Dunaway's Crossing (32 page)

“Her neck’s a lot stronger now, but you still got to support her head. And make sure you keep her wrapped up tight. She likes that.”

“Eliza, I’m starting to think you don’t trust me with her,” Ralph teased.

“I have to admit, I’m gone miss this little angel,” she said. “I ain’t never had a daughter. It sure was nice to have a little girl in the house.”

“I thank you again for minding her for me,” Ralph said. “And I might call on you from time to time for advice.”

“You’re welcome to any time,” she replied, “but Lola will know what to do. She’s a natural with the young’ns.”

“Actually, I’ve hired a nurse from Atlanta to help me,” Ralph explained. “She arrives later this afternoon.”

“But I thought Netta always wanted Lola to be her baby nurse,” Will said.

“She did, but these days Lola doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Ralph said. “I can understand how she feels, with her sister dying and Lola being stuck in my house. It couldn’t be helped, but she has to aim her resentment somewhere. Might as well be me.” Ralph sighed and tickled Nettie’s chin. She reached up and grasped his finger with her tiny fist.

“Try to talk to her one more time,” Will suggested. “Maybe she’s softened up a bit.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll give it a shot,” Ralph said.

Will surveyed the room, but saw no evidence of the one person he came to see. “Eliza, where’s Bea Dot?”

She broke her gaze on the baby and turned surprised eyes to Will. “Nobody told you?”

“Told me what?”

“She went back to Savannah,” she said, shifting Troy to the other hip. “A few days ago.”

Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Will tried to squelch the alarm in his gut. He turned questioning eyes to Ralph. “Why did she do that?”

“The last time I saw her was when she found out you were sick,” Ralph said. “She thought you were in the hospital, and she wanted to see you.” He shifted his eyes to Eliza as if expecting her to fill in the gaps of the story.

“Thaddeus took her to town that day,” she said. “And he come home later saying that Bonner fellow gave her a telegram and then Bea Dot said she had to leave right away. Thaddeus tried to stop her, but she insisted on going.”

 “And she left the baby with you?” Will asked. That didn’t sound like something Bea Dot would do. Who was that Bonner fellow?

Eliza nodded. “I don’t think she had no choice, Will. She loved this young’n. She wouldn’t just leave if it wasn’t important.”

Will’s heartbeat sped now, fear for Bea Dot welling up in his chest. Her swift departure had something to do with her husband, he was sure. “She must be in trouble. We have to go get her.”

Ralph shook his head slowly, a sad frown forming across his brow. Eliza chewed on her lower lip and jiggled her baby in her arms.

“I don’t think you should, Will,” Ralph said. “She went on her own accord, and she’s a married woman. Maybe it’s best that you leave well enough alone.”

Electricity coursed through Will’s veins at the mention of Bea Dot’s marriage. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Her husband is a monster.” He turned to Ralph. “That’s why she came here in the first place.”

“I knew she was having some troubles…” Ralph said.

“Troubles my foot. He nearly killed her.” Will’s tone elevated at the thought. “We’ve got to get to her before it’s too late.”

While a chicken roasted in the oven, Bea Dot filled her tub and washed the kitchen smell off her skin. Although she had her kitchen in order, for the past two days she’d walked a tightrope in her own home, bristling under Bonner’s supervision and avoiding Ben’s ire. Even in her private bath, she felt wound up like a toy.

She’d just managed to dry and put on her robe when Ben opened her bedroom door without knocking. “What’s taking you so long?” he complained, pulling his watch out of his vest pocket. “We have to leave in ten minutes.” Then he was gone again.

Bea Dot breathed deeply,  trying to calm herself.
Just get through tonight
, she encouraged herself.
Don’t do anything to make him angry. Then you can work on Bonner again tomorrow.

She rifled through her closet, half empty since she departed for Pineview, for something suitable to wear to an Armistice celebration at the Wesleyan Club. In the back, she found the midnight blue dress from her trousseau. The sleek lines of the bodice added an inch or two of height to her petite frame, and the beaded embroidery on the front panels dressed up the garment for a formal occasion. With matching stockings and shoes, Bea Dot almost resembled the girl she’d been a year ago when she married. She felt like a decade had passed since then.

The door burst open again, and Ben glared this time. “Let’s go.”

“Just one second,” Bea Dot said as she took her wrap off its hanger. Opening her bureau drawer, she pulled out a draw-string purse and a pair of gloves, which she stuffed into it. Lastly, she opened her jewelry box and selected an ornate glass brooch, a gift from Aunt Lavinia. She pinned it to her shoulder, securing her wrap, as Ben nagged her to move along.

As they departed through the back door, Bea Dot glanced through the kitchen door and saw Bonner peeking into the oven at his supper. She wanted to tell him to give the bird fifteen more minutes, but Ben pushed her into the cold darkness toward his new touring car. In his hurry, he stumbled into Bea Dot, who hit her shoulder on the car door. The brooch cracked against the metal, and Ben clutched her arm, growling, “If you’ve scratched that paint, I’ll slap you silly.”

“I’m…I’m sure it’s all right,” she stammered before getting into the car. Her entire body hummed with trepidation, and she fought to calm her nerves as he cranked the engine and settled into the driver’s seat. Maybe by morning he would have forgotten the scratch.

Weaving erratically around Savannah’s squares, Ben blew the car horn at pedestrians daring to cross a street. Bea Dot’s skin crawled at the eerie sight of people gathering in the squares to celebrate victory. Most shook hands and kissed cheeks, bare faced after weeks of wearing gauze masks. Still others maintained the cautionary measure and kept their mouths and noses covered. Ben had driven the touring car around two squares when he took an unexpected left turn.

“Where are we going?” Bea Dot asked. “I thought we were having dinner at the club.”

“We are,” Ben replied, “but I have to mail a letter first.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now,” he said coolly. “I thought it best, considering your behavior the last two days.”

“What are you talking about?” Bea Dot asked, frowning in confusion.

“It seems that you are determined to defy me, in spite of my specific instructions,” Ben said, lowering the pitch of his voice, as if talking business with associates. “I know about your attempts to make telephone calls.”

Bea Dot huffed in exasperation, on the verge of objecting to Ben’s complaint, but then she caught herself and paused. No need to fuel his temper. “That’s true. I did try to place a call to Aunt Lavinia,” Bea Dot lied, “because I didn’t realize that wasn’t allowed. Mr. Bonner stopped me.”

“That was not the only time you used the telephone,” Ben said with a grimace.

“That’s correct,” she continued. “And I’m sure Mr. Bonner explained that he monitored me the entire time I placed my orders.” Bea Dot’s shoulders and back tensed with her efforts to remain calm and placate Ben. She felt as if she sat next to a rattle snake, coaxing it not to strike.

Ben’s frown loosened, which suggested his acceptance of her reason.

“You must let me phone the grocery, Ben,” Bea Dot said gently. “Unless you want to accompany me to the store every other day.”

Ben lifted an eyebrow as he glanced at her. Bea Dot wished she knew what his expression meant, but he said nothing more. Instead, he swerved the car to the side of the street next to the post office. After engaging the brake, he pulled an envelope from his inside coat pocket. He held it up, but in the darkness, Bea Dot couldn’t make out the address.

“I don’t believe you, my dear,” he said. “I know you weren’t calling your aunt; you were trying to reach the telegraph office, likely in attempt to reach that Dunaway fellow Bonner told me about. So I’m taking this precaution.” He stepped out of the car and dropped the letter in the mail box next to the post office door.

“I don’t understand,” she said when Ben returned to the driver’s seat. Still, a bed of ants had erupted inside her, and she clasped her hands together, trying not to let him agitate her.

“At first I wrote a letter to that Dunaway,” Ben explained. “Then I figured there’d be no point of that. He’s likely dead by now.”

Bea Dot stomach clenched at the thought.

“Instead, I penned a letter to those people you were staying with, the Taylors,” Ben said with a sneer.

Bea Dot felt the blood plummet from her face.

“In my letter, I’ve told them all about your past. I’ve informed them of the kind of person my wife really is.”

“You didn’t.” Bea Dot felt as though he’d knocked the wind out of her. How much of the truth did he tell? And how much did he exaggerate? Her face burned with a combination of fear, shame, and defeat.

“I’ve apologized for any inconvenience you may have caused them to this point, and I warned them not to have any other contact with you. What’s more, I’ve asked them to inform others of your tendency to lie and cheat. After all, I wouldn’t want you to try to take advantage of anyone else the way you did me.”

Ben put the car in gear and pulled it back onto the street. Bea Dot forced herself to breathe evenly, her face turned toward the window. Willing herself not to cry, she racked her brain for ways to return to that mail box, to reach into it and pull Ben’s letter out. With all her effort she hid her emotions, but never had she hated anyone as much as she hated Ben at that moment.

When the car reached the exclusive Weleyan Club, white-gloved valets opened doors for Bea Dot and Ben, and Savannah’s elite filed into the red brick building in their tuxes and party dresses. Ben sauntered around to her side of the car, and holding his arm out, said, “Smile, my dear. It’s a party.”

Numbly, Bea Dot followed him up the front steps. In the crowded ballroom, people shook hands, kissed, and hugged with a freedom Bea Dot had not witnessed in two months, as if Armistice had wiped away any risk of contagion. She approached her mother in-law and greeted her, forcing a weak smile. “Good evening, Mother Ferguson. How nice to see you.”

Ben’s mother kissed the air next to Bea Dot’s cheek, then said, “So glad you came, my dear. All of Savannah’s been wondering where Ben’s wife ran off to.”

Bea Dot ignored the slight and nodded.

Fingering the brooch on Bea Dot’s shoulder, Mrs. Ferguson added, “My, what an interesting piece of costume jewelry. Did you find it up in, where is it? Pine Wood?”

“No, it was a gift,” Bea Dot answered.

“Oh,” Ben’s mother cooed. “Well, I wouldn’t know where to buy such things. I only wear true gemstones.”

“Bea Dot, you’re home!”

Bea Dot’s heart soared at the sound of the familiar voice. She turned to find Aunt Lavinia, dressed in black and looking frail, the burden of grief poorly hidden behind her smile. She held her arms out to her niece and Bea Dot fell into them with loving relief.

“Oh, Aunt Lavinia,” Bea Dot almost moaned into her aunt’s shoulder. She grasped at the right words, but she couldn’t bring them up, not knowing how to apologize. She’d never be able to atone for Netta’s death, but this crowded party was the last place to try.

Aunt Lavinia pulled Bea Dot to arms’ length and studied her with a loving tear at the corner of her eye. “I heard you’d returned,” she said. “I wish you had come to visit me, but I understand why. Darling, I don’t blame you.”

Bea Dot put her hand to her mouth and fought her tears. Once she’d overcome the emotion, she said, “Oh, Aunt Lavinia, the first thing I wanted to do was come see you. But I couldn’t. It’s Ben. He’s—”

“There you are, darling,” Ben’s jovial voice resounded behind her. She felt the tight grip of his hand just above her elbow. “I thought you’d snuck away from me. Good evening, Mrs. Barksdale.”

Aunt Lavinia tilted her head as she gazed at her niece. Bea Dot hoped her aunt would pick up on her tension. Lavinia then turned her eyes to Ben as she replied, “Thank you, Ben, and same to you.”

“I was just going to escort my wife to the dinner table,” he said with false joviality. “Do excuse us, please.”

“Oh, dear, how sweet of you to wear the brooch I gave you. But I’m afraid it’s broken.” Aunt Lavinia fingered the piece on Bea Dot’s shoulder. “Come. We’ll go to the powder room and repair it.” She took Bea Dot’s other arm and tried to pull her away from Ben, but he tightened his grip on her.

“No need, Mrs. Barksdale,” Ben said with a tight smile. “We’re walking that direction. I’ll escort her. Excuse us, please.”

He pulled Bea Dot away from her aunt, and as they made their way through the crowd toward the powder room, Bea Dot looked over her shoulder, and caught a glimpse of her aunt with a worried frown. Then Uncle David appeared at Aunt Lavinia’s side, and she said something to him, still frowning, while pointing in Bea Dot’s direction.