Dunaway's Crossing (30 page)

“How long has Bea Dot been married to him?”

“Not a year yet,” Mr. Barksdale said sadly, still staring at the park. “About ten months. We never understood it. She’s such a sweet, beautiful girl. Lavinia always said Bea Dot could have any man she wanted.”

“And that’s who she wanted?” Will asked.

“She insisted on marrying Ben. Right away too. Wouldn’t let her aunt plan a wedding. In fact, she and Netta argued about it, and that’s why Netta didn’t come to the ceremony.”

“Oh.” Will hadn’t realized Bea Dot and Netta had fought. No wonder their time at the crossing was so strained.

“I thought she might be worried about money,” Mr. Barksdale continued. “My brother—her father—had just recently passed.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “But I told her I’d always take care of her.” His brow creased as he spoke, and Will nodded, now realizing the enormous sorrow the Barksdale family had endured over the last year. “We knew about his drinking. If we’d known how . . . brutal . . . he was, we’d never have stood for it.”

Mr. Barksdale buried his face in his hands, and Will put a consoling hand on the man’s back, fully understanding the heaviness of feeling responsible for another’s tragedy.

C
hapter 31

A
unt Lavinia? Where are you?”

“In here, dear.”

Bea Dot followed the voice to the parlor, where she found her aunt seated on the divan, reading a magazine.

“This article says that we should substitute the word ‘parlor’ for ‘living room,’ ” she said with a puzzled look on her face. “I think that sounds right odd, don’t you?”

“How do I look?”

Aunt Lavinia raised her face, and Bea Dot turned, allowing her aunt a full view of her borrowed clothes. Aunt Lavinia clasped her hands over her chest and smiled warmly. “I think those will do just fine for now. They’re a little outdated, and I was afraid they’d be long. But I’m sure they’re warmer than the frock you had on yesterday.”

Bea Dot ran her hand down the front of Netta’s old wool skirt. Aunt Lavinia had found it and the narrow-waisted shirt in Netta’s former armoire. The outfit was out of fashion, but not as much as Aunt Lavinia’s 1899 hairstyle. Besides, Bea Dot valued the clothes for sentimental reasons.

“If you’d like, I’ll ask Penny to alter them for you,” Aunt Lavinia offered. “They might be more comfortable until you get some clothes of your own.”

Bea Dot doubted she would have new clothes any time soon. All the money she had was the small pack of bills she took from Ben’s pocket. Even that wouldn’t last long.

“Where’s Will?” Bea Dot asked, noticing the quiet in the house.

“He went with your uncle David,” Aunt Lavinia answered, marking her place in the magazine, then laying it on the table. “Some errands they had to attend to. They should be back soon.” She patted the divan seat. “Come sit with me. We still haven’t had a chance to visit.”

As much as Bea Dot appreciated her aunt’s love and help, she dreaded this tête-à-tête. She’d let Aunt Lavinia down, but she had to face the music. “Aunt Lavinia—”

“Darling, I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you,” her aunt interrupted. “Thank you for all you did for Netta. I’m sure you were a great comfort to her, especially at the end.” Lavinia’s voice quaked on her last two words, and Bea Dot’s throat constricted as well.

“How can you be so gracious?” Bea Dot asked. “I’ve failed you and Ralph. Netta would probably still be here today if I’d insisted on a doctor’s care.”

Aunt Lavinia clutched Bea Dot’s hand and leaned toward her niece. “What doctor’s care?” she asked. “There was no way Ralph could have delivered the baby. You were all in an impossible situation. Of course, my heart is broken at the loss of my child, and a grandchild to boot, but it’s a comfort to know that you were with Netta at her last moments. She loved you so much.”

The tears pooling in Aunt Lavinia’s eyes intensified the blue of her irises. Bea Dot’s heart swelled with relief and gratitude, but then she registered Aunt Lavinia’s last sentence and frowned. “What did you mean, ‘and a grandchild to boot’?”

This time Aunt Lavinia wrinkled her forehead. “Why, just that, dear. I’ll never know my grandbaby, and I’ll never have another. Maybe one day you’ll have a little one for me to dote on.”

“But Aunt Lavinia, the baby didn’t die,” Bea Dot said, shaking her head. “Netta had a little girl. She’s named after her mother.”

“Really?” Aunt Lavinia drew her hand to her mouth. This time tears of joy spilled onto her cheeks. “I have a granddaughter?”

“I’m so sorry for the confusion,” Bea Dot said. “I thought Ralph had explained.”

Aunt Lavinia shook her head, then pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. “We haven’t spoken,” she said. “We got a short letter from him. He was so distraught, and so overwhelmed with the influenza.” She inhaled deeply and stared out the window as she recalled the horrible day of Netta’s death. “Reading it broke my heart to bits. I was crushed to learn of my baby’s death, but also terribly worried for Ralph and for you. We tried to phone, but we couldn’t get through.”

“I never learned what happened to Pineview’s operator, but I think she died.” Bea Dot’s heart ached at the thought of her aunt and uncle’s worry, and she punched a fist into her lap. “I should have written. I should have done something to get word to you. I’m so sorry.”

Aunt Lavinia stopped her niece by putting a finger to Bea Dot’s lips. “Not one more apology. You just made me a very happy woman. We’ll have to go to Pineview soon to meet the baby. I’ll ask Penny to cook us a special dinner tonight. We should celebrate.”

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Bea Dot, who relaxed in the warmth of her aunt’s embrace. She rested her cheek on her aunt’s shoulder and took in the scent of lemon verbena. She sighed at the comfort of Aunt Lavinia’s palm rubbing her back. “You and Uncle David have always been so good to me.”

“Now it’s my turn to feel guilty,” her aunt said, pulling away, then standing and stepping to the fireplace. “I should have done more. I should have taken you out of Ben’s house the minute I suspected any hostility.” She shook her head as she stared through the painting over the mantle. “When you insisted on the marriage, we all figured you must love him, so I told myself that you’d be in no danger as long as California was looking after you.” She shook her head and smiled derisively. “What a fool I was.”

“She was looking after me,” Bea Dot said. “Her heart was always in the right place, but looking back I realize I should never have let her talk me into marrying Ben.”

“That’s why you married him?” Aunt Lavinia turned to face her niece, her eyebrows a slight V on her forehead. “Why would she want you to do that?”

Bea Dot stared at her hands balled in her lap. The heat of her cheeks spread down her neck and between her shoulder blades, but the rest of her shivered with shame. Still, while reluctance nagged at her, a stronger internal force reminded her that Aunt Lavinia had put her own safety at risk by stepping in on Ben’s fury. If her aunt was willing to jeopardize her own life, Bea Dot at least owed her the truth. So she told her everything. “I needed a husband, a father for the baby I was carrying.”

And with that simple admission, an internal gate opened, allowing her to lay her whole life on the table.

“It’s no secret my father never got over my mother’s death. She must have been a remarkable woman to affect him so. I wish I’d known her.”

“She was a beautiful lady with a heart of gold,” Aunt Lavinia said softly.

“You’ll have to tell me about her,” Bea Dot replied, “because I know almost nothing except that I look like her, and for that reason, Father always resented me. Each birthday was a day of mourning at our house, and as I grew older and looked more like her, Father’s resentment turned to contempt, which he exacerbated with heavy drinking. Soon, he hardly said a word to me except ‘Leave me alone’ or ‘Hand me that bottle.’ ”

Aunt Lavinia came to the divan and knelt, taking Bea Dot’s hands and drawing them to her own chest. “Darling, we knew how brokenhearted he was. That’s why we included you so much in our lives. You know how much we’ve always loved you, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Bea Dot said. “You and California have always tried to fill my mother’s shoes. Perhaps Father depended too much on you for that, but every time he looked at me, he saw my mother looking back.”

“But I don’t understand what that has to do with your decision to marry Ben Ferguson,” Aunt Lavinia said. “You said you needed a father for your child.” The pitch of her voice elevated as she uttered the terrible thought. “Did Ben force himself on you?”

“Not Ben,” Bea Dot whispered. “My father.”

Aunt Lavinia gasped, and Bea Dot closed her eyes as she recalled that dreadful night just over a year ago, when Charles Barksdale stumbled home drunk after an evening of cards at the club and found Bea Dot in the kitchen, wearing her nightgown and pouring a glass of milk before bed. In his confusion, he called her by her mother’s name and said how much he’d missed her and how happy he was she was home. When Bea Dot tried to correct him, he’d embraced her, kissing her full on the lips before she could wrench free. She rushed to get away from him, making it only to the parlor, where he caught her by the arm, threw her on the sofa, and raped her. Only after it was over, when he realized she was sobbing, did he come to his senses and understand his horrific act. California entered as he rushed out of the room and up the stairs. Bea Dot sought refuge in California’s arms until both women flinched at the crack of a gunshot.

Bea Dot finally looked her aunt in the eye. Tears streaked Aunt Lavinia’s face, which was struck with shock and sorrow. “My God,” she whispered. “We thought he was drunk and depressed. We had no idea that—” She couldn’t finish her sentence, but sobbed into her hands. She put her head into Bea Dot’s lap as she cried, and Bea Dot stroked her grayish-blond hair. Eventually Aunt Lavinia looked up, her bright blue eyes lined with red. “We had no idea.”

Choking up now, Bea Dot pressed her lips to squelch her own weeping. She nodded at her aunt, then composed herself. “That was the plan,” she explained. “I couldn’t tell you, Netta, or anybody else. I was so ashamed. I hated that even Cal knew, even though she kept my secret when I discovered I was pregnant.”

“Oh, my dear,” Aunt Lavinia moaned.

“That was just before Ben asked me to dance at the Hibernian gala. He’d been vying for my attention for weeks. I couldn’t stand his snobbery, but Cal saw him as a way out of my predicament, and she convinced me to encourage him. I didn’t know what else to do, so I listened to her.”

“So that’s why you rushed the wedding,” Aunt Lavinia sighed, tears dried now. “And because of that wedding, you and Netta fought and didn’t speak for months.”

“Exactly. I couldn’t explain to her the reason I married Ben. At the time, I thought her disapproval of my husband was better than her knowing the truth. I feared everyone would despise me.”

“How could we despise you? You’d done nothing wrong. We would have helped you.”

“I didn’t realize that then. Anyway, Ben solved the problem for me. The baby died. Then I was stuck with him.”

Aunt Lavinia rose from the floor and sat next to Bea Dot again. “Well, it’s a mixed blessing. And as a result, you reunited with Netta.”

“Yes, there is that. But as it turned out, Ben discovered the truth months ago, and he’s been holding it over my head all this time. He’s so angry with me, and I can’t blame him, but now he’s sworn to spread this information all over Savannah. I’ll be a pariah once he’s finished with me.”

“I can assure you that won’t happen.” Uncle David’s voice resounded in the room.

Bea Dot turned to find her uncle’s broad, six-foot frame just inside the doorway. In his navy suit with white hair and steel-gray eyes, Uncle David could command attention just by standing there. No wonder jurors always found in favor of his clients. Will followed her uncle into the parlor, his wide-brimmed hat in hand. He walked directly to her, a grave expression on his face, and Bea Dot covered her face with her hands. She hadn’t intended Will or Uncle David to hear her story. She wanted to crawl under the divan. But when Will stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she felt a little relief. Maybe he wasn’t disgusted with her after all.

“When did you get home, dear?” Aunt Lavinia asked. She rose and greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek, which she had to offer on tiptoe. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Just now,” he said, putting his hand on her upper arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt your visit, dear, but I must speak to Bea Dot.”

Bea Dot’s heart galloped, but she maintained an air of composure, now accustomed to receiving bad news. “Have you talked to Ben?” she asked. “I imagine he bears nothing but contempt for me.”

She felt Will’s fingers tighten on her shoulders as Uncle David approached the divan and sat next to her, his mouth a thin line. “Ben is dead.”

Bea Dot’s heart skipped a beat. Had she heard correctly? The news struck her speechless. All she could do was gaze at her uncle’s gray eyes.

“He came down with influenza,” her uncle explained. “It progressed very quickly. By the time Dr. Arnold arrived this morning, it was too late. He died about an hour ago.”

Bea Dot shifted her gaze to Aunt Lavinia, who stood wide-eyed at the door, her hand over her mouth. She turned to face Will, who responded with a solemn nod.

“Look at me, Bea Dot,” Uncle David commanded. When she did, he peered closely at her as he spoke. “Do you feel all right? Any headaches or fever?”

She shook her head.

“Are you sure? You must tell us if you feel at all unwell.”

“No,” Bea Dot said numbly, still trying to absorb the news. “I feel fine.” A pause, and then, “Perfectly fine.”

“It’s very important that we find Ben’s will as soon as possible,” Uncle David continued. “Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t put it past Ben’s parents to try to keep you from inheriting what’s rightfully yours.”

Bea Dot smiled at Uncle David’s desire to protect her, but this time it was her turn to reassure him. “I don’t know where Ben’s will is, or even if he has one,” she explained. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve anything of his, and I don’t want it.”

“I disagree with you about deserving it,” her uncle said, “and I’ll advocate for you however I can. You can depend on that.”