Summer of the Redeemers (20 page)

In all the times I’d thought of the legend of Cry Baby Creek, I’d never exactly pictured the mother murdering her child. It had been so much more tragic than that. The baby had been tossed in the creek and had floated, as if it might find a safe harbor. Jamey Louise made it sound as if the woman waded out in the middle of the creek and held that baby under.

“It wasn’t exactly murder.” I knew it was going to be hard to upstage Jamey’s version.

“What would you call it?” Jamey asked.

“Selena put the baby in the creek, but she didn’t really know what she was doing. She had it in the woods alone, and she didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Why did she have it in the woods?” Nadine asked. “Could it be that she was afraid someone would take it from her, maybe sell it?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s only a story anyway.”

“Not really. You can hear that pitiful baby late at night,” Jamey insisted. “Libby said she was down at the creek just last summer, and the sound of that suffering baby made the hair on her neck stand on end.”

More than likely Libby said that because she was parking down at the end of the road and didn’t want any interruptions from her little sister. But there wasn’t any point in saying that; besides, I’d brought up the legend. Jamey’s assistance only gave my story more punch.

“That’s true,” I said. “It was a tragedy. No one denies that the little baby, a newborn girl, drowned. Mama Betts said that Selena had washed the baby off and dressed her in an old christening gown.”

“There was blood all over Selena herself,” Jamey supplied. She’d inched closer to both of us and was crouching down against the wall near me. “She was a gruesome sight. Mama said she must have lost her mind, like some women do when they have a baby. She chucked that poor little girl right in the creek in her white christening gown.”

“The baby floated with the folds of the gown billowing out all around her.” I had to jump back in the story, or Jamey would try to steal it away. “She had dark hair, like her mother’s, and as soon as she hit that cold, cold water she started crying.”

“Babies can swim,” Nadine said softly. “I mean they can swim naturally, I’ve been told.”

“Well, she floated for a ways because they said Selena ran along the bank with her hands over her ears screaming to try to block out the sound of the baby’s cries. And then finally she went under.” I paused, looking from Nadine to Jamey. They both had big eyes and shut mouths, and I decided to go for the dramatic. “And there was silence on Cry Baby Creek.

“Five days later, they finally found the body. Some of the lace on
the christening gown had snagged on the root of a dogwood tree that was leaning down the bank.”

“The water must have been very cold, or the body would have decomposed,” Nadine said matter-of-factly.

“The baby didn’t have a name,” I continued. “But when the people of Chickasaw County got ready to bury her, they named her Evie, so she’d have a name on her tombstone.”

“Why Evie?” Nadine asked.

“I don’t know. Mama Betts just said she was so perfect. It really upset everybody on the road. See, when Selena went back to the congregation with blood all over her and no baby, everyone started looking for the infant. The church people tried to keep it hushed up among themselves, but it didn’t work. Soon the news traveled down the road and everybody got involved.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Selena who killed the baby but the preacherman,” Nadine said. She rose to her feet, walked four or five steps away from us and then suddenly turned to confront us. “Maybe he came up on Selena having the baby, and when she delivered, he took the child, dressed it, christened it and then drowned it.”

Nadine’s brown eyes were alive in the dim barn. I could feel the skin beginning to crawl along my arms. Jamey Louise even shifted a little closer to me.

“Maybe that preacherman who killed Selena’s baby is the very same one that lives down at the end of Kali Oka Road now. Maybe he’s come back! They always come back to the scene of the crime.”

I took in a deep breath. It might be true. Who else would know about that church down at the end of an old dirt road? Based on the way he’d treated Magdeline Scott, he was mean enough to do anything.

Nadine looked from me to Jamey Louise, and I thought for a fraction of a second she might smile. Then she said, “That poor little baby you hear late at night is crying out for justice.”

Nineteen

N
ADINE’S
interpretation of the story of Evie Baxter and Cry Baby Creek put a curl in my toenails on a hot August day, but it wasn’t enough to derail my plans for that night. I wanted to tell Alice how Nadine had ended the story—how her version redeemed Selena Baxter and put the guilt on the preacherman. But Alice was on the touchy side about the horses and the barn. She didn’t approve of Nadine. Nadine had a way about her that set Alice’s teeth on edge and made her angry. Alice didn’t care to talk about it much—didn’t care to say Nadine’s name, actually. She just stayed away from the barn. When I pressed her for reasons, she said Nadine reminded her of some of her relatives who were mean.

Living with all of those brothers and sisters had given Alice a different appreciation of other people’s feelings. She was careful; she looked away when someone was exposed. She had a tender heart and it hurt her to see other people suffer. I guess with so many relatives poking and prying into her business, she valued keeping her private feelings private.

At the barn, feelings were examined, pulled apart. No one was spared. I don’t think Nadine realized how the tricks and things she played on me and Jamey and Greg might upset someone like Alice. The truth was, though, Nadine didn’t care. She was like that. It was what made her such a great rider.

Fear was Nadine’s specialty. She was always saying to confront fear and beat it back. When I was afraid of a jump, she’d raise the standard
three more inches. Her logic was that if I was afraid of a three-three jump, then to jump three-six would show me three-three was nothing to fear.

Fear was an ally, she said. Fear kept a rider alert and safe. All good riders felt fear. They just didn’t give in to it. So she’d call Jamey Louise and Greg to watch as I jumped the brick wall with a rail set at three-six. They would witness whether I conquered fear or it conquered me. And Cammie and I would jump! And when we landed, I would feel the rush of victory over fear. Nadine would smile and in her eyes would be the look of a victor.

That was exactly the kind of scene that Alice hated. For her, fear and every other emotion were private. When she cried, she wanted no one to see. When she was afraid, she hated the idea of an audience, of a contest won—or lost—in public. She didn’t realize that Nadine’s way of confronting things was the way she’d learned on the national show circuit. There everything was public. Win or lose. Victory or defeat. She was a competitor.

I tried to smooth things over by inviting Alice to visit Nadine. I was surprised when she reluctantly accepted and agreed on a cloudless Wednesday. More than anything else, I wanted Alice to see how special Cammie was. I planned and planned. Mama Betts made a picnic lunch for us, and Nadine even promised to give Alice a lesson. I was going to pay for it with my work. Even Jamey Louise and Greg were excited by Alice’s pending arrival.

As it turned out, Alice didn’t have much chance to get to see the horses. Nadine had prepared her own special treat for Alice. She’d spent the entire summer training two barn rats to perform tricks. She’d taught one to eat out of her own mouth.

The first time I saw it, it made me feel a little queasy, but I caught on that Nadine did it just to see if she could unsettle someone. It was a test. And it was something Nadine liked to do in front of Greg.

There were two rats. One of the rats had been domesticated at one time, or so Nadine supposed because he was brown and white. She named him Charlie. The other rat was a grayish brown, and a little bigger than Charlie. He was Ernest. It was Charlie that Nadine had trained to walk up her chest while she reclined in the hay in the loft. First, Nadine would chew up some suitable food and then catch Charlie up and set him just about at her belly button. While she obligingly
opened her mouth, the rat crawled up her chest until he put his feet on her chin and eased his head into her open mouth to eat off her tongue.

No matter how many times she did it, I watched in fascination. It was so grotesque that I couldn’t stop myself from looking. And even when I didn’t want to see it again, I looked.

On the day that Alice visited the barn, Nadine performed. I was hoping she wouldn’t, but I could see it in her foxy eyes the minute she saw Alice and Maebelle V. First she asked to hold the baby, and Alice hesitated longer than I’d ever seen her hesitate before giving Maebelle over. Nadine was small but strong, and she lifted Maebelle high in the air and made her laugh.

“Cute baby,” Nadine said, handing her back. “Let me show you mine.” And she led the way up into the loft.

I tried to catch Alice’s eye and warn her, but she was intent on getting up the ladder safely with Maebelle V. in her little papoose. When we were in the loft, Greg came to stand by me, effectively blocking my chance of saying anything private to Alice.

“It’s the rats,” Greg whispered. I thought there was a hint of eagerness in his voice, but when I looked at him he was looking at Alice with concern. “Nadine, maybe Alice won’t like the rats.”

Nadine halted her search in the hay and looked at Greg. “How is it that you know so much about what Alice likes and dislikes, Greg? Would you like to tell us?”

When he didn’t answer, Nadine continued searching in the hay for several minutes before finding Charlie’s hiding place. It was odd, but the rat seemed to try to resist. He squirmed and struggled to get free of Nadine’s fingers, and then he quit. It was as if he fell under some spell. Once she placed him on her chest, he moved slowly up her ribs and between her breasts, one reluctant paw after the next, until he had both front feet on her chin and his hind feet on the pulse of her throat. Then his mostly white head would dart deep into her mouth and he would eat.

Alice gagged. Before I could say anything to help her, she climbed down the ladder and walked out into the sunshine. “Why does she do that?” she asked, rubbing her right eyebrow with the back of her hand. “She’s completely crazy, Bekkah. Rats carry all kinds of diseases.”

“It’s a test,” I whispered.

“What kind of test?” Hot color jumped beneath her freckled cheeks. “To see how much someone will put up with before they pick up their things and go home?” She was doing just that as she talked. “I know you love the horses, Bekkah, and I’m glad you get to ride, but that woman is sick in the head. I won’t be coming back here. I don’t like this place and I don’t like her.”

She walked out of the gate with Maebelle V. bobbing and waving on her back. She latched the gate carefully, picked up her bicycle by the chinaberry tree where I’d parked mine, and she rode home without ever looking back once. She’d never come back and visit, not even to watch me jump. I knew it would be pointless to try to explain it all to Alice. She didn’t understand that horse people were different.

So telling her about Nadine’s version of Cry Baby Creek would be foolish. Because Nadine had said it, Alice wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, it was better to stay away from the legend if we were going to be sneaking around the old church in the dead of night. Of all the summer nights I’d gone down to the creek deliberately to hear the baby cry, I didn’t want this to be one when it happened.

I took great care to make sure everyone in the house thought I was asleep. Getting around Picket was a lot harder than the humans, and Alice and I had decided to take the dog with us as a safety measure. Since all of the Redeemers were in Hattiesburg, there’d be no danger to her. Besides, Picket was a very comforting presence in the dark, and even though Alice and I were old hands at sneaking out of the house on summer nights, going down to the creek to dig up a baby’s body was a little different.

When I could hear Mama Betts snoring over the sound of the attic fan, I slipped from the bed and hurried through the kitchen and out the door. I’d worn my shorts and T-shirt to bed, and my sneakers were on the screened porch. It was nearly eleven o’clock. Nobody else on Kali Oka would be awake. Alice and I could slip through the night like enchanted spirits.

Alice was waiting in the woods, her body unusually slender in the moonlight because she wasn’t encumbered with Maebelle V. We got our bicycles and kept to the woods for as long as we could before we were forced out into the road.

The night silvered the old fence posts and trees. There was a magical quality about the most familiar mailbox. Even the air seemed
sweeter, more filled with scents and noises. I looked at Alice and she grinned as we pedaled our way to adventure. The joy of escape filled us with a wildness that made any risk worth taking. We were free in the night, without the rules of daytime, without the need to be the people we normally were.

I wondered about the creatures that claimed the darkness as their turf. The owl and cat. Daddy had told me that their golden eyes enabled them to see more than other animals. They were nocturnal. And by escaping the bounds of our houses, Alice and I had become like them. Nocturnal creatures filled with the night.

Nothing looked familiar in the strange light of the moon, yet I felt more normal with Alice on Kali Oka Road than I had since the beginning of summer. We passed under the branches of Mrs. Spooner’s most prized persimmon tree. In the moonlight the glossy leaves were black and silver, beautiful. Alice and I shared a glance, and a grin.

“We should sneak out every night,” Alice said.

“Maybe we will.” We pumped in unison and moved down the road. Picket seemed caught up in the specialness of the night. She stayed right beside my bicycle, never straying to inspect a yard or to bounce among the briars in search of a rabbit.

We parked our bicycles and found the old shovel I’d hidden. Alice gripped it while I slipped Picket’s leash on her. I intended to let her run free just as soon as we made it to the cemetery.

“What if they left someone to guard the church?” Alice asked. We had both come to a stop standing in the road. Neither of us wanted to be the first to step into the cemetery.

I felt my resolve weakening, and I knew I had to do something or we’d both turn around for home. “They didn’t leave any guards. Greg said everyone had to go. There was some kind of vote to be taken.”

“They wouldn’t let the children vote.” Alice looked from the woods to the creek to the church to the cemetery. In the moonlight even her freckles were beautiful.

“They wouldn’t leave children here alone.” I grinned in the silvery moonlight. “We might corrupt them if they were left on their own.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Alice grinned too. “If not us, surely Jamey Louise.”

“Greg’s a lost cause. Jamey’s snatched his soul, and it’s going to take more than a little redeeming to save him from the jaws of hell.”

We giggled and together took the first step toward the creek. We simply could not think that we were going to dig up a dead baby. Not even a part of one. Our footsteps were steady as we topped the bridge over Cry Baby Creek. The water, slow because the summer rains of mid-August hadn’t arrived yet, gurgled below us. Even in the coolness of the night the water issued a tempting invitation. Maybe after we had our evidence we’d have time for a dip.

Alice must have been thinking the same thing because her steps slowed on the wooden bridge. We both looked over the side. In the moonlight the water was quicksilver.

“I’d forgotten how the creek sings,” Alice said.

The silence of the woods seemed to edge up closer on us. Only the creek made a sound. The hair on my arms trembled, and I tried to think of something to say to keep Alice from noticing how quiet it was.

“Maybe we should have invited Jamey Louise to come with us,” Alice said.

“Jamey? Why should we have?”

“Well, if something gets after us, we can both run faster than her, and we could leave her behind.” Alice giggled again.

She was teasing, but the idea of Jamey Louise as a human sacrifice wasn’t half bad. “Let’s go,” I urged, forcing myself to move forward. Together, with a shovel and my dog, we stepped onto the promised land of the Redeemers.

I had no problem remembering which grave. Although weeks had passed, the earth was still raw. We stood looking at the grave. At this distance the creek couldn’t be heard. There was only that complete, unnatural silence that made my body hair jerk and quiver.