Penumbra (14 page)

J
onah squinted his eyes against the glare of the late afternoon sun as he steered the Buick down the highway. His stomach growled, and he wanted nothing more than a long shower and some clean clothes. The day had gotten away from him. Jade and Marlena had become entwined in his mind, his emotions, and the end result was dread. Something bad lurked on the horizon.

Beside him, Dotty Strickland stared straight ahead in the passenger seat, too sick to realize she sat beside a Negro as they drove through Drexel on the way to the Longier house. He’d been surprised when Lucille told him to drive to town and pick Dotty up. He couldn’t figure what Lucille wanted with Dotty, a woman she was more than vocal in her disapproval of. Lucille despised Marlena’s friendship with the widow. Lucille was not herself lately. She hadn’t said a word to him about being late for work this morning.

He’d started walking to the Chickasawhay, a mighty long trek, but he’d been picked up by Sheriff Huey and driven to the Longier house. The sheriff had told him there was nothing to see at the river, and that Lucille would need his support and help. Jonah had not especially wanted a ride back to town, but the sheriff had looked bad, his face flushed with blood, his eyes red-veined and bulging. Rather than argue with a man who looked like a heart attack, Jonah had gotten in the car and allowed himself to be deposited at his place of work.

Ruth had made biscuits and sausage gravy, but Jonah couldn’t eat. He’d noticed that Lucille’s plate had also been untouched. In defiance of both of them, Ruth had served herself a heaping plate and eaten every bite, washing it down with two cups of coffee. In all of his years of marriage, he’d never seen Ruth eat like that. She’d done it for pure spite. Then she’d gotten up, yanked the sheets from Lucille’s bed, and started washing, her face sullen and her eyes forking lightning whenever she looked at him. To get away from Ruth’s anger and Lucille’s depression, Jonah had gone down to the scuppernong arbor with two five-gallon buckets. He’d filled them both with wild grapes before he walked back to the house. That’s when Lucille had sent him to fetch Dotty.

He chanced a look at Dotty, wondering if he should pull over. She was green and holding onto the door handle as if she were drowning. “Miss Dotty, do you need to stop?”

He saw her throat working, but she gave up trying to talk and shook her head. He pressed a little harder on the gas pedal, wanting to get her to Lucille’s before he had vomit to clean out of the car. He turned right on the long drive that led up the hill and accelerated again. Dotty closed her eyes and turned her face to the breeze.

When they stopped in front of the house, Jonah got out and went around to open the passenger door. Dotty’s hand trembled as she allowed him to help her out of the car. Because she was unsteady, he kept his arm stiff for her to use as they walked up the steps and across the porch. Ruth met them at the door, her glare sliding from Dotty to Jonah. She didn’t say anything. She unlatched the screen and walked down the hall, leaving Jonah to assist the unsteady woman into the house and guessing that Lucille waited in the kitchen. He led Dotty there.

“Mrs. Strickland, I didn’t realize you were ill,” Lucille said, rising from her chair at the head of the table.

“My stomach is upset. I’ve just been overwrought about Marlena.”

“Yes.” Lucille took the black coffee Ruth had poured and put it down in front of Dotty. “We’ve all been terribly upset. Would you like something to eat?”

“No, thank you.” Dotty turned away from the table. Jonah saw her lips tighten and he felt a compulsion to help her. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot, his wife staring hatred into his bones.

“Jonah, would you get a glass of brandy for Mrs. Strickland. She looks a little peaked.”

Jonah went to the parlor and poured a small amount of brandy into a crystal glass. Jebediah County was a dry county, but that didn’t stop the privileged members of the community from drinking. Lucille kept her liquor in cut glass decanters in plain view, even when Sheriff Huey came by on the occasional evening. Sometimes he sipped brandy with her, reminiscing about the days when Bedelia and J. P Sellers were still alive and the Sellerses’ fortune was spent on fine liquor and food.

Dotty was holding onto the table with both hands, and Jonah put the drink in front of her. She picked it up, sipped, and closed her eyes. Jonah felt the tension in the room, but he had no idea why Lucille had sent for Dotty. He didn’t understand why he and Ruth were still a part of the moment.

Lucille licked her lips and abruptly leaned forward. Her voice was almost a whisper. “Dotty, did Marlena tell you what she was doing in the woods?”

Dotty’s eyes snapped open. She picked up the drink and tilted the glass to her mouth, swallowing. She put her glass down before she looked at Lucille. “Marlena never said a word. I can’t imagine.”

Lucille’s mouth twisted into something ugly. “My daughter may not live. My grandchild has disappeared. If you know something, you’d better tell me right now. If you know what Marlena was doing in the woods, now is the time to tell.”

Jonah stood against the kitchen counter, feeling the need to stop the conversation. Ruth stood fifteen feet away from him, a smile of victory on her face.

“I haven’t a clue what Marlena was up to.” Confrontation had brought some color to Dotty’s cheeks, and she sat up straighter.

Unable to stand it any longer, Jonah stepped forward. “Miss Lucille, it’s time to call the hospital and check on Miss Marlena. Could be she’s feeling better and she can tell you herself why she went to the river.”

Lucille sat upright. She composed her features, her gaze shifting away from Dotty. “Ruth, would you mind getting the overnight case I left in the car?”

“I’ll get it, Miss Lucille.” Jonah started forward. His wife hated it when Lucille ordered her around in front of others.

“No, Jonah.” Lucille’s sharp tone stopped him. “I asked Ruth to get it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ruth shuffled across the kitchen to the back door. “I’ll fetch that bag for you, Miss Lucille.”

Jonah recognized the mockery in Ruth’s tone, and he waited to see if Lucille would reprimand her. The women were like three frightened cats shoved in a sack, each one clawing and scratching at the other. As soon as the screen slammed, Lucille leaned closer to Dotty.

“If you know something, or think you know something, say it now.”

Dotty shrugged. “I don’t know why Marlena would want to go into the woods on a hot August day. The mosquitoes would eat a person alive, not to mention the yellow flies.” She tossed her hair.

Lucille reached across the table and picked up Dotty’s hand. “You aren’t protecting Marlena by holding back what you know.”

Dotty snatched her hand away. “What are you saying? What is it you think I know?” Awareness dawned in her eyes. “You think Marlena has confided some secret to me, and you want to know what it is.”

Jonah stepped to the table. “Miss Lucille,” he said softly, “this isn’t doing anybody any good. Miss Marlena went for a picnic with her daughter. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Lucille turned on him, trembling. “My daughter may die and my grandchild is missing. I have to find out what Dotty knows.”

Jonah held her gaze, willing her to stop talking. If Miss Marlena was meeting someone in the woods, the last person who should know it was Dotty Strickland. “Miss Dotty can’t help you with this,” he said softly. “Best not to conjure up wild rumors and thoughts.” He shifted his gaze to Dotty and saw calculation in her eyes. Miss Lucille had just handed her a loaded gun. He had no doubt that Dotty would pull the trigger when it would best benefit her.

Jonah heard Ruth clumping along the porch, the heavy bag making one step heavier than the other. “Ruth, did you think to get those old letters from the storage shed? If we can find the name of Miss Marlena’s friend who was moving back to town, maybe we can find her. All I remember is her fist name. Connie. Do you remember more?”

Ruth stopped in the doorway, dropping the case so that it thumped loudly on the floor. “What are you—”

“I’ll walk out to the shed with you,” he said, knowing that his wife would never do a single thing to help Lucille, even at the cost of Marlena. “If we can find those letters, maybe we can find that woman. That’s who Miss Marlena said was wanting to meet at the river for a picnic. Remember? She asked you to make some food.”

Ruth looked at Lucille and Dotty. Her mouth opened to deny any such knowledge. Jonah moved across the room and gently took her elbow. “Let’s go look.” He propelled her out of the doorway and onto the porch, tightening the grip on her arm when she started to speak.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispered, moving her along the porch and down the stairs as rapidly as he could with her balking and pulling back.

“Take your hand off me,” she demanded, snatching at her arm.

“Hold your tongue,” he warned, tightening his grip until he felt her wince. “You might not care about Lucille, but Miss Marlena could suffer if you don’t help me.”

Ruth became more pliant, and he walked with her across the yard to the old shed that had once been slave quarters. “They’re watching,” he warned her, feeling the gaze of someone on his back, but he didn’t turn around to look. They were in clear view from the kitchen window. “Come in here with me, Ruth. We can pretend to be looking.”

“I’m not part of lying,” she insisted, balking again.

He leaned to whisper in her ear, an intimate gesture that would have looked loving to anyone watching. “Ruth, you’re going in there to help me, and you’re going to do it willingly.” He didn’t recognize the tone of his own voice.

Ruth obliged, walking beside him up the steps and into the shed. Once the door was shut behind them, she turned on him, her hand swinging through the near darkness to catch him hard on the face.

The sting made tears flood into his eyes, but he didn’t move. She made a noise like a wounded animal and struck him again, on the other side of the face. “You bastard,” she said. She rushed him, pummeling his chest with her fists. “Goddamn you. When Jade was little, I used to make believe she was your daughter. Your flesh and blood. I wanted that to be true because I was so afraid that Miss Lucille would try to take her away from us. Back then, I wanted to believe that something good could come from your love for that bitch. Now I know Jade is no part of either one of you. She couldn’t be.” She drew back as if to strike him again.

He caught her wrists and held her. “Nothing happened, Ruth. I stayed over here because I thought they’d come to tell her that Suzanna was dead. Nothing more.”

His wife slumped against him, sobbing. He could feel the wetness of her tears soak through his shirt, cool on his skin. “Plenty more happened,” she sobbed. “You chose her over me, over your own daughter. You stayed to comfort her.”

“Marlena is her daughter,” Jonah said.

“And Jade is her daughter, too. But that doesn’t make a difference to her. She just pretends that Jade is nothing to her. So why should I pretend Marlena is something to me?”

Jonah put his arm around Ruth and held her tightly against his chest. “Because she is, Ruth. You can deny it with words, but not in your heart.”

“She’s a spoiled white woman.” Ruth’s tone was venomous.

“Yes,” Jonah said, “she is that. But she’s a lot more, and you know it.” His hands moved over her back, soothing and comforting, as they would a child. “She’s Jade’s sister. Right or wrong, Jade cares about her. She cares about Suzanna, too. And even if you won’t admit it out loud, you care about them.”

“I won’t admit it.”

In the darkness of the shed, Jonah smiled. Ruth was a stubborn woman. It was both her greatest strength and weakness. It was how she survived and how she punished. “I’m going to take Miss Dotty home. The worst thing in the world would be for Miss Lucille to reveal anything.”

“What’s there to reveal?” Ruth asked.

Jonah hesitated, Ruth was stubborn and could nurse a grudge to the grave, but he believed her love for Marlena was greater than her hatred of Lucille. “Miss Lucille thinks Marlena was meeting a man in the woods. She was trying to find out if Dotty knows anything about it. Rumors are bound to start now, and if Dotty Strickland sees a way to turn one to her advantage, she’ll spread it all over town.”

Ruth stilled against his chest. He could almost feel her thinking. “Miss Marlena wouldn’t fool around on her husband. Mr. Lucas would kill her.”

Jonah didn’t say anything. Ruth had to know the stakes were high.

“Did Lucas know about this picnic?” Ruth asked.

“I don’t know.” Jonah felt his wife step away from him.

“Was she meeting someone?”

He couldn’t see her in the darkness of the shed, and he unexplainably felt as if he’d stepped into danger. “I don’t know,” he said. “No one knows for sure, but if this rumor gets started, there won’t be any stopping it.”

“True or not, Lucas won’t have her back. He won’t have no use for soiled goods.” It was a simple statement of fact.

“I’m worried about what Miss Dotty’s gonna say.” Jonah hadn’t confessed his fears to Ruth in many years. Now it felt natural, the right thing to do.

“You should be.” Ruth flipped on the overhead light. She stood beneath it, her face cast in harsh shadows. “She and your precious Miss Lucille are just alike. You’d best stay clear of it, Jonah, or you’ll pay the biggest price of all.”

J
ade sat beside the hospital bed as the afternoon sunlight streamed in the open window, heating the back of her neck. Tiny drops of perspiration trickled between her breasts, and she tried not to think about the work she’d left undone. Before coming to the hospital, she’d gone home and changed into a calico shirtwaist to replace the dress that Frank had torn. The memory of Frank’s hands and lips made her even hotter, but the heat of passion was mingled with a cold dread. To continue would bring trouble for both of them. Mostly for her. But she couldn’t stop. It was impossible to imagine not meeting him for dinner. Such strength was beyond her grasp. Frank had hovered on the fringes of her mind for the past two years, since he’d come home. She’d seen him, watched him, listened to her clients talk about him, and all along she’d never allowed herself to go beyond a mere ripple of sexual pleasure when his name was mentioned. To pursue fantasies of Frank would make her life unbearable. He was too real to toy with in such ways. Dreaming of a house on the water in Jamaica was harmless, because it was out of reach. Frank was both too real and too unattainable. When they passed each other and their gazes met, heat arced between them. She became instantly aware of her body, of the rush of blood to her groin. She was drawn to him, but up until this point she’d been able to stay away.

A sense of doom settled over Jade, and she picked up Marlena’s hand. She held it, warming it between her own hands. Marlena’s was cold, a white so pale the veins were exposed. Death had touched her, maybe stolen her life, or at least marked it for a future collection. The dark angel would be back, and Jade had come to do battle for her half-sister. Marlena was too young to die, innocent in so many ways. Jade knew how Death could slip into a crib, or a bed, or a room, and steal away with the essence of life. She felt Death’s presence in Marlena’s cold flesh, and she held on more tightly, determined not to let Marlena slip away. Jade closed her eyes and imagined Marlena laughing in the rose garden of Lucas’s home. She held large scissors in one hand and several freshly cut stems of First Blush roses in the other. First Blush was Marlena’s favorite flower, a creamy white with a hint of pink at the center. The flowers were the only element of her wedding that Marlena had been allowed to have her way. Jade concentrated on this image, on Marlena, bathed in white light, holding the roses and laughing.

The hospital room door opened, bringing Jade back from her vision. A different doctor, younger, stepped into the room, his face controlled, emotionless. He walked to the bed and took Marlena’s other hand, checking her pulse at her wrist. The gaze he leveled on Jade was calculating.

“Her heart is strong,” he said as he released Marlena’s hand. “If she wants to come out of this, she will. There’s some disagreement with Dr. McMillan, but I believe the coma is self-induced, an escape.”

“Her brain …” Jade didn’t finish the sentence. Marlena had been struck ruthlessly in the face so many times that there had been fear of her brain swelling, of blood clots, of damage to the frontal lobes or percussive bruising of the brain stem. Her swollen face had begun to go down, but there was no telling how the beating had affected her brain.

“When she regained consciousness, she was coherent. That indicates there’s no brain damage,” the doctor said. “Had she never awakened, I would’ve been concerned.” He started to leave.

“You believe she can wake up when she wants to?” Jade asked.

The doctor’s gaze shifted to Marlena’s still form in the bed. “Yes,” he said at last. “I believe that she can live, if she chooses to do so. Or she can die, if that’s her choice. The wounds inflicted on Mrs. Bramlett’s body are severe, but not fatal.”

Jade released Marlena’s hand and slowly stood up. “What can I do?” she asked.

“Help her remember the reasons to live. Talk to her,” he said. He started out the door and then turned back. “Where is her husband?”

“Waiting for a ransom call on his daughter.” Jade didn’t believe that, but it was the easiest explanation for Lucas’s continued absence.

“He should be here with his wife. She needs him.”

Jade nodded, even though she disagreed. Lucas could not help Marlena now. She was beyond his grasp.

“I’ll have one of the orderlies bring a cot in here for you,” the doctor said.

Jade started to protest, but he was gone, his dark suit disappearing down the dim hallway. She would not be in the room when the cot arrived, thereby avoiding a confrontation she had no desire to win.

Marlena sighed, and Jade picked up her hand again. “You have to come back,” Jade said. She tried to recall a happy memory, something that would tempt Marlena to choose life. “Remember the swing that Jonah built for you in the magnolia tree?” Jade closed her eyes and visualized the stout wooden plank that Jonah had drilled four holes in. He’d attached chains with bolts and then climbed the huge tree in the Longier backyard. “Remember how Daddy scooted out on the limb and attached the chains?”

Lost in her memory, Jade smiled. “Once the swing was hung, he let you go first. He pushed you so high. You were screaming. Your hair flew out behind you, and then tangled like a golden web all in your face when you went backward. You were going to brush it out of your face, but Daddy told you not to let go of the chains. Remember?”

It was a moment of perfect memory in Jade’s mind. After Marlena had finished her turn, Jonah had swung Jade. She’d felt like she was flying through the treetops, but safe, because her daddy was there. After that, Lucille had come out of the house and made them stop swinging. She’d taken Marlena inside, her hand pinching the little girl’s shoulder as they’d walked away.

“It was May, and we could smell the magnolias,” Jade continued, focusing on the good, seeing it so clearly in her mind that she could remember the light on the glossy magnolia leaves, the deeper green of the cast-iron plant around the base of the tree. Jade grasped her sister’s hand more firmly. “There’s nothing in the world as sweet as sun-warmed magnolia. Smell it, Marlena. You wanted a flower for your mother, and Jonah got one. He told you not to touch the petals or they’d turn brown. You were so careful. You wanted the flower to be flawless for your mother. You said she smelled like magnolias, and she did. I remember that, she did.”

“I remember.”

Jade opened her eyes to find Marlena staring at her. Her blue eyes were clear and lucid.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m awake,” Marlena said. Her words were forced through her wired jaw.

“My God, Marlena!” Jade felt light-headed. She started to turn away, but Marlena held her hand. Jade gently touched her face, the skin a mass of purple, green, and yellow. The left side of her face had a sunk-in look. The doctor had said it would require plastic surgery to repair. “We haven’t found a trace of Suzanna. Do you remember anything?”

Marlena looked at something beyond Jade. “She’s dead.” The clenched-jaw delivery of the words made them even more horrific.

Jade glanced out the window. The sun was falling down the western sky, but it was only midafternoon. Frank had gone to Hattiesburg; he wouldn’t be back until dark. “I should call your mother.” She turned, prepared to go to the desk and make the call.

“No!” Marlena’s protest was so strong Jade stopped moving. “Don’t call Mother.”

The thought that Marlena was not right, mentally, crossed Jade’s mind. “I have to tell someone. Folks are looking for Suzanna. There’s been no ransom, nothing. Do you have any idea who did this?”

“They had flour sacks with eye holes cut out, and mouths.” She dry swallowed. “They grunted. They called me names. They said they were going to hurt me and make me pay for being a whore of Babylon.”

Jade hesitated. “Was there someone else with you?”

Marlena’s gaze was unfocused. “What difference does it make?”

“It could make a difference for Suzanna. Could he have taken her?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you certain? If there’s any chance—”

“He didn’t take her. I wish to God he did, but he didn’t.” She turned her head to focus on Jade. “Those men took her.” Marlena’s gaze brushed hot along Jade’s skin.

“Marlena, you have to talk to Frank Kimble. You have to tell him everything you can remember. There’s been no sign of Suzanna. They took bloodhounds into the woods but didn’t find anything. They’re not sure where to hunt now.”

“Johnny didn’t take Suzanna. When the men came out of the bushes, he didn’t do anything. One man threw Suzanna on the ground. She didn’t make a sound, and she didn’t move.” She fought for control. “The other man, the skinny one, held me. He said I was a filthy slut and the big one kicked me. Johnny just stood there. I called out to him, and he looked at me like he wanted to cry, and then he turned and ran. He didn’t try to help me. He ran away and left me with those men beating me.”

Marlena’s lip began to tremble, but her eyes remained dry. Jade wanted to give comfort, but she didn’t know how. “What can I do?” she asked.

“Kill me,” Marlena said. “I put my daughter’s life in danger to meet a man who wouldn’t even try to help me. I don’t deserve to live.”

The front door of John Hubbard’s house had three small graduated windows, reminding Frank of steps. He was struck by the idea that if he looked through each one, he’d see a different room. When he did look inside, he saw bare wood floors and no foyer furniture. Officer Lloyd Hafner had gone around to the back where he could force the door with less chance of observation. They had a warrant, but Frank had asked for as much discretion as possible. If the neighbors became unduly suspicious, they might warn John of the law’s visit.

“It’s open,” Hafner called, and Frank walked around the house, noting the neatly trimmed shrubs, the recently mowed Centipede grass edged around the empty cement drive. John Hubbard was a neat man. How had he gotten involved in something as messy as a married woman?

Hafner stood in the back door, his expression pained. “Something’s ripe in here,” he said.

Frank followed him, their boots scuffling over the gray painted boards, through the small laundry room that led into the kitchen. The odor of sweet rot grew stronger, and there was the sound of flies buzzing, an ominous noise that awoke memories of carnage and battlefield abattoirs. For a split second the past swallowed Frank and the smell of blood clotted in his sinuses, creating a metallic taste on the back of his tongue. He put his hand on the gun at his waist as they carefully made their way into the kitchen.

A small square table with white chairs centered the room. Cabinets, painted white, were wiped down and neat. Frank spotted the source of the odor. Bananas, blackened with rot, were molding on the kitchen cabinet. He relaxed.

“Looks like ole Johnny boy hasn’t been home for a few days,” Hafner said. He waved his hand over the bananas, sending the flies into an angry frenzy.

Next to the refrigerator the garbage can was a source of attraction for another buzzing horde of green bottleflies. As they swarmed up into the afternoon sunlight slanting through the kitchen window, he saw their brilliant color. In the battlefield, they’d been called the death fly. The truth was, the flies didn’t always wait until death came. He’d seen soldiers, alive and writhing in awareness of the fly spawn growing in their wounds. More than once he’d considered shooting the wounded men. Twice he had.

“I’ll take the front room, see if we can find any evidence of where Johnny boy might have gone,” Hafner said. His heavy shoes echoed on the wooden floors as he left the kitchen.

Frank would have preferred to go through the house by himself, but he accepted that he was lucky the Hattiesburg policeman was interested enough to get a warrant and come along.

“I’ll check the bedroom,” Frank said, walking down the narrow hallway toward the back of the house. He opened one door on an empty room and kept going until he found the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway. The bed was neatly made with a blue chenille spread, the pillows perfectly aligned beneath the bedspread. The nightstand beside the bed held an alarm clock and a magazine with a mostly naked woman in a sexy pose on the cover, a recent issue. Frank noted the date but didn’t touch it.

The room was dim. He walked to a window and raised the shade, allowing the midafternoon light to fill the room. He caught a glimpse of two children in the backyard of the house next door. A boy and a girl. The boy rode a tricycle around in circles while the girl sat in a swing. They seemed oblivious to the heat, and Frank watched them for a moment before he returned to his work.

There was no art or other decorative touch in the room. The walls were painted a pale blue, a restful shade that spoke of careful selection. Frank walked around the room and stopped at a highboy dresser, his gaze lighting on the picture of Marlena. She wore a red dress, the flared skirt swirling around her beautiful legs. She was laughing, holding down the skirt, happier than Frank had ever seen her. In the background was the two-tone Chevy.

Frank opened the back of the frame and removed the picture, slipping it into his pocket. He wasn’t certain why he was protecting Marlena, but he was. Not from the law, but from Lucas and the censorship of Drexel. The top drawer held socks and underwear and nothing more. He put the empty picture frame there before he closed the drawer and opened the next one. Handkerchiefs, belts, fingernail scissors, needles and thread, all neatly placed and arranged. John Hubbard was a detail man.

Frank heard Hafner’s footsteps approaching. He closed the drawer and waited.

“Looks like a bachelor’s house to me,” Hafner said. “But neat. Hubbard must be a stickler for everything in its place. My apartment is a wreck.”

“Yes,” Frank said. “There’s no clue as to where he might have gone.” He went to the closet and searched through the pockets of three pants and two jackets hanging there. A pile of dirty laundry had been kicked into the corner of the closet. Frank sifted through those. “Nothing,” he said.

“Hubbard is a reliable employee of Big Sun. Hadn’t missed a day in four years. They haven’t heard from him since Wednesday, and his boss feels that he’s met with foul play.” Hafner glanced around the room. “Could be that someone came here and cleaned it all up.”