Face the Winter Naked (31 page)

Chapter 26

Saul
brought the children home from Bernadine's. Later, after putting them to bed, LaDaisy
went outdoors and sat on the front porch, thinking how much had changed in the
last few days: a birth in one room, a death in another, separated by just a few
hours. In her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined that could happen.
The memories would be stronger while Ida Mae was still in the house, and she
longed for the day her sister could go home. But the doctor had insisted the
new mother needed her rest and shouldn't be moved yet.

LaDaisy
went to bed in the kids' room, but slept in fits and starts on a lumpy mattress
next to Catherine.
A man was killed in this house.
She tried to recall
the terrible events, but they wouldn't come. She assumed she'd killed Clay. But
that was crazy—she wasn't capable of shooting anyone, even in self-defense. She
thought of Daniel and the war. How could such a gentle man kill his enemies?

The
next day, Sheriff Gudgell escorted her to jail, where she was booked for
manslaughter. She sat dejected and afraid in a stark cell for the next three
hours, worrying about her children until Vera posted bail.

"Come
on," Vera said, putting an arm around her daughter. "Let's get you
out of this place."

"The
kids, are they all right?"

Vera
nodded as she got in her car. "They're fine. Bernadine has them."

"I've
never been in jail before, Mama. It was awful."

"Yes,
I'm sure it was." Vera looked straight ahead as she drove to the west side
of the Square and parked in front of the Tasty Ice Cream shop. "Let's stop
here for a sundae."

"Oh
for crying out loud, Mama. The last thing I need is ice cream. Just take me
home."

Vera
wagged a finger at her. "Don't ever refuse ice cream when I'm buying, LaDaisy.
Come on."

It'd
been a long time since she'd had the luxury of eating ice cream in this shop.
She followed Vera into the building, where they ordered chocolate sundaes and
carried them to a small table in a corner.

"I
wanted to talk to you before you go home," Vera said. "There's
something I need to explain. It might help you understand what happened."
She picked the cherry off her sundae with her fingers and popped it in her
mouth.

"What
do you mean?"

Vera
didn't reply immediately, but fed herself ice cream covered with melted
chocolate, whipped cream, and nuts.

LaDaisy
picked up her spoon, as well, then put it down.

"It's
no use," she said. "I killed Clay, and nothing can change that. I
just want my life back to normal."

"Wait
until Ida Mae can talk to someone," Vera said. "Then you'll
understand what I mean." She stopped talking and glanced away,
embarrassed. "First I have to tell you it was Rufus who insisted they
arrest you. There was some question of self-defense. But Rufus refuses to
believe Clay molested you, and he has enough clout in this town to request
favors."

"What?"

"You
know he's always liked you. But Clay was the son he never had, all he had left
of his sister." She paused, fiddling with her ice cream. "Rufus
blames you for Clay's death."

"Are
you enjoying yourself, Mama? Why are you trying to hurt me?"

Vera's
voice softened as she reached across the table and took her daughter's hand.

"I'm
not trying to hurt you, dear. You've been through quite enough. But there's
something you should know. Did you ever hear how Clay's mother died?"

LaDaisy
shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Rufus
doesn't discuss it, but his sister, the poor woman—Ruthann, her name was—she
took her own life. They kept it out of the papers to spare the family. He told
me the story just once, then never mentioned it again. Who can blame him?"

LaDaisy
laid her spoon on the table. "Oh no! That's ... how'd she do it?"

Vera
pushed her dish away.

"It
was quite gruesome, I'm told. Oh, LaDaisy, this is so hard for me. I almost
can't bear to talk about it."

"Well
don't stop now. What happened?"

"She—she
went crazy. Some said there was another man. Being a married woman with a
child, she couldn't handle the deception. And one day she ... she soaked her
hair in coal oil and struck a match."

LaDaisy
gasped and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, staring in horror at
her mother.

"Ruthann
had long, thick hair. That terrible day—it was spring, sunny and warm—she
removed her hairpins and set her
chignon
loose, letting her hair flow
almost to her waist, and ... and it went up in flames."

"My
God!"

Vera
stared out the shop window for a long time.

"She
ran screaming through the yard with her beautiful hair on fire. Then her dress
caught—"

"No!"

"Her
husband—Clay's father—the poor man was beside himself. He flew down the back
porch steps three at a time, caught up with her, and threw her to the ground.
He burned his face, hands, and chest rolling her on the grass to smother the
flames."

LaDaisy
wept as Vera continued.

"He
couldn't save her."

"This
is so awful, Mama. What happened to Clay's dad?"

"Nobody
knows. He just disappeared. Perhaps he killed himself. Or ended up in the
asylum at St. Joe." She opened her purse and found a handkerchief, dabbed
at her eyes and passed the hankie to her daughter.

"Poor
Rufus." LaDaisy dried her eyes and gave the handkerchief back to her
mother. "And Clay. Oh Mama, I didn't know. I wish I'd known this sooner."

"Why?
Would it have stopped what happened? I don't think so. Clay had a mean streak.
Ida Mae thinks he hated women."

"Because
his mother destroyed herself?"

"Well,
I don't know. I think it's possible. You and I have had our differences, LaDaisy.
Some of them due to my problems with Richard. But to set the record straight, I
didn't really trust Clay."

"You
could've fooled me." LaDaisy tasted a spoonful of chocolate sauce and ate
the cherry.

"I
kept my distrust hidden for my husband's and Ida's sake. I tried to get along
with Clay. But I wasn't too happy when your sister married that skunk."
She sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't speak ill of the deceased."

"Clay
came with the money when you married Rufus."

"My
sister didn't kill anyone," Ida Mae told LaDaisy's lawyer a few days
later. "I did it myself."

The
man was young and handsome, with a penetrating gaze that left her fumbling for
words.

"Why
did she confess?"

"LaDaisy
says she doesn't remember." Ida Mae sighed and looked down at the sleeping
infant in her arms. "But she does. Of course she does. We both remember. I—I
was insanely jealous, and when she tried to warn me what Clay was doing to her,
I refused to believe it. Finally, I followed him here."

Her
voice broke, and he waited for her to compose herself.

"Everything
she told Sheriff Gudgell is true—but only up to the shooting. She didn't do
that."

"Who
did?"

"I
already said it was me."

"Yes,
ma'am, go on."

"I
saw him rip her dress. He was like some vicious animal. He pulled her down on
the floor, and LaDaisy went for the gun, but he kicked it across the room. And—and
when it landed by me, I picked it up and cocked it, like I've seen cowboys do
in picture shows."

The
man scribbled something in his notebook. "Then what happened? You picked
it up and then what?"

"Then
I shot the son-of-a-bitch right in the face." A strangled cry escaped her
throat. "The next part's blurry. The gun knocked me down—there's a big
bruise on my right shoulder—I started labor." She looked up at him, crying
hard now. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I
don't know. So you think your sister confessed because—why?"

"Isn't
it obvious?" Ida Mae said. "She did it to spare me from questioning
when my baby was coming."

"Perhaps."

"I
know it's true."

He
became thoughtful. "You're saying you want to go to jail?"

Ida
shook her head. "No, that's not what I want. I don't want either of us to
go to jail. LaDaisy said she killed Clay in self-defense. But I'm the one who
really did it."

"You
were that angry?"

Her
eyes widened, so full of tears she couldn't see. "I—I was in shock. I had
to see for myself what he was doing. It wasn't pretty. The man I loved—
thought
I loved—he slapped me once, you know? But I didn't tell anyone, and he was
raping my sister."

"I
see."

"I
hope you do." Ida Mae fell silent, stroking her baby's dark hair as he
snuggled against her shoulder. "LaDaisy and I didn't always get along. I
thought she hated me. I resented her for years."

"Why?
Why did you resent her?"

"Because
she was beautiful. She had a lovely figure and was attractive to men. She was
Daddy's favorite. I was a frumpy old thing no man would look at twice."

He
smiled. "Someone did. Mr. Huff wanted you."

"Well,
apparently. But I have no idea why. I was lonely, and fell for the first man
who showed me attention."

He
filed his notes in his briefcase and stood.

"If
what you say is true—"

"They'll
find my fingerprints on the gun." Ida Mae tipped her head and studied him.
"Do you think I'll be arrested? I don't want to go to jail. I have a new
baby."

"It's
not up to me, so I don't know what will happen. I can only advise you and try
to back up your story from these notes. The District Attorney may decide not to
press charges, at his discretion."

Ida
dared not hope she'd get special treatment because of her relationship to Rufus—a
prominent citizen who could sway a judge's decision. Still, she did kill a man,
after all. It wasn't premeditated murder, though, and Clay had certainly given
her enough cause to wish him dead.
But he gave me this beautiful, innocent
child.

"Like
I said, I was in shock." She bit her lower lip and tried to hide her
nervousness. "Starting labor at the time ... I saw something terrible was
about to happen to my sister, and—and when the gun came spinning toward me on
the floor, I picked it up without thinking. I dislike guns; they frighten me.
In my right mind, I would never have touched the horrid thing, let alone
actually fire it."

"The
District Attorney might take that into consideration."

Bit
by bit, memories of that horrible day returned. Replaying the event in her
mind, LaDaisy came to realize she couldn't have shot Clay. The shotgun was on
the other side of the room where he'd kicked it—out of reach. She hadn't heard
Ida Mae come in. But when Clay staggered and tried to get up after she'd
slammed the mandolin over his head, his attention was riveted on something
behind her. She couldn't believe there was anything in the world he was afraid
of. Yet, there'd been stark fear on his face when he looked up and saw—what? Of
course, he saw his wife a few feet away, aiming the shotgun at him. Everything
had happened so fast after that.

The
day after Ida's statement, the charges against LaDaisy were dropped, and the
case closed for lack of prosecution—thanks in part to her stepfather's
influence. Thankfully, neither was her sister arrested. After her release from
jail, with the shotgun subsequently returned to her, she again secured the
weapon in Daniel's private closet. If she never saw it again, it would be too
soon.

Though
it had been comforting with her sister in the house after Clay's death—in spite
of the horrible memories still lingering in the front room—LaDaisy was actually
relieved when she finally left. Ida went to Vera's house with baby Rufus,
planning to return to her own home when she was stronger. Life was somehow
getting back to normal. Saul dropped by to clean up his garden, yanking up old
vines and preparing the plot for next year. Nights turned cooler, with frost in
the air. A sure sign of winter, and not a chance in hell of finding money for
coal to heat the house.

LaDaisy
headed for the privy, but changed her mind and walked over to Saul.

"What's
the good word?"

A
huge grin spread across his face.

"Daniel's
coming!"

She
laughed. "I don't think so, Saul. But I almost believe you—how do you
know?"

"I
just do." He put his hand on his chest, and LaDaisy felt her own heart
jump. "I feel it in here," he said. "Yep, you can believe it,
girl. Daniel's coming home. I'll stake my life on it."

"I'll
believe it when I see it." She patted his shoulder and started back down
the path.