Somewhere Between Luck and Trust (32 page)

“I’m afraid I’m back in prison,” she continued.

“Is that true?” Dawson asked. “You wake up and think you’re still there?”

“I wish it weren’t true.”

He looked thoughtful. “I wake up and think my brother’s still alive, then I remember.”

“That’s bad, too.”

“What else?” He poised his pen over the paper again.

“Kenny, I know you didn’t kill Duke.” She sighed. “I know you would never kill anybody, no matter how angry you were.”

“Is that true?” Dawson looked surprised. “He’s supposed to have killed somebody?”

“His best friend. Or one of them,” she amended.

“But the police must think he did it, or he wouldn’t be there.”

“The police think a lot of things, but they aren’t always true. Look at me. I went to prison and I wasn’t guilty. It happens more than people like to think. Sometimes innocent people even go to the gas chamber or the electric chair, or they stand them up against a wall and shoot them, or they hang them.” Her throat closed, and she realized she was going to cry.

“Hey, come on. I didn’t mean to get you started. I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s what’s going to happen to Kenny if they convict him.”

“Maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll find who really did it.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped them on the sleeve of her shirt. “Not unless somebody helps him.”

“Maybe somebody will. Jeez, don’t cry, Cristy.”

She sniffed. Hard. “He’s not perfect, and he’s not always good. He’s probably been involved in some illegal stuff, made dumb decisions. But he would never kill anybody. He would open his door to a stranger and give them anything they needed. That’s the kind of person he is.”

“What else do you want to say?”

“I’m sorry this happened, Kenny. And I know you don’t deserve to be in jail for murder.” She paused so he could catch up. “I’m praying for you every night. I’m praying somebody sees the truth and figures out who really did it. I just wanted you to know.”

Dawson wrote and she waited. He looked up. “Is that it?”

She nodded, because what else could she say? Prison mail was opened, often read and sometimes censored. The same was true at the county jail. Nothing else she could say would be safe.

“How do I sign it?”

“Love, Cristy.”

“I’ll write
love,
” he said, “and you can sign your own name.”

“That’ll be good.”

He finished and turned it around so she could sign, then he folded the letter. “If it’s true he’s not guilty, I hope somebody comes forward and helps find the real killer.”

“If that person hasn’t come forward by now, there must be a good reason why not.”

“I guess there could be a lot of reasons people keep secrets like that.”

“We all have secrets, but some are more dangerous than others.”

His tone changed into something darker. “Some of them could get you put in jail, I guess, and some of them could get you thrown out of the house.”

She had been thinking about her own problems, but suddenly, the discussion had become personal for Dawson.

“What secret would get you thrown out of your house, Dawson?
You
didn’t kill somebody, did you? Your parents are kind of narrow-minded, but you’re their son. They might not understand you, but they love you, don’t they?”

“They love who they think I am.”

“You’re that good at hiding who you really are that they haven’t figured it out?”

He met her eyes, then he shrugged. “Who I am? I’m gay. At least I’m pretty sure I am. And they’re the kind of people who would probably be happier if I were a murderer.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

ON WEDNESDAY MORNING
Lucas was still sleeping when Georgia closed his bedroom door behind her and tiptoed through the living room. She gathered the shoes she’d worn last night and slipped them on before she unbolted the front door.

Outside the sky was just beginning to turn light, and birds were having a rousing songfest. The air smelled lemonade-sweet courtesy of a magnolia blooming against the hillside, and she was so enraptured by both scent and song, she remained for a long moment on the deck.

She hadn’t meant to stay over, but last night Lucas had invited her for another of Zenzo’s delectable favorites, chicken tetrazzini with marsala and wild mushrooms. Dessert had been most delicious of all and partaken of in his bedroom. Afterward she had fallen asleep beside him, and sometime after midnight, when she’d pulled herself awake to go, he’d promised to set the alarm so she could get up in time to go home and get ready for school. Luckily for him, she’d awakened this morning before the alarm woke them both.

Halfway down the driveway her cell phone rang. She braked to answer, smiling because she was sure the caller must be Lucas saying good morning
and
goodbye.

The voice belonged to a woman. “I screwed up the time zones again. I just know I did. It’s dawn there, isn’t it? Did I wake you up?”

The accent was as thick and Southern as sorghum on cornbread. Georgia held out the phone to view caller ID, but it was too dark in the car to read it. “You didn’t wake me up, but who is this?”

“Just call me crazy as a June bug, but it’s not my fault. It’s got to be jet lag, on account of traveling all that way from Africa yesterday. I’m calling from Germany. This is the number Bunny gave me, isn’t it?”

Georgia was fully awake now. “Is this Julie? The photographer?”

“Last week I
did
get some amazing photos of bearded vultures in the Maloti Drakensberg Mountains. And yes, Julie, Julie Saunders. Bunny told me your whole story, and while I’m waiting for my plane home to board, I thought I’d call.”

Georgia told her how kind she was to take the time. With that out of the way she zeroed in on her questions. “I’m hoping you remember something more about Trish, the pledge who left midyear. Were you her big sister?”

“I sure was, although she came and went so quickly, I hardly got to know her. How honest should I be?”

“Completely.”

“I didn’t like her all that well, and she wasn’t my first choice for a little sister. Trish was gorgeous as all get-out, but self-absorbed, and secretive. Of course, if she was pregnant with you, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“You had no suspicion she was pregnant?”

“Not a single, pea-pickin’ clue she was anything at all. That, at least, would have been interesting.”

“Julie, do you remember her name? Last name, I mean?”

“After Bunny called I tried to remember, but it just isn’t there anymore.”

Georgia felt a stab of disappointment. She had hoped for a surname so she could learn if they were on the right path or a million miles off it.

“Tell me what you know so far,” Julie said. “Maybe it will jog my memory?”

“You know about the charm bracelet?” Georgia described a few of the charms. The cat, the hospital volunteer pin, the music charms, none of which got a reaction. But when she got to the engraved Bible, Julie stopped her.

“I had one of those,” Julie said. “Very popular in the Bible Belt, although I wore mine on a chain around my neck until I went to college. Any boy who tried to go too far got a good look up close.”

Georgia had to smile. She was glad they’d guessed correctly, although she didn’t expect it to do much good. Born-again Christians weren’t a rarity in Georgia.

“There’s a peanut on the bracelet,” she continued. “We’re guessing that means she was from an area where peanuts were grown.”

“No...” Julie was silent, and Georgia waited. “Peanut, peanut. Migosh, I remember! No, Peanut was her
nickname.
”

“Nickname? Just because she was from Georgia?”

“No, no...” Julie was clearly trying to remember why.

“Maybe she was short?” Georgia prompted.

“No, she was taller than I am. No, her nickname was Peanut because her last name
sounded
like Peanut. Peabody or Pinard, something with a
p.
That’s where the nickname came from. And believe me, I told her she ought to lose it fast. She didn’t have much going for her except those looks of hers, and she needed to make good use of them. Hold on a moment....”

Georgia waited until Julie came back on the line. “They’re lining up to board, but I have something else to say, and it doesn’t reflect well on me. I was relieved when Trish left. No matter what, she wanted special treatment. Imagine life in a sorority house if everybody felt that way. I don’t know why she was that way. Maybe she was unhappy because she was pregnant, but I don’t think anybody was sorry to see her go.”

They were out of time, but it was clear Julie had given Georgia all she remembered, anyway. Georgia wished her a safe journey to Arizona, where she and her husband had retired, and said goodbye.

The sun was rising as she slipped the phone back in her purse. She had a schedule to keep, but she continued to sit behind the steering wheel and think about a woman named Trish who nobody remembered with fondness, not even her sorority big sister.

Maybe the time had come to put the search to rest for good. Maybe some things were meant to forever remain out of reach. Georgia was beginning to believe this might be one of them.

* * *

Lucas had printed out a list of phone numbers of the Georgia high schools that used horses as mascots, and Cristy had volunteered to call them to search for a rearing horse logo. On Wednesday, by the time she had to leave for her tutoring session with Georgia, she was about a third of the way through the list with two possibilities—one Colt and one Mustang. Both schools had promised to find out how long the rearing horse had been their logo. She drew lines through the others and sketched rearing horses beside the two possibilities, so she wouldn’t forget to call them back next week.

She left a disgruntled Beau in the house. While Jackson’s whims were unpredictable, she doubted he would try to pick the lock in full daylight with the dog snarling at the door. As gentle as Beau was, Cristy doubted he would ever again tolerate Jackson’s presence without fighting back.

At BCAS she parked in the visitor’s row and got out. With surprise she saw Dawson at the end of the line of cars, waiting for her. After his announcement on Monday he had left almost immediately. Now she was glad he wasn’t dodging her.

“Hey,” she said, and she put her arms around him for a hug before he could resist. Another boy in the parking lot stared goggle-eyed at them, and she laughed. “I was hoping I would catch you before you went home. I finished your story. It was terrific. Thanks for writing it for me.”

“Listen, I don’t want you telling anybody what I told you,” he said without preamble.

“It’s your news to share, not mine. I know that.”

“Yeah, well, who else am I going to tell?”

The fact that Dawson was gay changed little for her. The only real difference was that now she knew he, too, faced obstacles that might be difficult to surmount, and she had no idea how to help him.

The most major, of course, were the senior Nedleys.

“I could go with you,” she said, following her own train of thought.

“Where?”

“When you tell your parents. For support. They’ll have each other. You’ll have me.”

“I’m not planning to tell them.”

“Isn’t that kind of hard to live with? One of the most important, personal things about you being a secret?”

“I’m going to get out of their house as fast as I can, and then they can figure it out on their own.”

Cristy understood other people’s pain a lot better than she once had. “I don’t think you’re going to do it that way. I think you’re just going to blow one of these days and throw it in their faces.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Wouldn’t it be better to take the high road?” she asked. “No matter what they do?”

“What makes you think you know what’s best for me?”

She was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry it came out like that. I don’t even know what’s best for
me.
Look, nobody knows better than I do how secrets eat you up. I guess I just want you to know that if and when you decide to tell yours, I’ll help if you need me.”

“You haven’t even said anything about me being gay.”

Now she could smile. “I’m used to being hit on. I’m just glad I haven’t lost my appeal.”

“Hey, I’m gay, and you’re an old lady.”

She laughed. “I don’t care what you are, Dawson. I care
who
you are. So the rest?” She flipped her hand in the air to show a lack of concern. “Just stay my friend, okay?”

He couldn’t hide his relief. She realized that without meaning to she had given him a gift. If she was the first person he’d told—and she thought she might be—maybe her reaction would make it easier to tell others.

* * *

Georgia could hardly keep up with Cristy. The girl was on fire. Until she’d begun tutoring her, Georgia hadn’t believed anyone, particularly anyone with Cristy’s long history of failure, could learn to read so quickly. She still had miles to go, of course, but she was beginning to figure out things Georgia had expected to teach her. She was the proverbial sponge, absorbing everything around her, although she never reached saturation point. She made connections. She reached further. At this rate by year’s end she would be able to read well enough to fool anybody who didn’t know her history.

“Okay, that’s it for today,” Georgia said. “Although I bet if I said we could stay here until midnight, you would be fine with that.”

Cristy sat back, her eyes shining. “It’s so great when it starts to make sense. There’s nothing like it. I saw a sign by the road today and I knew what it said. For Sale by Owner. I had to think about it and guess a little, but I wasn’t even at the end of the block when I figured it out.”

Somebody knocked on the office door, and before Georgia could say “come in,” Lucas opened it. “Too early?”

Georgia beckoned him inside, and Cristy greeted him, too.

“Lucas wants to look at houses,” Georgia told her. “I told him I would go along to keep him company. Are you heading back up the mountain?”

“Best done in daylight,” Cristy said.

“Before you go, I wanted to tell you both what I found out this morning.” Georgia recounted her conversation with Julie Saunders.

“It does seem to confirm that Trish owned the charm bracelet,” Lucas said. “But now where she was from is up for grabs.”

“You know, I wonder if the palm tree charm means she was from Florida,” Georgia said. “There was a Cypress Gardens charm, too.”

“Do you have it here?” Cristy asked.

Georgia retrieved the bracelet from her desk drawer. “Have an idea?”

“Something’s always bothered me about this palm tree.”

Cristy turned the bracelet around until she came to it. The palm tree was embossed on a round medallion, which was worn and bent at the edges. By no means was it the prettiest charm on the bracelet, and Georgia had never paid it much attention.

“Here’s what bothers me.” Cristy looked up. “Why isn’t the palm tree by itself? It would be a lot more attractive. This is like a picture of a palm tree. Maybe that means something.” She looked down again, holding it closer. “And something was here at the edge. You can see the very tip of...”

She looked up again. “I know!”

Lucas was bending over her shoulder now, gazing at the charm. “You’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t see that.”

“What do you two know that I don’t?” Georgia asked.

“This is the insignia on the South Carolina flag,” Cristy said. “A palm tree with a crescent moon. The edge has worn away, but you can just see a tiny sliver of the moon that’s supposed to be at the left. I learned all the state flags in school. I can’t read, but I do remember images.”

“Good work,” Lucas said. “The moon just didn’t compute.”

Georgia was turning the information over in her mind. “Does this mean my mother was from South Carolina?”

Lucas took a seat beside her. “That fits with two things we already know. Judging from the clippings left on your desk, whoever bought those newspapers was moving east, away from the hospital in the direction of South Carolina.”

Cristy tag-teamed him, as he had tag-teamed her. “And two, when Trish left Zeta Chi to bury her cat, she was gone awhile. Didn’t Bunny say she didn’t live close to the university? That
could
mean South Carolina.”

“It could mean Alabama or Tennessee, too,” Georgia said. But again, as before, facts seemed to be falling into place.

“I’ve been calling high schools in Georgia,” Cristy said. “But maybe I should be calling South Carolina schools. Can we get another list?”

Lucas put his arm around Georgia’s shoulders. “There may not be a need to. I know somebody who works in the registrar’s office at UGA. We haven’t had enough to go on to ask her to do a search, which probably isn’t strictly legal, anyway. But I think we do now. Patricia P. from South Carolina. A music major. We know when she was there. We know she pledged Zeta Chi, although I have no idea if that would be on her academic record. But I bet my friend will turn up a name or two.” He turned so he was searching her eyes now. “If you’re ready to take the next step.”

And there it was. Georgia could feel her decision looming. She bought a little time. “We might have this all wrong. Maybe she just knew somebody who lived in South Carolina, a grandmother or an aunt who sent her the charm. For that matter we don’t even know this Trish person is my mother.”

“We don’t, but if we’re right, we may learn a great deal very soon. You just need to be sure that’s what you want.”

Georgia thought about her conversation with Julie. The Trish the other woman described had been hard to like. That certainly fit with Georgia’s own conception. Yet why had the charm bracelet and the news clippings appeared on her desk? After all these years, why was
someone
trying to get in touch with her?