Cast a Road Before Me (28 page)

His jaw creaked open. “It’s true!” he wavered. “Startin’ Monday.”

Thomas kept a hand on his other elbow. “Bates!” he shouted, “Riddum’s gonna pay for your cars. No arrests needed here tonight.”

The offer caught Bates off-guard. I wasn’t sure Blair Riddum expected it either. Fleetingly, I imagined the policeman’s dilemma of unpurchasable justice weighed against an overpowering swell of angry men, the inevitable explanations demanded for firing upon unarmed rioters. His eyes turned indecisively to Thomas.

Do it!
I wanted to scream,
before someone gets hurt!
Fresh rage pulsated my heart into overtime. How
dare
some officer—who knew nothing of Bradleyville’s summer-long plight—demand
retribution from these men. I pushed to my feet, swaying, mentally shaking an answer out of the man.

Uncle Frank caught Lee’s eye, silently begging for agreement. Lee visibly steadied himself, pushing down his anger. Curtly, he nodded to my uncle. Together, they turned to Riddum. Approached him in three purposeful strides. Gaze drifting heavenward in gratitude, Uncle Frank reached an arm out to him. Riddum hesitated, then clasped his hand, giving it one hard shake. My uncle stepped back. Lee moved in, glaring down at his nemesis, eyes narrowing. His huge muscled arm rose slowly and hung in the air. For a moment I thought Blair Riddum would not take it. Then, flexing his jaw, he placed his fingers in Lee’s. Lee grabbed them tightly, almost jerking Riddum forward, and squeezed. Riddum refused to wince. “You change your mind,” Lee said, gravel in his throat, “the next time there’ll be no warnin’.” Riddum made no response. As if tainted, Lee dropped his hand and turned away. He and Uncle Frank walked back to the side of the steps.

“Y’all go home to your families!” he declared to the crowd. I knew he was thinking of his own mother and sister. “We got what we came for.”

Nobody moved. Jake Lewellyn coughed loudly.

“Go on!” Bates yelled. “It’s over.”

Without warning, Riddum yanked free of Thomas and Bill. “It ain’t all over!” he bellowed. “No matter
what
he says, I ain’t payin’ for none a that car damage!”

Thomas grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back.

What happened next is branded into my brain but in vague outline, as if seared by unsteady hands. I remember Al Bledger at the edge of the crowd, snatching up a two-by-four, brandishing it high over his head. Howling something inane—”Then pay for
this!”
Officer Bates turning back to him as if in slow motion, gun aiming, mouth dropping in a warning. Al Bledger’s arm cocking back, launching the piece of wood like a missile toward Riddum. Thomas tussling furiously with Riddum, Bill pulling them apart. Jake Lewellyn gawking at the wood whistling through the air,
turning to see Thomas step into its path. “Sstoppp!” roaring from Mr. Lewellyn’s mouth as he pushed away from the pillar, raising pudgy arms.

Someone screaming “No!” and the sound shrieking from my mouth. My feet were running, arms flailing me toward Al Bledger, blazing anger and exhaustion sucking the air around me dry, fueling my wobbly legs. Bates swiveling my direction, distracted, other heads turning, surprised, Lee’s eyes widening in amazement. My tear-filled gaze following the projectile as I ran, knowing I was too late, but unwilling, unable to stop the venting of my wrath.

Jake Lewellyn yelling at Thomas to
“Mmovve!”

Time suspended itself as I floated across the shadowed grass, mind conjuring the consequences of Al Bledger’s impulsive act. I pictured Thomas hit, guns shooting in mindless reaction, Lee falling, Uncle Frank falling. The final second ground into fast gear as Jake Lewellyn heaved himself into the path of the wood and it struck the side of his head, deflecting onto the front wall of the house and splintering with a gut-wrenching
crack!
The old man dropped like a stone.

“No!”
I screamed again, aiming straight for Al Bledger, spinning into him with an unexpected force that knocked him aside, teeth rattling. In the aftermath of the man’s
stupidity
, amid the unthinkable price of an innocent bystander and the terror of the moment, I churned into a whirling dervish of fury. Had I a knife, I would have used it. A gun, I would have fired it. As it was, I lit into him barehanded, pummeling with fists and kicking with abandonment. The world went red, then unadulterated white as I fought, careening with such mania that he could not clasp hold. I screeched at him in a voice that wasn’t mine. I hit him for hurting poor old Jake Lewellyn, who never meant anyone harm. I hit him for his ugly temper, which had heightened the tumultuousness of Bradleyville’s summer. I hit him for all the danger that Lee had faced, and my uncle and Thomas. Then I went on hitting him. For my rib-heaving run through darkened streets. For the heartwrenching beauty of an angel lamp now diminished to ashes. For Miss Wilma’s lined face and Connie’s
torturous labor. I hit him for keeping me in Bradleyville these extra days, for the selfishness that had risen within me, for the kisses from Lee I would never have again. And for my lost teenage years and my drowning grief. For my poor mother’s red, slapped cheek. And most of all, hardest of all, I hit him for the despair that sent her driving away from me that day. The day she died and left me so
alone
.

And when I could hit no more and shouts surrounded me and hands reached to pull me away, I staggered, sobbing, swinging half-heartedly, futilely, until nausea darkened the world. As I collapsed, familiar strong arms slid around me, gentling me to the ground. Far, far away, Lee’s voice soothed me into blackness.

H
ey there, neighbor, what ya doin’ up so early?”

The sun had yet to peek over the distant hills, the blue-gray morning alive with bird chatter. The young man grinned, draping himself over their shared fence. “Jus’ wanted to see the new day dawn, I guess.”

He grunted. “Yep. Gonna be a clear day. And hot.”

The mill worker ran his thumbnail along a grain in the wooden fence. “You get some rest?”

“Yeah, finally. You?”

“Well, I wasn’t there, you know.”

The older man scratched an itchy place on his back. “You oughta be thankin’ God for that.”

“I am.” He gazed over the yard, out past an open field. The hills beyond were blue-purple. “Let me ask ya somethin’.” His words were tentative. “You been around a long time—”

“Thanks a lot.”

“No. What I mean is … I jus’ been wonderin’, ya know. Do you think everything Thomas said was true? About how the fire got started?”

He puckered his chin, considered a rosebush climbing his side of the fence
.

“I mean, Thomas is a great man. You don’t think he’d lie, do ya?”

He suppressed a smile. The old man would lie like a sleeping dog if he had to, he thought. “Well. Tell you somethin’. Some things in life are just as well left alone. Main thing is we got what we wanted. Plus, after all that happened, we all got to go home to our own beds.”

“But settin’ that fire’d be an awful big thing to git away with.”

“Riddum didn’t ‘git away’ with nothin’. He lost. We won. That’s the last thing he’d want. Anyway, stop worryin’ ‘bout it. Thomas said he didn’t set the fire; that’s good enough for me.”

“I s’pose.”

“Well, I’m gonna go back inside. Surprise Patsy and make her breakfast before church. She ain’t been real happy with me lately.” He stopped on the patio, turned back. “You heared church is at the school gymnasium, didn’t ya? Baptists and Methodists all together.”

“Uh-huh. I’m goin’.”

“Us too. Almost decided not to. Don’t think I rightly deserve to face God after everything. But Patsy’s put her foot down, says it’s ‘bout time I got my soul straight.”

The young man wasn’t sure how to respond
.

“Hey, anyway, I’m goin’ fishin’ this afternoon down to the river. Wanna come?”

“Thanks, no. Mama and my sister are gonna visit Connie and her baby at the hospital. Thought I’d … go along with ‘em.”

“Oh. Kind of a woman thing, ain’t it?”

“Well. She’s a nice person, ya know, real sweet. Pretty too. And with everything that’s happened to her and all….” He shrugged self-consciously
.

“Uh-
huh.”
The older man’s chin lifted knowingly. “You have a good time then. A real good time. And tell her hello for me.”

He stepped inside his kitchen, closing the door softly. His eyes drifted to the yellow clock on the wall, shaped like the sun. Plenty of time before church to do it all up right. Quietly, he pulled out a heavy skillet. Went
to the refrigerator for eggs and bacon. The cabinet for a mixing bowl. What do ya know, he thought, reaching into a drawer for a fork. That young kid next door, interested in Connie. Awkwardly, he broke the first egg into the bowl. And her with a brand-new baby. He broke the second egg, then fished in the yellow-white goo for bits of shell
.

Interesting bit of news for Patsy
.

I
woke to birds chirping out my window, high clouds sailing a muggy sky. I stared sightlessly at the ceiling, trying to get my bearings, my body sluggish and sore. Morning meant I had only been in bed a few hours, yet my brain pulsed thickly with a perceived passage of time. My throat was parched, my stomach rumbling, and my bladder achingly full.

Scenes began spinning through my head as I padded to the bathroom. By the time I’d reached the kitchen and slumped over a steaming mug of tea, I felt sick to my stomach. In fuzzy replay I remembered awakening from a dead faint as from a nightmare, mindlessly pushing away Lee’s comforting arms, stumbling with Uncle Frank to his car, shivering during the hot drive home. Jake Lewellyn had been on the ground, head streaming blood but conscious, someone’s sweaty shirt pressed to his head, the policeman called Bates insisting there was no time for an ambulance; he’d take the old man to the hospital.

Mostly, I remembered the shame. And felt it now afresh, blown in on the morning breeze, heralded by birdsong. How
could
I, after all my mother had taught me? After judging the men for their own
violence. What’s more, as if trammeling everything I stood for into the earth hadn’t been enough, I’d done it in front of all those people. Shrieking and crying, attacking a man I barely knew. Mind gone, all reason fled, no modesty, no self-restraint. The day had just begun and surely the whole town already knew. I was
mortified
. I could not bear to face anyone.

I breathed deeply, trying to steady myself. Sipped tea and burned my lips. Set down the mug too quickly and sloshed hot liquid onto the table. Reached for a napkin to clean it up and burned my wrist from steam. Shuffling to a cabinet for two aspirin, I swallowed them dry and sank back into my chair, elbows on the table, head in my hands. The sound of footsteps made me groan inwardly.

“Well. Thought I heard you.”

I glanced sideways at Uncle Frank’s feet in brown slippers.

“You sure slept a long time.” His voice was weighted with concern. “I told your aunt maybe she should have stuck to one sleeping pill, but she said you needed a good long rest.”

“It’s only 7:00.” My first words were rusty.

“Sunday morning.”

It took a minute for the fact to sink in. I raised my head. “Sunday? I slept all Saturday?”

“Yup.” He measured instant coffee into a mug, poured hot water from the tea kettle over it. I watched stupidly. Pulling out a chair, he sat across from me, slowly stirring.

Sunday. It was Sunday. My eyes blinked. “Mr. Lewellyn.”

“He’s okay. Coming home today.”

Relief washed through me. “What happened?”

“There’s a gash on the side of his head. He was lucky to be only grazed; that thing had hit him smack, he’d be dead. He had some stitches and a mild concussion, so they wanted to watch him for a while. I talked to him last night and he was already hankerin’ to come home.”

I managed the weakest of smiles. “Can’t keep a good man down.”

“Nope.” He sipped his coffee. “Tell you one thing. It may not have been your intent, but you probably saved Bledger’s life. If you hadn’t gotten in the way, I think that policeman woulda shot him.”

I made a point of trying my tea again. It was now drinkable. “How’s Miss Wilma?” I asked finally. “And Connie and little Katherine May?” I could not bring myself to ask about Lee.

“All fine. Your aunt and a few other ladies from church went over to Elsa Brock’s yesterday and sorted through all the baby stuff on loan. The room’s all set up for Connie; even got diapers ready, Eva says. Connie’s bringin’ the baby home tomorrow mornin’.”

“Thank you, Lord,” I mumbled, vastly grateful that this duty had been lifted from me.

Uncle Frank cleared his throat briefly and drank some more coffee. “You comin’ to church with us?”

Church
. How could everyone just go back to church, as if nothing had happened? All the men I’d seen Friday night in a murderous rage, today piously singing hymns? The thought made me sick. Besides, I could not imagine walking into that sanctuary, all eyes turning my direction, assessing, feeding whispers. No, I could not bear to see anyone. I did not want to face Miss Wilma, who, unlike me, had managed to keep her dignity throughout her losses. And my heart lurched at the thought of seeing Lee. I could no longer trust myself near him. I’d lost control once; who’s to say I wouldn’t again, in a much different way? Who’s to say I wouldn’t fall into his arms like a shivering idiot, wanting only to block out the world with his embrace?

“I’m too tired.”

He grunted, seeing through me. “It’s at the school gymnasium today, everybody all together. It’s a special day, Jessie, and you should be there. The Lord protected our town through the worst. And we all need to thank him for that.”

“I’ll think about it,” was my terse reply.

We nursed our mugs in silence, eyes cruising the kitchen.