On the way back to Cherokee Crossing, the sky had grown darker and the oppressive heat and humidity signaled another storm brewing in the distance. By the time Hick pulled into the driveway, it was nearing dinner time and the house was a welcome sight after the long drive, the talk with Father Grant, and the confrontation with Brewster. Hick unlocked the kitchen door and was nearly undone with relief at seeing Maggie sitting at the table feeding Jimmy. It was so right. So normal. A man coming home to his wife and child, finding comfort in the joy of being loved … of just being home. He bent and kisssed the top of her head, but she didn’t move or look at him.
“What’s wrong?”
Maggie nodded toward the table. On it sat the United Auto Workers pamphlet. “Why do you have that, Hickory?”
Hick felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Tobe gave it to me.”
“But why do you have it? I can tell you’ve been reading it. Why?”
Hick sat the fat accordion file down and picked up the pamphlet. “Tobe said I should read it. And think about it. Said they need workers up in St. Louis at Chevrolet.”
Maggie stared up at him. “And you were considering this without discussing it with me?”
“I hadn’t gotten that far in my thinking.”
“And my opinion … that doesn’t matter? That doesn’t figure in your thinking? That wouldn’t have any weight in your decision?”
“Of course it would. If I thought it was a good opportunity, I would have talked with you.”
“What about what I think?” Maggie put the bottle down and rose from the chair, unconsciously swaying where she stood. She placed Jimmy on her shoulders and patted his back. “Hickory, you don’t talk to me … at all. About anything. How can I trust that you wouldn’t just tell me one morning, ‘We’re going.’?” A small burp escaped the baby, and she placed him in the playpen, handed him a toy, then straightened up and looked Hick in the face. “I know there are things inside you that you can’t put into words. Hurts, insecurities, fears … terrible things you have seen … I don’t expect you to open all the darkness in your heart to me. I accept that and respect that there is part of you that you can never give to me. But, Hickory, when it comes to us, to our home and our family, you have to open up. I will never intrude upon your soul, but you can’t lock me out of decisions that affect us all.”
“I wouldn’t lock—” Hick began, but Maggie interrupted.
“And by us all, Hickory, I mean all of us. You, me, Jimmy, my mother, your mother. We have responsibilities here. Your mom isn’t doing all that well. Now isn’t the time to run out on her.”
“My mom? What do you mean?”
Maggie stared at him. “Hickory, how can you not have noticed? She repeats herself, she forgets things. You haven’t seen this?”
“I know mom’s not as sharp as she used to be, but she’s just getting older.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than that. Your sister and I have been talking about this for months. There’s something more. You can’t stay so wrapped up in work that you miss what’s going on in your own family.”
Hick sat wearily at the table. Had it been less than a week ago that Jake Prescott said the same thing to him? And yet, it seemed like an eternity. “You’re right, Mag. I’m sorry.”
Maggie held up the pamphlet. “What possessed you to consider this?”
“Don’t you ever get tired of it all?” he said. “Tired of the politics and the Murphys and the gossip? Wouldn’t it just be nice to be someplace where everyone doesn’t know everything about you?”
She put her hands on his shoulder and rubbed his back. “I know this town hasn’t been all that good to you. But there will always be bastards, wherever you go.”
Maggie wasn’t one to swear, and Hick couldn’t help but smile up at her. He saw her eyes light on the accordion file folder. “Looks like you’re planning to work tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“I know, but this—”
“I know.” She brought him a cup of coffee and sat down across from him. “Your dinner’s in the oven. I’m going to take Jimmy to visit my mother. We’ll get out of your way so you can get something done. I want you to find who really killed Gladys and why. And to help Eben and Jed. But more than that, I want you to know I believe in you.” She rose to leave, but he grabbed her hand.
“Mag …”
She ran her thumb across the back of his hand and was quiet for a moment. “I know.” She gave him a squeeze and stood. “I want to get over there before this storm hits, but I’ll be back before too late.”
He watched her pack a diaper bag and pick up Jimmy. “I’ll be here,” he promised.
The quiet settled around him after Maggie left. It was a much different house than the one he knew before getting married. Then, there had been clutter and grime and overflowing ashtrays. Now there was clutter of another sort—Jimmy’s toys and Maggie’s knitting, a pale pink nightgown hanging on the back of the bedroom door, photos and knickknacks that seemed to appear from nowhere. But despite all that, the house was neat and cheerful. He had moved to this small house at the edge of town right after the war in order to escape the fact that his father was no longer at home. The death of James Blackburn while Hick was away caused the old house to seem like foreign land and Hick could no longer stand being there. How did his mom cope? Surrounded by memory. Did she feel the strangeness of the place or had she grown accustomed to his father’s absence? He thought about what Maggie had said. Was there something seriously wrong with his mom or were Pam and Maggie imagining things?
He rubbed his eyes, shook himself, and turned his attention to the folder in front of him.
Name: Abner Delaney, Age: 33 years, Nativity: Mississippi County, Arkansas, Conviction: Murder in the First Degree, Sentence: Death
Hick stared at the first page of the file. It seemed so sterile on paper, “Sentence: Death.” And yet those cold words had changed the lives of all the Delaneys. The repercussions were well-known. Because her superstitious clientele was unlikely to cross a murdered spirit, Pearl Delaney lost the income she’d made from selling herbs and concoctions that were thought to cure a number of illnesses from constipation to consumption. Eben was four and Jed was three when their father was executed and they had never set foot in a schoolroom. As soon as they were able, they chopped firewood in the winter and picked cotton in the summer to make ends meet. They hunted, trapped, and fished. They grew up on the margins of civilization, doing what it took to survive and stay out of the poor house. The twins, Mourning and Job, were born while Abner was in prison. He never saw them.
Eben and Jed had been there for their mother. In spite of their youth they had stepped up and provided for the family. Matt Pringle vouched for the boys, and Hick knew he wasn’t the only one to give them a good character reference. Lem Coleman had employed them every summer to chop the incessant weeds in his cotton fields. A twinge of guilt stabbed at him. Had he been a good son? Had he watched his mother fade without giving it a second thought?
He noticed when he came home from the war that she had lost interest in things she’d previously enjoyed. She still went to church, but was seldom out of the house other than Sunday. She let Pam get her groceries and rarely dressed in anything but a house coat. He had told himself she was just getting old. Was there more to it? He took another drink of coffee and pulled more papers out of the file.
Why would Abner Delaney kill Susie Wheeler? She was found fully clothed with no evidence of sexual assault, so it was not a crime of passion. Susie lived in town, Abner in the backwoods. They had probably never even met. Susie had no money and no money was found on Abner or any place in his cabin. What was his motive?
Hick quickly thumbed through the file and found scrawled notes on the trial. Although Father Grant hadn’t been there, he had checked enough to know there had been problems.
It appears Abner Delaney’s state appointed defense attorney is typical of those appointed to the indigent. Mr. Robert Dooley appears to have been intoxicated for much of the trial. He never cross examined a witness and never offered a defense. It seems Mr. Delaney’s conviction was assured the day he was forced to admit he could not afford a lawyer.
Hick recalled Pearl Delaney telling him the same thing in her cabin and he thought of Wash’s words at the station. It was clear Abner had received a raw deal. If he hadn’t killed Susie, the state had executed an innocent man, a man whose only crime was being poor. And whose family had sunk even further into poverty after his death. But, if not Abner, who killed Susie Wheeler and what possible connection could there be between two crimes that were fourteen years apart? Hick took another gulp of coffee and stared at the heap of scrawled papers on the table. His shoulders slumped as he ran his hand across his chin. His mother had looked so tired at Gladys’s funeral. She insisted she was okay, had repeated it over and over. But was she?
“Shit.” He pushed the file away and stood up. Maggie’s aim had hit its mark. He grabbed his raincoat, closed the door behind him, and headed toward his childhood home.
Maggie had taken the car, but the walk to his mother’s house was short. The cotton fields across the road were beginning to bloom, the huge purple flowers searching for sun. Thunder cracked in the distance and tendrils of lightning unfolded across the distant sky. Hick hurried up the porch steps.
He opened the front door and called inside, “Ma?”
“I’m in here,” she called from the kitchen.
Hick found her, as usual, dressed in an old house dress. She was peering out the window at the clouds. “Looks like another storm,” she said with a note of fear.
“It’s been one of those summers.”
“Yes,” she said a little dreamily. Then, as if finally realizing he was there she asked, “Have you had your dinner? Would you like some coffee?”
“I’m fine, Ma. Sit down.”
She poured two cups and brought them to the table. “Would you like some cream?” she asked.
“Sure. That’d be nice.”
She walked across the kitchen and paused in front of the ice box. She turned back to Hick and then opened the door, bringing out the pitcher of cream.
She sat down and raised her cup to her lips when a loud crash of thunder caused her to jump, spilling a little of the coffee onto the table. “My goodness,” she laughed. “That startled me.”
Hick watched her take a napkin and wipe up the coffee. She continued to wipe the table long after the coffee was gone.
“Where’s Mrs. Shelley and the girls?” Hick asked.
His mother seemed confused for a moment and then answered, “Oh, George came by and picked them up this morning. Said he was lonesome.” She smiled. “It was nice having them here. Such nice girls.”
“I guess they kept you pretty busy.”
“Oh, no.” She waved his concern away. “The girls were barely here. They had a lot of visiting to do. Elizabeth was a help, though. She bought groceries and did a little light housekeeping for me.”
A crack of lightning followed by the deep boom of thunder rattled the window frames. The rain fell suddenly, in heavy gray sheets. “Glad I made it before it started.” Hick rose from the table and moved around the house closing windows. He heard his mother clear the coffee cups and run water in the sink, busying herself with the dishes. He opened the door to his room. It was the same as the day he’d left for the war. Just as Pam’s was the same as the day she left to become Adam’s wife. Two eternal shrines their mother could never dismantle.
From his bedroom window he could see his car next door at Maggie’s old house and knew her visit there would outlast the storm. He pulled open the bottom drawer in his desk and smiled. His flashlight was still there. He picked it up and turned it on. Nothing. Unscrewing the end, he tipped it upside down. No batteries. He remembered waiting each night at bedtime for the signal. Three blinks always meant, “I love you, good night.” How had it been possible that Magdalene Benson, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, loved him and wanted him to know it? He still marveled at the very idea of it.
Restlessly, he wandered about the house, waiting for the storm to cease. He paused at the door to his father’s study. As a child it was never good to be called into that room and, luckily, he had spent little time there. He walked inside expecting to find it untouched like the bedrooms. Instead, there were papers strewn over the desk and drawers hanging open.
“Ma?”
“Yes, Andrew?”
“Come here.”
He heard the water turn off in the kitchen and listened to her shuffle through the house.
She stood in the doorway as if afraid to tread on hallowed ground.
“Have you been in here?” Hick asked in some surprise.
“Oh, no. Your father woudn’t like it.”
He stared for a moment. “Why is it such a mess?”
She entered the room and looked at the mess as if seeing it for the first time. Suddenly a light went on in her eyes. “Gladys left it like this.”
“Wait, Gladys was here?” Stunned, Hick searched his mother’s face. Had she just remembered?
“Oh, yes,” she said. “She was here just the other day. Said she needed to look for something.”
Hick was so shocked he couldn’t think. “Ma, you didn’t think you should tell me that?”
His mother’s lips pursed and her brow drew together, the perfect picture of concentration.
“Did she find what she was looking for?”
“Oh, no,” she said with certainty.
“How do you know?” Hick asked.
“Because when she left she told me she’d be back. She said if I didn’t mind she wanted to look some more because she thought there might be something important in here.”
“When was this exactly?”
“Oh it was just a few days ago. Just a couple of days before she … ” Her face crumpled. “Oh, she’s dead now. It was just a few days before she was found.” Tears welled in her eyes.
Hick was dumbfounded. The rain was letting up and his mother walked to the front door to peer outside. He stood in the middle of his father’s office and looked around him. Gladys must have been in a hurry, she was never one to leave things in a mess. “Ma, about what time was Gladys here?” he called.
Elsie appeared in the doorway. “It was early. I wasn’t dressed.”
Hick glanced at his mother’s house dress, but said nothing. “You’re sure it was early.”
“Yes, Andrew. She got me out of bed.”
“Did she tell you where she was going?”
“No. She said she’d just come from the school and she sat with me while I made coffee. But it wasn’t like old times. She seemed jumpy and then asked to see your father’s office, which was strange.” She glanced in the room and shook her head. “I don’t remember Gladys leaving it like this, but that’s okay. She’s family. I got no call to keep her out of there. She can look in there any time she likes, you tell her so.”
Hick looked into his mother’s eyes, the same blue eyes that had held the pain of a mother who had watched one son draw his last breath, and another march to war. She had watched cancer consume her husband and had witnessed all of life’s sorrows and joys. Now those same eyes were slowly losing the ability to truly see.
He took his mother’s hand and led her to the kitchen. “Can I get you some coffee?” he asked her, gently sitting her at the table.
“I’m okay.” She smoothed her house dress and looked up at him.
He picked up a cup and crossed the room with the coffee pot in his hand. “Would you like some cream?”
She nodded and he opened the ice box and pulled out the pitcher. He sat it on the table beside the cup. “Have you had dinner?”