Thankfully, both Howard Knight and John were gone by the time Geneva and Howard returned to the farmhouse. The afternoon haze had begun to deepen in anticipation of dusk, and Geneva knew that Rachel had already prepared dinner without her help. Guiltily, she rushed into the kitchen to relieve her sister.
“Sorry, Rachel. I lost track of the time.”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you haven’t thrown yourself off a cliff. I saw everything from the window before you left. I was too chicken to even come out and face everybody myself.” She giggled. “Wayne and John and Howard got into fish stories after they felt they had lied about their guns long enough. What did Howard have to say for himself?”
“Shh. He might hear you.” Geneva tiptoed to the door to peek into the living room. Wayne and Howard were drinking scotch and listening to music while the children played with dolls at Wayne’s feet. She decided it was safe enough to talk about her conversation with Howard.
“Well,” she said, drawing a long breath. “It seems he has decided, in his infinite wisdom, that we should reconcile. He even said he was sorry.”
“Big of him,” sneered Rachel.
“Several times, in fact,” continued Geneva. “He hadn’t come before because he was afraid I would beat him up.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yes. And the Jag’s mine—all mine.”
“Take it. They’re worth a bundle, and you can hock it for some good river bottom land.”
“How long did my ardent admirers stay?” asked Geneva.
“Oh, awhile. Howard—Knight, that is—really likes children, and he played croquet with the girls while Wayne and John put the horses up. Then we sat around and drank sangria and made fun of Howard—Graves. Why do you make things so confusing by getting boyfriends with the same name?”
“Very funny,” said Geneva with a wry face. I think I hear somebody squalling for you.”
“Right,” sighed Rachel. “Here. The salad’s yours. I’ll see if I can’t give them a quick fix and be back soon. By the way, Sally Beth and Lilly are coming for dinner. They’re bringing it, actually. This is just incidentals.”
“Great,” groaned Geneva. Just what she needed. Howard, and now Sally Beth and Lilly. Apart, the two silly sisters would be bad enough: Sally Beth would exclaim over the babies all night and the man-crazy Lilly would throw herself at Howard. But together, they would be intolerable with their constant bickering. She just hoped they both would not find Howard attractive and fight over him. He was just their type, she figured as she sliced tomatoes. Rich and male.
As she had expected, dinner started out miserably and declined from there. True to form, Lilly instantly zeroed in on Howard and began making an enormous fool of herself. Geneva felt the jealousy flare each time she saw her beautiful cousin flip her silky, pale hair off her shapely neck and Howard’s eyes dilate with pleasure.
“So, what do yew do, Howard?” Lilly purred.
“I’m a stock market analyst. You know, I try to figure out what the economy is doing. What companies’ stock are good—that sort of thing.”
“Ooh!” exclaimed Sally Beth, for something like the fifteenth time that evening. Geneva restrained her irritation. “I bet that’s hard! I bet yew have to do a lot of math, don’t yew?”
“Not too much,” smiled Howard. “It’s mostly done by computers now.”
“Computers! Ooh! That’s worse! I tried to use the one down at the school and couldn’t hardly even figure out how to turn it on! I’m just awful at machines!”
Lilly gave her sister a superior smile. “Yew would be, Sally Beth. Yew cain’t do anything that requires a brain.” Sally Beth stiffened. Geneva could see the muscles in her jaw bunch. Turning cozily to Howard, Lilly asserted, “I’ve been using computers down at the store for a long time now. I can do all sorts of things on them.”
“Yew can not,” sniffed Sally Beth. “The store doesn’t even have a computer. Yew jist use a calculator. I can do that!”
Lilly’s smile grew a shade more maternal. “No, really. I do lots of things.” She turned back to Howard. “Inventory and everything,” she said in an intimate voice.
“Yew do not! And I do too have a brain!”
Lilly’s smile hardened a bit, and inwardly Geneva moaned. Here it came. Ten minutes into the meal, and Lilly and Sally Beth were starting their first argument. She rolled her eyes at Rachel, who looked at the ceiling. “What do yew know, Sally Beth? I have been studying computers for some time now.”
“That’s a big, fat lie, and yew know it!” countered Sally Beth, sitting up straighter and glaring at Lilly. “Yew couldn’t use a computer if yer life depended on it. Yew cain’t use machines at all! Yew cain’t even use an ATM machine!”
Lilly tossed her silvery hair. “It’s not an ATM machine. That’s like saying Automatic Teller Machine machine. You’re just repeating yerself. And I can, too.”
“Ah—” Geneva jumped in, hoping to redirect the conversation, “a redundancy in modern idiom. I’ve always heard ATM machine, too!”
Howard spoke up. “Well, there are all kinds of computers—and calculators—and some are harder to use than others. Where do you work, Lilly?”
Lilly settled back into her chair, darting her little eyes once toward Sally Beth, then batting her lashes at Howard. “Down at the Toy Boat,” she replied demurely.
“Toy Boat?” echoed Howard.
“A toy store.”
“Actually, It’s ToyBoatToyBoatToyBoat, but Lilly never can say it. They don’t even let her answer the phone!” interjected Sally Beth.
“I can, too!” snapped Lilly. “It’s not that hard.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hear yew!”
“Sally Beth, yer such a child. I cain’t believe you are acting so stupid in front of Howard and everbody.”
“I’m jist askin’ yew to say one little thing. Toyboatoyboatoyboat. That’s not stupid. Saying yew can when you cain’t is. Why don’t yew just admit you cain’t say it and we’ll move on to another topic of conversation?”
“It really is hard,” interrupted Howard nervously. Wayne, Geneva, and Rachel sat silently. They knew better than to get drawn in to one of Sally Beth’s and Lilly’s arguments, and besides, they could almost be entertaining if one were in the right mood. Better than TV, anyway.
“I certainly don’t think I can say it,” he continued. “Toyboatoyboytoyboyt. How about you, Geneva?”
“Not me,” smiled Geneva demurely. “Rachel?”
“Nope. Makes me feel silly to try.”
“Wayne?”
“Sure. Toy. Boat. Toy. Boat. Toy. Boat.”
“That’s not fair, Wayne,” laughed Rachel. You have to say it fast. Even Lilly can say it slowly.”
Sally Beth giggled. “No she cain’t! She can only say it once!”
“Why don’t yew tell everybody how it took yew three times to pass your cosmetology test, Sally Beth?” said Lilly mildly.
“Well! That was hard!” objected Sally Beth. I had to learn chemistry for that!”
“Yeah, like, ‘What does peroxide do to hair?’”
“I know that!” exclaimed Sally Beth, missing the point. “It bleaches it out and dries it out, and you cain’t put in a perm on top of it!” she shouted triumphantly. Lilly rolled her eyes toward Howard. Howard scratched his nose.
The argument slid from subject to subject, and back in time, until the girls had waxed so historical that no one could fathom the circumstances over which they were airing grievances. Yet, even as they squabbled, somehow Lilly still managed to channel an astounding amount of energy toward Howard. Geneva’s head ached from grinding her teeth, and as the evening wore on, she felt bone weary and desperate for peace and quiet. At last, after dinner was eaten and the dishes washed, she slipped out of the living room to the telephone upstairs.
Secretively, she dialed John’s number. “Hi. Just wanted to let you know I enjoyed myself today,” she whispered into the phone. “Sorry I took off like that. I hope you understand that I felt like I had to go with Howard. The last time we spoke, we were screaming at each other.”
“Yeah. I don’t blame you. Nice car.”
“Yes, well. I sort of like my Mazda. It’s easy to get out of ditches.”
He laughed, then fell silent. “I suppose you still have company?”
“He said he plans on leaving Tuesday.” She hesitated. “But I’d be surprised if he lasts that long. There’s really no reason for him to hang around unless of course he wants to go shoot at road signs with you and Howard. Did you kill very many?”
“Not so many. We were too drunk on moonshine to shoot straight.” They both laughed, then he lowered his voice. “I enjoyed today, too. I don’t know what I’ve thought about more tonight, what nearly happened up on that mountain, or what you were doing with Jim Dandy this evening. It’s been a night of ups and downs.”
Geneva felt a rush of feeling for John. “I guess you’ll leave before I get a chance to see you again?”
“Yes, first thing in the morning. But I’ll be back next Saturday. See you then?”
“Definitely. Have fun.”
“You, too.” There was a pause, then a chuckle. “I don’t mean that. Hope you are miserable.”
“You’re too kind.”
“So everyone tells me. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, John.”
She hung up and tiptoed back to the stairs. Lilly and Sally Beth were making their good-byes, but Sally Beth glanced up at Geneva and suddenly hurried up the steps toward her. She motioned for Geneva to come into a bedroom.
“Geneva, honey! I am so sorry! We acted jist awful tonight, and I cain’t tell you how bad I feel about it.” Her blue eyes swam in unspilled tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I jist let Lilly drive me nuts! She’s always been boy-crazy, but ever since Daddy died, she’s jist gotten to be such a hussy, and she’s about to embarrass mama to death, and I cain’t do a thing with her, and it jist makes me so mad!” Sally Beth stamped her foot in frustration. “Anyway, I try not to git all riled up, but then she starts flirtin’ her head off with whatever man is around, and it was so embarassin’ that she was flirtin’ with yer boyfriend right in front of yew, and I jist lost it!” She glared down the stairs toward Lilly who was giving Howard a particularly warm farewell and shuddered.
Geneva was taken aback. Sally Beth had never apologized for fighting with Lilly before, but then she realized that most of the time, it had been Lilly to initiate—and sustain—an argument. Sally Beth usually treated her sister with nothing worse than that air of condescension that younger sisters find irritating, and Lilly’s temper had always been quick. “Oh, don’t worry about it, Sally Beth. I know how Lilly can be, and I’m not worried a bit. As far as I’m concerned, she can have him, but I don’t think she is his type.”
“Well, for goodness sake, I know that! And she should have the sense to know it, too, but that doesn’t stop her from actin’ like a—like a—Jezebel in front of everbody!” She drew a deep breath and turned pleading eyes toward Geneva. “Anyway, I’m real sorry. I should know how she is by now and not git my dander all up and flyin’ around and sayin’ those awful things I said. And Lilly is really jist pitiful, she jist hates bein’ poor, and she thinks some man is going to save her from it. Tell Rachel we’re sorry, will yew? And Howard, and everbody?” She looked so miserable Geneva felt like laughing. Poor Sally Beth really did have a good heart. It just seemed that she and Lilly were such a joke that no one could take them seriously. She gave her a quick hug and said, “Sure, sweetheart. I’ve already forgotten it.”
After Rachel and Wayne went to bed, Howard and Geneva settled themselves in the porch swing to watch the big-bellied moon slide behind a silky gauze of clouds. Geneva found herself in the odd position of feeling both comfortable with Howard and alienated from him. The most natural thing in the world would be to nestle in his arms, for she really no longer felt angry with him. And deep inside, she knew she still loved him, loved him as warmly as her heart could beat and still find part of her mind wandering toward the man across the field. She let Howard put his arm around her while she wondered if John were watching this moon, too. It felt strange, this feeling of love for two men at once, and even more strange was Howard’s being here, out of context in the mountain night. She had always associated him with his classy apartment and dinner in downtown restaurants. John should be with her now, here in the creaky swing. For her to feel completely comfortable with Howard, they should get back into the gleaming Jaguar and drive for the city lights.
“Penny,” he said, stroking her hair.
“Not worth it,” she replied. “I haven’t had a coherent thought since you arrived.”
“I set you all awhirl, do I?’
“I guess you could say that.”
“Like your car?”
“Mmmm. Must have cost you a nice little bundle.”
“Not at all. The nice thing about being a stock market analyst is that we know how to make money in any kind of economy.”
She sighed, weary, but Howard mistook it for romance. He pulled her to him and kissed her, and she let herself sink into his arms, remembering the taste of his mouth, the feel and scent of his body close to hers. A faint response stirred in her, triggered by months of conditioning during her life with him, but after a moment it died, crushed by her weariness and her sense of dislocation. An image of John kissing the palm of her hand flashed in her brain, and she found herself comparing the two men with a calculating coldness she did not like.
Let’s face it. Howard was wealthy, and he had just offered her a brand new Jaguar convertible— but that was about it. He had mistreated her, and although he was now returning with his apologies, the fact that he was capable of mistreating her remained. Essentially, he was spoiled and cowardly. On the other hand, John had told her lies, but Geneva now understood that such lies were not a sign of cowardice, but of a romantic nature, and somehow, a self-deprecating sense of humor. He would never be able to buy her the kinds of things that Howard could, but then, what did she really want? The Jaguar looked decadent and overly lavish there in the gravel drive, something like a gaudy bracelet on the arm of a child. She stirred. “I’m sorry, Howard. I’m really tired, and I need to go to bed. Let’s please just hold this until tomorrow.”
She could feel his disappointment. “Of course, darling. I’ve been thoughtless. I suppose your arm is bothering you after your ride today?”
She glanced at it. “Yes, I suppose it is. Goodnight. I guess Rachel has already got you set up in a room?”
He hesitated. “Yes. But I was hoping—I mean, yes. I can find everything just fine. Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams. You go on in. I think I’ll just sit out here and gaze at the moon and think about you.”
Geneva smiled. She wondered if John were doing the same, and the funny thought struck her that maybe the two of them could get together and gaze at the moon and think of her while she slept. She bet herself that John would start a hyperbole competition. Howard would no doubt be surprised at his command of the language.
“Goodnight, Howard. Don’t gaze too long. The moon can drive a man crazy, you know.” She went to bed and slept dreamlessly until the Sunday sun lifted her eyelids.
After breakfast, Wayne, Rachel, and all four of the children went to church. Geneva declined their invitation, feeling awkward at the thought of Howard sitting in the plain little sanctuary. He surely would find it primitive, and although he would say nothing unkind, he would feel condescending there among her kinfolk, some of them uneducated and dowdy. She remembered Howard’s mother, so sophisticated in her Dior suits, her polished, bejeweled hands clasped gracefully in her small lap. Geneva could not help but compare her to her aunt Dorothy Jean, all two hundred and sixty pounds of her, enamored of polyester pantsuits and Beechnut gum. They would prefer, she decided, to go riding instead, for she wanted to show Howard the best of what these hills had to offer.
He was a capable rider, if a bit stiff in the western saddle, so they took an easy trail to the north. Geneva did not want to go near John’s place, so they wound their way up to a little grotto where water tumbled down to an inky pool laced with black stemmed maidenhair ferns and deep, cushiony moss. The mist rose up like fairy dust, nourishing the wet rankness and bejeweling the rocks and banks with droplets like emeralds. Geneva had always loved it here. Her heart thumped with a strange shyness, almost fear, as she looked at Howard and willed him to love it, too.
He found the place charming. “No wonder you’ve been happy here,” he commented, settling himself on a large rock by the pool. “You look as at home here as a wood nymph, and about as delectable.” He pulled her down beside him. They talked for a while, but soon, to Geneva’s dismay, they ran out of things to say. She felt more awkward as she showed him the wintergreen and the place where the watercress grew, then with growing alarm, watched him become bored as she explained why the Indian pipes had no color.
He was not interested in Indian pipes, he told her when she chided him; he was interested only in her. He had missed her and yearned for her for so long that he could hardly contain himself now that they were together again. And then, half jesting, he tumbled her into the wet moss and splashed water on her until her thin T-shirt was soaked and clinging.
“Oh, what a fashion statement!” he teased. Wear this on Madison Avenue, and West Virginia will become a mecca for designers.” She laughed, but was embarrassed at her transparent garment.
“Shame on you!” she cried, trying to wring out the water.
“Here, let me help you. You can just take it off and it will be dry in an hour or two,” he said, reaching for her and tugging at the wet T-shirt.
As Geneva’s embarrassment grew, she wished she had never brought Howard here. She was incapable of returning his kisses, for in this context, she felt his passion defiling. Everything was wrong; nothing had been right since he had come here, and now, as his hands caressed her and pushed her into the moss, she began to struggle with him, fearing irrationally that she might drown in its velvety depths.
Suddenly he stopped, sitting up and looking at her with impatience. “Geneva, what is the problem? I know you still love me, don’t you?”
She glared at him. “Yes, Howard, I still love you. But I don’t think I like you anymore. You haven’t been a very nice person lately.”
Howard thought about this, looking very sad, but then he lifted his head and asked suspiciously, “This doesn’t have anything to do with one of those two hillbillies I met yesterday, does it? Surely nothing has happened between you and them.”
Geneva did not like his high-handed tone. She threw back her head and replied archly, “As a matter of fact, a lot of things have happened between me and them. Let’s see… the night I met Howard Knight, we had a car wreck, and I got cut up a bit.” She indicated the scar, still angry on her forehead. “And Rachel had the babies, and then I went up the mountain with him and got stoned and chased him all around the barn, begging him to strip for me. It was a very interesting evening.”
“Very funny, Geneva. I know how you feel about drugs.”
“And John—that’s the other hillbilly, the one who seems not to like city slickers. By my reckoning, about the time that you were settling on the front porch to wait for me to come home, I was trying my damnedest to seduce him up on top of a mountain.”
“That’s funny, too, Geneva.”
“He didn’t think so. Gave me a lecture on the pitfalls of premarital sex. Quite an honorable fellow that John. Both of them, actually. Unlike some people I know. How many women have you slept with in the past six months, Howard?”
He flushed slightly. “I resent that, Geneva. And I resent your treating my question so cavalierly. You can understand why I might be jealous, and the least you can do is tell me the truth.”
She sighed. “Okay, he didn’t give me a lecture. He just acted like he thought I should know better.”
Howard stood up. “Let’s go back. I’m not interested in hearing wild tales about your unseemly behavior, and this place has turned out to be not so pleasant after all.”
Without a word Geneva climbed on a rock and swung herself up on Fairhope’s back. But her anger was dissipating. Poor Howard! He was out of his element here, and he was having a bad time of it. She would not be surprised if he high tailed it out by tomorrow, she thought grimly.
But to her surprise, he did stay until Tuesday morning, and while she remained cool toward him, he behaved nicely the whole weekend, talking prettily about how happy they would be once they were back in DC together, the clubs they would join, the Important People they would know. Geneva found herself enjoying his company again, and more than once she was tempted to sigh and give in to him if only to visit the city again and to see how it felt to be there with him. But many things held her back. She understood that Rachel really needed her and that she should stay at least a few more weeks to help out around here.
And there was John. It was confusing to think that she might actually be in love with two men at once, but whenever she tried to sort out her feelings, she kept coming back to the same conclusion. And worse, she found herself missing John while she was with Howard. She missed his sense of humor and the way she felt so easy and comfortable and warm around him. Howard was a bit of a strain. She always felt like she needed to apologize for things. She began to take more care with the way she looked. On Sunday night she polished her nails, but she felt a little foolish doing it.
Tuesday morning, Howard packed the car while Geneva stood aside and watched without helping.
“I wish you’d change your mind and come with me. It will be an awfully long drive without you.”
“It’s a pretty day. You’ll do fine.”
He hesitated, then spoke earnestly, “Geneva, I know it hasn’t been the best of times while I’ve been here, but I’m not discouraged. I’ll be back. I’ve made up my mind about this, and I’m not going to give up.”
She smiled, glad he had said that. “Okay, Howard. Whenever you’re ready to bring my car back to me, you just come on. I’ll be here.”
He kissed her good-bye and left. Geneva thought about the beaded gold gown she had worn to the last party Howard’s firm had thrown and how good she had looked in it. She walked back to the house feeling emotionally exhausted and downright stupid. Life was getting too complicated.
Howard was not out of the driveway before the phone rang. It was Howard Knight, calling to ask if he could come the next day. Her car was repaired, he declared, and he would like to bring her back to get it. She thanked him warmly, apologizing for not having been able to spend time with him the Saturday before. Something about her had been humbled since the night she had met him. No longer did she feel the urge to sniff at his ignorance and his lack of social graces.
“Who was that?” Rachel inquired. “Another boyfriend? Don’t you find it a little hard to keep them all apart?”
Geneva smiled. “It was Howard Knight. And I guess you could say yes, he is sort of a boyfriend, considering what I did to him the night the babies were born.”
She told Rachel the story, embellishing it with as many exaggerations and flourishes as she could think up, and by the time she had finished the telling, she and Rachel both were sitting on the floor, raking tears from their eyes, screaming with laughter.
It took them through lunch to sober up. Rachel had to hear it again in bits and pieces, and with each retelling Geneva beefed it up more. “Ooooh, Haaaaaaaaard! Let me see! And when we went over the side of that loft, I thought we were flying. Didn’t even realize my elbow was smashed until the next morning. And then poor Jimmy Lee comes in all thrilled with me braving all that pain while I was burying him!”
“Geneva, you are so awful! And I’m so glad you’re my sister. I don’t know how I got along with my dull life before you got here. Poor Jimmy Lee! Poor Howard!” She shook her head, picking up baby Lenora to nurse her. Smiling at her child, she spent a thoughtful moment stroking the tiny, downy head. Then she looked at Geneva pensively.
“You know, Geneva, we are awful to laugh at Howard. He really is a good person. Just think how he must have felt, you chasing him around the barn like that after he had gone to all the trouble to save us from that horrible situation.”
“I know,” sighed Geneva. “If it weren’t so funny, it would be pretty sad. I suppose I’ll have to apologize to him. And I will when he comes tomorrow.”
“Howard’s a lot smarter than you think he is,” said Rachel. “And he’s had a pretty tragic life that I think he’s handled awfully well, considering. When we were in school, he was a budding poet. As a matter of fact, do you remember that poetry competition I won in the ninth grade?”
“With the poem about the fireflies?”
“Yes. Well, I really shouldn’t have won that. Howard should have. But he had dropped out of school because his parents were in an accident and his mother was killed. His father lost both of his legs, and Howard just quit school. I don’t know what happened to him after that.”
“Why do you say he should have won the competition?” asked Geneva. “I thought your poem was pretty good.”
“You should have seen Howard’s stuff. It made my firefly poem seem infantile. Wait a minute. I think I may have something he wrote. Here, hold Lenora, and I’ll see if I can find it. It may be in my scrapbook.”
Geneva followed Rachel upstairs to her bedroom and her sister rummaged through a box from the closet.
“Yes, here it is,” Rachel said, smiling. “I believe he had a bit of a crush on me, and he gave me this just before he left school. It was interesting. I had a huge crush on him, too. I thought he was brilliant, and even though I loved this poem, I don’t believe I really understood it until much later. It seemed sort of clairvoyant when I finally figured it out.”
Geneva took the scrapbook to examine the sheaf of Blue Horse notebook paper, now well yellowed and brittle, beside the pressed daisies tied with a purple ribbon. Geneva sat on the bed to read the fine, upright script.
April 9, 1965
To Rachel
The eagle flies deep in the heart of night,
Proud of his ancient story,
But before the Sun, he falters in flight,
Trembling before her glory.
And in her brightness, he buries his dreams,
For he cannot eclipse her, and there is no elixir
To lure or enlist her.
He watches her hopelessly, it seems.
Like all, he adores her but he cannot implore her,
For he’s only a shadow in her gold light.
To her just a creature, trying to reach her,
He longs for her as he conquers the night.
Now I tell you this secret,
So my message is done:
I am that eagle.
You
Are that
Sun.
Geneva read the poem twice. “Howard wrote this when he was in the ninth grade? Our Howard? Howard Knight? Hard? Hemp grower extraordinaire?”
“There’s more to him than you’d expect, at least there was, and I have a feeling he may still run pretty deep.”
“What about that old aw-shucks façade? I mean, the grammar in this poem is better than what he uses now.”
“He’s been living in the mountains, with no schooling since he was fifteen. When you have to worry about survival, I guess literacy takes a back burner. Beside, Geneva, you know we used to talk like that, bad grammar and all even though we knew better. Remember?”
“I suppose so,” sighed Geneva, remembering her first diction classes and how difficult they had been. “Hit’s easy to git above yer raisin’, ain’t it?”
“Hit shore is, honey. And the worst part of it is that sometimes when you do, you lose sight of some pretty important things.” She looked at Geneva holding Lenora in her arms. “I don’t think you should go back to DC, Geneva. I don’t think you’ll be happy with Howard. These mountains are in your blood, and if you keep away from them for too long, you’ll die of anemia. Some people might be able to live in concrete, but I know I couldn’t, and I don’t think you can, either.”
With a wrench in her chest, Geneva realized that Rachel was probably right. “What do you think I should do? Run off with Howard Knight and help him tend his hemp patch?”
“He may expect it after what you did to him. There’s a pretty strong code of behavior up here, you know.”
Geneva laughed. “I haven’t told you about what I did to John yet.”
“Geneva! What?”
“Oh, nothing, really. Tried to seduce him, but he backed off. I think he may be in love with me.”
“Yes, I know. You could do worse.”
“But not much better, huh?”
“Definitely not.”
Geneva looked at her big sister, radiant and glossy with happiness, and she wished she could be more like her. Her heart filled with affection for the woman who sat beside her, so simple in her desires, so fortified against complexity.
“I love you Rachel,” she said.
“I love you, too, Geneva.” The sound of children’s laughter floated toward them on the warm air, and Geneva let her thoughts float with it, until the ringing phone jolted her out of her reverie. Hoping it might be John, Geneva handed the baby to Rachel to answer it. She was surprised to hear Howard Graves’ voice, terse and anxious.
“Howard! Are you back home already?”
“No, Geneva, I’m not. I am in some town, if you could call it that, by the name of Hutterton. Ever heard of it?”
Geneva pulled the receiver away from her face and queried Rachel. “Ever heard of Hutterton?”
“Yes. It’s a little bitty community east of here. It’s a pretty rough place, I think. Lots of moonshiners, and I think they have a branch of the Klan there. Is Howard there?”
Geneva returned to Howard. “What are you doing in Hutterton? Don’t tell me the car broke down.”
Howard sounded worried. “Did I just hear Rachel say the Klan’s here?”
“Howard, are you in some sort of trouble?”
“I sure am, Geneva. Not only does the local sheriff seem to have a grudge against flatlanders who drive too fast in foreign cars, but somehow they’ve turned up a packet of what may be cocaine. Do you by any chance know anything about a little plastic bag full of whitish powder?”
“Howard! No! They found coke on you?”
“In the floor of the car. I don’t see how they could have planted it. I saw it in the floor about the same time he did. Geneva are you sure you didn’t have something? Anything at all that might look like coke?”
“Of course not, Howard. You know I never touch drugs. I bet it was Jason or Marie. I told you that you shouldn’t to hang out with them!”
“Geneva, neither one of them has been in this car. It’s brand new. I picked it up Saturday, just before I left for your place. And besides, I’m not sure it’s coke. It’s a funny color, although I guess it could be dirty.”
“Well, they can’t hold you if they aren’t sure, can they?”
“Guess again, sweetie. They tell me they’re sending it over to Harrisonburg to have it tested, and until the results get back, they’re acting like they have a drug lord on their hands. I won’t discuss their interrogation methods. They let me talk to a local lawyer, but I’m not too sure about this guy’s credentials. But he talked them into letting me call you. Geneva, can you get up here? Call my attorney in DC. It’s Greg Ford. And bring all the cash you can scrounge up. I don’t know if they’ll let me post bail, but I sure do want out of here.” He sounded more and more nervous as he talked.
“Of course, I’m on my way,” said Geneva. “But Howard, can’t—”
“I gotta go, Geneva,” he said hastily. “My time’s up. Hurry!”
“What is it, Geneva?” demanded Rachel. “You’re as white as a sheet. What’s happened to him?”
“Howard’s been picked up for possession of cocaine, but I know he doesn’t use it.” Suddenly Geneva felt a cold river running down her spine. Howard was wealthy! Howard always drove a fancy car. Howard sometimes went away on business trips and always came back throwing money around. And now he has a brand new Jaguar convertible that he just was going to hand over to her, as if he had money to burn! Oh, God! It couldn’t be! She put a shaking hand to her mouth. Her knees buckled and her head swam.
“Sit down, Geneva,” said Rachel sharply. “What is it?”
“Rachel, do you suppose Howard is involved with drugs? I mean, he has all this money. I always assumed he just earned it or got it from his family or something. I don’t know anything about the investment business.” She sat on the bed and sobbed violently. Her ex-fiancé a drug pusher! Deceiver and murderer of little children! Among the most despicable of the human race! It was too awful to comprehend. And to think, she had almost married him! The thought brought on a fresh torrent of tears.
“Geneva, get hold of yourself. Surely not. I mean, stock market analysts really can make a lot of money. Look at how well your investments have done. Honey, you don’t know all the facts.” But Rachel looked really worried.
“You’re right, I don’t know! I don’t know him! To think, I’ve been in love with a dr-dr-drug lord!” she wailed.
“Hold on. Now just think. What did he ask you to do?”
“He-he s-s-said to bring a lot of c-cash. I guess he hopes to br-bribe them!”
After half an hour of sobbing and wailing, Geneva finally let Rachel persuade her to give Howard the benefit of the doubt and call his attorney. Rachel wrote a check for Geneva to cash in Tucker on her way to Hutterton. She left in Rachel’s car with a very heavy heart.
By the time she reached Hutterton, Geneva was a wreck, vacillating between rage, grief, and fear for him. What if he had been set up? Framed? Geneva knew how these small town sheriffs could decide to have a little “fun” with an arrogant, rich boy. She bet he had smarted off at them when they had stopped them. Howard did have a way of letting people know he considered them his inferior.
But what if he really did have a stash of coke in his car? What if he did make his money in covert drug deals? The very thought made her nauseated, and then she found herself furious at Howard Knight, too. To think she had tossed off the idea that he was raising marijuana to sell to high schoolers, perhaps elementary school children, children not much older than her own beloved nieces. Tossed it off with a smile and a shrug. Be cool. Live and let live. I’m okay, you’re okay. Do what you want. “Hogwash!” she snorted.
It was nearly dusk when she arrived. The courthouse/jail sat in the middle of the one downtown block of Hutterton. It was the only building with the lights on, and the soft glow of these lights tinged the nearly deserted town with pink and gold. The little village seemed a quaint picture nestled among the purple hills.
On the porch of the jailhouse lay a forlorn dog, his head resting between his paws. As Geneva passed him, he lifted his head and whined, but she paid him little attention; her thoughts were absorbed in her fears.
Inside the jail, the picture was no longer quaint. The lights were too bright, loud both to the eye and the ear, for they buzzed with a constant, high-pitched whine. Geneva found them exceptionally annoying the moment she stepped inside. She couldn’t imagine how Howard had tolerated it since this morning.
The jailhouse/courthouse was a one-room affair, not much different from Andy of Mayberry’s jail: two cells, a gun rack on the wall, and a desk in the corner. But it did not have Aunt Bea’s touch; the place was grimy and unswept. Cobwebs hung in the corners, and there were grease stains on the walls. She glanced at the desk, where a fat, unkempt fellow wearing a deputy’s badge slouched, and then, incredibly, she found herself looking through a set of bars at Jimmy Lee Land, whose mouth had dropped open into an elongated “O.”
Through her shock, she could see his eyes, red and bleary, looking at her with surprise and worshipful awe, which, she realized, was beginning to be his signature expression toward her. Simultaneously, in the other cell, Howard jumped off his cot and ran toward her. He looked indescribably forlorn behind the bars.
“Well, I’ll be damned. She’s adoin’ it agin’!” Jimmy Lee shouted. “How’d ye know I wuz here?”
“It’s about time you got here. Why did it take you so long?” demanded Howard.
Jimmy Lee did not notice Howard addressing her. He turned excitedly toward him. “Hit’s her! Hit’s the one I wuz atellin’ ye about! My little lady what done saved my life! The one I’m acourtin’!”
A look of horror washed over Howard’s face. He stared at Jimmy Lee for a long moment, then cut his eyes toward Geneva.
“Geneva? You know this man?”
“Hell yes! She knows me awright! She’s come to bail me outta here, God bless her soul!” He fairly danced with excitement, grinning at Geneva, then Howard, then at Geneva again, until a puzzled look began to spread over his face. “How come yew ta know her name?” he asked Howard.
Howard groaned and sat down on his cot.
“Jimmy Lee…” began Geneva, but she was interrupted by the unkempt man who was coming toward her.
“Hidy, miss. You here to bail this feller out?”
“Uh…” she said.
“I reckon he’s sober enough to go on home now, but I wouldn’t let him drive fer awhile.” He chuckled amicably at Jimmy Lee. “Got aholt of some bad corn likker, didn’t ye, boy?”
“I sure as hell, did, sir,” grinned Jimmy Lee. “But the sight of this little lady here would sober up a deacon.” He gazed raptly at Geneva, who felt an overwhelming urge to run.
“Well, uh, actually, I…” she began lamely, then stopped herself. “How much to bail him out?”
“Aw, nuthin’. I kin release him in yer custody, if ye drive him on home and make him keep out o’ trouble. Boy jist cain’t hold his likker.” He guffawed. “I’ll tell ye, I’ll be glad ta git him outta here. He’s been runnin’ his mouth bad enough to run us all up a tree. Spent the last four hours ever since he come to atellin’ us about yew. Ye got ye a man here shore loves yew, honey.”
Geneva searched for a chair. She sensed that this was a delicate situation, and she had no idea how to handle it. Glancing at Howard, she realized he would be of no help. He was glaring at her with open hostility. The unkempt fat man unlocked Jimmy Lee’s cell.
She cleared her throat and smiled nervously. Brightly, she said, “Umm, actually, I happen to know that other fella, too. Did he get some bad corn likker, too?” She felt the drawl creeping into her mouth as comfortable as fresh bread, and she dipped her head just enough to look at the man from the corner of her eyes.
He scowled at her. “No ma’am. That there fella’s in a heap o’ trouble. We found a suspicious substance on him, and he ain’t goin’ nowheres til we git to the bottom of it.”
“Oh? I couldn’t bail him out, too?” She turned innocent, wide eyes upon him.
He softened a bit. Shaking his head sadly and importantly, he replied, “No ma’am. This here’s serious business.”
Geneva judged whether or not to press him. He was looking at her sorrowfully. “But what on earth could he have had on him that is so serious? I happen to know that he’s real decent.” She calculated, then ventured a little white lie, “His daddy’s a judge down in Georgia.”
He looked at her incredulously. “He shore don’t talk like he’s from Georgia.”
“Well, his mama’s from New Orleans, I mean, Metarie. You know, they talk like that there.” She laughed a bright, tinkling little laugh. “They all sound like they’re from New Jersey.”
Howard looked at her as if she had lost every ounce of reason. She prayed he would keep his mouth shut, but she wouldn’t have bet on it, for his face held signs of unmitigated rage. Hoping desperately he would keep silent, she turned all her charm upon the fat man, smiling at him as if she felt fortunate to be in his presence. “Could I maybe talk to him for just a little bitty minute?” She expanded her charm to include Jimmy Lee, feeling like she was juggling live hand grenades.
“Jimmy Lee,” she crooned, “Why don’t you go sit in the car? It’s right out front.” She batted her eyelashes at him as she handed him Rachel’s car keys, then turned her most coquettish face toward the deputy. “But don’t you go driving it, now,” she winked. “Yew heard what the man said.”
Jimmy Lee took the keys as if they were a token from his beloved, then collected his belongings and went out. “I’ll wait fer ye, Miss Geneva.”
She turned to the deputy. “Could I? Just talk a little bitty minute to him? Surely there’s some explanation to this, and maybe we can clear it up for yew.”
He wavered, then sighed. “Awright,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward Howard. “But watch yersef. He seems pretty slick ta me.” Turning back to his desk, he took out a Louis Lamour novel and leaned back in his chair, feet propped upon the desk.
Geneva approached the cell with trepidation, fearing not Howard’s anger, but rather for his good sense. He could mess things up really badly if he said the wrong things to her. She pasted a smile on her face and let it freeze into him before she spoke. “Well, Howard,” she said slowly, carefully. “How on earth did yew get yerself into this mess? What did they find on yew?’
His smile was just as plastic. “Well, Geneva,” he echoed mockingly and just as slowly. “I don’t know. All I know is there was some sort of whitish powder in the floor of my car.”
“Your car? I thought it belonged to somebody else. Like your ex-fiancée.” She let her smile broaden, but it became no warmer.
“Of course. My ex-fiancée’s car. I was just keeping it for her until she comes to her senses and comes home with me. But it looks like I may not get out of here before she ups and marries somebody else. Goes and lives in a trailer and keeps a tobacco crop. Names her kids Wiley Bob and Potato Bug. Do you happen to know what my daddy the judge down in Georgia might think about all this? Since he’s an attorney, he surely would have some insight into the situation.”
Geneva caught the hint. He was wondering if she had called his attorney in DC. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied carefully, “but I bet he’ll be on his way here as soon as he can, provided no one can bail you out in the meantime. All you have to do is give him a call. You know he’ll drop everthing and come.”
“Well, do you think you might see about getting me out of here? It hasn’t been terribly pleasant, and now that Jimmy Lee’s gone, I won’t have any company.” He narrowed his eyes. “He told me all about how much in love the two of you are, but while he was talking, I had no idea the girl he was discussing was you. I understand you saved his life, and then single-handedly dragged him to a cottage and nursed him back to health, and loved him until he was strong again? All those long days and nights up on a mountain with him must have been pretty romantic. Challenging, but romantic.”
Geneva felt her face go hot, and she did not trust herself to reply to his accusations. She was too angry with him for even pretending to believe them. At last, she said, “Jimmy Lee’s been known to get things confused. We try not to take him too seriously.”
“I see,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “And now that you’ve sprung him, why don’t you see if you can do the same for me. Then we can all go home and talk over all our exciting times together.”
Geneva glanced at the deputy reading the paperback. She knew there was no way she would be able to bail Howard out. First of all, something told her the deputy had no authority, and secondly, it seemed that he was certain Howard’s crime was serious. Nervously, she turned her smile toward him, then, throwing a stony glance at Howard, she glided across the floor and stood demurely by the desk.
“I’m awfully sorry to disturb you, sir,” she said, turning her bluest eyes upon him, “but I think there must be some kind of terrible mistake. “This man here—,” she indicated Howard, “is about one of the nicest people I know and from a good family. Why, his uncle was a missionary in China until the Communists shot him, and his great uncle on his mama’s side was Huey Long. His daddy just about single-handedly wiped out a notorious drug ring down in Athens, and I’ve known Howard here for years.”
The man looked at her with interest, more impressed by the minute as she manufactured a biography for Howard. Geneva felt her courage rise. Almost as an afterthought, she added, “He’s thinking of becoming a minister.”
The minute she had said it, she knew she had gone too far. The fat man’s eyes narrowed. “He shore didn’t talk like no preacher when I picked him up. Man’s got a smart mouth on him.” He glared at Howard, who glared back. Geneva feigned surprise while she thought of a reply. Howard probably had insulted him in a number of ways; had probably aimed invective at him which implied low intelligence and perhaps sexual perversion. “Howard?” she exclaimed. “Why that really surprises me, sir! Normally he’s a saint. He must be having some—er—personal problems.” She stole a glance at Howard, who smoldered.
The door opened. In walked a very large, red-faced man wearing a sheriff’s uniform and badge. His frame was covered with mounds of flesh, which appeared to Geneva to have made it halfway through the metamorphosis from rock-solid muscle to pure blubber. Her eye fell from massive shoulders and chest to a belly so large and round it overhung his pants and rode absurdly low around his hips. His gun holster, too, was fairly obscured by the overhanging belly. Idly, she wondered if he could possibly be carrying triplets in there.
As he strode in, he tossed a small plastic bag filled with a pale, buff-colored powder on the desk. The moment Geneva’s eyes landed on it, she froze, reviewing a few seconds of her past life. She saw herself falling on the curb outside her apartment in DC, felt the soft cardboard cylinder give way under her knee, saw fine grains of baby formula meant for the dying kitten spilling out over the sidewalk. She saw herself desperately scooping formula into the little plastic ziplock bag and rushing into her apartment.
“Let ‘im, go,” ordered the sheriff in a rumbling bass. “Soon’s he paid his fine fer speedin’. This ain’t nothin’.”
The deputy eased out of his chair. “What is it?” he asked.
Geneva turned to Howard, hoping she could distract him from hearing the answer.
“Milk,” snorted the sheriff.
“Howard, isn’t that nice? He said you could go!”
“Milk?” cried Howard and the deputy simultaneously.
“Why in the hell are you carryin’ around milk in little plastic bags?” the deputy queried Howard.
“Oh, I’m so glad that’s settled. Howard, you can go right on home now! No need to stay here another minute.” Geneva rushed over to his cell, rattling at the bars while she spoke, “Sir, could you let him out now? It’s a pity he has to stay here another minute! I told you he was a nice fellow. Are those the keys? Here, Howard, I’ll help you get everything together. Ha, what a silly thing. Why on earth did you have milk in your car?”
“Beats me,” said Howard tersely. “And I wonder if you know something about it, you being a new aunt and all.”
Geneva gasped. “Me? Heaven’s no! You know Rachel is nursing those babies—my goodness, we haven’t even had baby formula in the house!” An idea struck her. “You know what I bet? I bet the workers putting that car together did this as a trick! Oh, isn’t that funny! Putting dried milk into a car so somebody will think it’s cocaine! Boy, Howard, they really got a good one on you!” She burst into laughter, laughter that consumed her so completely that she had to sit down, laughter so contagious that the two big lawmen joined her, snorting and wheezing, slapping their knees.
“They sure did, son!” chortled the sheriff. “Milk!”
Howard failed to see the humor. Rigidly, he turned to his jailers. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to let me out now, sirs. I am already late, and I have a long way to go.”
“Sure, sure,” chuckled the deputy. “But don’t go exceedin’ the speed limit. Somebody might pick you up and find oregano on you.” Another gale of laughter erupted from the lawmen. Howard smiled poisonously. Geneva kept her face artificially bright.
“How much does he owe you, sirs?” she asked. “Was he going very fast?”
“Yes ma’am, but I tell ye what. We won’t charge ‘im the whole fine, seein’s how he had to spend the day in jail fer no reason. I reckon we could let him git outta here with around, oh—.” The sheriff looked at the deputy then out the window at the fine sports car. He sucked his teeth while he considered, “Oh, mebe three hunnert.” He spat on the floor.
Howard surged forward, outraged, but Geneva stopped him with the lightest of touches on his chest. “Whew! He must have been going some fast to get that kind of fine, but guess we all have to pay our dues when we do wrong. Howard, I’ll be happy to loan you three hundred dollars, if you need it.” She glanced at his face, which was pale but with two red spots high in his cheeks.
“Thank you, Geneva. I think I may have that much on me, although I appreciate the offer.” Geneva prayed he would stay in control while he paid his fine and completed the paperwork before he could be released. After he had collected his belongings, he walked out of the door without bothering to tell her good-bye, and stepped into the Jaguar, now covered with road dust. She stood in the doorway of the jail house, watching him drive off, wondering if she would ever see him again; but before he turned to the corner, he called to her, his eyes dark with wrath. “I’ll be back, Geneva. You’ve had your fun, but you won’t forget me.” He disappeared into a darkening hill.
Trembling, Geneva approached Rachel’s car. Jimmy Lee sat in the front seat with the dog she had stepped over earlier spilling out of his lap.
“Lamentations!” she cried, just now recognizing the mongrel. Lamentations gave her a brief glance and a tail wag, or rather, a rear-end wag, for his tail, once bent and broken, was now completely gone. The stump was red and slightly swollen. Geneva suspected that it had suffered mightily when Jimmy Lee was arrested. Lamentations turned his big, adoring eyes back to Jimmy Lee. His tongue lapped out quickly on the young man’s chin, then he laid his head on Jimmy Lee’s chest, never letting his gaze fall from his master’s face. Jimmy Lee looked at Geneva with a remarkably similar expression.
“Where can I take you, Jimmy Lee? Do you want me to drive you back home?”
“Oh, Lord God, no, Miss Geneva! Hit’s way too late fer that! I got kin all over up here, and my truck’s here. If ye’d jist run me on over to my cousin’s house, jist about five mile down this here road, I’d be obliged to ye.”
“You got kin here? Why didn’t they come get you out of jail?”
“Haw, thar warn’t no need. They jist keep me til I sober up—they allus let me go when I’m ready.”
“You do this often, Jimmy Lee?”
“‘Bout once ever three months.” His demeanor changed to sheepishness. “My cousins is a bad influence.”
“I expect they are, Jimmy Lee.” Geneva remembered how bad an influence his cousin Howard Knight could be as well. “You got some cousins here making moonshine, while Howard is over at Swallowtail Gap growing marijuana.”
“Who? Chap?” asked Jimmy Lee, confused. “Marywana?”
“Hemp, Jimmy Lee.”
He scratched his head and scrunched up his nose. “Chap don’t grow no hemp. Mammaw does some, for Pappaw’s eyes, but that’s all. Who tole ye that?”
“He did,” replied Geneva tartly.
“Haw. Well, he don’t. But I’m danged surprised he said that. He don’t never lie to nobody, ‘cept sometimes when he gits around stuck up town folks and tells ‘em that to kindly shake ‘em up. I cain’t believe he’d tell you that lie, Miss Geneva. Why, he likes you!”
“You mean, Howard—Chap—goes around telling some people that he grows hemp just to impress them?”
“Only when he thanks thera snickerin’ at ‘im fer bein’ a hillbilly. You know, snooty folks.”
“I see,” mused Geneva, stung that Howard Knight would deem her snooty. She thought she had camouflaged it better than that. “So what does he do?”
At this, Jimmy Lee fell quiet, and he shifted uneasily. At length he said carefully, “Well, he does a buncha thangs. Farms mostly. Sells timber.”
He obviously was lying, although he had seemed to be truthful about the marijuana. Silently, she wondered what Jimmy Lee knew about Howard that he did not want to divulge. She thought about cajoling the truth from him, but when she turned her seductive smile upon him to do just that, his face became so transformed by his infatuation that she decided she had better leave it alone. Jimmy Lee could be a problem. And she already had enough problems.
She altered her smile into a less intimate expression. “Where do your cousins live, Jimmy Lee? I should hurry if I’m going to get back home tonight.”
She arrived back at Rachel’s darkened house well after midnight, but Rachel rose when she heard Geneva come in.
“What happened?” she wanted to know.
Geneva told her the story, detouring to her culpability in the affair when she got to the part about the lab analysis of Howard’s “cocaine.” She and Rachel laughed so loudly that Wayne got up to join them in the living room.
“Poor fool,” Wayne said, shaking his head. “Are you ever going to tell him the truth?”
Both Geneva and Rachel looked aghast. “Are you kidding, Wayne?” Geneva burst out. “Tell him! What do you think I am?”
Rachel screamed with laughter. “A liar!” she choked out, tears streaming down her face.
“But a good one!” assented Geneva, holding her stomach.
Rachel silenced them. “Hush. Is that somebody crying? “Oh, yes,” she added, suddenly pressing her palms against her nipples. Feeding time, and here I go squirting milk.” She hurried upstairs and returned a moment later with one infant. “Just Genny, the pig. Lenora’s still snoozing.”
She settled into the rocking chair to feed Genny while Wayne turned out the lights and brought Rachel a glass of water. Geneva yawned. “I guess I’d better get to bed. Hard Knight’s getting here early to take me up to Swallowtail Gap to get my car.”
“Oh, Geneva, I forgot to tell you,” interjected Rachel. “Wayne’s dad has decided his eyes are too bad to drive up here, so Wayne’s going to take a few days off and we’re taking the children to Charlottesville. His mother’s been dying to see the babies, and she was so disappointed about Dad’s not being able to drive that she begged us to come on over. We’re leaving tomorrow. Want to join us for a few days in the big city? Uncle Henry said he’d take care of everything here while we’re gone.”
Geneva considered. It would be nice to have the house to herself for a few days, but since John would be gone to his conference, it would be lonely. But then, she really didn’t know Wayne’s parents well enough to spend several days at their house. She sighed. “I guess not. I could use a vacation from this brood, and to tell the truth, now that I’m getting my car back, I really should run over to DC and try to clear things up with Howard. Anyway, I’d like to see what it feels like there before I try to think about what I’m going to do with my life. I should check on my apartment, too.”
“Okay, sweetie, if you really want to. But keep a good head on your shoulders, and I’d avoid Hutterton if I were you!”
“Goodnight, big sister,” smiled Geneva. “Goodnight Wayne. I’m beat, and I guess tomorrow could be a big day. May have to bail out Hard Knight for illicit drugs.”
“Goodnight, Geneva,” they echoed, grinning wickedly.
She left them there in the darkness as they bent their heads, smiling upon their new daughter.