Livvie's Song (38 page)

He nodded, feigning empathy. “What happened to your mother…after the fire?”

Again, Marva’s eyes took on that wild look. “Daddy locked her up back there.” She pointed to a closed door across the room. “That’s where she had to stay because she was so naughty. Daddy said.”

“How did she—how did your parents die?”

She shrugged and turned her mouth into a quick frown. “Mother had an apoplexy about a year after the fire—at least, that’s what the doctors said, but I’m not so sure. I think Daddy might have helped her along.” Her matter-of-fact manner of stating this made him want to shake her. “I found an open container of rat poison in the lean-to out back two days after she died. When I asked Daddy about it, he just said he’d seen a big varmint by our garbage pile.” She paused, as if still pondering the matter. “As for Daddy, a bad case of pneumonia took him about twelve years ago. Do you know, only five people showed up at his funeral? Five people! Orville Dotson, the preacher from the Episcopal church, and some other fellas I didn’t even know. Isn’t that appalling?”

“Appalling” aptly described all the sickening information she’d just unloaded. If she’d had alcohol on her breath, he would have sworn she was drunk, but she didn’t. Plain loony was more like it.

“Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?” he suggested.

She brightened like a high-wattage bulb. “Sure. You want something to drink? It is awfully hot.”

“No, I was thinking more in terms of taking you for a ride with Quinn and me.”

“Really?” She smiled and looked down at her gown. “I have to go put on a dress.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

She laid a hand on his arm, and it was all he could do to keep from brushing it away. “I just knew I’d win you over eventually, Will,” she cooed. “I have this uncanny ability to attract men.” She cut loose a high-pitched giggle that bordered on madness. “I told Livvie she would never have you, that I had my eye on you from the first night I saw you. Do you remember that night, Will?”

His gut twisted into a tight, painful knot. “Yes, yes, I remember it well. When and where did you tell Livvie all this?” It took every ounce of effort to make his voice sound calm and friendly.

“Tonight, out in the alley behind her restaurant, silly, before Clem hauled her off. Of course, that black mongrel wasn’t the least bit happy about any of it, so I had to bash him over the head with a big rock.”

“Where did Clem take her, anyway?”

She shrugged. “How should I know? He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask.” Oddly, he believed her. “Anyway, you’ll wait here while I go change?” Her voice still had that schoolgirl sound. Truly, she’d slipped into a world of make-believe, and all within a matter of minutes.

“Yep, I’ll wait right here.”

She opened a door off of the hallway and slipped inside. He could hear her humming a familiar tune, and he imagined her smiling at herself in the mirror as she touched up her makeup. “Where are you taking me?” she called out in singsong.

“Oh, Quinn and I will come up with something.”

“Maybe we could go dancing. You still owe me a dance, you know.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or, we could go for an ice cream cone. Daydream Chocolates opened a sundae bar. Did you know that?” She hummed some more. “Shall I wear my red heels or my white flats? Well, I suppose it depends on which dress I choose.”

“I don’t think it matters.”

“Of course it does. Oh, won’t this be fun?”

He looked down at the floor and shook his head. Her getting locked up in prison—more likely, an asylum—hadn’t even occurred to her.

“Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.”—Psalm 91:9–10

When Livvie awakened the next morning, tiny shafts of sunlight filtering through the window and the intermittent chirping of birds outside gave her reason to estimate the time to be around six. She wore a watch but couldn’t read the dial because of all the rope binding her wrists together. After closing her eyes tightly several times to squeeze the sleep from them, she assessed the dimly lit room, where a lone kerosene lamp still glowed in a corner. Overall, her abductor had been mostly civil—he’d even permitted her to eat a few crackers and take several sips of water a few hours ago—but she knew one false move on her part could easily make him turn on her.

Late last night, Clem had tied her to the mattress by wrapping her wrists and ankles several times, looping the rest of the rope under the mattress, and then bringing the ends together, secured in a double knot over her chest. Escaping would have been an impossible feat, unless she’d been able to figure out a way to pick up her bed and walk! Thankfully, he’d stretched out on a blanket on the floor several feet away, where he still slept, an empty bottle lying next to him. From the sound of his loud snoring, he would not wake up anytime soon.

In the stillness, she stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about how uncomfortable she was, and prayed—prayed for her precious boys, for Margie and Howard, and for Will.
Will.
Was he looking for her even now? Somehow, she knew he had to be, along with a host of others.

The sound of a dog barking lent her comfort, for it meant that someone lived nearby. If she could just get a glimpse of the surroundings, she might be able to determine her location, even if she couldn’t do a thing about it.

“
Behold, the eye of the L
ord
is upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy.
” She recalled the psalm she’d memorized several weeks ago and thanked the Lord for bringing it to her mind again. She might not know where she was, but the Lord surely did, and He had His eye firmly fixed on her. Now, if He would just reveal her location to others!

Clem rolled over with a whiffling noise and mumbled something unintelligible. She turned her head to look at him, holding her breath for fear he’d awaken. She wanted him to sleep forever, and yet her need to use the privy almost overruled that wish. Still, a sigh of relief escaped her lungs when he settled back into a deep, silent slumber. In the meantime, she would work to loosen her wrists, which were now bloodied from the rope’s abrasive rubbing.

Minutes melded into hours as daylight emerged fully, but dark clouds held the sun at bay and blanketed the room in a gloomy shade of gray-green, now that the kerosene lamp had run out of fuel. Distant rumbles of thunder spoke of impending rain, dampening Livvie’s spirits the more.

On the floor, Clem had begun to shiver but did not wake up. Livvie’s stomach clenched with hunger, and her parched throat longed for water, but her full bladder forbade her to dwell upon her thirst for too long. She continued to send unceasing prayers to the Lord—prayers of praise that she’d made it through the night relatively unscathed by this insane brute of a man who held her captive, prayers proclaiming her surrender to God’s will for her life, prayers of confession, pleading forgiveness for the year she’d harbored bitterness and anger toward her heavenly Father, and prayers for protection over her sons and guidance for those in search of her. Interspersed with her prayers, she recited every verse of Scripture that came to mind, many of them incomplete scraps of passages she’d once known in full, thanks to her childhood Sunday school teachers.

Just when she thought Clem would sleep the day away, he stirred, opened his eyes, sat up with a start, and stared at her. Her first thought was that he looked like a wild man, with his faded brown hair sticking up in greasy clumps, his unshaven face smudged, and his colorless eyes cold and stony. Even in the dim room, she spotted a glossy sheen on his forehead—odd, since yesterday’s heat had escaped out the open windows, replaced by a nippy dampness. She was thankful for the wool blanket covering her.

“Now that you’re awake, I would like to use the outdoor facility,” she stated.

“Is that any way to say good mornin’ to your lover?” His voice held no hint of sarcasm. He rolled up his sleeve to look at the wound left by Reggie, and, though he tried to hide it, she saw him wince with pain. He’d obviously made no effort to clean the area, and she wouldn’t be surprised if a raging infection had taken hold.

“Are you going to untie me? It sounds as if a storm is moving in, and I’d like to go outside before the rain comes.”

“Shut up, would you?”

She clamped her lips together and heaved a loud sigh through her nostrils. As much as she still wanted to spit in Clem’s face, she told herself to toe a very careful, straight line, maybe even pretend to care for him. Otherwise, she’d blow her chances, however remote, of escaping his evil clutches.

***

That dimwit of a dog had done a real number on his arm. Not only was the bite mark red and swollen, but it felt hot to the touch and had white pus oozing from it. To top matters off, Clem’s entire arm throbbed, making him feel queasy and jittery. When he stood up, a wave of dizziness took him by surprise, so he grabbed hold of a chair to regain his footing.

“Did you ever clean and bandage that dog bite?”

Livvie’s voice brought him out of his fog. He wiped his sweaty brow and turned to look at her. “It ain’t nothin’.” No way would he let on how weak he felt or how much his arm ached. What a lousy fix. He’d brought her here to make her his bride, and now he didn’t have the energy of a two-toed sloth. The predicament put a genuine damper on his mood.

“I could probably clean it for you. You’d need to go out and get some fresh water. Do you have any soap?”

He didn’t know what to make of her. He’d thought she’d need more time to warm up to him. Could it be that she’d already come to appreciate her new home? He angled her a suspicious glare. “I might.”

“And a bucket?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, unbind me and take me out to the privy, and then, on the way back, we’ll get a bucket of water, you’ll dig out the soap and find some cloth, and I’ll cleanse the wound.”

He cut loose a dry chortle. “I ain’t so dumb that I can’t figure out what you’re doin’. You just want those ropes off so you can run away.”

“I won’t run off, I promise.”

“Am I s’posed to believe you?”

She lay there, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I might be able to rustle you up some breakfast, too”—she lifted her tied hands as far as the rope would allow—“but not in this useless state. Putting some food in your stomach would probably make you feel better.”

She had a point. He walked over, bent down, and proceeded to work on loosening the main knot, which kept her tied to the mattress. Before he went too far with it, though, he removed the pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and touched the muzzle to her forehead. She went as frozen as a departed duck on ice. “I’ll untie the ropes for now, but, be assured, I’ll use this if you try anythin’ funny.” Unblinking, she nodded several times and gave a hard swallow. He continued loosening the knot. “Just so we understand each other.”

***

A streak of lightning flashed in the eastern sky as they set off down the narrow path to the outhouse, Clem directly behind her, empty bucket in one hand, gun in the other. My, but it felt good to stretch her legs and move her arms. She imagined setting off across the wide expanse of fields before her, but that stupid weapon poking in her spine was a definite deterrent. “We could certainly use some rain,” she said, forcing brightness into her tone. A clap of thunder followed the lightning, which made her nerves jump, but she wouldn’t let him know it. “It’s been an unusually hot, dry summer, don’t you think?”

Heavy, wheezy breaths were all she got in return, as if he were not accustomed to walking and talking concurrently. His overweight condition probably didn’t help.

“Maybe the rain will dispel the humidity,” she added. “That would be a welcome relief.” While she made small talk, she took in her surroundings, making sure to move her eyes only and keep her head facing straight ahead. But they might as well have been in Australia for the unfamiliarity. Nothing about this place rang a bell.

Another streak of silver flashed across the sky, and thunder rumbled overhead, closer this time. “It’s going to rain, for sure. Maybe any minute now.”

“Would you shut your yapper? I ain’t in the mood for conversin’.”

“Well, you don’t have to be such a grump about it.”

At the end of the path, Clem opened the outhouse door and shoved her inside. “Make it snappy, ’fore that sky opens up.”

She did her best to be quick, but she didn’t think forty-five seconds had passed when he shouted, “What’s takin’ so long?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she assured him, smoothing down her tattered dress and looking around, wishing she could find a board or something else with which to clobber the no-good bum on his sorry noggin. Yet the outhouse offered no help. She opened the door and looked up at him. “Aren’t you going to use the facility?”

He produced a hard, cold grin. “Don’t need to. I used it whilst you were sleepin’.”

“Oh.”

He took her by the arm and forced her to turn. “Walk,” he ordered, poking the gun into the center of her spine. “Pump’s over there.”

The inconsiderate oaf made her operate the pump while he held the gun to her temple, and it took every ounce of strength she could muster to get the water up the pipe. When it finally came, she couldn’t help it; she bent down and drank from the clear stream.

“Fill the bucket, not your bladder,” he groused.

On the trek back to the ramshackle building, something stirred in the tall grasses several yards away and startled her. She gasped with a jolt, causing some of the water to splash out of the pail.

“What’d you do that for?” he asked, pressing the pistol harder against her back.

“I thought—nothing, it was nothing.” But it was something; she knew it, and the deep, low growl that came next confirmed her suspicions.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

“I….”

“Open that door,” he ordered, prodding her forward.

She complied, and he pushed her inside the shack, then slammed the door with a loud thud. Chancing a hurried peek out the window, she saw something black bounding through the fields, out of sight.