His eyes didn’t close. Still open, they stared at me, not blinking. His head was on the floor, his body slumped over. The gun he’d held to his own head still in his busted-up hand.
I glared back at him, looking right into those cornflower-blue eyes.
“Shut your eyes,” Daddy said, pulling my face into his stomach. “You don’t need to see that.”
He lifted me, holding my head so my eyes couldn’t see Eddie’s body. Daddy’s boots clomped on the steps up and out of the cellar.
“Take her,” he said. “Pearlie, you’re going to go with Millard, just for a minute.”
He passed me off, and Millard’s arms were gentle and so warm. Daddy slammed the cellar doors and stood, staring at them.
“It sure is good to see you,” Millard said touching my chin to get me to look at him. “You cold, darlin’?”
His words didn’t make sense to me. Nothing did, really. Not the fading sunlight or the breeze on my face. It felt as if I was on a different planet altogether. I couldn’t even figure out who I really was.
Millard lowered me to the ground. Knocking together, my knees struggled to keep hold under the weight of my body. He unbuttoned his flannel shirt, showing the white cotton of his undershirt. It was warm as a hug when he draped it over my shoulders.
“Better?” he asked.
“I gotta get her home.” Daddy rubbed his forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt on his skin.
“What about him?” Millard asked, concentrating on buttoning me into his shirt.
“We don’t have to worry about him going anywhere.” Daddy reached for me. “Let’s get her home.”
Daddy carried me, walking across the old field. When he stumbled a few times, Millard steadied both of us, putting a hand on my back.
From the middle of the field, I could see the sharecropper cabins. The few folks that still made their homes there stepped onto porches, watching us pass. Not a one said a word or moved toward us. All they did was stand and stare.
I was glad nobody asked what had happened. I didn’t know myself.
Leaning my head against Daddy’s shoulder, I wished I could sleep for as long as it would take to forget all that had happened. Already, I was numb. It would have been a mercy to sleep the memory away.
Mrs. Jones and Ray stood on the porch of their dugout, a lantern between them. The glow of it shone all the way to me. Ray took off running toward us. Daddy stopped, and Ray stood beside us, his chin shaking.
“You okay?” he asked.
There wasn’t a good answer to give him, so I didn’t say anything at all. The way he nodded told me he understood.
“Come on, Ray,” Daddy said. “Let’s get her back to her mama.”
Mama. I’d never wanted her more than right then.
Daddy held me close. Millard kept a hand on my back. Ray held my hand.
Eddie DuPre still held my fear.
Mama had to cut the nightie off me, the blood had made it stiff and the buttons dried to the fabric. She had me in the warm water of our tub in no time. I sat in it, letting her scrub my skin clean, until the water turned cold.
I only knew it had cooled because she told me.
Mama hummed as she dabbed me dry with a towel and helped me into a fresh nightgown. Holding me by the arm, she led me to my room and helped me into bed.
“Go on and rest a bit,” she whispered. “I’ll fix you something to eat when you wake up.”
Cool sheet under me and one above chilled my still damp skin. Goose pimples bumped on my arms and legs and my body shivered. Mama piled another blanket on top of me and another folded up and across my legs.
I fell asleep, her hand in mine.
The bullet tore through Winnie, dropping her in a slow fall. Her body spun to one side as she fell, her arms hanging in the air above her. Just like a ballerina, she spun so graceful. Her crushing weight landed on my legs, pushing them deeper and deeper into the dust floor below me, making me sink into a grave beneath her.
When I woke, I was screaming and kicking at the blankets, tearing at the sheets.
“I’m here,” Daddy called to me, his voice coming from next to my bed. He sat up and reached for me, holding me until I calmed. “It’s okay.”
“Winnie …”
“I know.”
The whole night was full of fitful sleep and bloody dreams and Eddie’s voice saying, “You’ll never get away from me.”
The next night was more of the same.
It got where I fought sleep with all my might.
Daddy slept on the floor next to my bed every night. Beanie was set up in Meemaw’s old room. As for Mama, she went between all three of us, checking to be sure we were all okay. I swore she didn’t sleep for weeks.
Nights when I’d scream my way out of a nightmare, Daddy would hold me.
“It’s over now,” he’d whisper. “He can’t hurt us anymore.”
He was wrong. Eddie went on hurting me over and over again, whenever I shut my eyes.
Dreams were where Eddie’s ghost lived.