Roseflower Creek (24 page)

    "You hear 'bout Maybelle?" Myrtle Soseby said during one them break times the judge give so people can refresh themselves. In truth, they mostly all went and relieved themselves in the rooms marked Women or Men in black letters on frosty glass windows.

    "What about Maybelle?" Mz. Murphy and old Mz. Hattaway asked at the same time and crowded about Myrtle in a circle with the other ladies come in to do their business. Myrtle whispered a bunch of words I couldn't make out. Everybody gasped.

    "Not sure what kind, but she's powerful sick from what I hear," Myrtle said.

    "Probably got herself a terminal case of meanness," Mz. Murphy said. And somes the ladies laughed. Weren't that mean? 'Cause turns out it weren't meanness a'tall; it was the cancer! It was the kind that eat the bottom part of Maybelle's 'testines, keeped her poopy. Isn't that terrible? The doctors in Atlanta said there weren't nothin' much they could do for her, 'cept give her this operation, called a "colostummy" or something. Told her they had to sew a bag outside her stomach where she could do her business. Said it was the best they could do. It was real sorrowful. Maybelle's face turned as white as them lacy bloomers she liked to wear. I don't rightly blame her none. If that's the best them doctors could do, they must not of thunk on it too long 'cause who wants a poopy sack sticked right out on top of their tummy? But Maybelle said, "No use standin' there; let's git it over with," and she went and had herself that operation, seeing as it was the best they could do. She missed the rest of the trial.

    All kinds of folks come to testify. Mr. Johnson drove over from Sugarville. Mr. Bartholomew asked him all kinds of questions on how he ended up letting Ray and Mama stay at his cabin. Mama's lawyer, Mr. Howard, got up and asked him a few questions, too.

    "Good morning, Mr. Johnson. I'm Attorney Howard, representing the defendant, Mrs. Nadine Pruitt," he said.

    "Mornin'," Mr. Johnson said back to him.

    "Mr. Johnson, on the morning Ray Pruitt inquired of your cabin, did you get an opportunity to see Mrs. Pruitt?"

    "I believe I did, yes sir," Mr. Johnson said.

    "Would you be so kind as to tell the jury your first impression of Mrs. Pruitt?"

    "My first impression?"

    "Yes," Mr. Howard said.

    "You mean what I was thinkin' the moment I first laid eyes on her?"

    "Precisely," Mr. Howard answered.

    "Well, I was thinkin' she had herself one fine pair a' legs." The jury burst out laughing, they did, and Mr. Howard, he smiled, too.

    "No doubt, Mrs. Pruitt is a fine-looking woman, Mr. Johnson, but that's not exactly what I was referring to," Mr. Howard said.

    "Rather, can you tell us how you found her manner to be…was she overly quiet, did she appear frightened…"

    "Objection, Your Honor, counsel's leading the witness," Attorney Bartholomew said.

    "Sustained," the judge said.

    "I'll rephrase the question, Your Honor," Mr. Howard said.

    "Mr. Johnson, did Mrs. Pruitt appear to have a bruise on her—"

    "Objection. Requires a conclusion. Mr. Johnson is not a physician," Mr. Bartholomew said.

    "Overruled," the judge said.

    "Your honor…" Mr. Bartholomew said.

    "Overruled!" the judge said and cracked his gavel. "I'm sure Mr. Johnson is perfectly capable of identifying a bruise without a medical degree. Sit down, Counselor!" The judge turned to Mr. Johnson sitting in the witness seat.

    "You may answer the question."

    "Wish I could," Mr. Johnson said. "Can't remember the dadblame question." The judge smiled when he said that.

    "Counselor, would you repeat the question, please?" the judge said. Guess he couldn't 'member it, neither.

    "Did Mrs. Pruitt appear to have a bruise on her cheek?" Mr. Howard said.

    "Well now, I can't say 'cause I don't rightly recall," Mr. Johnson said.

    "Think back to that day, Mr. Johnson," Mr. Howard said. "Surely you can remember…"

    "All's I remember is her havin' fine legs," Mr. Johnson said, "and I remember…"

    "Yes…yes, Mr. Johnson…what?" Mr. Howard said.

    "Well, I remember she had herself a right fine chest, too," Mr. Johnson answered. The jury and them other peoples there was back to laughing again. I think Mama even smiled a bit when he said that about her chest. I think I seen her mouth move a little.

    I don't really think that was what Mr. Howard had in mind, though. He tried again and again to get Mr. Johnson to recall how scared my mama must of looked that morning.

    "Mr. Howard, I don't remember nothing else," Mr. Johnson said, and he probably wasn't lying, either. He looked to be older than MeeMaw was when she died, and MeeMaw had trouble remembering things, too.

    "Lori Jean," she told me once, "at my age, I've about done everything and seen everything. I just can't remember everything."

    So Mr. Johnson was probably telling the truth. He just weren't much help to Mama's case. In fact, when Mr. Bartholomew questioned Mr. Johnson, he made it seem like everything was fine and dandy with my mama that morning.

    I was waiting on that Chester fella to be called to the stand, that man that pumped gas for Ray at that filling station in McCoy. Mama was pleading at him with her eyes that day and he was glancing at that bruise she had on her cheek when Ray weren't looking. Now he was a young fella, not likely to forget what he seen that morning. He could help set things right. But he never showed up. Then I realized he wasn't invited. Mama was the only one would have known to tell Mr. Howard about him and she still weren't talking, not even to Mr. Howard. Mr. Howard even shared that with the jury, how Mama wouldn't even defend herself she was so eat up with guilt by what she didn't know and by not knowing wasn't able to protect her daughter and save them both from the monster that Ray Pruitt was.

    Uncle Melvin come and testified about Ray and I know the jury listened real good, what with Ray being his brother and all. Melvin, he was pretty much all better by then. And Lexie come and sat in the witness box and she told the jury folks about the nice birthday supper Mama fixed for me that was spread out on the table when they got to our trailer that night. I thought things was looking a bit better for Mama. If she would just get up in that witness chair and speak for herself, now that Uncle Melvin and Aunt Lexie come and told what a fine woman she was, she'd have a fighting chance, but she never said a word, not to Mr. Howard, not to the jury, not to Melvin or Lexie. She just sat and stared straight ahead.

    On the last day of the trial more peoples than could fit wanted to get into the courthouse. Those that didn't get to wouldn't leave and clustered about the door like June bugs buzzing 'round a porch light. Mr. Bartholomew give his closing speech that day and he was so good he was like an actor in a stage play. He told that jury if they was going to sleep at night they best err on the side of justice and put this woman where she belonged. He said no amount of speculation by a well-intentioned attorney for the defense could erase what happened.

    "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "a little girl lies in her coffin, dead the very day she turned ten years old." He meant me, and I weren't in no coffin!

    "A deputy lies cold in his grave, his widow sitting before you now weeping and broken," he said. Now that part was true. She was there crying like she done every day of the trial.

    "Two toddlers face a future without their daddy, all because of this woman." He whirled around and pointed his finger directly at Mama.

    "I ask you to bring justice to these precious victims, to bring closure to their wounds, to bring an end to the idea that this woman is innocent. I ask you to return a verdict of guilty, guilty as charged. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for doing your duty." He sat down.

    When Mr. Howard give his closing statement all the ladies in the jury seats was crying. I don't think they heard what he had to say. The men was listening, but they had real stern looks on their faces. I don't think they much believed anything Mr. Howard was telling them.

    The jury folks went to a little room behind the judge's bench to decide. They come out in less than an hour.

    "Have you reached a verdict?" the judge asked.

    The man that got voted to speak for them said, "We have, Your Honor." The judge told him to hand the verdict to his bailiff man. The jury man handed the bailiff fella a tiny little folded-up piece of paper. Fancy that! The answer to the whole rest of my mama's life was on that little piece of paper. The bailiff man brought it over to the judge. He unfolded it, read it to hisself and folded it back up and handed it back to the bailiff. The bailiff took it on back to the same man on the jury who'd handed it to him in the first place. It was worse than pass the hot potato. The judge told that man to read the verdict. Then the judge asked each and every one of the folks on that jury if that was their decision. They all said, "Yes, Your Honor; guilty, so sayeth we all."

    So they found Mama guilty and the judge sentenced her to die in their old 'lectric chair and there weren't nothing I could do about it even. Hurt my heart something terrible. Mama was the first ladyfolk in Georgia ever to get that kind of sentence. The judge said the way things was going she probably wouldn't be the last.

    "Nadine Pruitt," he said, "may God have mercy on your soul."

Lexie fainted when the judge said Mama had to sit in that 'lectric chair 'til she was dead. He used some fancy words when he said it, but that's what he meant. The judge had them take Lexie to the sofa in his chambers and Melvin, he come to see about her. He was in bad shape but put on a good face for Lexie. They headed home and he give her this talk on how they had to get on with their life. The kids were counting on them.

    "Sugarplum, I been thinkin'," he said, "we ought to head back to Alabama when this is…when…well, when…it's done." Lexie just nodded her head. They was in the Chevy. Lexie was driving on account of Melvin's shoulder still being in a sling.

    "We ain't had much luck here, ya' know?" he said. Lexie shook her head in agreement with him.

    "It's time we head home. I can always find some kind a' work to tide us over. Maybe try a little farmin' again." He reached over and patted Lexie's shoulder with his good arm.

    "I want to go see Nadine," Lexie said.

    "Now, honey, I don't want you to go upsettin' yourself…"

    "I gotta say goodbye, Melvin. I have to. I can't rest 'til I do." Lexie started to sniffle.

    "Honey, we're gonna get through this, you'll see," he said, and he patted her shoulder again.

    "I know. It just hurts so bad, Melvin," Lexie said. "First Iris Anne, then Lori Jean. Now Nadine. I don't believe for one minute she had anything to do with any of it."

    "'Course she didn't," Uncle Melvin said. "But them authorities, they need theirselves a live person to pay for the crime and Nadine is it. I reckon if she wouldn't a' shot Ray, they wouldn't have bothered with her. Probably woulda made her a victim for sure. What with her bein' Lori Jean's mama and all."

    "Then why'd she do it? Why'd she kill him?" Lexie asked. She grabbed a hankie out of her purse and blew her nose, but kept one hand on the wheel.

    "I guess she wanted them both to pay, Lexie," Melvin said. "Him for doing it, and her for not being able to keep him from doing it."

    "But she didn't know nothing about it," Lexie said. "I'm sure of it. How'd she figure she coulda kept him from doin' somethin' she had no way knowin' anything about?"

    "Well that's just it, sugar," Melvin said. "She probably figured she should have known, that bein' a good mama demanded it."

    "But she
was
a good mama."

    "Better than good, Lexie," Melvin said. "The best. She give her life for Lori Jean. She just didn't get a chance to give it sooner is all, or Lori Jean would still be with us." Then Uncle Melvin, he cried. He did! He and Lexie—they both cried, all the way back to Roseflower Creek.

    'Bout that time Maybelle got out of the hospital in Atlanta. She looked like a 'tirely different person. Acted like one, too. She were a pretty thin lady now, had creases on her forehead like Mama sometimes did. And her mouth weren't so mean-looking no more. Matter of factly, it was a much nicer mouth, soft around the corners, and she smiled at folks when they passed by. Fancy that! And she kept her nose straight ahead when she walked, 'stead of pointed upwards like she used to. She still had her funny little bird legs, but now they matched her body better. Talk was, the kind of cancer Maybelle had herself would probably kill her dead; that what them doctors done for her with their crazy operation were just a temporary thing. Maybelle marched herself home and started visiting every church in Roseflower Creek, and she drove her big Oldsmobile to a whole bunch of others that weren't. Every one she stopped at, she asked folks to pray for her. And she gived them all her money, week after week. Took every dollar from whichever one of her pocketbooks she had with her and put it in the collection basket. One of them mens who passes 'round the baskets swung one by her row twice and acted like he didn't know he had. Maybelle found some more loose dollars at the bottom of her bag and give them, too. Word got out. They all wanted her to come. It were a church's lucky day when Maybelle showed up asking for prayers 'cause even though she gived a whole lot of money away already, she had a passel more where that come from, I'm telling ya'. But no matter how many of them churches she went to, Maybelle got sicker and sicker. She ended up at the Glory Be, Church of Jehovah, Praise His Name, Bless My Soul, Amen Brethren AME Church in Roseflower Creek. That was Odell and Pearlie's church! It was the one all them nice colored folks went to; the very one Maybelle made fun of, that one she called a clapboard shack, said they did their jive jumpin' in. Ain't that something? There she was, jumping up and down right along with the rest of them, her on her funny little bird legs. She was whooping and hollering, praising Jesus's name and clapping her hands to the music. And mighty good music it was, I'm telling ya'. Been right nice to have that kind of music at our church when I was growing up. Maybelle was having the time of her life, and once she tried Odell and Pearlie's Glory Be Church, she stayed. She give them her money, week after week. They prayed over her and laid their hands on her. Still, Maybelle didn't get well. Looked like that cancer would kill her dead for sure. But Maybelle kept going, kept dancing, and kept giving.