Cast a Road Before Me (25 page)

“What does he look like?” I blurted.

Lee blinked, distracted. “What?”

“What does he look like?” Fear curled my fingers. I hid them in my pockets.

“Who?” Uncle Frank thought I’d gone crazy.

“Riddum!”

A light began to dawn in Lee’s eyes, pale and ominous. “Why?”

I came to my senses. Straightened. “Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Nothing!”

“Grayish blond hair,” Lee rattled off, not taking his eyes from me. “Not too tall, mean-lookin’ mouth, big nose. A face that’s fallin’ in. Now, why you askin’?”

“No reason.” They were all looking at me. I could hear the panic in my denial.

“Did you see somethin’?” Lee glared down. “At the fire?”

Through my robe, my fingers dug into both legs. “I … No.”

He clamped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“What
did you see?”

“Nothing
, Lee. Let go of me!”

He held on.

“Jessie.” Uncle Frank’s tone was gentle. I turned bewildered eyes on him.
“Did
you see something at the fire?”

He spaced the words as if talking to a frightened child. I swallowed, watching dismay ripple across his face as he saw the truth.

“She didn’t see anything; she didn’t see anything!” Aunt Eva shrieked ridiculously.

“You can’t do this.” I looked in desperation at Lee. “It’s not right, no matter what happened.” My voice rose. “You can’t
do
this!”

Uncle Frank’s shoulders slumped. He stared at the wall, unseeing, fingers shaking through his hair.

Lee’s lips were pressed. “Well, then, that’s it. You comin’?”

He nodded, dazed. “I’ll get dressed.”

“No, Frank!” Aunt Eva caught his arm and hung on. “You promised me, you
promised!
Henry went off, and he didn’t come back!”

“I got to, Eva.” He tried to pry her hand away. “I’m not goin’ to fight, far from it.
Somebody’s
got to be there to pray.”

“Please
, Uncle Frank.” I pivoted to Lee. “See what you’ve done! You, who talked to me about ‘giving your life to
Jesus!’”
The words sneered on my lips. “You think
this
is what he’d want you to do?”

Lee looked as though I’d slapped him into an awakening. Then his eyes veiled over again with determined rage.

Aunt Eva pleaded with her husband all the way down the hall and into their room. “Don’t go, Frank; they’ll pull you into it, no matter how hard you try! We’ll pray here! You think God can’t hear us right here? Please, Frank,
please!”
When he reappeared, shirttail out and half buttoned, she was wringing her hands, tears streaking her cheeks. He pulled her to him, hugging her tenderly.

“I love you, Eva. I’ll be all right. Remember Jeremiah 29:11—
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”

I had retreated to the couch and collapsed, face in my hands. As my uncle stepped onto the porch, I rose on trembling legs, clutching the back of the sofa, the worn fabric smooth beneath my fingers. “Uncle Frank.” My voice was choked. “If Jesus is really Lord, he’ll keep you safe—’cause that’s what I’m demanding of him. And Lee …” His very name dripped venom. He turned a face of stone to me. “If my uncle does get hurt, I’ll never forgive you.
Never.”

He glared at me, a knight to a fool. The door slammed on his way out.

I
paced the living room after they had gone, paced and paced, my legs unable to stop. Aunt Eva lay on the couch, crying and praying aloud with extravagance until my ears rang. “Calm down!”

I finally commanded. “I can’t even hear myself think!”

“You don’t know, you don’t know,” she sobbed into her hands like an affronted little girl, “and now you’re
yelling
at me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s
sake!”
I hit the wall with a fist. “Will everybody stop telling me what I don’t know! Have you all forgotten what
I’ve
lost!”

On I paced, my fury mounting. I could not squelch my anger, didn’t even care to try. I couldn’t even say where my anger began or ended. Of course I was mad at Lee, seething over his betrayal. And at Uncle Frank for playing the martyr. And at Blair Riddum and the town and the mill for being built in the first place. I was very mad at God for letting all this happen. And I was mad at my mother, who’d taught me to eschew violence, but not what to do if I found myself unerringly embroiled in it. She may have stood before it silent and meek, but
I
certainly couldn’t. I prayed to her for strength, but felt not the least bit of comfort.

I was also mad at myself. For opening my big mouth. And for still being in this town.
Why
hadn’t I left Bradleyville on the first? So what if Uncle Frank would have brought the truck two days later; I could have slept on my new bedroom floor. So what if he couldn’t have come at all? I’d have hired movers as I’d now done anyway. I could be there by now. I could be painting my bedroom, renting furniture, visiting the Center.

“Lord Jesus, first I lost Henry,” Aunt Eva hiccuped, wisps of hair plastered to her wet fingers, “then my sister, then Jessie off to college. Now Jessie again for good, and maybe Frank.
Please
take care of Frank!”

I paced to her, sighing. Knelt down. “I’m sorry, Aunt Eva, I’m sorry. Come on.” Gently I pried her hands from her face. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

She sniffed loudly, chin trembling. Her face was red, puckered, and old. “Help me pray, Jessie; what else can we do? Only Christ has the power to calm things now.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think
anybody
can calm things. Lee’s gone crazy.” I sat back on my haunches, staring at the worn carpet. He and whoever followed him deserved whatever they got. Except Uncle Frank. “I should at least call Bill Scutch. I don’t know what he can do but … he should know what’s happening.”

Aunt Eva knew his home number. She probably had the whole town memorized, I thought as she recited it between sniffles. I expected a sleepy “hello,” but the policeman’s wife answered, wary and alert.

“It’s Jessie Callum. Sorry for calling so late, but I need to talk to Bill.”

“Oh.” Her voice sagged with relief, then tightened again. “He’s not here. What’s wrong?”

“Lee left here about ten minutes ago. He’s rounding up the men to go to Blair Riddum’s place. Uncle Frank’s with them. Only to pray, he said.” I couldn’t bear for her to place my uncle in the category of those men.

“Bill already knows,” she breathed.

My fingers twisted and untwisted the phone cord. “How? And where is he? I
have
to tell him something.”

“He’s been with Thomas all evening, looking at that stuff from the fire. A few hours ago they heard from the Albertsville police that Lee had been there, and they figured this thing might not sleep through the night. And now they’re already on their way to the Riddums’; Bill just called. He and Thomas saw a bunch of cars headin’ toward the mill and stopped one of ‘em.”

Not Thomas in danger too! “But if they want to stop the men, why go to the Riddums’? Why not just go to the mill?”

“I don’t
know.”
She sounded scared and defensive and upset at my pressing. I backed off, telling her—unconvincingly at best—not to worry. That everything would work out somehow. That Bill and Thomas were loved and respected and no one would hurt them. She didn’t seem to hear.

“I said to Bill, ‘If they want to burn down that man’s house, let ‘em.’ He just said, ‘What kind a lawman would that leave me?’ But they better not hurt him.” Her voice turned strident, off-key. “God help anybody who takes this mess out on him, ‘cause they’ll have to deal with me. I swear I’ll shoot the lot of ‘em.”

I hung up the phone, stomach turning, picturing the town collapsing like dominoes, one ill causing the next. As I stood there, overcome by the immensity of it all, similar scenes were undoubtedly replaying across town, magnified by the sudden clicks of lamps in darkness, the shadows of women begging their hastily dressing husbands. And their inevitable anger at the firm close of each door, their own declarations of reprisal if harm came to that particular man.

Too much of it would be my fault. I may not have caused the Harding’s fire after all or even supported the strike, but I’d certainly opened my mouth at the wrong time.

Aunt Eva still watched me, her tear-stained face imploring. “Now what?” she quavered.

I blew out air, dug two fingers in the center of my forehead. It was hard to think straight, but one thing was clear: I had to tell
Thomas and Bill that the men now knew I’d seen Riddum at the fire. No—
believed
—not knew. Maybe it wasn’t even true; maybe it hadn’t been Riddum at all. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they believed it, and that belief, coupled with their months-long resentment, would render them blind and deaf to anyone who stood in their path. Thomas fancied himself still back at the town meeting, for goodness sake, expecting reasoning minds to hear reasonable argument. This would be more like a Korean battlefield.

And that’s when the outcome of my mistake really hit. As I stood in bathrobe and bare feet, eyes thick from lack of sleep, I pictured—in horrific sequence—my old friend Thomas shouting appeals, being threatened, refusing to move, being knocked aside. On a rational level I could not imagine Lee or anyone else doing such things, but rationality had flown, retribution claiming its heyday.
Please, Jesus
, I breathed,
keep them all safe
.

“Do you know the Riddums’ number?”

Aunt Eva’s eyes grew round. “What you want to call them for?”

“Do
you know it?” I sounded like Uncle Frank, each word precise.

Of course she did. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if she once used to gossip with Mrs. Riddum. I dialed the numbers, hearing my own heartbeat, praying that Bill or Thomas would answer. What could I possibly say to Blair Riddum?

The phone rang ten times before I hung up. I tried again. Let it ring fifteen.

“They’re not answering.” I slumped to the closest chair and sank into it, a weight in my chest pulling me into the cushion. My knees were oddly cold, and I drew my robe over them, absently rubbing the fabric. Part of me couldn’t believe this was happening; I wanted to go back to bed, pull a sheet over my head, and in the quiet of this house deny what was taking place a mile outside of town. I also wanted to deny my anger, to let my guardian angel rock me to sleep. For a moment, sitting there, I almost believed; I could almost feel the fear ebb away. But the faces in my head would not let me be: Uncle Frank’s dazed expression at the unthinkable knowledge
of Riddum’s act, Lee’s flat-eyed determination for revenge. A force beyond me pushed me to my feet. “I have to go out there.” I did not look at Aunt Eva. “I’ve got to tell Thomas I think I saw Riddum at the fire—and that the men know it.”

“Are you
insane?”
Aunt Eva sat up straight, tears gone.

Probably
.

“What do you think a little thing like you can do?”

I was already crossing the room. “All I’m going to do is tell him. Then I’ll get out of there.”

“And what if you get in the way a those men? They could be headin’ out there soon.”

“I won’t.” My eyes flew to the clock, sudden urgency infusing my limbs. “I’ll hurry.”

“Jessie, don’t!” she called, but I was already in my room, slipping out of my robe, pulling on shorts and a T-shirt, tennis shoes without socks. I grabbed my purse and plunged in a hand for car keys. I felt my wallet, a hair brush and pen, some wrapped hard candies scattered in the bottom. My fingers scrambled until in irritation I dumped the contents onto my bed. No car keys. Realization slowly dawned. My car wasn’t there.

“Aunt Eva!” I trotted back into the living area only to hear her answer from her bedroom. She emerged, buttoning up a housedress. “I’m coming with you,” she declared.

I shook my head impatiently. “Did Uncle Frank take your car? Or did he ride with Lee?”

She blinked at me.

“My car’s at Ed’s,” I snapped, turning. I ran through the kitchen and banged out the back door, jumping off the porch toward the driveway. Crossing the small yard in seconds, I saw the answer in the bright moonlight—emptiness. I ran anyway, hearing the pebbles crunch beneath my feet, and looked down the driveway’s length toward the street. I then ran to search in front of the house, even though Uncle Frank never parked there. My feet slowed in the front yard, and I leaned against a tall maple tree, bouncing my head against its bark. A sob rattled up my throat, hot tears stinging
my eyes. This was all so
stupid
. I kicked helplessly at an exposed tree root, grass sanding the top of my foot. Stupid, stupid
stupid!

“Jessie? Jessie!” My aunt hurried out the front door, wan-cheeked under the porch light, clasping her dress. I pushed away from the tree.

“Aunt Eva, I’ll be all right.”

“Jessie, come back inside.”

But there was no going back. For a split second I considered it—imagined giving up and praying for the best—but knew I couldn’t. Beyond that I did not think, could not consider the foolishness of what I was about to do, even as my feet began to move. “Jessie, where are you goin’!” Aunt Eva cried. I called over my shoulder, “I’ll be okay!” as I jumped off the curb and onto the street, picking up speed, elbows bending. My aunt screamed after me hysterically.

I did not look back.

A
unt Eva’s screams faded behind me. As I ran, my body took over, adrenaline rushing, exhaustion washing away. Not until I reached the first corner, heading toward Main, did I fully realize what I was doing. I remember thinking how crazy it was. A filament of rational thought dimly flickered. It was about two miles to the Riddums’. I had never run that far in my entire life. And only once had I run for all I was worth. Even in P.E., I’d only managed a time or two around the track. I doubted I could make this. And even if I could, who was to say I’d beat the men? The thoughts glimmered, faded, poofed away. For a second my mind went blank, flashing a brilliant white light that exposed empty corners.