CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

 

A sprinkle of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar over each layer. That was the secret to making the best sweet potato pie, according to Mrs. Paty. Miss a layer or forget one of those ingredients, and the taste wouldn’t be the same.

Deena repeated the combination over and over, trying not to forget it. She’d gotten it in her head to bake a pie for Asa as a “thank you, I’m sorry, and thinking about you” gift. Although she’d keep that last part to herself when she presented it to him. If she ever presented it to him. Baking required patience and other skills she was learning she didn’t possess.

“Knead the dough, querida. Not beat it.” Mrs. Paty said, coming through the back door into the kitchen.

She placed the basket of laundry she’d just taken down from the line on a counter and came up beside Deena. Mrs. Paty tsked at her rather harsh technique of handling the dough.

“Sorry.” Deena eased the amount of force she used on the gooey lump of flour.

“When a woman handles her baking like that, she’s either angry, hungry, or both. Which is it for you?” Mrs. Paty grinned.

Deena stopped kneading. She leaned both hands on the counter and hung her head. “Scared. I’m really scared.”

“Scared?” Mrs. Paty’s eyebrows knitted together. She hugged Deena tight. “Oh mija, what’s wrong? Tell me how I can help fix it.”

Deena rested her chin on Mrs. Paty’s shoulder, inhaling her soothing lavender scent. When she pulled away, Mrs. Paty gripped both of her flour-covered hands, refusing to break their connection. Deena didn’t mind. She needed it. The strength of someone else nearby, standing with her in the midst of her troubles. She was tired of being alone.

Now she was hopeful she didn’t have to be.

“I made a mistake. A big one. Several, in fact.” She scoffed at the understatement of her stupidity. “And now I don’t know how to fix any of it without hurting Asa.”

“Sometimes the truth hurts, but that doesn’t excuse us from telling it. You’ve made mistakes.” Mrs. Paty shrugged a shoulder. “We all have. Now you have the chance to learn and grow from it. To be a stronger woman.”

Deena shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, mija. Nothing you’ve done is so big that it can’t be forgiven.”

“I’m not Pearl Wilson,” Deena blurted out. “My name is Deena Lyon. I was in a restaurant when I overheard Pearl speaking with Mrs. Crenshaw about Asa and how she couldn’t move out here and marry him for two months. So, I stole some of her letters and decided to take her place. Temporarily, until I could figure out what I wanted to do next.”

Mrs. Paty touched her fingers to the base of her throat. She stared through Deena. “Oh, dear. That is una muy grande lie. Come, let’s sit.”

They walked over to the dining table and sat across from each other. Once they were seated, Mrs. Paty immediately took hold of Deena’s hands again. One day Deena hoped to be able to express how much that small gesture meant to her.

“Why did you do it?”

“Because of this.” Deena reached in her skirt pocket and extracted the piece of paper that had started it all. She pushed it across the table to Mrs. Paty. “I stole it from a criminal named Pete Bloodlow. He hunted me down and caught me afterward, demanding I give it back. I’d probably be dead if a group of strangers hadn’t helped me.”

Mrs. Paty examined the paper. Unlike Mr. Thompson, her eyes didn’t glaze over with greed. Instead, she looked good and terrified.

“Do you know what this is?”

“No. I can’t read.”

“Can’t read? But you took Pearl’s letters.”

“I only know a few words that I’ve memorized. Basic words to help me get around and survive. But not enough to read full sentences or a book.”

“Then how… Wait.” Mrs. Paty took a calming breath. “Tell me your story. Start from the beginning, please.”

“Not much of a story to tell.” Deena extracted her hands from Mrs. Paty’s and wrapped them around her middle. “I ran away from my plantation in Virginia after my sixteenth birthday and headed up north. My old master’s son Mark started taking liberties I never agreed to give. I ended up in New York City. No one would give me a job, not even the factories.

I was another dirty ragamuffin from the South who couldn’t read or write in a horde of people just like me, all wanting the same thing. So, I started stealing to survive. I got real good at it. I watched high-class women and mimicked how they dressed and talked. That helped me blend in, so no one got suspicious when I came around to rob them. Then, I stole from the wrong man and had to run away again to save my life. I saw Pearl show Mrs. Crenshaw the letters Asa had written to her. I stole them and paid someone to read them to me. That’s how I ended up here.”

Mrs. Paty rose from her chair and paced back and forth. “This is a bearer bond.” She held up the paper. “Do you know what that is?”

Deena shook her head. “No.”

“This piece of paper gives the person who holds it the right to claim the amount written on the front.”

“So, I can turn that in for money?”

“Yes. Five thousand dollars, to be exact.”

Deena leaped from her chair, knocking it over, and stumbled backward. “Five thousand dollars!”

No wonder Bloodlow had hunted her down. That was more money than she ever hoped to see in her life. And the missionary had lied to her. But why hadn’t he stolen it from her?

Because she'd said Bloodlow’s name. Clearly, Mr. Thompson recognized who he was. He probably knew as well as she did, there was no way Bloodlow would let someone get away with stealing that much money from him.

“I need to leave. I have to get out of here. Asa and SaraGrace aren’t safe with me here. Bloodlow is going to keep hunting me down until he gets this back.”

“No!” Mrs. Paty rushed over to Deena and grabbed her by the arms. “You will tell Asa the truth.”

“What? No, I can’t. I need to leave.”

“You care for Asa, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, which is why I need to run. I have to protect him from the mess I’ve created.”

Mrs. Paty gently cupped Deena’s cheek. “You ran from Virginia, then ran from New York. It never brought you peace. Stop running, mija. Tell Asa everything. He cares for you too. I can see it in the way he looks at you. Let him help you. The two of you can figure out how to handle this situation together.”

“But he already has so much to deal with. I don’t want to burden him further.”

“Helping the ones we love is never a burden. It is a sacrifice, yes, but never a burden. I wish my George were still alive. I’d do anything he asked of me, no matter how big or small.”

Deena bit the inside of her cheek. She suddenly desperately needed a drink of water to quench her parched throat. Telling Asa was the right thing to do. She couldn’t deny that. What she couldn’t believe was that telling him the truth wouldn’t lead to him seeing her differently. Right now, she was someone he was willing to spend the rest of his life with. Someone he looked out for and protected. If she told him she was a liar and a thief, he wouldn’t want her anymore.

Call her a fool, but Deena didn’t want to be around when he no longer looked at her with admiration and trust. When his words turned bitter and mean. She wanted her memories of their time together to remain unstained by the damage of the hurt and betrayal she’d inflicted.

But that was selfish.

“You’re right, Mrs. Paty. I need to tell Asa the truth. I will tell Asa the truth.”

“I know you will. You are a good woman, Deena. You won’t be able to help doing the right thing in the end.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m only speaking the truth. Now, come on.” Mrs. Paty strolled back to the counter with the forgotten lump of dough. “Let’s finish that pie. Maybe you can use it to get on his good side before you tell him.”

Deena could only hope. At this point, she’d use any trick she could to keep Asa from hating her. If only it truly were as easy as baking him a pie.