The Sweetest Thing (35 page)

Gradually I saw an unfamiliar emotion install itself on Mamma's face. Anger. When I finished, she said, “Good heavens, Perri! And here I thought he was a charming young man. Why didn't you tell me of your suspicions earlier?”

“You liked him, and I wanted it to work out, for it to all be okay with him. I thought he cared for me, and I thought we were congenial.”

Mamma narrowed her eyes. “You thought he had loads of money and would provide for us?”

“Yes.”

“Perri, I never expected you to carry everything. Goodness, what made you feel this way? Your father would be deeply grieved to know that you felt you had to provide for us. We work at this together.” Mamma took me by the shoulders and shook me lightly. “Have I ever asked you to solve the problems?”

“No, Mamma, but I thought it was too hard for you.”

“Too hard? Of course it was too hard, but we do what we have to! Did you not see how thankful I was for your salary this summer and fall? Did you not understand it was enough? We all contributed. All of us. It wasn't up to you, Perri. It's never been up to you.”

I thought back to my first reaction after Daddy's death:
Nothing will ever be okay again, unless I make it okay. It's up to me now.

“I'm so sorry, Mamma.”

I fell into Mamma's arms, and I let her hold me tight with the moon looking down on us, the crickets chirping, and I thought I even heard a nightingale singing its sweet song of love.

Later, as we sat in the lawn chairs, I asked, “Whatever are we going to do?”

I felt an immense relief in asking her that question. I had always viewed my mother as fragile and weak, but now I realized that Mamma had been the one to hold Daddy together for so many years, and she had gritted her teeth and held things together for Barbara and Irvin and me once he was gone.

She calmly said, “We'll call a lawyer, and I'll get in touch with Bill Robinson. He'll explain what Spalding's father is doing with the house. He'll explain it all. Goodness, to think that boy was sneaking around stealing things. And I suppose dear Mary Dobbs was telling the truth all along.”

“I think so, Mamma.”

She wrapped her arms around me and held me for a long time. “I'm sorry I let you carry this burden. I didn't mean to.”

“It wasn't your fault, Mamma, it was mine. I thought I could do it all. I can't.” Then I added, “Only, Mamma, don't talk to the lawyer and Mr. Robinson yet. Let's get through Mary Dobbs's party tomorrow. I can't bear to spoil that.”

“Will Spalding be there?”

“Not as my date—that's for sure. And I can't imagine that he'd show up after all that's happened, but don't worry, Mamma. In case he does, I've got a few ideas of how to handle him.”

“Anne Perrin Singleton, you remember what I said. We're in this together. You understand?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

I think I looked at my mother for the first time that night, looked past the image I had formed of her to who she really was: a very brave woman, a survivor. I had seen glimpses of the truth in the past year, but now I breathed it in and accepted it.

Daddy had been my confidant, so when he died, I just took his role upon myself. I tried to let Mamma be the sweet socialite with not a problem in the world. How completely foolish! She had loads of problems, and she sought help from Mr. and Mrs. Chandler and Mr. and Mrs. Robinson and plenty of other adults.

“
We are in this together.”

I had made a huge mess of everything. In trying to save my family I was closer than ever to ruining us all.

CHAPTER

28

Dobbs

I spent the day getting ready for the party, forcing myself not to think about Hank. In fact, I had decided that I would think of nothing sad on that evening. I owed it to my aunt and uncle, to everyone, to enjoy the party.

Parthenia seemed skittish all day long, flitting from one thing to another but not really paying attention. Twice she spilt a bowl of condiments that Aunt Josie had prepared, and the second time it happened, she looked as if she might burst into tears.

“Whatever is the matter, Parthie?” I asked. “You don't have to worry. It's just a party.”

She nodded at me, chewed on her lip, and said, “Yes'm, Miz Mary Dobbs. I guess I'm jus' too excited, all nerves and such.”

Coobie was determined to stay outside for the whole party, so Cornelius decorated the wheelchair with balloons and bright pillows, and then he took a chaise lounge down by the lake and found a shaded spot where Coobie could lie on it and still be in the midst of the guests.

Mother had made lovely pale blue gowns for Frances, Coobie, and herself, and for me, a strapless black satin gown that hugged me around the bodice and fanned out wide down to my ankles. Along the top of the dress she'd sewn a beautiful pearly material, and Aunt Josie let me wear her necklace of real pearls and little pearl earrings.

Father wore his best suit, and his shirt was already soaked in perspiration before the night had even begun. That made me smile, reminding me of him at the revivals. He came up to me before the party and gave me a beautiful corsage made of little white rosebuds and tiny purple flowers. “Josie said it's proper etiquette for the honoree to have one, and I wanted to do the right thing.”

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed my father on the cheek.

Hosea and Cornelius were dressed in black tuxedos, and Parthenia had on her black servant's outfit. Jimmy and Dellareen had even come over to help, and they were wearing their fanciest uniforms. Andrew came early, too, and helped install the tables for the guests and set up another table with food and drinks in the little white cottage down by the lake.

It was a lovely party, something from another world. All my friends were there with dates. When Perri came in with Spalding following her, I got a quick chill. She caught my eye, and motioned with her hands for me to stay calm. Then she smiled so sweetly and looked so pretty, in a strapless pale yellow chiffon gown, that I made myself concentrate on the other guests. Spalding had on his signature Madras pants and white loafers, but something about him didn't look confident or charming—more distracted.

Becca arrived with her husband and her two little boys and the baby, and she greeted me warmly and actually said, “You look lovely, Mary Dobbs.” She even went over and gave my father a hug and Mother a kiss on the cheek. At first they didn't say much, but the next time I saw them, Becca and her husband and Mother and Father were all sitting at the same table. Father had one of the little boys on his knees and Mother was holding Becca's baby and they all were chatting happily.

Mrs. Singleton had a date with a man I had seen at St. Luke's, and she looked to me that night how she must have looked before Mr. Singleton's death: pretty and petite, green eyes, so much like Perri's, sparkling. There was a lightness about her, as light as the material on her strapless green gown. Barbara looked all grown up in pink taffeta, and she was wearing loads of makeup, but it suited her. The moment she arrived, she grabbed Frances and they went over and talked to several of the boys from Boys High.

Mr. and Mrs. Robinson and Mr. and Mrs. McFadden were there, along with several couples from St. Luke's and parents of Washington Seminary girls. Oh, there must have been a hundred people spread out across the back lawn and down by the lake. There were tea lights on every table, and the food was marvelous.

Although Andrew was my date, I hardly spent any time with him. Every time we started to take a walk by the lake or sit at a little table or even chat with Mae Pearl and Sam, Aunt Josie came to introduce me to another person. Andrew, who didn't seem to mind one bit, would greet the guest, listen for a while, and then squeeze my hand and whisper, “I'll be back in a little while.”

Philip and Luke Hendrick showed up around eight o'clock, both of their faces about as red as their hair. Philip handed me a bouquet of flowers and said, “I'm sorry we're late, Mary Dobbs. We missed our connection on the train this morning, but don't you worry. We'll make up for it and take some swell photographs.”

I had no doubt they would.

As often as not, Perri was with them. They'd come over and instruct me to “smile for the camera,” my arms around my parents or Coobie and Frances or other guests. One time Perri stood beside me, and we both stuck little wildflowers in our hair, and Philip took a photo of that.

Coobie was lying on the chaise lounge, Parthenia and Mother watching her like hawks as people stopped by to wish her well.

After the dinner had been served, the orchestra switched from classical music to big-band tunes, and people got up and danced under a beautiful white tent.

Andrew and I were dancing when I heard Coobie shriek. At first I panicked, but then I looked around, and there was Hank with Coobie on his back. Stunned, I left Andrew on the dance floor and ran over to Hank. “Whatever are you doing here? You've surprised me again.”

He saw how flustered I was and said, “It's okay, Dobbs. This time I came for Coobie. She's my date tonight. She needed me to be here.” I just stared at him, unable to think of a thing to say. “She wrote me a letter. Who can resist Coobie when she begs?”

Father and Mother looked thrilled to have Hank at the party. With Coobie on his back and Mother, Father, Frances, and Parthenia walking beside him, he paraded around, greeting the guests. The Washington Seminary girls kept telling their parents, “That's the little girl we were raising money for.” I heard it whispered again and again.

Maybe it was my imagination, or maybe it was the Lord Almighty opening a window for one night, but Coobie's face had lost its yellowish tint, and she didn't cough one time—at least I didn't hear it. And my heart just about burst for joy when she broke into a huge smile every time she got to tell someone that Hank Wilson was her date.

It was nearing the end of that magical evening, and the night sky was salted with a million stars. I felt like everyone was giving a happy sigh, some sitting at the tables by the lake and others swaying to the music as the singer crooned out the words to a popular song.

“Love is the sweetest thing

What else on earth could ever bring

Such happiness to ev'rything

As Love's old story . . .”

Then, in the matter of a few seconds, the peace was shattered. Hosea came running over to my aunt, his eyes all wide with fear. “Miz Chandler. There's smoke coming from up at the house.” He and Cornelius took off running, and in a blink, several other men followed. Sure enough, smoke was billowing above the trees. Before anyone could think straight, Father and Uncle Robert were yelling, “Water! Get water from the lake! There's a fire!”

And then I saw tongues of fire leaping into the night air like hundreds of fireflies all lit up at the same time. When I got to the top of the hill, I realized it wasn't the house or the garages or even the servants' quarters that were burning—it was the barn. I heard the horses' terrified whinnying and felt the heat rushing toward us.

Cornelius came from the barn, holding on to Dynamite's lead shank, trying to calm her as she reared. Hosea followed with the ponies, and Uncle Robert dashed in to get the pig and the cow. Andrew held on to Red, and then the horse bolted toward the lake.

Someone got buckets and pots and pans and metal tubs, and the men threw off their coats and made a long assembly line, passing buckets brimming with water from the lake all the way up to the barn.

From around the back of the barn appeared Philip and Luke and two other men, holding on to Spalding and dragging him along behind them, Luke yelling, “He started it. Spalding Smith started the fire! I have it on film!”

Spalding's face was red and covered in perspiration and his eyes looked wild. He was straining against the men's hold and saying, “It wasn't me. It wasn't me.”

For a few seconds, it seemed the crowd, in unison, forgot the fire and turned as one toward Spalding.

Uncle Robert bellowed, “Take him up to the house and call the police, boys, and the firemen! Get the firemen.” Then he rushed along with a bucket of sloshing water, and the commotion broke out again and everyone's attention was back on the fire.

Suddenly Cornelius dropped the metal tub he was holding and began rushing through the crowd of people. He grabbed me and began to shake me, pleading with his eyes, eyes that were lit up with terror.

The boy who had never said more than two or three words before in his whole life—and those, merely unintelligible sounds—gave a deep grunt and with great effort mumbled in a low gravelly tone, “Where's Parthie?”

Amidst the screams and the fire and the clatter, I had no idea.

“Where's Parthie?” he grunted again above the howling of the night.

Cornelius had tears running down his face.

I screamed as loudly as I could, “Parthenia! Has anyone seen Parthenia, the little colored girl?” Soon people were calling out for her. Mae Pearl and Sam ran up to the house to check there, and Hosea and Cornelius rushed back into the servants' quarters, which were right beside the barn and fast taking flame and smoke.

Father was carrying Coobie in his arms, and she whimpered, “She shouldn't have done it. She shouldn't!”

I ran over to my little sister. “What shouldn't she have done, Coobs?”

She became almost hysterical, taking quick little breaths and then squeaking out, “Parthi took a photo of the man stealing at another party, and she was going to show it to you after this party. She told me so. But later she came up to me and said, ‘He's here. He's here tonight.' She was real scared, and then she just disappeared.”

And then I knew it. I just
knew
. “She's in the darkroom!” I cried and dashed toward the barn, which was one gigantic bonfire of flame. I was still fifty yards away when the heat knocked me down.

Hank knelt down beside me. “You can't go any closer, Dobbs.” He stripped down to his undershirt, soaked his dress shirt with water, and pulled it down over his face like a mask, and before I could say a word, he trudged toward the barn. I was aware only later of my hot tears and my terror. My strange conviction was sending Hank into a pit of death.

Then we heard it—Parthie's high-pitched screams, screams of pure terror and pain. Hosea and Cornelius stumbled out of the burning servants' quarters, choking on the smoke, and stumbled across the lawn to the stable.

Everyone was running with buckets of water from the lake, the scream of sirens in the distance, and I felt more scared than ever before in my life as I watched the great orange and blue flames lick the sky, selfishly, hungrily, devouring everything in their midst.

Parthie's horrible screams had silenced.

And then we heard the crashing of wood and the barn imploded.

“Hank!” I ran in a daze toward the flames, but Father caught me, and right before I fainted from the blast of heat, I saw, as in a mirage, Hank emerging from the barn, the fire chasing him, and in his arms, the lifeless form of Parthenia Jeffries.

Perri

The fire destroyed the Chandlers' barn and servants' quarters and a good part of the garden before the firemen finally put it out somewhere near two o'clock in the morning. But I wasn't there to see it. I was at the police station with Mrs. Chandler and Becca Fitten and Dobbs and Mae Pearl and Spalding and Philip and Luke.

Officer Withers interviewed each of us, so we stayed there half the night. But nobody was really paying much attention to his questions because every single one of us wanted desperately to be at Piedmont Hospital to find out the fate of Parthenia and Hank and little Coobie, whose tears got her into a fit of coughing so that the Dillards took her to Piedmont too.

Mae Pearl and I repeated our stories from the party at Lisa Young's house—Officer Withers had kept the photos that Mae Pearl took—and then Dobbs gave him a charred bit of a photograph that Parthenia had been clutching in her hands when Hank rescued her. Dobbs told the officer about finding the stolen items in Daddy's toolbox back a year ago and then how they disappeared. When Officer Withers showed her the pearl-handled knives and the jewelry, she exclaimed, “Yes! That's them! Where on earth did you find them?”

All through our testimonies, Officer Withers was writing down things, and then Philip and Luke came forward and told what they'd seen. Luke, face beet red, cleared his throat and said, “Well, um, yes, I saw Spalding Smith leaving the party, and I thought I'd follow him. He ended up at the barn, lit a cigarette, and went inside—and I have this all on film, sir, only we haven't developed it yet—and then he came back out, only he didn't have his cigarette any longer.”

“What did you do after Mr. Smith left the barn?”

“I ran and told my brother, and he came back up with me, and by that time there was smoke, and we heard the cries of ‘fire,' and so we thought we'd better find Spalding. And we did.”

Luke grinned, turned his head down, glanced at his brother, and said, “We tackled him, we did. He's fast and a fine football player, but we tackled him.”

“Did you see the child?” The officer looked down at his notes, “Did you see Parthenia Jeffries enter the barn?”

“No, sir, I didn't.”

“That will be all, boys. Thank you for your time. You may all go home now.”

“But what about Spalding?” I asked.

“Mr. Smith will be staying with me tonight, here at the jail, behind bars. I'll have a chance to hear his testimony tomorrow. He may be telling a different story this time. He's not going anywhere.”