Kate Fox & The Three Kings (9 page)

Billie sat behind me on the bed and tugged a brush through my wet hair. Her touch was gentle as she combed through the knots, not pressuring me to speak. When she was finished, Billie braided my hair into a simple braid and tied it off with an elastic. Aunt June joined us a while later, with a tray of hot tea and honey. I realized with a sense of dread that I eventually had to tell them the entire story, and I needed to hear their side of it, too. I thought I might as well tell them while the wound was still fresh, then, maybe, it could have time to heal.

My mind wandered back to the summer before seventh grade and settled on the Thursday I’d never forget. I spent my summer break with my neighbor and classmate, Tabby Hathaway. Her parents inherited an ancient home with long expanses of pasture and opportunity to act out whatever hypothetical situation Tabby and I concocted. With freedom to roam and enough imagination to keep us preoccupied, avoiding mischief proved downright impossible for us. After an intense morning of outrunning a bull in the nearby cow pasture, dodging patties and calves, we tip toed into the musty, old house General Sherman spared during his march through Atlanta. Tabby and I snuck upstairs, past the hallway of curling, gaudy wallpaper, and tried on every mothball-ridden dress from decades past, giggling and fantasizing about where we might wear such fancy frocks.

Evening rolled in, and I waved good-bye to Tabby after her mom sent me home with a red cherry popsicle. I’d nearly finished the icy treat by the time I reached my grandparents house, and walked inside to find Jilly by the door and a note written from Grams taped to the fridge. The note was time stamped at 5:33 p.m., and Grams said that she and Grandpa drove to the pharmacy to pick up some Ibuprofen for her arthritis and should be back within the hour. I washed the sticky red popsicle syrup from my hands and glanced at the clock. It was 6:45 p.m.

“Grams and Grandpa didn’t come back that night. They…they were only suppose to be gone for a few minutes—at least that’s what Grams relayed in her note. I waited with Jilly for them to get back. But they never came back. I stayed up all night with Jilly, sitting by the door. I got scared and called the neighbors that morning, but no one answered. A social worker came by around lunch and told me my grandparents were dead. She instructed me to pack a bag and get in her car. Jilly growled at her. I asked what would happen to Jilly,” my bottom lip quivered.

“‘She’ll have to be put down,’ the lady said, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me out the door. That was the last time I saw Jilly…or my grandparents house.” I paused, feeling a tinge of pain at Jilly’s memory, and attempted not to let my mind mull over how she was dealt with.

“I don’t know how long we drove. I cried until I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the social worker jerked me from the car and into the Smith’s house. Joy and Bob weren’t able to have children, or at least, that’s what the social worker told me, and they were eager to adopt. Joy showed me to my room and didn’t let me leave the house for a week. She’d open the door once a day to place a plate of food on the bookshelf, maybe a glass of water. Joy told me it was part of being cleansed of sin, to be quarantined and fast. She always looked at me like I disgusted her. Bob wasn’t home most of the time, but when he was, he yelled at me, and would raid my room for contraband. The first time I left the house was to go to church the following Sunday after I arrived—The Smiths were part of Blood of Christ Baptist Church,” I breathed, and realization crossed Billie and Aunt June’s expressions.

“You’ve heard of them?” I asked, and they both nodded. “Then you know their practices are a bit…unconventional, to say the least. They hate women. They hate outsiders. They hated me. I was the leper, but they tolerated my presence and included me in all their extracurricular. Brushy Fork’s school system was an extension of the church, so most of the classes were scripture-based,” I was getting off-topic, but I wasn’t sure what parts to omit. “Anyway, I made friends there. It wasn’t always awful…until things got physical during the school year. The teachers would smack us with a ruler or switch in front of the class if we were disobedient, but I’d never gotten beaten at the Smiths until recently,” I rubbed my wrists.

I tuned out Billie and Aunt June’s faces until I finished my story, as they were distracting. “Women don’t ever leave Blood of Christ. They’re the brood mares of the town. But I had to leave…it was too dangerous to stay. So, when the opportunity presented itself, I ran away,” I relayed, skimming major details. I wasn’t a good liar, but I attempted to fabricate something believable. “I knew where y’all lived, so I caught a bus…and here I am,” I trailed off.

Aunt June embraced me, sobbing, but Billie remained stoic, giving me a once-over glance. I wasn’t sure I had convinced her of the final details, but neither of them questioned me any further. It was my turn to question them.

“You went to our funeral,” I stated, hoping Aunt June would elaborate on my grandparent’s funeral, and what, she assumed, was my funeral, too.

Aunt June sniffled and cleared her throat, “Yes, it was only days after we heard the news of the car accident. The police reported three individuals in the car. There was a fire after the impact, and no one was able to escape. Mom and Dad’s bodies…they were scorched—only identifiable by their dental records. The police assumed you were the third. The body belong to a child, your age,” she choked back another sob. “They were certain, Kate! They were certain the third body was yours. There was a ceremony. We spread your ashes. We mourned. We even prosecuted the damn truck driver. There was no reason to believe you were still alive!”

“Why would someone want us to think that Kate was dead, Mom? Why would they take her away? To Kentucky, of all places? It’s…it’s insanity!” Billie interrogated Aunt June, furrowing her brow.

“I don’t know, honey. Kate’s here with us, now, though,” Aunt June patted my knee.

“Do you have eyes, Mother? Look at her!” Billie pointed to my neck, and I felt a sudden sting of shame, which I had been conditioned to experience anytime too much attention was placed on me. Billie hopped off the bed and paced the room. “Someone still wants to hurt her. What if they come looking for her? What are we going to do then?”

“We’ll worry about that in the morning,” Aunt June murmured after a long time. “Good night, girls. Tomorrow, we’ll go into town and get some clothes and supplies for you, Kate. If you’ll have us, we want you to stay here,” I was staring at the quilt underneath me and my eyes shot up. “Don’t feel pressured to make a decision tonight. Just sleep on it.”

Billie insisted I stay in her room for the night. I grabbed a throw pillow off of her mound of pillows and laid it on the cowhide. Exhausted, I plopped down on the floor. My eyelids became heavy and I almost dozed off, but Billie emerged from the bathroom and shouted, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” I responded without opening my eyes.

“Not on the floor, you’re not! Seriously, get up,” she nudged me with her foot, motioned to her bed and lifted up the quilt for me to get under. When I was tucked in, she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m going downstairs to chat with Mom for a bit. I’ll be back up in a while, though,” I nodded, wondering why Billie was giving me a play-by-play of her evening plans. The bed rose from her absence. “You’re not going to leave…are you?” She asked from the doorway.

“No, if you want me to stay, I’d really like that,” I yawned.

“I want you to stay.”

When sleep finally came, my dreams were filled with Grams and Grandpa. With heat on my face, my lungs filled with smoke as I struggled to pull them out of their station wagon. I reached into the flames without being burned, but no matter how hard I tugged on the doors or smacked the windows, they’d never open or crack. I watched my grandparents in their final moments, struggling to free themselves while attempting to console me. Grandpa was overtaken first. He kicked at the windows, exerting energy and swallowing too much smoke. When his body stilled, his eyes closed and the fire took him in his sleep. Grams fought to jerk him away from the flame, which proved to be beginning of her end. Her hands were burned, exposing raw flesh and bone, leaving her unable to unbuckle herself. Her death was slow, and unlike Grandpa, Grams was awake for all of it—until she wasn’t awake at all.

“Shh…it’s okay,” a soft voice cooed from beside me.

My eyes shot open and squinted shut as sunlight filled the room. I was a ball of warmth nestled under a soft quilt. An auburn-haired girl with emerald green eyes and a sweet face lay next to me, tucked under the covers, stroking my hair with a concerned expression. I calmed myself down with deep breaths, reassuring myself it was only a dream, and I needed to live in the present, which appeared more promising than the last six years of my life.

“How does breakfast sound?” Billie whispered from the pillow beside me.

“Good,” I muttered as I watched her crawl out of bed, and I did the same. She disappeared into her walk-in closet and reappeared moments later with a black tank top, a pair of cut off jean shorts, and rainbow flip-flops and tossed them on the bed beside me.

“What bra size do you wear?” Billie inquired, rummaging through her underwear drawer.

“I, uh, have no idea,” I responded, slipping on the cut-off shorts and gazing down at my bare legs about to make their public debut. Joy always threw bras at me that were too tight around my ribs and caused spillage over the cup, so I knew those were too small, but I wasn’t educated on proper sizing or even knowledgeable about what sizes were offered.

Billie handed me a lacy black bra with stuffing in the cups. I inspected it closely before latching the back. I’d never worn a bra with padding before. I studied my reflection, appreciating the added boost to my cleavage. I couldn’t help but smile when I pulled the tank top over my head; it was hot outside and I was dressed for the heat! Today, I promised myself, I wouldn’t be miserable.

Moments later I yanked my sleep t-shirt over my head. The tank top revealed too much at once: arms, chest, and the curve of my body since it was slim-fitting. When I meandered down the stairs, Aunt June and Billie had their heads together in deep conversation that immediately stopped when I came into their peripheral, giving me an uneasy feeling because I knew they were talking about me. They teetered around me like I was a fragile thing, eyeing me with pity.

“We’re going to get breakfast on our way to Tallahassee,” Billie spoke up.

“Is…is that alright, dear? Are you still feeling up for shopping?” Aunt June’s face filled with concern. “Of course, we don’t have to go today. We can take baby steps and — ”

“No, no. I’d like to go shopping. Really,” I cut her off. The last thing I wanted was to be treated like a child.

“It’s just you and me today, Kate,” Billie smiled, hooking her arm through mine and leading me to her jeep parked in the driveway. Aunt June followed us outside and waved as we pulled into the street and sped down the road. “Do you want to talk?...I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, and this situation is totally fucked, but you can talk to me about anything. Or tell me anything. I might not always know how to react to what you tell me, but I can sure listen. No judgment,” she lifted a hand from her zebra steering wheel and held up three fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

I glanced over at Billie, still holding up her scout's honor salute. Her long, straight hair was tied back in a black ribbon. Her face was similar to mine, with large eyes and a pointy nose, but her complexion was vanilla and honey, a result of the Florida sun, where mine was milk and pearl. Billie wasn’t pretty like a model or a movie star; her appearance didn’t echo anything we were taught in Charms class. The details made her beautiful, like the freckles splashed across her cheeks that she didn’t try to mask with make-up, her fuller figure she didn’t attempt to cover with baggy clothes, or the way she held her head up when she walked around. Insecurity bubbled in my stomach. Billie had everything. She’d surely grow bored of me soon.

“Can we…not talk about me this morning?” I mumbled as we drove over the same bridge I’d climbed up yesterday. I was exhausted with talking about myself. “Let’s talk about you, if that’s alright.”

“What do you wanna know?”

“Whatever you wanna to tell me.”

Billie beamed and recalled the entire plot of her life. She was in her senior year at Florida State University, majoring in Biology, and she planned to apply to grad school this year, for the marine biology program. “This is the first summer I’ve taken off since high school. The last three years, I’ve lived in the dorms, but I didn’t renew my lease for senior year—trying to save up for grad school, and, lemme tell ya, renting is costly. So, I’ll be commuting from home twice a week. Hopefully, I won’t die of boredom on these car rides by myself. A couple of girls I roomed with freshman year commuted all the way from Panama City their sophomore year. Can you imagine? I’d fall asleep at the wheel,” Billie gave an easy laugh.

I nodded, trying to interpret what she was rambling on about and attempted to chuckle whenever she did. The stretch to Tallahassee was lengthy, with the topography alternating between shorelines, swamps, and wooded areas, and Billie never ran out of chat material.

“Why didn’t Aunt June come with us?” I asked when Billie drove up to a crowded restaurant called “Bojangles” and filed into the drive-thru line. I notice her mouth twitch as she rolled down her window to order.

“What do you want?” she crooked her head from the menu and back to me.

“I’m, uh, not sure. I’ve never been here. What do you get?”

“I gotcha,” she winked at me and cleared her throat to call out our order. “Two number threes, Cajun style, and large diet cokes in Styrofoam cups, please.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have any money right now,” I blushed, embarrassed. “When I get a job, I promise to pay you back.” Billie handed me a paper bag filled to the brim with two large chicken biscuits and hash browns, and we ate as she drove.

“If you won’t let me ask you questions about yourself today, then you have to promise me you won’t mention money again,” Billie said through a mouth of biscuit.