Music to Die For (27 page)

Margaret stood, pulling Tracy up with her. Together they turned to face the sheriff, meeting his gaze for a long moment of silence.

Then Tracy said, “I was the one fighting with Farel, not Ben. It was there in the dressmaker’s shop, after I learned Dulcey was gone. See, Farel had her before the Culpepers did, and he left her alone in the car, so anyone could have taken her. He and I were fighting about that when Ben saw us. He went after Farel only to protect me. He thought Farel would hurt me, maybe use the knife that was there. I can tell you all about it. Ben was just protecting me.”

Carrie sure hoped Margaret Culpeper felt proud of the strong woman she had for a granddaughter, and she hoped too that Tracy told her story quickly. It would be daylight soon. If Tracy talked very long, Carrie was going to fall asleep...and then she’d fall off her chair.

When they were finally ready to leave, Margaret walked out on the porch with Carrie, leaving Tracy, Henry, and the sheriff in a last-minute conversation.

“I’ll stay by my boys,” Margaret said as they stood together in the light that filtered through the cabin’s window. “I hope Tracy ’n’ you understand thet. They’ve done wrong, but thur still my own, no matter how much they seek punishin’. I’ll stay by my boys ’n’ not turn away from them like Robert E. did from Elizabeth when she were in trouble.”

She took hold of Carrie’s arm and looked into her face. “Ye’ll watch over Tracy fer me now?”

“I’m sure you can do that yourself,” Carrie said. “We’ll come back to visit and make plans tomorrow, er, no, this afternoon, if it’s all right, and if you don’t need to be with your boys.”

Margaret smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Oh, I reckon all three of ’em’ll be in good enough hands, ’n’ I don’t think Hab’s hurt serious. The three’ll be whur they need t’ be fer a spell, and Nahum’ll be here with me.”

Carrie wondered just how long the “spell” in prison might be for men who were already senior citizens, but she didn’t mention that to Margaret. Instead, she decided now was the right time to speak up about Nahum, because that was news full of hope—something Margaret could look forward to.

“Margaret, have you ever heard of dyslexia?”

“Dys...” She shook her head. “Niver. What’s hit?”

“Well, it’s what may be keeping Nahum from learning to read. It’s not a disease but the name we call it when people are born with brains that aren’t organized quite like yours and mine. Dyslexics see and learn things in a different way than you and I do. Doesn’t mean they’re dumb, not at all, but sometimes people with dyslexia find it very hard to read. They mix up letters. The problems it causes can vary. I suspect Nahum is dyslexic and that he can be helped. He can learn to read.”

Margaret was watching her face, looking at her as if the intent gaze would help her understand what Carrie was saying. “How do ye know ’bout this...dyslessics? Whut makes ye think Nahum...?”

“I helped teach dyslexic students back in Tulsa when I worked at the library. We had a special program for them. Watching Nahum, well, I think he shows many of the symptoms. And dyslexia is supposedly passed down in families. Since his father couldn’t read either...

“Margaret, what I’d like to do is have Nahum tested, and then we’ll know what help to get for him. Some of the tests, like one called the Irlen Syndrome Test, can be expensive, but I think Tracy will be glad to help pay for all this. She’ll be proud to be able to help you and Nahum. And, I just wanted you to know: Nahum isn’t dumb. I’m sure he’s very smart.”

Margaret lifted her chin. “Knowed thet,” she said, “’n’ we got money. Don’t need Tracy’s help. She’s got Dulcey ter tek care of. So, how’d we go about gittin’ this thing done?”

Carrie decided Margaret had no concept yet of just how wealthy her granddaughter probably was, so she let that pass and left Margaret with her pride.

“We’ll get together and talk about it more this afternoon, after Nahum’s home.”

Margaret nodded, accepting that, then changed the subject. “I reckon ye figured who Benjamin is?”

Carrie nodded.

“Wahl, fer now, I don’t see no reason t’ tell Tracy ’bout thet, they’s bin so much...”

“Umm, yes, but she may have figured it out already, Margaret. If she hasn’t, she will soon. She’s smart too, you know. I think Ben saw Farel turn off the breakers for the craft shops and followed him, simply because he was acting suspiciously. Ben didn’t like Farel anyway, and when he got to the dressmaker’s shop, I’m sure it did look to him like Farel was hurting Tracy. There was the knife there, and Ben may have thought Farel was planning to use it on Tracy. I think it happened just like Tracy says. I don’t believe he planned to kill him at all.”

“Why wur they fightin’? I didn’t quite see thet.”

“Farel had taken Dulcey to begin with. It was a scheme to get money from Tracy and Chase. Tracy can tell you all about it later—I’m so tired I don’t think I can manage to get it straight right now. But when Tracy learned Farel went off and left Dulcey alone in his unlocked car and someone had taken her, she was frightened, of course, and she was furious. It’s no wonder she flew at Farel.

“Margaret, are Zephaniah and Ben friends? Zephaniah asked Ben to put his kidnapping note in the bird house.”

“Don’t know, but Zeph has a way of gittin’ others to do fer him. He were spoiled, bein’ the youngest ’til Elizabeth come along.” She paused, then went on, “Mebbe Benjamin read Zeph’s note ’n’ thet’s why he come here—t’ save the chile.”

“There’s something else, Margaret. I think Tracy really needs you and Nahum as family right now. She’s not very happy with her career or her marriage...wants to spend more time at home with Dulcey. She doesn’t want the two of them to be performing all the time, and she says her husband doesn’t understand that. So maybe you can help her there.”

Again, Margaret lifted her chin. “Wahl, thet’s a new kind of trouble ter fix, ain’t hit! But, I’m here. I’m allus here, and now ain’t no man gonna hurt Tracy nur Dulcey. Sure, they kin come ter me. I imagine Lee Ellen’ll go away to her ’n’ Micah’s kids now, iff’n she don’t end up in jail, too. Enyways, she won’t stay in thet house alone. Tracy kin have Micah’s house, if’n she wants hit.”

“Good. That will give her some freedom, though—who knows—maybe she and Chase will work things out. Anyway, now she’s got options and can spend time close to you and Nahum. Thank you, Margaret, thank you for everything.”

“She’s my granddaughter,” Margaret reminded her. Then she smiled so deeply that her eyes vanished in wrinkles. “’N’ don’t ye fergit, Carrie, yer a Culpeper, too. Fam’lies gotter stay together.”

The two women were silent for a moment before Carrie took out a tissue, blew her nose, and began, “Margaret...,” but could say no more.

“I’m all right,” said the older woman, understanding.

There was a pause before she said, “Ye say ye’ve got chillern?”

“One son.”

“We kin pertect ’em from lots o’ things when they’s small,” Margaret said, “but when they’s growed, we sure cain’t pertect ’em from theyselves, now kin we!”

Her head dropped, and she seemed to be looking at her feet. “Wahl, I got Nahum, and, mebbe, I got Tracy.”

“You do have Tracy,” Carrie said, “and you always will.”

At least it was still dark. Maybe she’d actually see her bed before daylight.

On the ride back to the lodge, Carrie decided she was in no mood to do anything but go to bed. Mason-Teal-Culpeper problems that needed any more sorting out could just wait about eight hours, or they could do it on their own.

During the drive Henry and Tracy were as quiet as Carrie, either lost in thought, or simply numb. On the other hand, the young sheriff’s deputy driving the car was decidedly chirpy, chattering about his own fiddle playing and occasional appearances on the Folk Center stage. He actually had the nerve to ask Tracy for her autograph as he let them out in the parking lot, and that made Carrie even grumpier. It was true. Famous people had no privacy.

Tracy accepted the paper graciously, scrawled her name, and said a quiet, “Thank you,” as she handed it back. Stardom, it seemed, was a never-over job.

Silence returned as the three of them walked toward Eleanor and Jason’s lighted motel room. When they stopped at the door, Carrie saw Tracy’s face in the glow from the porch lamp.

Margaret’s special salve had cleaned the lovely skin, and the red marks were almost gone. Tracy’s face was beautiful and should be. Dulcey was safe, she had gained a whole new family, and now she had a way to escape constant performing, which is exactly what she’d said she wanted. But there was no joy in the face Carrie saw in the porch light.

Yes, no matter what she said or how he’d treated her, Tracy Teal was still in love with her husband. If Carrie was any judge of humans, Tracy was having a difficult time deciding what to do about that now that she had options.

Part of Carrie wanted to tell Tracy to dump Chase. The man simply wasn’t worth fretting over. But then she would be denying that change and reformation were always possible, as well as overlooking the importance of working to make a marriage succeed. Carrie puffed her cheeks and blew out air. It seemed there was still something to settle here.

Jason opened the door to Henry’s light knock and had to turn aside quickly as Tracy rushed past him into the room. She fell on her knees by the rocking chair where Brigid Mason sat, the sleeping Dulcey sprawled across most of her lap. A worn rag doll with a smile made lopsided by missing embroidery threads filled the rest of Brigid’s lap space. Tracy knelt, still as a statue, staring at her daughter.

“She’s fine,” Brigid whispered. “She wanted to stay awake ’til you got here, but jest couldn’t make it.”

Chase was in the room, but Tracy ignored him. He had been lying, fully clothed, on one of the beds. Now he sat up, slid to the edge of the bed, and spoke Tracy’s name. She seemed not to hear him, and he didn’t stand.

“Tracy?” he said again.

She looked at him.

“Tracy...”

She said nothing.

His voice went on, low, faltering. “I guess...guess I’ve made a botch-up of things. Don’t know exactly what to tell you...what to say. I’m still sortin’ out what I think, and maybe it’s too late to say anything. If I could think what to do... If I...”

She interrupted him. “Chase, stop. There are things you need to know before you try and talk to me. See, I got all this started, and it sure caused a mess I didn’t expect, but it also opened doors I didn’t know about. You need to listen and hear me out before you say anything.”

She took a deep breath and looked around the room. After another swish of air—in, out—she began. “One thing is, I wasn’t born a Teal, so your jokes about a feud won’t work anymore.”

There was a pause. In the silence, Chase got to his feet and held his hands up and out at each side, palms toward Tracy. A theatrical gesture of helplessness, Carrie thought. Theatrics seemed to be built into this family.

“You’ve called my Teal relatives scummy. Well, tonight I found out who I really am by birth—a Culpeper. Yes, that’s right, part of the infamous Culpeper family of Mountain View. My birth mother was Margaret Culpeper’s daughter, Elizabeth, and that’s another thing. Elizabeth Culpeper never married. I was born to a single mother.” Tracy paused, looked down at her folded hands. “She died a week after I was born, and I was adopted by my Teal parents.

“So now I have a whole second family here, and some of them are in jail. They’ve done bad things—drugs, kidnapping. I’m sure you’d call them scummy. I can’t really defend every Culpeper from that label, though it’s not true of my Granny Margaret or my Uncle Nahum. Neither was it true of the Teals who raised me and loved me. The Culpepers, though, they’re probably not people you’d ever want to associate with.

“I found out who my biological father is, too. You know him as Ben Yokum. He’s going to be charged with Farel’s murder.

“So, you’d better stop right now, Chase Mason. These people are my family, and the tabloids are going to love it. I’m sure you’re already picturing the headlines. You’d better get Dulcey and me out of your life while you can.”

She bowed her head again, and her defiant tone softened. “So, how did I get this started? Well, see, I arranged for Farel to take Dulcey. It was to keep him from blackmailing us and so you wouldn’t find out I didn’t write the music for ‘Lying to Strangers.’

“No, Chase, don’t you talk. You listen to me.

“I lied to you about writing that song. I got it from Farel, and all along I thought Farel wrote it for me, back when we were kids. I heard it first from him. Bobby Lee knew that, of course. When Farel needed to get away from here and make a fresh start, he decided to blackmail you and me...claim the royalty we owed him for his song. If we didn’t do what he asked, he said he’d tell the world I didn’t write it. I thought I couldn’t let you know about the song not being mine, so I convinced Farel to let me fake the kidnapping and get money for him that way.

“But, you know what’s funny, Chase? Farel didn’t write the song either. My mother, Elizabeth Culpeper, was the one who really wrote what we’ve called our song. Farel must have heard Granny Margaret playing my mother’s song out in the woods and picked it up. Granny told me she often does that—sits in the woods playing music.”

Chase wasn’t moving at all. He might have been carved from a block of wood. He’d stopped opening and closing his mouth, trying to talk, and was now just staring at his wife.

“So there you are,” she said. “And I’m ready to get out of your life, bring Dulcey here to Mountain View, let her keep regular hours, play like a regular kid, go to a real school at proper times. I’m ready to be her mother. I don’t want strangers to raise her while I only get to spend little bits of time with her.

“I’ve got money of my own. You did that for us, saw to it I had my share of our take. And I reckon I can get a job in one of the music shows here. Granny Margaret can baby-sit, and maybe Mama Brigid will help out too. I want her to stay a big part of Dulcey’s life. And...you’ll always be her daddy.”

At this, Tracy’s voice broke, and everyone stayed statue-still, ignoring Brigid’s murmured, “Whoo-eee.”