Dunaway's Crossing (36 page)

“I never learned what happened to Pineview’s operator, but I think she died.” Bea Dot’s heart ached at the thought of her aunt and uncle’s worry, and she punched a fist into her lap. “I should have written. I should have done something to get word to you. I’m so sorry.”

Aunt Lavinia stopped her niece by putting a finger to Bea Dot’s lips. “Not one more apology. You just made me a very happy woman. We’ll have to go to Pineview soon to meet the baby. I’ll ask Penny to cook us a special dinner tonight. We should celebrate.”

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Bea Dot, who relaxed in the warmth of her aunt’s embrace. She rested her cheek on her aunt’s shoulder and took in the scent of lemon verbena. She sighed at the comfort of Aunt Lavinia’s palm rubbing her back. “You and Uncle David have always been so good to me.”

“Now it’s my turn to feel guilty,” her aunt said, pulling away, then standing and stepping to the fireplace. “I should have done more. I should have taken you out of Ben’s house the minute I suspected any hostility.” She shook her head as she stared through the painting over the mantle. “When you insisted on the marriage, we all figured you must love him, so I told myself that you’d be in no danger as long as California was looking after you.” She shook her head and smiled derisively. “What a fool I was.”

"She was looking after me,” Bea Dot said. “Her heart was always in the right place, but looking back I realize I should never have let her talk me into marrying Ben.”

“That’s why you married him?” Aunt Lavinia turned to face her niece, her eyebrows a slight V on her forehead. “Why would she want you to do that?”

Bea Dot stared at her hands balled in her lap. The heat of her cheeks spread down her neck even between her shoulder blades, but the rest of her shivered with shame. Still, while reluctance nagged at her, a stronger internal force reminded her that Aunt Lavinia had put her own safety at risk by stepping in on Ben’s fury. If her aunt was willing to jeopardize her own life, Bea Dot at least owed her the truth. So she told everything. “I needed a husband, a father for the baby I was carrying.”

And with that simple admission, an internal gate opened, allowing her to lay her whole life on the table.

“It’s no secret my father never got over my mother’s death. She must have been a remarkable woman to affect him so. I wish I’d known her.”

“She was a beautiful lady with a heart of gold,” Aunt Lavinia said softly.

“You’ll have to tell me about her,” Bea Dot replied, “because I know almost nothing except that I look like her, and for that reason, Father always resented me. Each birthday was a day of mourning at our house, and as I grew older and looked more like her portrait, Father’s resentment turned to contempt, which he exacerbated with heavy drinking. Soon, he hardly said a word to me except ‘Leave me alone’ or ‘Hand me that bottle.’”

Aunt Lavinia came to the divan and knelt, taking Bea Dot’s hands and drawing them to her own chest. “Darling, we knew how broken hearted he was. That’s why we included you so much in our lives. You know how much we’ve always loved you, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Bea Dot said. “You and California have always tried to fill my mother’s shoes. Perhaps Father depended too much on you for that, but every time he looked at me, he saw my mother looking back.”

“But I don’t understand what that has to do with your decision to marry Ben Ferguson,” Aunt Lavinia said. “You said you needed a father for your child.” The pitch of her voice elevated as she uttered the terrible thought.  “Did Ben force himself on you?”

“Not Ben,” Bea Dot whispered. “My father.”

Aunt Lavinia gasped, and Bea Dot closed her eyes as she recalled that dreadful night just over a year ago, when Charles Barksdale stumbled home drunk after an evening of cards at the club and found Bea Dot in the kitchen, wearing her nightgown and pouring a glass of milk before bed. In his confusion, he called her by her mother’s name and said how much he’d missed her and how happy he was she was home. When Bea Dot tried to correct him, he’d embraced her, kissing her full on the lips before she could wrench free. She rushed to get away from him, making it only to the parlor, where he caught her by the arm, threw her on the sofa and raped her. Only after it was over, when he realized she was sobbing, did he come to his senses and understand his horrific act. California entered as he rushed out of the room and up the stairs. Bea Dot sought refuge in California’s arms until both women flinched at the crack of a gunshot.

Bea Dot finally looked her aunt in the eye. Tears streaked Aunt Lavinia’s face, which was struck with shock and sorrow. “My God,” she whispered. “We thought he was drunk and depressed. We had no idea that—” She couldn’t finish her sentence, but sobbed into her hands. She put her head into Bea Dot’s lap as she cried, and Bea Dot stroked her grayish blonde hair. Eventually Aunt Lavinia looked up, her bright blue eyes lined with red. “We had no idea.”

Choking up now, Bea Dot pressed her lips to squelch her own weeping. She nodded at her aunt, then composed herself. “That was the plan,” she explained. “I couldn’t tell you, Netta, or anybody else. I was so ashamed, even ashamed that Cal knew, even though she kept my secret, even when I discovered I was pregnant.”

“Oh, my dear,” Aunt Lavinia moaned.

“That was just before Ben asked me to dance at the Hibernian gala. He’d been vying for my attention for weeks. I couldn’t stand his snobbery, but Cal saw him as a way out of my predicament, and she convinced me to encourage him. I didn’t know what else to do, so I listened to her.”

“So that’s why you rushed the wedding,” Aunt Lavinia sighed, tears dried now. “And because of that wedding, you and Netta fought and didn’t speak for months.”

“Exactly. I couldn’t explain to her the reason I married Ben. At the time, I thought her disapproval of my husband was better than her knowing the truth. I feared everyone would despise me.”

“How could we despise you? You’d done nothing wrong. We would have helped you.”

“I didn’t realize that then. Anyway, Ben solved the problem for me. The baby died. Then I was stuck with him.”

Aunt Lavinia rose from the floor and sat next to Bea Dot again. “Well, it’s a mixed blessing. And as a result, you reunited with Netta.”

“Yes, there is that. But as it turned out, Ben discovered the truth months ago, and he’s been holding it over my head all this time. He’s so angry with me, and I can’t blame him, but now he’s sworn to spread this information all over Savannah. I’ll be a pariah once he’s finished with me.”

“I can assure you that won’t happen.” Uncle David’s voice resounded in the room.

Bea Dot turned to find her uncle’s broad, six-foot frame just inside the doorway. In his navy suit with white hair and steel gray eyes, Uncle David could command attention just by standing there. No wonder jurors always found in favor of his clients. Will followed her uncle into the parlor, his wide-brimmed hat in hand. He walked directly to her, a grave expression on his face, and Bea Dot covered her face with her hands. She hadn’t intended Will or Uncle David to hear her story. She wanted to crawl under the divan. But when Will stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she felt a little relief. Maybe he wasn’t disgusted with her after all.

“When did you get home, dear?” Aunt Lavinia asked. She rose and greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek, which she had to offer on tip toe. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Just now,” he said, putting his hand on her upper arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt your visit, dear, but I must speak to Bea Dot.”

Bea Dot’s heart galloped, but she maintained an air of composure, now accustomed to receiving bad news. “Have you talked to Ben?” she asked. “I imagine he bears nothing but contempt for me.”

She felt Will’s fingers tighten on her shoulders as Uncle David approached the divan and sat next to her, his mouth a thin line. “Ben is dead,” he said.

Bea Dot’s heart skipped a beat. Had she heard correctly? The news struck her speechless. All she could do is gaze at her uncle’s gray eyes.

“He came down with influenza,” her uncle explained. “It progressed very quickly. By the time Dr. Arnold arrived this morning, it was too late. He died about an hour ago.”

Bea Dot shifted her gaze to Aunt Lavinia, who stood wide-eyed at the door, her hand over her mouth. Then she twisted to face Will, who responded with a solemn nod.

“Look at me, Bea Dot,” Uncle David commanded. When she did, he peered closely at her as he spoke. “Do you feel all right? Any headaches or fever?”

She shook her head.

“Are you sure? You must tell us if you feel at all unwell.”

“No,” Bea Dot said numbly, still trying to absorb the news. “I feel fine.” A pause, and then, “Perfectly fine.”

“It’s very important that we find Ben’s will as soon as possible,” Uncle David continued. “Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t put it past Ben’s parents to try to keep you from inheriting what’s rightfully yours.”

Bea Dot smiled at Uncle David’s desire to protect her, but this time it was her turn to reassure him. “I don’t know where Ben’s will is, or even if he has one,” she explained. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve anything of his, and I don’t want it.”

“I disagree with you about deserving it,” her uncle said, “and I’ll advocate for you however I can. You can depend on that.”

“Thank you.”

Will leaned forward so that he could meet her eyes. “You know I’m on your side too.”

Bea Dot clutched his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it with appreciation.

“David, let us go into the other room so these two can talk,” Lavinia said. “I have some good news to tell you as well.”

“We could certainly use more of that,” Uncle David said as he rose and joined his wife. “Bea Dot, we’ll talk more about this later.”

Bea Dot nodded, then watched her aunt and uncle leave the room, imagining her aunt’s glee at telling her husband about their grandchild. Will came around the divan and sat in the place Uncle David had just vacated. “Really. How do you feel? This time, I’m not asking about your health.”

She couldn’t answer right away, unsure of how to pinpoint her emotions. She picked at the cuff of her sleeve as she frowned in contemplation. “It’s hard to say,” she finally answered. “Relieved, perhaps? Purged? Mostly overwhelmed. So much has happened in the last few days. Just after I learned California died, I learned you were alive. I awoke this morning wondering if I’d be able to get a divorce. Now I’m a widow. In my mind, I know the worst is over, but at the same time, I don’t feel like celebrating. Does that make sense?”

Will took both her hands in his warm and comforting palms. “It makes perfect sense. In fact, it reminds me of how I felt when I returned from France—awfully glad to be home, but crushed at the reason for being there.”

Bea Dot squeezed his fingers as he smiled at him. Will had never spoken to her of his wartime experience. Even now, his deliberately cryptic words revealed this admission as a big step for him, as well his trust in her. She didn’t push for more details. One day, he’d share them with her. He sat with her in silence a few minutes before Bea Dot suggested they join Uncle David and Aunt Lavinia.

“One more thing.” Will stopped her as she shifted to rise. “I  know this is the worst time to bring this up, but I’ll have to return to Pineview tomorrow.”

“Oh?” With her own life a whirlwind, Bea Dot hadn’t thought about Will’s leaving.

“I must get back to the crossing. I’ve been away far too long. But I want to remind you that I’ve asked you to marry me. You haven’t given me an answer, and I don’t expect you to give me one now. But the offer still stands, and I hope with all my heart that you’ll eventually join me in Pineview.”

Bea Dot reached out and put her hands to Will’s cheeks, smiling at the thought of how lucky she was to have him in her life. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Why must we have this conversation again, Uncle David? My mind is made up.” Bea Dot latched, then unlatched the leather handbag in her lap, spending her frustration through her fingers instead of her voice. “After installing a nice headstone for California and her family, I want to give the rest of the money to charity.”

Uncle David sighed, then leaned forward in the train seat facing Bea Dot, holding his head in his gray-gloved hands. He shook it slowly, before raising his face to hers. She could see the exasperation in his eyes.

“You can give the money to charity, dear. I’m not opposed to that.” He held his palms up to her as he spoke. “But why must you give it all away? Why not use some of it to invest in a house for you and Will when you marry?”

“Will already has a place,” she explained for the hundredth time.

“A country store?” Aunt Lavinia chimed in next to her. “That’s no place to raise a family.”

“Let’s not put the cart before the horse,” Bea Dot said to both of them. “Besides, you don’t know Will the way I do. He would never want to live in a house bought with Ben’s money—”

“It was your father’s money mostly,” Uncle David reminded her, pointing his finger for emphasis.

“Nevertheless,” Bea Dot persisted, “Will’s not that kind of person. He would much rather use that fortune to help others. I would too.”

Uncle David sighed, then leaned back in his seat.