Touched Page 13

“Good wife, is it? Is that what you want, a good wife?” JoHanna’s voice escalated with the question. I looked over at Duncan again. She was still sound asleep, and I still held the wood in my hand.

  Will’s laughter was sudden, loud. “If I’d wanted a good wife, I would never have married you.”

  “Do you want roast, or do you want this?”

  JoHanna’s voice held a challenge, an edge of something that was wild and daring. I knew without looking what she was offering him, and I sat back down under the tree, my legs weak with relief.

  “You’re a shameless hussy,” Will said, laughing again. “I hope you haven’t been corrupting Mattie with such behavior.”

  “Ah, Mattie.” JoHanna’s laughter died, and her voice dropped to a level that I could not hear.

  I leaned back against the tree, my fingers releasing the wood. A small splinter had lodged itself under the skin of my thumb, and I set about trying to pick it out.

  There was the sound of the oven slamming again, the murmur of voices, but I no longer needed to hear what they said. What JoHanna told Will about me, I didn’t want to know. My gaze fell on Duncan’s sleeping face. JoHanna had been thirty-nine when Duncan was born. Her first child. Her only child, as far as I knew.

  Duncan had JoHanna’s nose and eyebrows, and Will’s jaw and eyes. She had his thick, black eyelashes, too. And JoHanna’s spirit. She was a perfect blend of the two McVays, a creature unique. I reached out and touched the soft fuzz of her hair where it was growing back. In her sleep she smiled at me.

  My hand was trembling, and I withdrew it before she woke up. The sunlight filtered through the lacy chinaberry leaves and warmed her skin to a pale cream. She was a beautiful child, engaging and alive. I looked down at her legs, a paler shade and marbled with blue, as if there was no circulation. The burns had healed, and the scars were slowly fading. Perhaps they would eventually fade completely. Even as I looked, her foot twitched.

  I felt her staring at me, and I looked back into her brown eyes.

  “My legs are getting well,” she said. “I want to go to Fitler and swim in the river. Mama says the water is magic.”

  “I’m sure JoHanna will take you back up to visit your aunt. She seems to like staying in Fitler more than staying in Jexville.”

  “Where’s Mama and Daddy?”

  “Inside.”

  Duncan smiled. “They fighting?”

  “I thought they were at first, but I don’t think so.”

  Duncan’s smile widened. “It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? Sometimes they act like they’re going to tear each other apart.” She saw my expression. “No, really. I’m not making it up. One time Daddy tore her blouse right off her. She was standing at the kitchen sink and he came in and—”

  “Duncan, I don’t think—”

  “But it’s just them. Mama told me that a man and woman should have passion for each other. Of course, Daddy thought I was spending the night with Aunt Sadie.” She rolled her eyes. “He was very funny. All apologetic.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “He tore her blouse off? What did she do? Hit him?”

  Duncan laughed. “She tore his shirt off him. Then they started kissing real hard and he was leaning her down on the kitchen table when I came in the back door.” She grinned at me. “They broke a bunch of plates and glasses. Shocking, isn’t it?”

  Her grin was infectious. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Tell me a story, Mattie.”

  I listened to the silence of the house for a few seconds, determining if it was best for me and Duncan to stay. The image of Will, torn white blouse in his hands, wouldn’t get out of my head. My skin felt overheated and I didn’t want to leave the shade of the trees. The laughter had stilled inside the house. There was only the breeze rattling the leaves above us and the irregular anger of the mockingbird. We were okay where we were. “I don’t know any good stories like Floyd does. Where I grew up, there weren’t any stories that I knew about the town and such. Mama used to tell us a little about living up in West Virginia, where her daddy was killed when a coal mine caved in.” Mama had loved her daddy, and it seemed to comfort her some to talk about him, to describe how he’d walk the road up to the mine every morning, his lunch pail in his hand. But it wasn’t something Duncan needed to hear, a story about thirty-seven men being buried alive beneath a mountain of dirt.

  To me, whenever I imagined it, I just thought of Grandpa walking up a road into a grave. The opening of the cave was shaped just like a coffin standing on end. And I could see him walking, walking, slowly walking, up to the opening and disappearing in the dark and never coming out. I’d never known him, of course, but I could see him clearly.

  “Her daddy was buried alive?” Duncan had caught hold of the morbid and was giving it a good gnaw.

  “Uh-huh. Why don’t I tell you a story that I read in a book?” I’d forgotten about the library books I could check out for free. There had been one red one, leather bound and filled with stories from all over the world. I loved that book. I checked it out so many times the librarian said I couldn’t have it again for six months. When I went back, someone had stolen it.

  “I have a lot of books.” Duncan’s brown eyes were considering. “Maybe you’d like to borrow some of them.”

  “That would be great.” I didn’t care that they were books for a nine-year-old. My reading was good, but I loved any kind of story.

  “Tell me one you read.”

  So I told her “Walissa the Beautiful,” a story about a hut on legs and a little girl who got trapped in it. She liked that so much I told her about three men who traveled the country with magical abilities. Their names were Longshanks, Girth, and Keen. The names tickled her, and she listened closely.

  “You don’t tell stories like Floyd, but I like yours, too. In a different way.”

  “Why don’t you tell me one?” I suggested. The afternoon was passing, but there had not been a sound or a movement in the house. I cast a quick look at Duncan, but she had no interest in her parents.

  “Mattie, will you stay in Jexville forever now that you’re married to Mr. Mills?”

  Her question caught me by surprise. I didn’t like to think about the future. Particularly not about forever. I couldn’t really even think about going home. With a lie or two, JoHanna had bought me an afternoon and evening in her home. After that? The answer to that question brought on a feeling of blankness that was scarier than pain.

  “You don’t like Jexville, do you?” Duncan asked.

  “I haven’t really been here long enough to say.” I didn’t want to talk about this. “How long have you had Pecos?”

  “I guess you don’t want to talk about yourself.” She nodded. “I got Pecos when I was eight. Daddy got him at the feed store.”

  “From the Leatherwoods?” I was surprised. I suppose I’d given Pecos a more exotic heritage than Jexville Feed and Seed.

  “He had a broken leg and Daddy took him. Mr. Leatherwood was going to kill him.”

  “Will set his leg?”

  “Mama. She knows things about how to make animals heal. And people, too.” Duncan reached down and touched her legs. “I’m going to get better. She told me so. Each time we go to Fitler, I can feel my legs getting stronger.” She rubbed the top of her foot. “I can feel more.”

  The house remained silent, and for the first time since I could remember, I didn’t have a long list of chores to finish. Since I wasn’t going home, there wasn’t anything I had to do. Just me and Duncan and Pecos in the yard.

  “Look.” Duncan pointed to her left foot. “See. I can make it point and flex.”

  “Point and flex?”

  “It’s ballet. Or it’s something a ballerina does. An exercise. Mama was showing me before I got struck.”

  “Ballet?” JoHanna was an endless surprise.

  “Well, Mama said it was her version. It was just for fun.”

  “Maybe when you’re well, she’ll show both of us.” That would truly send Elikah o
ver the edge. The idea that I was dancing ballet. It would make him hate me in that dark way that frightened me and also gave me a sense of power. The power was worth the fear.

  “Mattie, will you take me inside?”

  I hesitated. “Maybe we should wait out here until JoHanna gives us the word.”

  “Don’t be silly. Whatever they’re doing, we won’t bother them. They go in their room and shut the door, and I leave them alone. We have a deal. Sometimes I can hear them laughing, but I’ve never knocked on the door.”

  “Why don’t we get the wagon and go for a ride? I’ll pull you.” I didn’t want to hear Will’s laughter or imagine him without a shirt.

  Duncan considered the idea. “Okay. When we get back, we’ll get Mama to make us some lemonade. I haven’t had any in a long time, and I know Daddy brought me back some lemons.” She looked up at me. “He never forgets.”

  Fourteen

  WHEN Duncan and I got back from our wagon ride, JoHanna had a big pitcher of lemonade made for us. Will was taking a nap. I couldn’t be certain, but there seemed an extra spark in JoHanna’s eyes, and her step was light as she finished putting together the peas and okra and the cornbread that would comprise our dinner. It was only when Duncan was in the bathtub that she pulled me down into a chair in the quiet kitchen.

  “Will is leaving me the car for tomorrow. Are you sure, Mattie?”

  No matter how sure I was three seconds before, whenever I tried to speak of it, I felt as if I were suddenly cocooned in a womb of bright light and heavy silence. The husk of my body sat at the table, but I was somewhere distant, wrapped in light and the pounding sound of silence, unable to reach out.

  JoHanna touched my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. Having a child isn’t the end of the world. A baby could bring you joy and love and happiness you’ve never known.”

  I found a voice, something strained and awful that felt as if it were tearing my throat. “With a baby I’ll never escape.”

  JoHanna stood up and came to me, cradling my head against her bosom. She hushed me, stroking my hair like she did Duncan’s. “Hush, Mattie, hush. No one is going to make you do anything. But this is dangerous. You could die. You could become sterile.”

  I let her stroke me, hungry for the comfort of her touch. My mother had always had a child on her hip and one at her feet. She had not hacaresses and tender words for us older children. It never crossed her mind.

  “I just want you to be sure, Mattie. You don’t have to stay with Elikah. If you want to go home, I’ll take you to Meridian. I’m sure we can arrange things. If that isn’t good, then there are homes where you could go. Decent places that would find a loving home for your baby.”

  I didn’t want to go to a home where there were other girls pregnant, girls who would give birth and then pack their clothes and leave, shedding their baby like an old skin. A child wasn’t something I could walk away from. How could I explain that in my life there had been a series of Jojos and Elikahs, and women like my mother, who were too beaten down, too weak to defend their children. There was only one way I could guarantee that my baby would not go to a home like that.

  “Don’t make a decision now.” JoHanna talked to the top of my head, her breath a puff of tenderness on my part. “Don’t think about it. Tomorrow we’ll see what the doctor has to say. Then you can decide what you really want to do.” She grasped my shoulders and knelt down so we were eye to eye. “I have to tell you, though. Mattie, an abortion is dangerous. There are so many risks. To your body and to your mind. If that’s what you decide, you have to promise me that you’ll never look back. Regretting the past is an indulgence few people can afford.”

  “Coming to Jexville like I did, I don’t have a past, and if I’m pregnant, I certainly don’t have a future.”

  “Oh, Mattie.” JoHanna’s eyes filled. “You have a future, but you have to take it. Some people get one handed to them, an open path with no hurdles in front of them. You were born in a crevice, but you can squeeze and push yourself out of it. You can. You’re strong.”

  Her blue eyes willed me to believe her, to share her strength. “I don’t know,” I answered.

  She nodded. “Tomorrow.” She stood up and went to the stove to check the cornbread. The day was still hot. Too hot for baking, but Will was home.

  “Let me get Duncan out of the tub and heat some more water. I think a good hot bath would make you feel better,” she said.

  “No.” I stood up. “I think I’m gonna walk back to the creek. It’s so hot.”

  She put her hands on her hips and leaned back against the kitchen sink. “You want a suit? I have an extra.”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

  “Have fun.” She smiled. “There are towels on the clothesline. Help yourself.”

  “Duncan said I could borrow some of her books.”

  “They’re in the bookcase in her bedroom.”

  I selected a thick one. I could hear Duncan in the bathtub, singing away. It sounded as if Pecos was adding some kind of rooster song. With the book in my hand I went out the back door, careful not to let the screen slam. I took a bright green towel and a yellow one from the line. The afternoon stretched before me, a block of time completely cut away from my life. I felt as if a dark box had opened and sunlight had been allowed to filter down to me. I had the beautiful solitude of the woods and the magic of a book for an hour or two.

  When I came out of the woods, my hair wet and dripping down my back, I stopped beneath the last of the pines to watch Will and Duncan. She was in a swing and he was pushing her. I could see the vast improvement in her legs. She was able to hold them out in front of her, pointing her toes as she flew squealing through the air.

  Will pushed her with force, sending her flying up into the branches of the magnolia tree, where the pods were thick with red seeds. My brothers and sisters and I had often thrown the heavy pods at one another, sometimes in jest and sometimes in earnest. They could draw a welt. Still, they were interesting to look at and touch. JoHanna would gladly give me as many as I wanted. I wondered if I could germinate one, make it grow in my barren yard. In Elikah’s yard. At that thought, I knew I had not escaped him.

  “Mattie?”

  I turned to find JoHanna in the hammock. I’d completely overlooked her. “Will ate half the roast, but there’s plenty left for supper.” She was smiling as she watched her husband and daughter. “Duncan’s legs are getting well.”

  “I know.” I took my seat against the chinaberry trunk. From that vantage point I could study JoHanna as I had earlier studied Duncan. In the afternoon light the tiny wrinkles around her eyes were more noticeable. The short haircut made her look older, more worn. Nothing could dim her blue eyes, though. They were ageless, like some hard substance forged in the heat of the earth, then glazed by the sky.

  “Will is going to New York tomorrow. We’ll give him a ride to the train station in Mobile.”

  “And Duncan?” I couldn’t believe JoHanna would take Will with us. Not when we were going to the doctor. And certainly not Duncan. Not a child to witness what I would not even try to imagine because I knew it was going to be gruesome.

  “I didn’t tell Will anything except that we were going shopping. Duncan can spend the day in the boot shop with Floyd. I’ve already called Mr. Moses and asked.”

  “Thanks.” I could have wept with relief. “You didn’t tell Will?”

  She shook her head. “I love him more than anything, except Duncan. But men are men. Some things they don’t need to know. Some they don’t want to know. This is between us, Mattie. For the rest of our lives. Only us.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I had wondered. Abortion was illegal. JoHanna could go to prison. The doctor, too. And me? I would be as guilty of murder as they were.

  JoHanna reached down and plucked a tall strand of bahia grass. She crushed the juicy stem with her teeth. “I think maybe the worst thing in the world is not to be wanted. The second worst is being t
he weapon used against someone you love.”

  That wasn’t exactly an answer to my question. “You’re risking so much. Why? Why for me?”

  She chewed more of the stem, drawing it into her mouth with her lips. “In a perfect world, Mattie, only people who wanted a child would get pregnant. I don’t know the truth about you, and I’m not asking for details, but I feel like maybe you didn’t have a choice.” She looked away from me, dropping her gaze to the ground. “I want you to have a say in this. Of all the people in the world, the mother should want her child.”

  The night in New Orleans rolled over me, a furnace of shame and horror and revulsion. “You don’t know what he did to me.” I dug my fingers into the ground. The grass roots held tenaciously to the soil, clumping in my hand, giving me something to cling to until the worst of it passed.

  “Tell me if you must,” she said so softly I had to calm myself to hear her. “I’ll listen. And I promise that I won’t tell anyone. But I can’t promise you that I won’t hate him, and some very strange things grow out of hatred.”

  I looked up at her.

  “Love and hate. Both nourish some powerful actions, good and bad.”

  The compulsion to tell her was stilled in me. To hear such a thing would change us forever. She could never know the way it was. I could not tell her truthfully, because it changed with each hour, each day. There were times it didn’t seem so bad. I could shrug and honestly feel that it was past and gone, one night in a million, a nightmare that I had endured and survived, banished by the day. Other times I felt as if the core of me had been touched by rot, that I was dying by degrees.

  If I told her, what truth would it be? If I told her, it would change me even more.

  “When we get back from Mobile, will you take me to Fitler with you and Duncan?”

  JoHanna reached from the hammock and picked up my wet hair, lifting the mass of it so that the cool suddenly touched my damp back. “You’ll love Fitler, Mattie.”

  I felt the need for action, for some task that would define me, at least for a few moments. “You stay here and rest. I’ll go put supper on the table. Shall we drink the lemonade?”