Whispers (29 page)

WITH Sawyer hurrying us, we left just as the sun rose up over the horizon in a brilliant shower of reds and gold. It chased back the violet of predawn with a radiance that brought hope. Still, we could not ignore the anxious watch Sawyer kept at our back or the way his gun stayed close at hand. I was worried too. Though Lonnie Smith had been the leader of their gang, Jake was the one most feared. I was sure it was Jake who had violated my mother before shooting her. I was sure he would not hesitate to do the same to me or the others.

Chick drew near me and paced me in silence for a while. We had yet to speak of what had happened last night. I didn’t want to talk about it now, but I could see she wouldn’t let it go.

“
Thems last night was who got your family,” she said.

“
Yes.”

“
They done shot holes through everything. We’s lucky we was low. Your shoulder hurt?”

“
Not much.”

“
I’s glad you get Captain to take us. Athena, she just mad. She just mad ‘bout a lot of things. She glad too.”

I glanced back at Athena on the wagon bench, stern and straight and looking like she might not have ever been glad about anything.

“
I wish Aiken got shot,” Chick said softly.

I had to agree, though not out loud. Justified or not, I had enough blood on my hands without wishing for more.

Honey stepped in time with us. She smiled at me and said, “That was brave what you did.”

“
I didn’t even think first. All I knew was what I’d seen him do to my family.” I looked down. “I’ve never killed anyone—anything—before. Not even a chicken.”

Honey took my hand in hers. Chick took the other. “You did what you had to. That’s not what I was talking about, though,” Honey said. “What you did with the Captain. It was brave. But don’t worry, Ella. You won’t have to make good on it. I’ll see to that.”

“
How?” Chick asked before I could.

“
I’ll do her share.’`

“
Me too,” Chick immediately agreed.

“
I can’t ask that,” I said. “I made the bargain.”

“
You didn’t ask. And you don’t have a choice. You find yourself something useful to do when we get there and I’ll take care of the rest. Something that doesn’t involve the men. Can you cook?”

“
Not like Athena. And I don’t think she’d let me in her kitchen anyway.”

Honey nodded.

“
I can sew.”

“
She good at that,” Chick said.

“
And I know cards.” The last was true, but surprising to be offered as a skill. Though as soon as I said it, I realized it might be my salvation. I could play as well as any man.

Honey raised her brows. “Can you deal?”

I smiled and nodded. “I’m quite good, actually.”

“
Let me tell the Captain,” Honey said. “I’ll tell him tonight.”

Something in the tone of her voice implied the conversation would take place under intimate circumstances. A stab that could be nothing but jealousy hit me at the thought of Sawyer and Honey locked together. Of his lips on hers, of his tongue tasting her the way he’d tasted me.

When I looked back at Honey, she was smiling. “Like that, is it?” she asked softly.

“
Like what?” Chick wanted to know.

“
Don’t worry yourself. I see the way he watches you. Even when you’re trying to stick him like a pig.”

I knew my face
had turned
an ugly shade of red.

“
Like what?” Chick said again.

“
Like things are looking up for us, Chick,” Honey said. “Maybe Aiken will get lost or shot somewhere.”

Chick giggled. “I say my prayers.”

The sun felt good on my skin, and the companionship of Chick and Honey warmed my heart. I was moved by their generosity and caring.

“
Honey,” I asked, “how did you come to be here?”

Once, the question might have held a hint of censure. Most likely when I’d asked Chick that note of disapproval had been there. But just this morning I had joined the ranks of those whose fate was decided for them. I understood that choice did not always make itself available.

It took a moment for Honey to answer me. She looked down at her feet as she gathered her thoughts.

“
I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not my business.”

“
You have a right, I think,” she said. “You may wish you hadn’t asked, though, once you hear it.”

She seemed to be waiting for something and I nodded. She nodded back, as if we’d sealed a pact.

“
Used to be I lived with a white family. My grandma had been their slave, though they were kind and fair. When my momma was born, they raised her with their daughter. And when Miss Hazel grew up and got married, my momma went with her. Even after the war was over, my momma and daddy kept working for them. I was born the same year Miss Hazel had Elizabeth. Elizabeth and I were brought up like sisters. We shared everything. When her tutor came to teach her, he taught me too. I loved her and she loved me.”

Honey’s voice was low and it seemed to vibrate with pain as she spoke. Chick and I stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.

“
Miss Hazel died when I was twelve. She left my momma and daddy part of her land to work for their own and a house to live in. Her husband, Mr. Walton, asked my momma if she would let me stay with him and Elizabeth. She agreed and I was happy to stay. Mr. Walton used to take me and Elizabeth everywhere. We were like dolls that he’d dress up and parade around. He never got over losing Miss Hazel, but he poured all his love into me and Elizabeth. I remember once we went into a restaurant and they wouldn’t serve Negroes. I told Mr. Walton I’d wait outside, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He was like that. I was a person to him.”

She grew quiet and I thought perhaps this tale was too painful for her to continue.

“
We were in Atlanta where Mr. Walton had frequent business, when Aiken saw me.”

“
I remember,” Chick said. “First time he lay eyes on Honey, he say, I gon’ have her.”

“
How old were you, Honey?”

“
I was fourteen. He arranged to meet with Mr. Walton and then casually commented on his beautiful daughter and his Negro. Mr. Walton took offense right off. I was not his Negro. I was his daughter’s cherished friend.” She paused. “Aiken talked circles for a time, trying to find out just how it was. He figured Mr. Walton was doing dirty by me and using Elizabeth to hide his deeds. But Mr. Walton was a pure man. I’ve never met another with such honor. Aiken offered money for me, and Mr. Walton told him no. I was not a possession to be bartered or sold.”

“
I ‘member Aiken come back and he so mad he spit-tin’,” Chick said.

Honey looked down. “I don’t think I slept right until we left Atlanta. I knew, even then, that Aiken would not take no for an answer. A few weeks later, we returned to Atlanta and it was as if Aiken had been laying in wait for us. Once again he approached Mr. Walton and made pleasant small talk. He then invited us to dinner. He said his sister was in town and it would give him great pleasure to entertain us. He felt badly for causing offense, so he said, and wanted to make it up. Mr. Walton was too polite to decline, though I knew he would have liked to.”

Chick squeezed Honey’s hand gently.

“
We met at a restaurant and had a fine dinner. Aiken’s sister was quiet and subdued. She seemed almost unaware of us and barely touched her food. Later I would learn her name was Meaira and she was not his sister. I’ve seen her many times after her dose of laudanum, but she’s never been as gone as she was that night.”

“
I don’t understand,” I said.

Honey went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “The next day Elizabeth became ill. We called the doctor who could not determine what ailed her. Her lips turned a dark purple and her skin so white she seemed to glow. I stayed by her side, but there was nothing I could do. She was taken by fits and then she died.”

The silence that followed those words was deafening. “What did she have?” I asked.

“
The doctor could not determine the cause. Mr. Walton was stricken with grief so deep he could not get up in the morning. I tried to tend to him, but he refused all comfort. He wouldn’t take food or water. Within a few weeks he too was dead.”

A sick feeling came over me as I listened.

“
I returned to Raleigh, where my family and Mr. Walton’s home was and buried both of them there. Aiken came to the funeral. He told me then that he would have me, and I realized what he’d done to my Elizabeth. I accused him, but I had no proof. The doctor had seen no wrongdoing. I was a Negro woman in the South accusing a white man of murdering my friend.”

She shrugged as if nothing else needed to be said. In truth, nothing else did. My horror was so overwhelming I couldn’t have responded anyway.

“
He told me I would regret not taking his offer. I told him I would not.” She looked down and I saw that tears were in her eyes. “The next morning we found my nine-year-old brother’s body on our porch. He’d been dragged by a horse until there was nothing left of him to recognize but the shoes on his feet. I have five other brothers and one sister. When Aiken came again, I went.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

REILLY was sitting on the screened porch, watching the rain sluice from the sky and the rivers become an ocean. The water table in the desert could not absorb so much in so little time. The earth was too hard, too much like stone. Through the gray shroud, he could see the decaying bridge, railing, and platforms that surrounded the springs. There the rain slithered down into underground canyons, but it wouldn’t be long until those too filled and the pools would once again flow with water. It was too much like the resurrection of something long dead for it not to be disturbing.

Eddie’s sandbagging hadn’t helped the businesses on lower ground. The flooding battered front doors and poured through the gaps until a foot or more covered the floors. And still it came down. The Diablo was up on a rise, but even here the water would soon reach its floorboards. It was as if God had a mission to wipe out the entire town.

He leaned his head back, tossing his notebook on the bench beside him. He’d been writing nonstop for two hours. Not since he’d written
Nowhere,
Badlands’ number-one single, had he written so fast. And the words weren’t draft, disjointed thoughts or sketches. They were pages. Handwritten pages that could be lifted and typeset. Taken from pencil to ink without a change. He’d never had thoughts translate to story so concisely, so vividly.

Behind him the door opened and Gracie stepped out with one of the horse-dogs right behind her. He hadn’t seen her since she’d ushered her clan up the stairs. She looked pale and her eyes were red-rimmed, but she seemed stable. Nothing weak about Gracie Beck. And despite everything that weighed on his mind, despite the nagging anxiety that Chloe’s revelations had left him with, once again the minute she walked in, all he could think of was to touch her. More than touch her. He wanted to reach out and smooth the worry from her brow. He wanted to let his hands trail down, over the softness and the curves. He wanted to taste the dark mystery of her mouth.

“
Hey,” he said softly.

“
Hey,” she said back, staring out at the rain.

He pushed to his feet and went to stand beside her. “How are you?”

She looked at him for a minute and then shrugged. “Numb.”

The word seemed to cover it all. It made him want to open his arms and pull her in even more. But he didn’t. His conversation with Chloe had left him feeling as if he’d betrayed Gracie yet again though he couldn’t have said exactly why.

She moved to the grouping of ancient patio furniture where he’d been sitting. “Writing?” she asked.

He nodded, resisting the urge to turn the page and hide it from her. Again, he didn’t know why. The story coming out of him had nothing to do with Gracie, but it centered on Matt and Diablo Springs in the way his own life had centered on both. The characters he created came from a mishmash of people he’d known—people from L.A., Denver, Pittsburgh, Dallas—everywhere he’d ever been. And people from here. No one specific but there were similarities that left him feeling like he was hiding something, when he wasn’t.

Irritated with himself for the rash of introspection he seemed to be crippled with since coming home, he sat down next to her, elbows to knees, hands dangling between. The dog made a warning sound.

“
Juliet, be nice,” Gracie scolded. She perched at the edge of her seat, looking like she might bolt at any minute. Juliet put her nose on Gracie’s lap and watched Reilly’s every move. Nice, but watchful.

“
How did it go up there?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and up toward the second floor.

She shrugged. “They’re convinced they know what’s right. I’m just as convinced they don’t.”

He nodded. “Brendan is a strange kid, isn’t he?”

“
He’s nice enough. Comes from a hard background, though. He’s been on his own since he was fifteen.” She shrugged. “And he’s devoted to Analise.”

“
But you don’t like him?” Reilly said.