Summer of the Redeemers (8 page)

“You’d better call it a day and get home.”

Nadine’s words brought me back to hard reality. It was at least five-thirty. Before Nadine could help, I slid from Cammie’s back, just as I’d read in my books.

“Perfect dismount. This time I’ll untack her, because we’re in a hurry. But from now it’s your responsibility.”

“I can come back?” Although my dread of going home was multiplying with each second, the thought of riding again gave me a jolt of pure bliss.

“I hope you’ll come and take some lessons from me. I’d love to teach you.”

“Maybe.” I knew Mama would never give me money for riding lessons. She’d been trying to coerce me into piano for years, and I’d held out. Horses were out of the question.

“You could work for your lessons.”

Nadine showed me the door to magic and then gave me the key. Somehow I’d manage to have them. My hand lingered on Cammie’s warm shoulder as Nadine removed saddle and bridle and returned her to her stall. In a few moments we had unhitched her truck and were bumping over her driveway to the road.

At the Welfords’ fence I stopped her and got out to get the potatoes and okra. She drove to the edge of our property, where I directed her to stop. Chances were that Mama had already called the Welfords, and that Emily had told her I’d left better than an hour before. I was in big trouble.

“Whatever punishment they give you, remember Cammie,” Nadine said, brushing my bangs from my forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rebekah. You wanted something bad enough to take a risk. That isn’t bad. What’s wrong is that no one understands or appreciates your dream. I do, because it’s the same one I have.”

Clutching the bag of potatoes and okra, I got out and closed the truck door. Tears threatened and I called a thanks and hurried away before she saw them. Nadine Andrews wouldn’t cry in public. Cutting through part of the yard, I hurried to the screen door. The porch was ominously quiet. I almost tripped over the pile of metal that had been assembled near the door.

It took a full ten seconds for me to recognize the two wheels, the curves of fenders and the once white seat that had been my bicycle.

The entire thing had been taken apart piece by piece. Even the basket was mixed in the wreckage. That Redeemer boy had destroyed my bicycle and then brought the parts of it to my very yard.

The sack of potatoes slipped from my hand and bounced lightly on the ground. I knelt beside the pile of metal, fighting back the tears. In a second I was glad to feel the surge of anger that saved me from crying like a baby. I’d kill that bastard. He’d torn up my beautiful bicycle and left it destroyed at my own front porch.

Eight

I
DIDN’T
know how much time passed, at least fifteen minutes.

I was so caught up in the rage and loss that I lost track. Voices coming through the kitchen window brought me around. A shaft of inviting yellow light beckoned me inside, but I hovered outside, listening. My fingertips traced the back fender of my bike.

“Effie, you want me to run over to Alice’s house and ask her?”

Arly’s voice floated out the open window, eager. He could sense the depth of the pit I’d fallen into, and he smelled blood. If anyone outside the family tried to hurt me, Arly would tear them apart. But inside the family we were competitors. Mama Betts said until I was born, Arly had been the sun. Every time he burped or fizzled they thought it was a sign of genius. Then two years later I came along. Mama Betts said I’d never understand because I’d always lived with Arly, but he had that distant memory of being the only child, the best-loved baby.

Now Arly had entered the ranks of male teenager, and he was girl crazy, though he hid it pretty well from Effie and Mama Betts. Daddy suspected, but since he was away this summer I couldn’t be sure how much he knew. Anyway, if Arly could keep the spotlight of Effie’s fear focused on me, then he’d have more freedom to do as he pleased. I understood his strategy, and I wanted to choke him. I held myself still while Mama talked.

“If she isn’t home in ten minutes, I’m going to call Joe.”

“Now, Effie. You’re getting hysterical.”

“Her bicycle is in pieces! What sane person would do that? I should have called Joe when Arly found the bike! What if someone’s taken my baby?”

Mama’s voice had gone past anger, climbing higher and higher into the zone of panic. Joe Wickham was the county sheriff. I’d really stepped in it now.

I stood up. There was no point delaying, but my legs didn’t want to work. Man oh man. I forced myself over the bicycle and onto the porch. Since I was a coward, I let the screen door slam. That gave them a little warning that I was home. The scraping of chairs in the kitchen was distinct, a harsh noise that foretold of things to come.

Dusk had begun to settle over Kali Oka Road, and when the door opened, the light spilled out and over me. I stood transfixed, like a ‘possum staring directly into headlights. I had to fight to keep my hands from going up as if I expected to be struck.

“Rebekah!” Effie and Mama Betts spoke together.

“Man, you’re in some shit now,” Arly offered and failed to even earn a reprimand for his language. He stood behind them, peering over their shoulders.

“Where have you been?” Mama and Mama Betts both lifted their arms to their hips. “Well, answer me.”

It was as if they’d rehearsed together.

“You’d better hope you were kidnapped by communists, because if not, you haven’t got an alibi and you’re going to suffer big time.”

“Shut up, Arly.” I was trying to think what to tell them. They knew about the bicycle, but they didn’t know who had done it. “Someone stole my bicycle.”

“Rebekah Brighton Rich.”

Effie’s voice simmered. She was over the fear and had notched up to a pure fury that was the by-product of intense relief. She’d be over the worst of it in a matter of minutes, if I lived that long.

“Your father is sitting in an office halfway across the country, worried sick about you. I’ve been about to tear my hair out, and Mama Betts has been terrified thinking of all the things that could have happened to you.”

“I’m sorry.” Indeed I was, but I knew apologies would go unheard at this point.

“She didn’t ask for a character reference.” Arly had stepped back
from the door. Mama Betts’ hand clamped down on his shoulder with a suddenness that made him jump.

“Someone stole my bike, and I was trying to get it back.”

“Who took it?” Effie held the screen door open for me to enter.

The crisis was over. At least the worst of it. She was asking questions and maybe willing to listen to my side. “I don’t know.” I was still carrying the potatoes and okra, and Mama Betts took the bag from my arms.

“Arly, go wash some of these potatoes.” She handed the bag to him, and I felt a surge of satisfaction.

“You’d better explain yourself right now.” Effie pointed at a chair at the kitchen table.

I told them about going to the creek swimming and how we’d left the bikes along the bank and how they were gone when we went back for them. It was not a lie, only the timing was a little off. “That’s what took us so long to get home. We had to walk. Alice begged me not to tell because hers is the family bicycle and now it’s ruined.” I was about to cry, thinking about the trouble Alice would be in if her bike was sitting in a heap in her front yard. Mrs. Waltman was known to slap first and never listen. With ten kids she wanted results, not excuses, as she said.

“Arly said he thought he could put it back together.”

“Really?” My beautiful bike, whole and wonderful again. “Alice’s too?”

“If all the parts are there.” Arly spoke over his shoulder, his hands in the sink. “It’s going to cost you,” he mouthed at me so that no one else could hear.

“I’ll bet the child is starved,” Mama Betts said. She reached into the oven and brought out a plate of food.

I was famished. My ribs ached I was so hungry. Fried chicken, rice and gravy and crowder peas. Without okra. I was the fault of that, but I picked up the fork Mama Betts gave me and dug in.

“Look at her scarf her food,” Arly said. “Maybe there’s a contest we can enter her in.”

“Chew your food, Bekkah,” Effie said automatically. “And swallow that mouthful and tell us where you’ve been.”

I chewed for a long time. “I was hoping whoever took the bikes would leave them along the road. Like a prank and all. So I was down
the road, sort of along the fence rows.” Even though it wasn’t a complete lie, my eyes wouldn’t lift from my plate.

“Did it ever occur to you that I would have taken you in the car?”

“I wanted to find it myself.”

“Little Miss Independence.” Mama Betts put a slice of hot cornbread on my plate. Her knuckles brushed across my arm. “You were always that way, Bekkah. Headstrong and determined to have your way. It’s going to cost you one of these days. Gonna cost all of us.”

Guilt mixed in with my fond desire to save my hide. Mama Betts had been worried sick. She never threatened unless she’d been badly scared. “I’m sorry, Grandma.”

“You can’t help your nature, child. That’s something you’re going to have to learn. And that stubborn streak is gonna cost you plenty in the future.” She kissed the crown of my head. “Yes, ma’am, like I said, that streak is gonna cost you, and yet it may be the thing that holds you up in the worst of times. That’s what you learn when you get old. There’s a blessing and a curse in everything. Just like loving you children. It brings me my greatest pleasure and worst pain.”

Not even Arly had anything wise to say after that. I felt about as big as a sun-baked cow pie. Even the fried chicken had lost its taste. I chewed on, determined to finish or Arly would comment.

“When you finish, we’ll call your father.” Effie took a seat beside me at the table.

I pushed my plate back. It was silly to pretend I wasn’t upset. I could see that Effie had been crying. Mama Betts had been worried sick, and Daddy was probably pacing the office of his strange house in Missouri. All of this misery brought on because … because I’d ridden a horse. The thought of Cammie touched me like a gentle hand.

We dialed the university where Daddy was living in some faculty housing for visiting teachers. It didn’t even ring one good time before he snatched up the phone.

“Daddy, it’s Bekkah.”

“Then you’re safe. When Effie told me about the bicycle, I was afraid …”

What could possibly have made him so afraid on Kali Oka Road? Parents had a way of worrying all out of proportion to what was going on.

After we talked a few minutes and he finally believed I wasn’t hurt at all, his mind started working again.

“Who took the bicycle, Bekkah?”

Somehow, a thousand miles away, he knew that I knew more than I was telling.

“I’m not certain.” I didn’t know their names.

“Listen to me, girl. Whatever mischief you’re up to, don’t you ever worry your mother that way again.”

“I was right on Kali Oka. I didn’t go anywhere—”

“Rebekah, you’re old enough to begin to understand. You have a responsibility to me and Effie and Mama Betts and Arly. You have to use good sense and make certain that nothing bad happens to you.” He paused. “You can’t risk yourself, Bekkah.”

“Yes, sir.” They’d all gone off the deep end. I was just an hour or so late. You’d think I’d been playing with dynamite. Effie had stepped back in the kitchen, away from the telephone in the hall. “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“If I had a chance at something I wanted more than anything else, something that wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it be wrong for me to try to get it?”

“Hypothetical questions are impossible at this distance. Would you care to be a little more specific?”

The detail man. He couldn’t be happy with a simple question. “There’s a woman at the old McInnis place. Her name is Nadine Andrews, and she’s offered to give me horseback riding lessons if I’ll work at her barn.”

“What does Effie say?”

“I haven’t told her.”

“So, that’s the story of where you were and how you lost your bicycle.”

“For the most part.” It would be stupid to drag the Redeemer boys into an already complicated story.

“You couldn’t have picked up the telephone and called your mother?”

“Nadine just moved in. I don’t think her phone is hooked up yet.”

“Bekkah, I know how bad you want this, and I don’t personally see any harm in it, but I can’t say yes if Effie’s dead set against it.”

My only hope faded. “Don’t tell her, Daddy. Let me work on it.”

There was a long pause. “Promise me you won’t run off and worry your mother again. Work it out between the two of you, but don’t leave her wondering if she’s going to find your body in the ditch somewhere.”

“I promise. How are things in Missouri?”

“Far removed from the things that are worrying me about Mississippi.”

Daddy suddenly sounded tired. He was always worried about things that couldn’t be helped. He talked about perceptions and how people got tied down in one way of thinking and couldn’t see the truth. He said that the South was in for a hard time because some northern folks had time schedules in their heads and were determined to keep them. Not a lot of what he said made sense to me, but it troubled him. And Effie too. I had the idea that it had something to do with communists, but somehow Negroes were involved in it too. We didn’t have any Negroes living on Kali Oka Road, so it didn’t seem as if it could really have too much effect on us. Besides, the ones I knew in Jexville didn’t seem upset about anything.

“Daddy, we’re all fine down here. Don’t worry about us.”

“Put your mother on the phone, Bekkah. I love you.”

Daddy wouldn’t tell on me about the horses. We had a deal. I called Effie to the phone and listened for a few minutes as she talked about Jexville and some argument at a juke joint up near the forks of the river at Merrill. A Negro man had been selling shine, and a white man had killed him. The Negro’s brother had then taken a shotgun and blasted the white man in half. I’d heard Effie and Mama Betts talking about it in whispers. It sounded like it was all over to me. The white man had started it, and he’d been killed. There was obviously something more to the whole story because whenever Effie started to talk about it, she whispered and tried to talk in code so that Arly and I wouldn’t catch on. Arly and I, for the most part, weren’t interested.

“They’ve got him in jail.”

There was a pause while Daddy talked.

“No, none of the lawyers will represent him. I’m afraid they’re going to send someone from out of town.”

There was another pause.

“No, Joe says the jail is secure. He wants him moved, but there’s no place to take him.” Pause. “No, Greene County would be worse. They’d hang him in his cell. Hattiesburg, maybe.”

There was a lot longer pause, and Effie cast me an accusatory look. “I’m not afraid to let her grow up. That’s not fair. You’re not even here.”