The Woods at Barlow Bend (15 page)

Chapter 21

September 25, 1935

Grove Hill, Alabama

The next day, Aunt Mittie, Uncle Melvin
, and I headed back to the courthouse. Mr. Poole had rested the prosecution’s case the day before, so I was anxious to hear what Mr. Jones had in store for Daddy’s defense. With no witnesses to Momma’s death other than Daddy, his case rested on the jury believing that Momma accidentally shot herself in the woods near Barlow Bend and that Daddy was too good a man to commit murder. Unfortunately, Mr. Poole had painted the story of an unhappy marriage and desperate circumstances quite well. I had begun to understand why Mr. Poole, Detective Murray, and Papa Lowman thought he killed her. I didn’t agree with them, but I could understand the theory.

Waiting in the
hallway of the courthouse that morning, was a parade of familiar faces: Grandpa Andrews, Leroy Andrews, Mr. Hendrix from Frisco City, and several of Daddy’s siblings. According to Aunt Mittie, they were all here to testify on Daddy’s behalf. Aunt Mittie called them character witnesses.

As soon as we arrived, Uncle Melvin found us a couple of seats near the front
, but when I moved toward the row, Aunt Mittie grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the hallway.

“Hattie,
Honey, I need to talk to you,” said Aunt Mittie, as she moved toward a corner, tucked away from the crowd.

“Are you
alright?” I asked.

“Oh, fine,
Dear, just a little nervous is all.” Aunt Mittie seemed to struggle with the words, but finally continued, “Hattie, I’m taking the stand for your daddy today.”

“Oh,
okay,” I said, still reeling from Daddy’s plan for a fresh start. I had tossed and turned the whole night before trying to come up with a way to tell Aunt Mittie about Daddy’s plan without disappointing her. In my heart, I knew she would never approve of me leaving school to take on the role of mother and housekeeper at fifteen, even if Daddy did mention a high school in Uriah. I didn’t want to leave Thorsby or turn my back on everything Mittie had done for me, but I didn’t know if or how I could turn my back on Daddy. He was my
daddy.
But I knew Mittie and Melvin had sacrificed so much in the last year. Now, Aunt Mittie was going to stand up for him. What would she have done if she knew how easily Daddy had dismissed her? What would she have done if she knew he was ready to throw her away?

“I just needed to tell you…well, you’ve heard some horrible things about your momma and daddy over the last couple of days, and I just wanted to tell you something before Mr. Jones starts.
I don’t want you to feel ambushed again.”

“Well, thank you, Aunt Mittie, but you don’t have to explain anything to me.
You can testify for Daddy if you want to, if you think that’s best.”

“I don’t think your
daddy killed my sister, and I know your momma and daddy loved each other. That’s what Mr. Jones has asked me to testify to.”

“Well, then I guess that’s what you’ll say.
But won’t Papa Lowman be upset with you if you tell the judge that?”

“Probably, well, very.
He’s not gonna like it. But I don’t think your daddy should pay for sins he didn’t commit.”

“I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this.”

“Hattie, Honey, I’m sorry you’ve had to hear all these awful things ‘bout your parents. I am.”

“That’s not your fault, Aunt Mittie.”

“Well, I’m afraid something else might come out still. Somethin’ no child should have to know about their daddy, but I can’t let you hear about it first in front of a crowd o’ people.” Aunt Mittie rubbed her palms on her knees and took a deep breath. “I hope I’m doing the right thing. I just don’t know what else to do…”

“Aunt Mittie, just tell me.
Nothing could be worse than all the things I’ve already heard.”

I was wrong, so wrong.
Aunt Mittie was about to answer the question I had asked the night before. My heart sank when I learned from Aunt Mittie on that hard courthouse bench that the answer was yes. On March 30, 1933, ten months before Momma died, Daddy buried a stillborn infant, named only Baby Andrews. The baby’s mother was a woman named Elsie Zona Lawrence. Momma and that baby, that symbol and proof of Daddy’s betrayal, were buried in the same cemetery in Frisco City, Alabama. When Aunt Mittie told me about the baby, my mind went back to Momma’s funeral and the small infant grave a few feet from hers.

“Hattie, I think your
daddy tries to be a good man, but he falls short. I think he loved your momma, but failed her in many ways. That’s why it took me so long to come to you, Hattie, after she died. I couldn’t stand to see him knowing how much he hurt her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, I’m not going to lie on the stand, under oath to God. If Mr. Poole asks me about Elsie or the baby, I will have to tell him what I know. I don’t want you to feel lied to or that we were hiding stuff from you.”

“But you have lied…he did, too.”

“No, Honey, we didn’t lie to you.”

“
But ya’ll kept this from me. Why didn’t Momma tell me?”

“Now, Hattie
Andrews, why on Earth would your mother tell you ‘bout somethin’ like this? As far as your momma was concerned, that baby was dead and buried, and that trash Elsie Lawrence was long gone.”

I sat on the bench stunned into silence.
I thought Momma and I were so close. I thought she told me all her secrets.

“Is she here?” I asked Mittie.

“Who?”

“The woman.
Elsie.” I wiped a tear off my face before it had a chance to find more and puddle under my eyes.

“
No, she isn’t. Nobody knows where she is.”

“Good.”
Two more tears wet the fingertip of my glove.

“
Hattie, Honey, I did try to hide this and I’m sorry. I never wanted you to think anything less of your daddy. But I think you are old enough now to know the whole truth. Your daddy loves you. I know he does. And I know he loved your momma, too. Yes, he’s made some big mistakes, no denying it. But no matter what you might hear today, no matter what mistakes he’s made, I want you to remember that he loves you.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, “Tell Mr. Jones that you won’t take the stand.”

“Hattie, Honey, I’m afraid if I don’t, the jury will think your Daddy’s guilty. He’s guilty of plenty, but not this. Having me stand up for him will go a long way with the jury. You can’t lose both your parents. You just can’t.”

“But I…” I tried to protest again, but Mittie stopped me.

“Hattie,” Mittie said as she motioned toward the line of character witnesses in the hallway, “at least half the people in that line know about Elsie and that baby. If Mr. Poole doesn’t ask me about it, he’ll ask somebody else, so whether I take the stand or not, the jury will find out. Mr. Poole’s not gonna keep this secret. I wish he would, but I know he won’t.” Mittie paused and brushed a tear off her own cheek. “Addie was my sister. She was my sister, and I loved her more than myself. I miss her every day. I wouldn’t testify for your daddy if I thought for a second he coulda killed her. So, if I don’t think he killed her, nobody else should. Hopefully, the jury will see that.”

Throughout the day, the line of family and friends from the
hallway took the stand. Each one told of a good man with excellent character and Christian morals. Mr. Hendrix told the court of his prosperous sales business in Monroe County and said that Daddy “always gave ya a fair deal” with the Raleigh products he sold door-to-door throughout Monroe County. Grandpa Andrews told of Daddy’s Christian upbringing. Several of Daddy’s siblings told us how devoted Daddy was to Momma and that he was completely smitten with her from the moment they met in that church in Luverne.

A
ll I could focus on was that Daddy probably cheated on Momma with tramps from all over the county and definitely did with one woman who lived in our town. He probably came home to Momma stinking of Elsie. Momma probably passed her on the street, probably wanted to scratch her eyes out, but didn’t. At one time, Momma and Elsie may have even been friends, sharing recipes and gardening tips at Hendrix General Store. Then Momma watched Elsie’s belly grow with Daddy’s betrayal. Frisco City is a small town. I bet every single person in Frisco City knew, everyone but me.

During both of the nights following the prosecution’s testimony of affairs, lies
, and betrayals, I would lie on my cot wondering which rooms in the hotel Daddy had chosen to break Momma’s heart in. Now, I knew he didn’t even have the courtesy to run around in another county. He chose to humiliate her just a few steps from her home. How could he do that to her? How could I be expected to go back to him if he was freed?

The story of Elsie and the baby came out during Leroy
Andrews’s testimony. Leroy was Daddy’s cousin and had moved to Frisco City in 1931 with his wife Jewell. Leroy did odd jobs around town, earning enough money for a modest home and food on the table. Jewell and Momma became friends, and the four would attend church socials and dances together. Leroy testified that Momma and Daddy had a good, solid marriage and that he never heard mention of a pending divorce. However, during the cross examination, Leroy admitted to the jury, judge, and captivated audience that in March of 1933 he helped Daddy bury a stillborn in Union Cemetery in Frisco City. No one in the room seemed shocked by the story except the jury and me.

Mittie was the last witness Mr. Jones
called to the stand. I could tell by the way she clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, that she was still uneasy. I knew she risked angering her father and her sisters by testifying for the defense. I admired her courage though, not because her testimony could help Daddy, but because she was doing what she believed was right regardless of the consequences or what other people told her to do. Aunt Mittie might not have ever admitted it, but she had more in common with Momma than just her face.

“Please state your name for the record,” Mr. Jones began.

“My name is Mittie Lowman Franklin.”

“And how do you know Hubbard
Andrews?”

“He was married to my sister, Addie.”

“You two were actually twins, right?”

“Yes,
Sir, identical twins.”

“So, would you say you knew your sister well?”

“As well as I know myself.”

“And how well do you know Mr.
Andrews?”

“Very well.”

“Mrs. Franklin, would you mind speakin’ up a bit? Just so we can hear you clearly,” asked Mr. Jones.

“Umm,
okay,” said Mittie, “Mr. Andrews was married to my sister for over fifteen years. I spent a lot of time with her and her children and Hubbard. I saw Addie every chance I got.”

Mittie’s voice started to catch a bit, and
, for the first time, I could really see her grief. I knew what it felt like to lose a mother. In that moment, I thought of Meg and prayed I would never have to learn the pain of losing a sister, especially the kind of sorrow shown on Aunt Mittie’s face that afternoon on the witness stand.

“I’m sorry this is painful for you, Mrs. Franklin,” said Mr. Jones and offered Aunt Mittie his handkerchief.

“No, thank you,” she said, waving off the handkerchief, “I’d like to continue, please.” Aunt Mittie seemed to swallow her pain and focused her attention on Mr. Jones.

“Mrs. Franklin, was your sister happy in her marriage to Hubbard
Andrews?”

“For the most part, yes.”

“What do you mean ‘for the most part’?”

“Well, they had their problems, but at the root was love, undeniable love.”

“Did she ever mention to you that she was planning on getting a divorce from Mr. Andrews?”

“Never.”

“In your opinion, what kind of man is Hubbard Andrews?”

“Well, I think he tries to be a good man, but sometimes
, he fails. I think he does his best as a father, and I think he tried to be a good husband.”

“When was the last time you saw your sister?”

“The weekend before she died.”

“What type of mood was she in then?”

“Happy,” said Mittie, then smiled a little, “she was happy. She was excited about their hunting trip. Addie loved to hunt, especially with Hubbard.”

“What happened to your sister at Barlow Bend?” asked Mr. Jones.

“Objection!” yelled Mr. Poole, “Speculation! Mrs. Franklin was not witness to Mrs. Andrews’s death.”

“So, sorry, Your Honor.
I’ll rephrase. Mr. Poole’s right. The only witness to the accident was Mr. Andrews,” said Mr. Jones.

“Objection, Your Honor!” repeated Mr. Poole, “Mr. Jones is…uh…he is…”

“What’s your objection, Mr. Poole?” asked the judge.

“Well, I, umm…”

“Your Honor, I apologize for gettin’ Mr. Poole all rattled. Why don’t I just move on?”

“Good idea.
Get on with it,” said Judge Bedsole. A frazzled Mr. Poole sat back down, and a few of the jurors laughed for a second.