The Last Road Home (20 page)

C
HAPTER
41

W
e sat at the kitchen table, exhausted, soot smeared across our face and clothes. “I'm going to kill them, Fancy, every last one.”

“No, you're not. This is my fault. I should have kept staying at home and nobody would have known.”

I pounded my fist on the table. “It's nobody's fault except Mr. Wilson's; he's the one who turned them on us. That bastard caused this and he's going to pay.”

Fancy's voice was resigned. “Just be glad they didn't decide to burn the whole place. There's no way to fight them.”

“We worked hard for that tobacco, Fancy. They don't give a damn if we live or die.”

She sat bent over, arms wrapped around her middle. “We got enough money to make it through the winter.”

“And what, sit here while they burn us out again?” I felt like a snake full of chicken eggs that discovered the hole he crawled in was now too little to crawl back out. “How the hell do you live like this, Fancy?”

Fire shot from her eyes. “Junebug, one of these days black folk gonna get sick of this shit, and the blood's going to run the other way.” She slammed the back door on the way out. I watched her walk in circles in the yard, talking to herself. In a few minutes, Fancy came back inside. “I'm going home, Junebug.”

“You're going to leave me?”

“I ain't leaving you, Junebug. I love you, but I won't be responsible for something awful happening.”

“I'm asking you not to.” I reached for her hand.

She moved a step backward, her bottom lip trembling. “You'll find a white woman one of these days and make a life. These people won't ever let us live in peace.”

“Look at me and say that's what you really want.”

Her eyes were fixed with a stubbornness I'd seen before. “It's not what I want, but it's the way it's going to be.”

I sat, not knowing what else to say. “I see. Well, guess you better get moving then.”

She went out the back door and headed toward the woods. I grabbed an ax from the woodshed and headed behind her. Each time the sharp blade sliced a deep cut into a tree trunk, I imagined Mr. Wilson's neck.

* * *

The next two months were so sorry lonesome even I got sick of me. I began to prowl the night, sometimes sleeping next to a tree or waiting for the sun to come up before going home. On a night with a first moon, I walked through the woods, crossed the clover field, eased to the side of Mr. Wilson's house, and stood in the shadows outside his bedroom window. I watched him pull off his clothes and change to a nightshirt. I fingered the shotgun. It would be easy. I raised the gun to my shoulder. Just then, Mrs. Wilson walked into the room. She was the only reason he lived that night.

I put new tin on the tobacco barn roof even though it didn't need it. I pounded nails and worked out a plan to kill Bull Jones, Luther, and Mr. Wilson. At night I got out paper and a pencil and wrote down details, like who I should shoot first, then second. The problem was how to get them together in the same place at the same time. It got to be all I thought about.

In December I went to Apex to settle up with Lawyer Stern. I told him about Mr. Wilson's kinfolk telling him what was in my will. He got very angry.

“What's done is done,” I said. “Just let it go.” I didn't bring up the Klan, figuring he probably already knew.

Late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, dark, heavy clouds scooted quickly from north to south, bringing a cold, stinging wind. I sat on the porch wondering if snow was coming. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Fancy come 'round the curve in the road. She walked slow, head down. A stab of pain went through my chest. I'd missed her so much.

I waited on the steps. When she got close, her face broke out in a big smile and her eyes glistened wet in the fading light. “Hey, Junebug.”

“Hey, Fancy.” When she got to me, I held out my hand. “Missed you awful bad.”

She nestled into me. “Missed you too.” She arched her head backward. “Do you care if I do something?”

“What?”

“Kiss you.”

“I ain't had much practice lately.”

She laughed. “Let's see if we can work on that.” The kiss was long and warming. “Not bad for a redneck.”

I put my lips to her ear, breathing in her scent. “I've been practicing on my hand.”

She pushed my forehead back and play-slapped me. “I figured you were starving by now, so thought I'd fix you some supper. Come on.” She started up the steps.

“I'm willing to do without the food.”

Fancy stopped and put her hand on the back of my neck. “We got all night, Junebug, just you and me.”

I sat at the kitchen table while Fancy cooked. “Had any trouble from the Wilsons?”

“Mostly tried to stay away from them as much as possible, but I let Mr. Wilson see me a lot, to know I'm at home.”

“What are we going to do?”

Fancy didn't turn around. “Maybe we can talk after a while.”

We finished supper and went to sit on the porch. Clouds hid the stars. When heavy drops of icy rain started to hit the tin roof, we went to bed. The lovemaking was wonderful, but had a desperate feeling to it.

Fancy lay under a heavy quilt; the only things visible were her big black eyes and her nose. The room was quiet except for the tap of raindrops. We lay still and listened.

She broke the silence. “I need to ask you a favor, Junebug.”

“Whatever it is, I'll do it.” I tried to move, but she held me in place with her arm.

“You need to hear it first.”

I pulled loose. “Go ahead and say it.”

She let out a deep breath. “I need you to let me go.”

I was scared to ask. “Go where?”

“From here.” Fancy sat up, back against the headboard, and covered herself with the sheet. “I can't take this life no more, Junebug. Living every day scared to do something that might piss off some white person, knowing there'll never be a way we can be together. I'd rather die than believe this is the way I'll spend the rest of my life.”

I'd never heard Fancy in such pain. As bad as things had been for me, it was only a small part of what she had to go through. “Where will you go?”

“If you'll carry me to Durham, I'm going to take the bus to New York. Folks say coloreds can make out okay up north. I want to find a job and live like a real person.”

“What kind of job?”

“Have to figure it out when I get there.”

I stared at the ceiling, remembering how happy I'd been with the two of us working the farm, laughing and playing even when we were exhausted, daring to let myself daydream about a life together. “When you plan on leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow. That would give me Christmas with Momma and Daddy one last time for a while.”

“That quick? You can't wait a little longer?”

“Momma's got some relatives in New York, and she already wrote a letter telling them to expect me. I'll stay with them until I can get on my feet.”

The rain had quit, and the clouds lifted enough to let some light come through the windows. I concentrated on her face. What I saw was the skinny little eight-year-old girl who took my hand on that first day we met, the one who felt my hurt. “Fancy, as bad as I don't want you to go, I ain't going to be selfish enough to ask you not to.”

She laid her forehead on mine. “I know you love me, Junebug. If the day ever comes when things change, I'll be right back here if you would still want me. Until then, we just have to know what we know, and hope.”

C
HAPTER
42

F
ancy went home before daylight on Christmas morning. I pulled the drug money from the back of Grandma's closet and counted out Lightning's half, ten thousand dollars. As I stacked the money, I remembered the shock on his face in the pack house cellar, and the sound his body made when it hit the bottom of the well.

The money rightfully belonged to Fancy. She had paid a price for it, and it would give her a fighting chance. Still, it was painful knowing once she left I'd probably never see her again. I was the only thing I had left to lose.

It was pretty miserable sitting alone in the house all Christmas Day. Fancy came in the porch after dark, toting one suitcase that was tied together with tobacco twine. I lifted it onto the kitchen table. She ran her hand across the worn brown cloth. “Don't seem much to show for a life, does it, Junebug?” She grabbed around my waist. “What am I going to do without you?”

I held on to her. “You're going to get a chance to have a new life, Fancy, one you get to make for yourself. My granddaddy used to tell me, ‘Don't stand in the back of the boat to see where you've been, stand in the front to decide where you're headed.”

She searched my eyes. “Come with me, Junebug.”

“I can't, Fancy, this place and this life is all I know.” The real reason was fifty yards away and fifty feet down. “I can survive here, but don't know if I could there.”

She laid her head against my chest. “I know.”

That night we clung to each other. “Do you want me to stay, Junebug?”

“No.” I sat up and looked her in the eyes, stroking the face I was going to miss terribly. “You remember those dreams you told me about that night at Mr. Wilson's?”

She rubbed at the wetness on her cheeks. “Yes.”

“That's what I want you to think about, Fancy.” As much as I was going to miss her, I refused to argue for her to stay because I knew she would if I asked. “You'll never find them here, and you'd never have a chance to chase them down with somebody like me holding you back.”

* * *

With the morning came hard rain, sounding like a drummer gone mad on the tin roof. I slipped out of bed to fix breakfast. In a few minutes, Fancy walked in the kitchen, wearing a freshly ironed blue dress. “Morning,” I said. I set the food on the table.

She came behind me and coiled her arms around my waist. “I'm scared.”

“You'll handle whatever you need to, Fancy, just like you told me when Grandma died.” I pulled out a chair for her. “Try to eat something.” We pushed food around on the plates until I got up. “Wait here.”

I came back with the money wrapped in a paper sack. I opened it and showed her. “This is so you can get on your feet. You keep some in your pocket, but the rest you hide.”

“How much is it, Junebug?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

Her hand went to her mouth. “I'm not taking all that. What will you live on without money coming in?”

I wanted to tell Fancy what I'd done. Maybe someday I would. “It's my share plus yours. I ain't going to starve.” I faked a grin. “Besides, if you make it big in New York, you can lend me some.”

She came around the table, gripped my neck, and laid her face against my head. “Junebug, you're the best man I'll ever know.”

I closed my eyes, ashamed.

The loneliest steps I'd ever walked was carrying her bag to the truck. Daylight forced its way through the heavy clouds, but it didn't stop the rain. The only sound on the ride to Durham was the slapping of windshield wipers. They sounded like a sad heartbeat. “Expect you'll have some wondrous things to see in New York.”

“I won't know how to act around big-city folks.” She pushed on her dress, drying her hands over and over. “What if I can't find a job?”

I reached across the suitcase to calm her bouncing knee. “You're a good person, Fancy. Folks will see that right off.” She pulled my hand up and kissed the back of it.

The bus station was big and square, framed in dirty red brick. A streetlight on the corner was still burning because of the dark morning. Large glass panes across the front of the building had the blinds open to get what little light there was. The stink of diesel from the large buses was strong as they pulled onto the street, headed for some far-off place. My forearm dangled over the steering wheel. I laid my head against it, talking to the horn. “I can't go in with you, Fancy. I don't think I can watch you leave.” I reached out and ran my fingers over her face, touching like a blind man.

“I'll always love you, Junebug, no matter what.” She kissed me on the cheek, grabbed her suitcase, and pushed open the door. “You take care of yourself.” She ran up the steps to the glass doors. I waited, but she didn't come back.

C
HAPTER
43

I
t was the middle of January when a not very long letter came from Fancy.

Reading her words made my heart hurt. The paper smelled flowery, and that night I stuck it under my pillow. From then on, I got a letter about every other week to let me know how things were going, and I tried to send one right back.

* * *

The time to kill hogs came and went, but I'd had enough killing to last me a lifetime. If I wanted some meat, I'd buy it. When the weather warmed, farming work kept me busy most days. But a lot of the time, I sat on the porch staring into space, smoking and thinking about Fancy. They were some awful lonesome times. Once in a while Roy and Clemmy would walk down, and Clemmy would bring enough supper for all of us. We would sit on the porch and talk for an hour or two. They were a real comfort. Roy said Mr. Wilson had calmed down once he found out Fancy had moved to New York. Clemmy called Mr. Wilson a fat piece of shit, and we got a good laugh. Roy wondered why he hadn't heard from Lightning.

I got a letter in April from Fancy.

She wasn't coming back; I could read the pleasure of living on her own. The first week of July, I got a late birthday card. It had a big heart on it and was signed “
Happy eighteen. Wish you were here. I love you, Fancy.
” It felt as if she was getting farther and farther away.

Two mornings later I did my chores and headed to Durham, thinking I might try to find a job of some sort. I went to both of the big tobacco factories, Liggett-Myers and Lucky Strike, and filled out applications. They weren't hiring at the time but said they'd be in touch if something changed. Maybe I should have stayed in school like Grandma wanted. I sat waiting on a red light when my eye caught a blue and white sign on a corner building, M
ILITARY
R
ECRUITING
O
FFICE.
There was a big poster in the window, U
NCLE
S
AM
W
ANTS
Y
OU
! He was pointing his finger right at me. I had plenty of time to kill, so I pulled into a parking space at the curb in front, curious to see what the military was about. Inside was a long hallway and tables covered with magazines and pamphlets on the marines, army, navy, and air force. I picked out a few to take home.

A big man dressed in a tan uniform with red stripes on the sleeves stepped out of a nearby office. The sign over the door read U
NITED
S
TATES
M
ARINE
C
ORPS.
“Can I help you, young fellow?”

“Reckon not, just looking.”

He motioned with his arm. “Come on in and let's sit down a minute.” He seemed friendly enough. The room was spare, with bright white walls and no leather chairs like Lawyer Stern's. He stretched out his hand. “Sergeant Howard.”

“Raeford Hurley.” It was like sticking my hand inside a ham. No use getting familiar with him by using my nickname. I studied the mountain of ribbons on his chest. He was a good cut of a man, strong cheekbones set high over a square jaw, broad across the shoulders, close-shaved, and had a clean smell about him.

“You live in Durham, Raeford?”

Sergeant Howard made me nervous. “Chatham County, near Apex.” I felt a need to sit up straight.

“Live with your momma and daddy?”

“I stay by myself. All my folks are dead.”

Sergeant Howard's eyebrows arched in surprise. “How come you to be living alone at your age?” He leaned forward when he talked, his dirt-brown eyes laying right into mine, like he expected an answer anytime he asked a question. I was sorta scared not to answer, and ended up telling him all about my family.

“You've had some troubles, that's for sure.” His tone became friendlier. “I was freezing my ass off in Korea when I was your age. Intended to go home after that, but wasn't a lot to go home to, and I figured I was happier in the marine corps than I would be working some nine-to-five dead-end job.”

I asked and he answered my questions about what war was like. He said no soldier liked killing other people but that was the job, and you had to be better at it than the other guy who was trying to kill you. Before I realized it, an hour had passed. “I got to get going, Sergeant Howard.”

He walked me to the door. “If you want to talk some more, I'll be right here. We'd like to have you in our family if you think you might want to join up. From the way things sound, could do you some good.”

“Appreciate it. Just might come back to see you,” I said, not really believing I would.

On the ride home, I played around with a picture of myself in a marine uniform. At home I threw away the other magazines and read the marines ones from cover to cover. Late that afternoon, I walked down to the edge of the woods and sat. “Grandma, I feel like I'm truly lost right now. You said in the hospital that sometimes we got to take some new reins and head in a different direction. I believe it's time for me to do that. Hope you think it's all right.”

Two days later, I was back in the recruiting office. Sergeant Howard and I got down to talking seriously about joining the marine corps. I had some questions. “How long is the boot camp?”

“Sixteen weeks, and I'll tell you right now, it'll be the hardest thing you've ever done for the first fifteen, and the greatest feeling of accomplishment you'll ever have in the sixteenth.”

“You know I didn't graduate high school.”

“Me either, but the marine corps taught me more than I could have ever learned in a book. You'll do fine; you've had a tough life and the corps will give you a family you'll have forever.” Sergeant Howard had a way that made a person think he couldn't fail.

I stood up and shook hands with him. “I'll be back the first of August. That'll give me time to settle my affairs with the farm.”

“You're making a good decision, Raeford.”

I grinned like I'd been keeping a secret. “People call me Junebug.”

Sergeant Howard squeezed my hand hard. “You keep it, but I prefer Raeford.”

The first thing I did was write to Fancy.

I went to visit Lawyer Stern and took a bag filled with all but two hundred dollars of my money. We talked about what I was intending to do. “They won't need to make a man out of you, Raeford, because you already are one. But it'll do you good to understand how the rest of the world lives.”

“Yessir. It feels like time for me to take another path in my life. There's got to be more out there than what I've been living.” He walked down to the bank with me to open a savings account.

The man at the bank counted out the money in the bag, and his desktop was full when he finished. “Where did all this cash come from, Mr. Hurley?” He looked at Mr. Stern.

“My grandma, granddaddy, and the ones before them saved up and buried it around the house. No disrespect, but Granddaddy used to say ‘keep skunks and bankers at a distance'.”

He laughed. On the banker's suggestion, I gave Lawyer Stern power of attorney so he would be able to get to the cash if need be.

We went back to Mr. Stern's office. “What about the farm, Raeford? You're eighteen now and can do whatever you want.”

“I don't have any inclination to sell it. I agreed with Mr. Jackson to rent him the tobacco acreage, and told him to bring the money to you after he sold his crops. He promised me he would, and I had him sign this paper.” I handed the envelope to Mr. Stern. “I'll make sure to write so you know where I'm at, and when it's time for taxes and such, you can draw out what you need to pay them, including your charges.”

He stood up. “Good luck, Raeford. Take care of yourself. I'm proud of you for serving our country.” He never had taken to calling me Junebug.

At home I walked around, wondering what the hell was keeping me here until August. The next afternoon I went to Sergeant Howard's office and signed the papers to enlist for three years. He told me to be in Raleigh the following Monday to have the physical and take the oath.

It galled me, but I went to see Mr. Wilson to tell him I was leaving and wanted to sell off the animals. He acted surprised about my decision, but I got the feeling he was relieved. “What about your truck?” he asked.

“Giving it to Roy.” I walked out the door.

I stopped a few minutes at Roy and Clemmy's, told them my intentions, and let Roy know I was going to give him the truck. They were tickled to death about having a vehicle. “Clemmy, you and Roy and Fancy are the only family I got now. I want you to know how much I appreciate what you mean to me. If for any reason Mr. Wilson were to make you move, my house is there and you're welcome to live in it.”

Roy got a little overcome, and turned his head. “I always said you was a good man, Junebug.”

“And if anything was to happen to me, you get in touch with Lawyer Stern in Apex.” They didn't need to know why.

That night I put extra ears of corn in Sally Mule's box. “Guess I'm going to be leaving you, girl.” She batted the long lashes over her big, sorrowful-looking brown eyes. Gray was beginning to color her muzzle. “You've been a good friend. I wish I could just turn you out to pasture and let you loaf the rest of your life. If the bastard mistreats you, kick him in the nuts.” I hugged her and gave her neck a good long rub. She bobbed her head up and down the side of my face. The next morning when Mr. Wilson and Roy came to get her, she watched me as they tied her to the truck.

On Sunday, I put all the tools in the feed barn to be out of the weather, cut off the propane, cleaned and unplugged the refrigerator. I went to the chicken house and opened the gate. “Watch out for the foxes, and run like hell.” I clapped my hands to scatter them into the woods.

Monday morning I walked around in the yard, trying to plant every memory in my head, feeling like it might be a long time before I saw the place again. I pictured past days, the faces of Grandma and Granddaddy and my parents. I walked down by the well, and imagined my childhood friend's body in that deep, dark hole, remembering the fact that he and Fancy had taken me as a friend when I needed one the worst. I paid him back by not even giving him a decent burial.

I stood staring at a long sky, remembering the other secret I kept. I wasn't really sorry about killing Lightning or Twin. It was a dark place that I'd tried hard to ignore. I thought about the dream of God and the devil, and the devil screaming he was the God of Truth.

Roy pulled up right on time. “You sure you're ready for this, Junebug?” He put his arm across my shoulders. “You can change your mind, you know.”

“It feels like the right thing to do, Roy.” After an hour's drive and a couple of wrong turns, we found the three-story stone building in Raleigh. I grabbed the paper sack that had clean underwear, a razor, and a toothbrush, remembering what Fancy had said about not having much to show for a life.