Chapter Fifty-Two

JUNE 1948

Sunday morning the remains of the barn still smoldered. Everything outside and inside Garden’s Gate smelled of smoke. Ash and a layer of grime blanketed everything. Thankfully, neighbors had cleared the back garden of the sawhorse tables and cleaned up as best they could. All the rest would take time.

Celia and Joe prayed and waited shoulder to shoulder by the phone for Doctor Vishnevsky’s call. He’d promised that first thing this morning he would phone the medical center where Kenny was being treated and the hospital where Marshall fought for his life.

It was all Celia could do to keep Joe from walking to Winston-Salem. If the train had been running that day, he’d have been on it.

Just after eight the phone rang. Joe pounced on it. Celia pulled the receiver between them so they could both hear.

“Joe? Marshall is still breathing, so that is good. I feared respiratory failure from what the doctor said last night. Respiratory signs fluctuate, better this morning than last night. There is concern for sepsis. The burns are bad —more than 40 percent of his body . . . but this you know. They’re watching him carefully for risk of infection. His legs —so much scar tissue, and deep, to the bone, in addition to the break. Nerve and muscle damage.”

“Will he walk?” Joe’s breath caught.

“Surgery will be required . . . There are no promises, no guarantees.”

Celia heard the doc’s voice catch. She felt the tightening of Joe’s jaw beside her cheek. Tears streaming down her face were only half her own.

“There is one more thing.”

“What more?” Joe choked the words.

“It is not known if he can see. There are bandages covering his eyes now, but . . . time must tell.”

Celia couldn’t bring herself to answer. Joe said nothing.

“I will drive to the hospital as soon as I’ve delivered Mrs. Brown’s baby. You may come with me if you wish, but they will not allow you to see him. Only family, and me, because I am his doctor. I am sorry.”

Celia wrapped her palm over Joe’s death grip on the receiver. She needed to break the horror of the moment. “Kenny?”

“Kenny will be fine. Marshall kept the fire from his face when he pressed the boy against his chest. He could not cover his own eyes and do so. The boy’s arm is broken but will heal. One burn on his hand that may scar; that is all. It will not need a skin graft. He’s already been released.”

“That’s something.” Celia swallowed.

“It is what our Marshall sacrificed himself for.”

Joe turned away without answering, dropped the receiver, walked through the door and onto the front porch.

“Thank you, Doc. You’ll let us know whatever more you learn?” Celia needed to take charge.

“Yes, I will telephone tonight.”

The phone clicked. Celia replaced the receiver, her heart aching. She feared for Marshall, and she feared for Joe. She loved Marshall as her friend, but Joe loved him as his brother. Celia knew what losing Chester would mean to her —unspeakable, unthinkable.

She stepped through the door, gently closing the screen behind her. She wouldn’t startle Joe, wouldn’t expect anything from him, but she ached to throw her arms about him, to comfort him, tell him it was all going to be okay, even though it wasn’t. “Joe?” She laid her hand on his back.

He didn’t turn, just stood, staring out into the garden, his arm wrapped around one of the columns. “He made it through the war and Army bureaucracy. His wife was killed. He made it through medical school, his internship set. At last Violet’s coming. He’s worked these last years to make that happen. And after all that . . . I don’t understand.”

Celia didn’t understand either. But her attention was diverted when she heard the gate by the road open. Ruby Lynne Wishon. Kenny’s mother is the last person Joe needs to see now. If she could have steered Joe inside, she would have. But it wasn’t Ruby Lynne’s fault, or even Kenny’s, and Celia had seen how worried Ruby Lynne was last night for her son. “Ruby Lynne,” Celia acknowledged.

“Morning, Celia, Dr. Rossetti.” Ruby Lynne looked about as tense as a cat strung out on a clothesline.

Joe straightened. “Good morning, Ruby Lynne. How’s Kenny this morning?”

“Sleeping now, with Daddy. Kenny’s fine —besides the broken arm and a couple of burns, but he’ll be fine.”

“Thanks to Marshall —to Dr. Raymond.” Joe underlined the doctor part.

“He saved Kenny’s life. I didn’t realize until after you’d all left the clinic last night that they wouldn’t admit him. How is he? Where is he?”

“Winston-Salem —the closest place that would take him as far as we know. Holding on, barely. We don’t know if he’ll pull through.” Joe’s voice broke, though Celia knew he did his best to keep it steady.

Tears sprang into Ruby Lynne’s eyes. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“We’re all sorry, Ruby Lynne.” Celia had to say it. “It wasn’t your fault, or Kenny’s. It’s that stupid refusal to treat coloreds.”

“But it was —at least partly.” Ruby Lynne bit her lower lip, as if trying to keep the words from spilling out.

“What do you mean?” She had all of Joe’s attention now.

“Can I —may I sit down?” The color had drained from Ruby Lynne’s face, making each freckle stand out like soot speckles on snow.

Celia pulled a rocker forward and Ruby Lynne mounted the steps. “Sit down, Joe,” Celia ordered. If Ruby Lynne had something important to say, something so hard to get out, she didn’t need Joe standing over her, arms crossed, like a tribunal judge.

Ruby Lynne sat on the edge of the rocker, closed her eyes a moment, and drew a deep breath. “I asked Kenny how the fire started. He wouldn’t tell me, not at first. But finally, it came out that he and Billy had sneaked a flask of Daddy’s moonshine from underneath the seat of the truck. They climbed up into the loft of the barn and took turns drinking, then . . .”

“Then what?” Joe pushed.

“Then decided they wanted to see it light up. Billy’d heard his daddy say that moonshine could light up a room like twenty lanterns —or something like that. So they snuck matches from your kitchen, ran back up to the loft, poured some in a pot they found, and set it afire.”

“They set the whole barn on fire!” Celia couldn’t believe it. Moonshine burned the barn!

“They’re kids —they didn’t know what they were doing.” Ruby Lynne wrung her hands in knots.

“You think that excuses them?” Joe was angry now and Celia couldn’t blame him. Such loss of life and lifelong dreams, whether Marshall survives or not . . . such utter destruction of property! That barn was only rebuilt a few years ago, after the Klan, led by the Wishon brothers, burned it down. The apple must not fall far from the tree.

“No, I don’t —not at all, but it explains what happened, and who’s responsible.” Ruby Lynne met Joe’s glare full on. “I’ve talked with Daddy about covering Marshall’s medical bills, whatever he needs now and whatever he needs to recover.”

“That means surgery, surely skin grafts, rehabilitation. He might never see again. This could run not hundreds but thousands of dollars.” Joe spared nothing.

“Did he agree to that?” Celia couldn’t believe it.

“Not yet, but I hope he will.”

Joe’s knuckles whitened in his fists. He looked away.

Celia wasn’t about to look away. “Maybe he needs some persuasion.”

“I’ll try, but you know Daddy.”

“We all do. Maybe you need to target what matters most to him. Maybe Kenny needs to know just what sort of man his grandfather really is, and the man his father was —who his father was. How would Rhoan like it if we told Kenny that his grandfather and daddy tried to murder the man who saved his life, that they were the ones to burn down Miss Lill’s barn the first time?”

“Celia!” Joe’s face showed horror.

Ruby Lynne paled. “No, Celia, please. I’ve only ever told Kenny that his daddy died in the war. He knows nothing about Troy or any of that.”

“It’s high time Rhoan paid for what his family did. What matters more to him than Kenny idolizing him?”

“That would ruin Kenny’s relationship with his granddaddy and make me out to be a liar, Celia. I’m all he has. You can’t do that, not ever. Please!”

Celia caught hold of herself. She knew that was true. She didn’t want to hurt Ruby Lynne or Kenny, but she wanted to lash out at somebody, make somebody pay for Marshall’s troubles and the injustice of it all. But it was the look of disappointment and disbelief from Joe that stopped her in her tracks.

“I came because I want to know more about what you were saying before the fire . . . about the land Miss Lill said properly belongs to the Tates.”

Celia blinked. She looked at Joe, who’d uncrossed his arms.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll go to Miss Lill. I want to know everything, see every document. Start from the beginning.”

So Celia told her, everything, from the beginning —what she’d seen and read on her own, and what she’d gleaned from the diary of Minnie Belvidere.

The story took nearly an hour. By the time Celia had finished answering Ruby Lynne’s questions she was drained, depleted, but Ruby Lynne looked inspired.

“What are you going to do about it?” Joe wanted to know. “What can you do?”

“I need to talk to Daddy first.”

“Olney Tate’s afraid for us to bring this out in the open. He’s afraid because of what happened to his daddy when he tried to buy the land, and what nearly happened to him and Marshall when —” Celia stopped. “I can’t see how you’ll convince your daddy to sell that land back. He was determined.”

“I can’t promise, but I’ll do my best.”

Joe cut to the chase. “The land return is important, but it won’t make Marshall walk again, see again, become the doctor or father he’s worked to be.”

“No. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that we can’t undo what’s done. But there might be a way forward.” She looked at Celia. “Without hurting anyone.”

“Absolutely,” Joe agreed, “but —”

“Then that’s where we need to start.” Ruby Lynne stood, as if everything was settled, which made Celia feel as if she’d missed something. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do. I’ll see you later.” And Ruby Lynne was gone.

Joe stepped off the porch, not looking back.

“Joe?”

“Not now, Celia.” He stopped, then turned again. “You know, I thought I knew you inside and out, but you’ve just proved me wrong. Marshall would never hurt Ruby Lynne, and you just threatened to ruin her life and Kenny’s in one fell swoop.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I just —”

“Once you start an avalanche like that there’s no going back. No amount of ‘I’m sorry’ fixes it. And it’s none of your business!” The fury and disappointment in Joe’s eyes, just before he stormed off, left Celia speechless.