Diamond Duo (7 page)

Bertha leaned against the rail, watching the residents dwindle and the shops thin out as they pulled away from town headed west.

They’d gone less than a half mile before Magda leaned to whisper something to Mose, and he pulled up on the reins. When they came to a full stop, Magda gathered her things and stood up.

“What are you doing, sugar?” Bertha called.

“I decided not to go. It’s time for the noon meal. Mama will be looking for me.”

“You can tell her you ate with me. It won’t be completely untrue.” She winked and pointed at Annie’s bag. “We’ll be eating candy.”

“Mama won’t like it. She got mad the last time I did that. And she’ll mention it to your mama. I know she will.”

Bertha narrowed her eyes, causing Magda to lower hers. “You’re scared, that’s all.”

Magda looked ready to make more excuses but then traded her wilted demeanor for a stamp of the foot. “All right, then. Yes, I’m scared. There, I’ve said it and feel no worse for it. You would be, too, if you had any sense at all.”

Showing interest in the conversation for the first time, Rhodie leaned forward. “What you afraid of, Magda?”

Magda pointed an accusing finger at Bertha. “She’s taking Annie to the bluff.”

Rhodie came alive. “To Lover’s Leap? I want to come!” Rhodie whirled to plead with her brother’s back. “Oh, Mose, can we go?”

He shook his head. “Can’t, Sissy. We got three more loads to get done before nightfall.” He tilted to the left to gaze up at Magda.
“But there ain’t nothing on the bluff to be scared of.”

Magda regarded the top of his head with disdain. “What do you know, Moses Pharr? You’re dumb as a box of rocks. The main thing I’m frightened of is Papa finding out. Bertha should fear the same.”

Bertha sighed. “I told you they won’t find out. If you don’t come along, you’ll miss all the fun.” She plied the bait that always worked with Magda. Food. “And don’t forget about the chocolate. You won’t get any.”

Magda reached inside her drawstring bag and produced the piece Annie had given her in the store. “Oh yes, I will.”

Bertha shrugged and looked away. “Go on home, then. I can’t stop you.” She angled forward, propelled by a sudden troubling thought. “But you’d better not tell.”

The words seemed to rock Magda as if a cannon had gone off inside. She flailed a hand in Bertha’s direction while she struggled to find her words.

In a true act of fearlessness, considering she still towered above him, Mose smiled and nodded up at Magda. “Yep, she’s bound to tell. Ain’t you, Magda?”

Magda froze and fixed him with a disbelieving stare. Then she climbed down off the rig, muttering under her breath. When she reached the ground, she didn’t say a word to Bertha or anyone else before she flounced away in a huff. They watched her cut across the field and duck into the dense woods that lay east of her house.

Annie’s low voice broke the silence. “Will she be all right?”

Bertha glanced her way. “Magda? Of course she will.”

“But she went off into the woods all alone.”

Bertha laughed. “Ain’t nothing in that grove of pine with the boldness to stand up to Magdalena Hayes.”

Annie shifted her eyes toward Bertha. “You just did.”

She nodded. “Why do you think she’s so mad?”

Annie smiled. Bertha looked toward the spot where she’d last seen Magda’s blue shawl bobbing through the trees, but all trace of her had disappeared.

“What’s there to be so scared of?”

She squinted up at Annie. “At Lover’s Leap, you mean?”

Annie nodded.

“Nothing, really. It’s a dark and moody place, a sheer bluff fifty feet high that plunges straight down to the water’s edge. The trees grow thick before it opens to the bayou, so not much light gets in. A lot has taken place there over the years. Even more things people talk about that never really happened.”

Rhodie chimed in, her low voice laden with dread. “Rumor has it folks have taken their own lives by jumping off the bluff. And there was a murder happened there once.” She peeked at Bertha. “Or so they say.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “A murder?”

“And a suicide,” Mose said over his shoulder. “Some poor muggins caught his wife on the ridge with his own brother. Rolled them off the edge and then sailed in after them.” He chuckled, raising his hand to the sky before dipping it low again. “Took him a leap, he did. I heard it wasn’t the trip down he minded so much. Just the sudden stop.”

Bertha raised her brows at Annie and shook her head. “That story’s not true.”

Mose turned around to look at her. “Sure is, too.”

“Then why doesn’t anyone know their names? If there was any truth to it, someone around here could say who it was. It’s a legend, Mose. You shouldn’t spread it about.”

Mose looked from Bertha to Annie while a slow flush colored his cheeks. Without a word, he faced the front and flicked the reins, and the old horse eased into motion.

Rhodie reached to pat Annie’s hand. “Don’t worry your pretty self, ma’am. Even if it’s true, nothing as bad as murder happens around Jefferson anymore.”

“Why, thank you, darlin’. I’m comforted by that thought.” The radiant smile Annie turned on Rhodie caused her to blush brighter than Mose and duck her head.

Bertha stewed about Magda for the rest of the trip. The others
seemed lost in thoughts of their own, until Mose pulled to the side of the road at a spot where a small muddy clearing narrowed into an overgrown trail. He wrapped the reins around the post and jumped off to open the rear end and help Annie climb down. She thanked him then straightened her skirt and reached for her bag and parasol.

Bertha held up her hand. “Wait, Annie.” She reached for Mose’s outstretched arm and scooted to the ground. “Why don’t you leave your things right here? Mose can pick us up when he’s done. Can’t you, Mose?”

“Sure, but I won’t be back for an hour or so. And I’ll be packing wood when I come.”

Bertha looked at Annie. “I don’t mind if she doesn’t.”

Annie shook her head. “It’s better than walking.”

Mose raised the tailgate. “Meet you right here, then. If you ain’t standing on the road when I come, I’ll send Sissy in after you.”

Rhodie gasped and slapped her brother’s arm. “Nuh-uh! I ain’t traipsing through those woods alone.”

Bertha chuckled. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here. And, Rhodie, mind Annie’s nice things, won’t you? Don’t let Mose pile cypress on them.”

Rhodie rose up on her knees and peered at the matching yellow parasol and reticule with anxious eyes. “I won’t. But they’re sure to get filthy in the bottom of this raggedy old crate. Give them to me, Mose. I’ll hold them up front.”

Bertha tried to pass the items to Mose, but he threw up his hands and backed away. “I ain’t touching them girlie things.”

Annie laughed aloud. “Go on. Take them. They won’t bite.”

He retreated farther and shook his head, staring as if facing down a copperhead.

“I swear,” Bertha cried. “The more I learn about men, the more outlandish they seem.” She shook her head and walked around to give the things to Rhodie. “Don’t let any of this yellow silk touch your brother. We wouldn’t want him to perish.”

Rhodie grinned. “I won’t.”

Bertha turned to face Annie. “Ready now?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They were halfway across the clearing when Bertha remembered. She pivoted on the ball of her foot and ran toward the road.

“Mose, wait!”

He pulled the horse to a stop and turned on the seat. “Yeah?”

Bertha hurried to Rhodie’s side of the rig and reached for Annie’s reticule then held the bag aloft. “We forgot the chocolate.”

Annie waved her hand. “Go ahead and get it, Bertha. I don’t mind. And give them each a piece while you’re at it.”

Bertha rummaged inside, pulled out four pieces of wrapped candy, and handed one each to Mose and Rhodie. “This is for you.”

Rhodie took it and turned it over in her hand. “What is it?”

“It’s a block of candy. You’re supposed to eat it. But you’d better hurry; it’s starting to melt.”

She tossed the bag to a still skeptical Rhodie and rejoined Annie. “
Now
we’re ready.” She grinned. “Let’s go.”

They dodged muddy ruts and boggy holes until they reached the end of the clearing and stepped into the mouth of the trail. Loblolly pine had succeeded in crowding out most of the sweet gum and oak along the edges, and underbrush threatened to overtake the sandy path. Bertha led the way, stopping occasionally to hold back a droopy pine bough or step on a vine laced with stickers so Annie could pass.

The summer sun in Jefferson blazed high and white-hot, but in the shorter, overcast days of winter, old Sol hovered in the sky like a dollop of fresh-churned butter. They made their way deeper into thick vegetation where the meager light began to lose its battle with the thick cover of trees and a cloudy sky.

As the forest dimmed, Annie hustled a few steps closer and took Bertha’s hand.

Bertha grinned and peered at her. “Are you scared?”

She nodded and licked her lips. “A bit. All that talk of murder has me skittish. I keep waiting for some poor muggins to jump out with an ax.”

They both laughed.

“Want to go back?”

A determined look replaced the worried expression. “After coming this far? Not on your life, dearie. Let’s go eat some chocolate.”

When the track opened onto the bluff, they linked arms and crossed to the edge. Once they stretched out Bertha’s shawl and settled on the ground under a spreading oak, Annie seemed to relax and enjoy the view. They broke out the soft, squishy candy and divided a piece, laughing at the gooey mess it left on their fingers.

Bertha felt deliciously naughty reclining under wide-open sky in a forbidden place, nipping delicate bites from a decadent treat.

Annie seemed to have an endless supply of funny stories and epic tales. She told of her travels to faraway places and her house in Cincinnati. And about growing up in New York, though a shadow passed over her eyes when she mentioned her parents, as well as each time she mentioned Abraham Roth.

She described Edward R. Rice’s production of
Evangeline
on Broadway so well Bertha could almost see the spouting whale, the dancing cow, and James S. Maffit’s performance as the Lone Fisherman.

Annie paused to take a breath and glanced across at Bertha. “Have you ever been to the theater, sugar?”

She shook her head. “The closest I ever came was a poster on Mama’s wall. It’s a billboard from
The Magic Deer
, and it reads ‘A Serio Comico Tragico Operatical Historical Extravaganzical Burletical Tale of Enchantment.’ ”

Annie laughed so hard she nearly choked on her candy. When she composed herself, she put the uneaten piece down and wiped her fingers on the grass. “Sounds like they covered all the bases.”

Bertha grinned. “They didn’t miss a one.”

Annie scooted closer to the oak and leaned her head against the wide trunk. “Now then, darlin’, how about telling me the real reason you brought me here.”

Bertha stopped midbite and jerked her head around to meet
Annie’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

Grinning, Annie studied the toes of her shoes. “Come on, now. Don’t try to bamboozle me. I’m onto you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Honey, you can’t fool me. We’re too much alike.”

A surge of pleasure stole over Bertha’s heart. “You think we’re alike?”

Annie slid closer, took Bertha’s candy, and laid it aside. “Allow me to demonstrate how much.” She squared around to face Bertha and took hold of her hands. “Tell me you don’t have a fire that burns inside all the time, pressing you to speak out when you don’t agree with the general consensus, urging you to throw off antiquated conventions, the dictates of ceremony and social structure, and just be yourself.”

Though she’d never have found such elegant words to describe her feelings, it seemed as though Annie had peeled back a layer of her skin and peered right down into her soul. She nodded dumbly.

“And tell me, little Bertha Maye, that you don’t long to skip just because you feel like it, to dance a jig when no one’s looking, and to run barefoot through the town square, sans bonnet, corset, or shawl.”

Bertha felt undressed before Annie’s wisdom and insight. “However did you know?”

Annie tapped her chest. “Because I recognize you. We’re kindred spirits. And now that we have it all settled, answer my question, please. What’s this all about? Why did you bring me here?”

Bertha ducked her head. “Well, you see, there’s this boy. . . .” She looked up to find a knowing smile on Annie’s face.

“I might’ve guessed. It’s always a boy.” She patted Bertha’s hand. “Honey, you don’t need my help on that subject. Why, look at you. You’re lovely. Any man who can’t see how wonderful you are, inside and out, doesn’t deserve you.”

Bertha shook her head. “I don’t know what Thad sees, and that’s the trouble. I go all trembly inside at the sound of his voice or
the touch of his hand. But I can’t tell how he feels about me.”

Annie settled back and regarded her with soft gray eyes. “Well, if he’s not mad about you, he’s a fool.”

Bertha shook her head again. “He’s anything but a fool, but I don’t think he wants me. I’d give anything to be like you, Annie. To have your enticing effect on men.”

Annie released Bertha’s hands and turned away. “Don’t ever say that.”

“But why? It’s true. You’re a splendid creature. Just looking at you makes people feel special.”

Annie’s laugh sounded harsh and hollow. “Is that a fact, little chicken? Well, not men. Looking at me makes men feel something else.”

Warmth spread to Bertha’s toes. “I know what you mean. Desire.”

The lines of Annie’s beautiful face turned to carved stone. “No, more than that. They feel the need to possess. To control.”

It pained Bertha’s heart to imagine what misdeeds had caused Annie to say such a thing. “Not all men. My papa would never treat a woman like that.”

Annie smiled, but it didn’t erase the hard lines. “Then I need to meet your papa. If it’s true, he’d be the first of his kind I’ve run into.”

“There are a lot of good men in the world. Thad’s one of them.”