Standing at the Scratch Line (52 page)

Behind Widow Marshall’s house there was a barn that had fallen into disrepair. The widow had sold all her animals when she sold her farmland ten years ago, so she had no cause to repair the barn. When Serena reached his side, King pointed to the barn.

Serena squinted unbelievingly. “There behind Widow Marshall’s house? That’s where he meets her?” She shook her head sadly as tears mixed with rain ran down her face. “Everyone must know about this! We must be the laughingstock of the parish!” She could not tell which hurt more, the shame she felt or the sorrow because her father had been untrue to her mother while she lay on her deathbed. She wiped her eyes and with a grim, determined look, walked over to the barn. When King did not immediately follow, she stopped and waited for him. “Don’t you abandon me now!” she said with tears still in her eyes.

King walked up to her and said, “I ain’t never gon’ abandon you.” He pulled Serena to him, put a hand under her chin, and kissed her long and hard.

Serena did not fight him as his lips pressed hers open, and he pulled away just as she was beginning to participate. They stood for a moment in the rain looking at each other. She had never been kissed like this before. Suddenly, it was all too confusing. She grabbed the arm of his oilskin and pulled him toward the barn door.

King swung the heavy door open and they stepped inside. The door creaked loudly when it was opened, giving due warning to those within. The barn was dark except for a lantern that was flickering behind several bales of hay. The lantern’s light cast the shadow of two silhouettes on the back barn wall. It was obvious from both the movement of the shadows and the noise generated that the individuals were attempting to separate and get dressed.

“Who’s out there?” a male voice asked querulously.

“Come on out with your chippy, Charles Baddeaux,” Serena answered. “I’ve got some news for you.”

Her father stuck his head above the bales of hay, peering into the darkness. “Serena, is that you?”

“It’s me and I’ve come to tell you that my mother is dead! She died while you went to lie in the arms of another woman! But you probably knew that, ’cause you probably helped her along. You gave her the laudanum, didn’t you?”

“Now, wait a minute!” Charles began sputtering. “You got no call to say nothin’ like that! I ain’t no murderer!” He stooped to get his pants fastened.

“I figured you already knew about Mama, so I came to tell you something that you didn’t know. I didn’t only lose my Mama tonight, but my daddy is dead as well.”

Charles stood up, then ducked down. “Is King out there with you?” he asked worriedly.

“King doesn’t have to kill you, old man,” Serena retorted coldly. “You are already dead. You killed your own self! If you are alive now, you’re not alive as my father! You’re just a Bible-thumping fake who couldn’t resist temptation long enough to bury his wife!”

“Now, I won’t be talked to like that by one of my own chil’ren!” Charles said as he came out from behind the bales of hay. He gave Serena one of his righteous looks. “You ain’t the one to judge me! Only God can do that! Now, you told me about yo’ Mama, you can go. And, uh, we’ll keep this little incident between us. Ain’t no need of anybody else knowin’.” He hadn’t seen King, who was standing in the shadows behind Serena.

“You didn’t hear what I said,” Serena corrected. “My father’s dead. You can’t tell me what to do or dismiss me! And let me be the first to tell you that everyone already knows about you and the schoolteacher! How do you think I found your little nest?”

“You gettin’ powerful smart. You better watch yo’self. You just might get a smack like you deserve!”

“If I deserve a smack, what do you deserve, adulterer?”

Charles started toward Serena. “Now, I just about had enough—”

King moved out of the shadows for the first time and Charles nearly had a seizure of fear. “What was you going to do, Mr. Baddeaux?” King asked easily. “Was you gon’ smack her good like this?” King feinted as if to hit Charles and Charles fell to the ground, trying to escape the anticipated blow.

“He’s not Mr. Baddeaux,” Serena laughed. “He’s just Charles the Adulterer. Ain’t that right, Charlie?”

“You shamin’ me, Serena,” Charles said as he picked himself off the floor.

Serena spat back, “It’s what you deserve!”

“You shouldn’t be sassin’ yo’ own father like—”

“When are you going to get through your thick skull, my father’s dead. He’s as dead as Mama. You just look like him. As a matter of fact, you got things in reverse: your soul is dead but your corpse keeps on living. Should be the other way around.” Serena walked around her father and asked, “Where’s your girlfriend, Charles?” Serena continued on past the bales of hay. “Oh, there you are. Come on out, schoolteacher. I want to see what makes you so all-fired desirable. Come out or I’ll bring you out!”

Eunice Marshall stepped from behind the bales of hay. She was a small-boned, caramel-skinned woman in her midtwenties who wore her thick black hair in a long continuous braid that fell straight down her back. “I’m deeply sorry about your mother,” Eunice began.

“Deeply sorry?” challenged Serena. “When exactly did you begin to feel so deeply sorry for my mother?”

“I knew it was wrong from the beginning,” Eunice explained. “I was just so lonely and your, your . . . I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Your being sorry doesn’t stop the pain you caused,” Serena answered as she walked around behind Eunice. “You’re going to have to pay just like Charles will have to pay.”

“What do you mean?” asked Eunice with obvious concern. “I can’t erase what’s been done. All I can do is have no further contact with Char . . . uh, Mr. Baddeaux.”

Serena pulled a knife from the waistband of her skirt. “You can do more! You can share in the shame that you and this fool have brought on my family!” Upon saying those words, Serena rushed Eunice from behind and grabbed her braid, yanking her to the ground. Serena’s knife flashed in the lantern light.

Charles screamed out, “No, don’t kill her!”

Eunice screamed as well. “Please. Please, don’t hurt me!”

Serena’s knife swept down in an arc and severed Eunice’s braid at the base of her skull. Serena stood up with the braid in her hand and said, “I’m going to nail this up at the general store with a note! You sure won’t be able to show yourself around here for a while.”

Serena turned and faced her father. “You’re lucky I don’t cut off something of yours! Your punishment is that you can’t come to the farm until after Mama’s buried, so that everyone will know that you were caught in the act. By then, I’ll be gone.”

“What about my clothes and my tools?” Charles asked.

“You’ll have to make do, won’t you?” Serena retorted lightly. Then her voice turned cold. “If I see you around the house before I leave I’ll shoot to kill. You do recollect that I am a very good shot, don’t you?”

Charles Baddeaux swallowed his anger. The reputation he had worked so long to build was to be destroyed with no more thought than that needed to swat a fly. His whole life lay on the brink of ruin and for what? All because of his headstrong daughter and a useless, street-life do-nothing. He wished that he had the skills to do battle with King, but Charles knew that he was no match for him. King’s reputation as a man of violence was well known. He stared at the two people who had ripped his world asunder and wondered how he might return the favor.

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Sheriff Corlis Mack stood on one of the small private balconies of the Lafayette Social Club and stared out at the rolling gray clouds that churned slowly across the overcast sky. A breeze filled with moisture came off the gulf, promising rain and perhaps even a late-season hurricane. The broad, sloping lawns of the club stretched to groves of acacia and cedar, which hid the high walls of the club. The Lafayette Social Club was exclusive and its walls insured that the members would be undisturbed by unsolicited interruptions. He took out his old briar pipe and tamped down fresh tobacco, which he took out of an oilskin pouch. He turned his back to the wind and lighted his pipe.

“Oh, Corlis, you’re not going to smoke that terrible thing here during our lunch?” The high-pitched, plaintive tones of his wife annoyed him. Sometimes he wondered why he had married her. The beauty that he had so treasured in their first years of marriage had fallen victim to gravity. The bearing of three children had contributed to the overall disintegration of her sagging flesh, but she had done nothing to forestall her eroding looks except to complain and retire to her room for long periods, suffering from her own version of hypochondria.

“Corlis, we have guests. That dreadful smell is blowing this way. Isn’t it dreadful, Hermina? I just don’t know how men can stand the awful smell of tobacco.” Hermina was her cousin from Baton Rouge who was visiting to ask a favor for her no-account husband.

Corlis returned to the table and looked at the three women who were sitting there. Hermina had brought her sixteen-year-old daughter with her. “How much do you need this time, Hermina?” Corlis asked bruskly.

“Corlis!” his wife protested. “There’s a child at the table! Can’t we just finish our lunch and discuss these other matters in private?” Corlis gave his wife a withering look, which caused her to lose her fragile sense of propriety. She began to stutter under the intensity of his gaze and started her usual, nervous pattern of half-completed thoughts, “I, I, I ju-just thought may-may-maybe—The-the-there’s a chi-child—Thi-thi-this is adult bu-bu-business.” Corlis puffed on his pipe and stared at her until she lapsed into silence.

Corlis instructed his wife in cold tones, “Daisy, take Sue Anne to the powder room.”

Daisy looked at Sue Anne and started to protest but thought better of it. She rose and offered her hand to Sue Anne. “Let’s go, dear.”

Corlis studied Sue Anne’s body as she left the table with his wife. It looked like the girl had inherited her mother’s voluptuous figure. He nodded appreciatively and then sat next to her mother. He clamped the pipe between his teeth and put his hand high on Hermina’s thigh and asked, “Now, what do you want?”

Hermina looked around anxiously to see if anyone was watching. “Please, Corlis,” she begged. “We’re in a public place. Somebody might—”

“Nobody can see shit!” he interrupted. “That’s why I chose this table. Now, what kind of assistance do you need?” His hand slid along her thigh toward her pelvis.

Hermina was unable to concentrate on his question. “What if Daisy and Sue Anne come back?” she asked worriedly.

“Daisy knows better than to bring her back right away,” Corlis said with a humorless chuckle. “Now what has your asshole husband done now?”

“He’s run up a lot of gambling debts.” Hermina put her hand lightly over his and asked, “Please can we talk about this in a more private place? I feel uncomfortable talking about this embarrassment in public.”

Corlis removed his hand and sat back. He took the pipe out his mouth and said, “There’s a price to be paid, if I decide to help you out of your difficulties. If you don’t want to pay the price, then pack your bags and head on back to Baton Rouge.”

“Please, Corlis, this is so embarrassing. Isn’t there some other way I can repay—”

Corlis stood up. “Best get to packing this evening, Hermina, so you’re ready for the morning train,” he advised.

She put her hand to her mouth. “Please don’t send me home! We’ll lose our house. I’ll do anything you say.”

“Good,” he answered with a nod of his head. “Come to my study at ten o’clock tonight. Don’t wear anything under your robe.” Hermina nodded mutely and stared down into her lap. “Tell my wife that I’ve returned to my office and I’ll be late for dinner.”

Corlis left the balcony heading inside, but stopped and saw the silhouette of his reflection against the large glass-paned doors that opened onto the mezzanine. He smiled a little at the memory of when, twenty years ago, he had first stood before these doors with a full head of hair and the muscular physique to sweep women off their feet, and how little success he had achieving his sexual desires. And now that he was balding and getting decidedly pear-shaped, he was able to accomplish his objectives with a much higher percentage of success. His smile broadened. He really enjoyed the exercise of power and all of its attendant trappings.