Lee was involved. He’d already shown his true colors, I railed inwardly, worrying more about possible vengeance than his poor sister. Uncle Frank had promised to stay out of any trouble; that’s all that mattered.

I focused droopy eyes on the road, Miss Wilma’s head bobbing as she snoozed. Every once in a while, she’d snore and wake herself up. I couldn’t wait to get her settled and go to bed myself. I wished I could pull the covers over my head and sleep until Tuesday morning.

Miss Elsa, God bless her, had everything ready for her guest. She took one look at us and pulled Miss Wilma inside, waving at me to “git on home and take care a yourself.” Miss Wilma managed to give me a smile and a final, mouthed “thank you.” I slumped back to my car, glancing up the street at Lee’s red truck. I could see him talking to Thomas, gesturing with impatience. He still wore that ridiculous green shirt. If he’d seen me at all, he paid no heed. I turned my car around, memories seeping like shadows
through my head. Wondering if that was the last I’d see of him. Pasted against a dusky sky, soot at his feet.

Dully, I was imagining what he’d been saying to Thomas when my right front tire blew. The noise was slow to register, my car pulling toward the curb. “Oh,
drat
it!” I should have been glad it hadn’t happened outside of town, but all I could do was bump my forehead against the steering wheel in frustration.
Curse the mill! Curse the fire! Curse rubber and tiredness and hospitals and all men—most of all Lee!
Then, jaw clenching, I drove slowly back out Main, my wheel rim in clanky protest. Pulling into Ed Tam’s gas station, I handed him the keys with what I hoped was a smile. After all, he was promising to get to it by tomorrow afternoon. Full of Bradleyville neighborliness, he even closed his station temporarily to drive me home, leaving a scribbled cardboard sign swinging against the dusty door.

Finally home, I managed to talk to my aunt and uncle for a while, but memories of our conversation are vague. I do remember that both of them were beyond sleep, they were so worried about the cause of the fire. And I remember Aunt Eva’s moaning that the inspectors had left with a few choice items, among them a suspicious-looking window screen. They were to examine them further at the Albertsville police station and thought they’d have an answer to Bill Scutch sometime tomorrow.

“Good,” I replied flatly, too exhausted to care. “I’m going to bed.”

D
arkness was falling as he climbed the steps to his modest home, hands balled and jiggling in his jeans pockets. Sounds from the television wafted through the air, still tinged with the acrid smell of smoke. Every once in a while a breeze would blow just right, and the thick scent would roll off oak leaves and picket fences and a kid’s bike in the yard. His boys were seated Indian-style before the TV, entranced and eating popcorn. Not a care in the world
.

“Why you kids still up?”

“It’s Friday night, Daddy,” the oldest replied indignantly
.

“Don’t be smart with me. Where’s your mama?”

“On the phone!” his wife called from the bedroom. “Come on in here!”

Must be his nerves. Now she was sounding sassy. She handed him the phone, lines etching her forehead. “It’s Bill Hensley.”

Bill had just left there not ten minutes ago. Sighing, he took the receiver. “Yeah?”

“Lee went kinda crazy on me after you left.”

“What now?”

“I thought Shirley’d convinced him to git some rest. But he come outta the shower lookin’ like a man risen from the dead. Face battered and
weary, ya know, but full a fire. And he declared, ‘I ain’t seen my niece yet, I gotta go right now!’ I said, ‘Lee, the hospital’s closed up to visitors, and Connie’s probably sleepin’ anyway; jus’ let it wait till mornin’.’ He said no, he was goin’ right then, and while he was in Albertsville, he was gonna bang on the door of the police station and demand some answers. I tell you the guy’s goin’ nuts.”

“Only thing he’s crazy for is waitin’ for an answer. I already know it; so do you.”

“We cain’t be guessin’.”

“Who’s guessin’? That screen’s been cut. Somebody sliced it and stuck a match through to set those curtains on fire. You think it was the neighbor’s dog?”

The caller snorted. “Well, you ain’t alone in how you’re thinkin’. Anyhow, Lee’s already gone. He tol’ me to keep things in line here, so I’m passin’ that on. If somethin’ comes of all this, he wants to lead it hisself.”

His wife was listening anxiously, sucking her top lip into her teeth. He turned away, lowering his voice. “That’s his right. And it’s the only reason some of us, includin’ Bledger and his gang, ain’t bangin’ down Riddum’s door right now. But when I get the word, I’m ready to go; I say we settle this thing. It’s been comin’ for two months, and there’s only so much bottlin’ a man can do.”

O
ne of the lessons I learned that summer of 1968 was that there’s a line in each of us that can be crossed—a boundary that separates what we are from the monsters we can become. The frightening thing is how quickly it can be crossed when we fail to seek God’s guidance. It may take years to stub your toe against that line or even see it in the distance. Some people may never get there. Maybe their lives are just easier. But once the toe is stubbed and that just-right set of circumstances is rolling like a freight train down the track, it’s all too easy to be pushed over it. Before you know it, you’re looking up at the world from flat on your back. Reality has gone mad, a swirling tornado sucking up the land. And in the midst of such hurt and anger, your mind rationalizes everything you do, even the vilest of choices. Everyone else is wrong or blind, it screams; only your actions are justified.

I see this now, but I could not understand it then. Nor could I understand that a person so pushed will only cross back once the enervating whirl in one’s head finally slows of its own accord. And so, when it happened to Lee, I made one mistake after another—I cajoled; I cried; I yelled—as if I could reach him.

It was sometime after midnight when he banged on our door.

For a moment, groggy and disoriented, I thought time had played a cruel trick, had circled back to relive last night’s fire. I stiffened in bed, hearing the jump-start of my heartbeat, the intake of my breath. Automatically, my head swiveled toward the window, but I saw only moon-lit sky. I strained for sound, not sure what had awakened me. Then I heard the banging. Not knuckles, but fist-driven. I was out of bed before realizing it, yanking on a bathrobe, flicking on the porch light as I opened the front door. Lee nearly knocked me over when he stumbled through.

“What is it?” I cried, fearing for Connie, the baby.

“I need to see Frank.”

He looked through me with unfocused eyes, the smell of sweat and wrath hanging from his shoulders. His breathing was erratic; jaw set. The maroon T-shirt he’d borrowed had damp circles under the arms.

“What’s happened?” My uncle barked behind me.

Lee pushed me aside. “Frank.” His voice sounded thick, unnatural. “The men’ll be gatherin’. I’ll need you there.”

“What do you mean?” Aunt Eva appeared, hair disheveled and eyes puffy, knotting her bathrobe.

“We’ll be gatherin’ at the mill soon as I make some calls. We’re goin’ out to Riddum’s place.”

“What for?” I demanded stupidly. Aunt Eva shrank back, fingers covering her mouth. Uncle Frank laid a hand on Lee’s arm. “Just settle a minute. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“No! I ain’t settlin’. I’m jus’ tellin’ ya. And I want you to come, Frank; you’re a part a this.”

“No, he’s not,” Aunt Eva wailed. “He’s not a part of anything!”

“Hush, Eva,” Uncle Frank ordered. “Lee! Please stop a minute and
tell
me.”

Lee passed a hand over his eyes. “I went to the police station in Albertsville. Heard they’re supposed to look at that screen tomorrow. But they claimed the evidence wasn’t even there; I near got
in a fight with the policeman. And Thomas and Bill Scutch were no help this evenin’. They just kept sayin’, ‘You got to wait for the tests, you got to wait for the tests.’ Well, I ain’t waitin’ any longer. And I don’t need Albertsville’s help anyway. I could see it all over that policeman’s face, that smug look that said it’s time Bradleyville learned it ain’t so high and mighty.”

“But Thomas is right, Lee,” Uncle Frank cut in. “You don’t know.”

“Yes, I do!” Lee’s eyes glistened as he tipped his face heavenward. “God as my witness! All those hours in the hospital, wonderin’ what I’d done wrong. And all that time Riddum’s sittin’ snug in his house. It coulda been
this
house, Frank, if you’d raised your voice against him as loud as I’d raised mine. How would you feel then?”

“I don’t believe it,” I mumbled. “I just don’t believe he’d do that.”

Lee ignored me. “I come back into town, seein’ lights still on up past Riddum’s fancy driveway. I nearly stopped right then. I could hardly drive anyway; I was so mad my hands were shakin’. I kept thinkin’ ‘bout how he almost
killed
my little sister’s baby. But I cain’t do alone what all of us can do together. I’m goin’ back to Bill’s now and start makin’ calls. The men’ll come, they’re ready; they were ready when I left.”

“And then what, Lee?” I grabbed his shirt sleeve. “You gonna burn his house down? Haul him outside and beat him up? That ought to help.”

He yanked away. “Stay out of it, Jessie. We all know you’d turn a cheek rather than protect your own family.”

“Now, Lee—”

“Forget it, Uncle Frank,” I seethed. There was no winning that argument. “Look.” I pushed myself in Lee’s face. “You want to do something stupid, you go right ahead. You and all your friends. But leave my uncle out of it. You
promised
me you wouldn’t drag him into trouble! Or have you forgotten that?”

“Please, Frank, don’t go,” Aunt Eva pleaded.

“Shut
up
, Jessie!” Lee spat. “You cain’t understand. You never had to fight for anything a day a your life, never had loved ones that needed protectin’. Forget
fightin’
, you cain’t even handle plain ol’ anger. You’re so scared of it, you cain’t even see it in
yourself!”

A coldness shot through me, snow over ice. “How
dare
you.” My voice shook. “How dare you say I’ve never had to fight for anything! At least
your
mother made it out
alive!”

Lee’s face almost softened, then reassembled itself. “This ain’t about you and me, Jessie.”

“Wait! Stop!” Uncle Frank grasped my elbows and hauled me backwards. “Lee, you cain’t do this. Think a minute. Where’s your family goin’ to be if you end up in jail?”

“I ain’t endin’ up in jail; who’s to arrest us? You think Bill Scutch’s gonna take in half his own town?”

“Bill has to uphold the law, and he’ll do what he has to.”

“Aw, forgit it!” Lee swiveled away in disgust. “Just stay here, Frank, go on back to bed. It’ll be your men out there, but don’t worry ‘bout us.”

“Lee, wait one more day,” Aunt Eva said with surprising calm. “Don’t move while you’re mad; it’ll only lead to trouble. You know this isn’t the right thing to do. Wait till we find out somethin’ tomorrow. And if Riddum’s guilty, let
him
go to jail. Come on in now; pray with us. We’ll pray for the peace a God.”

Deep in my brain a memory triggered. Perhaps it was the mention of my mother’s accident against the backdrop of the fire. Perhaps it was the similar pull of my facial muscles as I stared at Aunt Eva. Or the rush of weakening emotion. Maybe even Lee’s hulking stance. Whatever it was, it flew me back to the scene of the fire, to stumbling across a neighbor’s yard in the dark. Raising my head to see a man in half shadow. A man with short gray-yellow hair, large nose, mouth thin and smug under sunken cheeks.