Diamond Duo (24 page)

Bertha’s mama gave him a shaky smile. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping those two.”

She’d no sooner spoken than Mr. Biddie entered the room. His wife glared up at him, and Thad stood, so nervous he nearly tossed the lady’s china in her lap. Mr. Biddie remained just inside
the doorway, frowning and gnawing on his lip.

Mrs. Biddie leaned forward. “Francis? What on earth? Where’s Bertha?”

“I can’t say.”

For the first time, Thad noticed that all color had drained from the man’s face, and at his words, Mrs. Biddie’s paled to match it, her bright smile long gone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t say, because I don’t know. Your daughter’s not here, Emeline. Not in her room, inside the house, or anywhere on the grounds. I’ve search the whole place. Bertha’s gone. Just plain gone.”

B
ertha rode hard toward town, her attention drawn to the setting sun. She’d already lost too much time by circling around the usual route, but she had to avoid the road to miss Thad.

Her spirits sank lower at the thought of him. What would he do when he arrived to find her gone? She’d bungled things before, but never with such heartrending consequences.

As she stood staring at the cross around her neck in the looking glass, her heart had seized in her chest and she’d stumbled back to sit on the bed before she fell. To her shame she considered forgetting her promise to meet Annie just as fast as she’d recalled it, and after a few deep breaths to settle her nerves, she’d gone right on preparing for Thad’s visit.

Until the reminder came that the time she planned to spend with Thad didn’t belong to her. The evening belonged to God in sacrifice for Annie. But when she’d offered it, she’d had no way of knowing how dear the cost.

The last bit of daylight faded to the point where Bertha could hardly see, which made it necessary for her to pick her way with caution through the woods. She would be late. What calamity if, after all of this, Annie gave up on her and went back to her room.

Suppose Annie didn’t show? Bertha had to admit she’d be glad.

She already hoped the meeting went fast enough to get her home early, though she’d have some explaining to do when she got there. If she didn’t see Annie standing in the alley, she’d hightail it back and enjoy her evening with Thad, her conscience clear.

“I’ll look for you at sunset, but I’ll wait no matter how long it takes.”

They were her words, spoken with conviction just hours before. At this latest reminder, anger welled up along with sudden hot tears. “Very well, God!” she cried aloud. “But I don’t understand why You’re doing this to me.”

Thad would be hurt at losing so much of their time, especially after her promise to move heaven and earth to spend the evening together. When she got back, she’d have to make him understand. Her determination may have succeeded with moving the earth, but she found her stubborn streak no match for God’s heaven.

At the last turn into town, Bertha slowed her horse so she wouldn’t attract attention but rose up in the saddle and peered toward the alley. “Where is she?” she whispered to the horse. She leaned over the saddle and strained her eyes.
Where is she?

There!

Annie stood in the shadows near the corner building, huddled against the cold. She faced away from the road and the streetlamp, and away from Bertha. To keep from scaring her, Bertha got off the horse, tied him to a post, and walked the rest of the way. “Annie?”

Startled, Annie’s shoulders jerked, but she didn’t turn around.

“It’s me. Are you all right?”

Annie turned, and Bertha saw why she hadn’t at first. Tangled hair fell around her head and shoulders in a stringy mess. Powder and paint ran in streaks, and her face appeared swollen and wet with tears. She wore a coat over what appeared to be her nightdress. In the dim glow from the nearby gaslight, Bertha noticed the nightgown had been ripped off one shoulder.

Her steps faltered. “Oh, Annie. What has he done to you? ”

Annie stumbled close and fell against her. “He hurt me. He always hurts me. I hate him so much.”

“Did he hit you?”

She rocked her head from side to side. “Not with his fists. Not this time. He can’t afford to mar the merchandise.”

“Merchandise? What do you mean?”

Annie tugged her coat around her and looked away. “Nothing. Never mind.” She cleared her throat and licked her smeared red lips. “Abe pushed me around a little, that’s all. Pinned me to the bed and screamed insults in my face. When he let me up, I ran.” She fingered the tattered fabric on her arm. “He made a grab at me but missed and ripped my gown.” She rubbed her shoulder. “Twisted my arm a bit, too.”

Bertha groaned. “Is this my fault? Did he catch you trying to leave?”

She shook her head. “Oh no. His anger’s been building for hours. He started guzzling right after you left today, and Abe just gets meaner with every drink he pours down. I took his abuse for as long as I could before I made a run for it.”

Bertha crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, you can’t go back.”

Annie gave a nervous little laugh. “Sure I can. I just have to wait until he passes out. If I’m lucky, he won’t remember a thing by morning.” She snorted. “You think it’s the first time this has happened?”

Then she leaned to peer into Bertha’s eyes. “I’ll be fine, I promise. But thank you for caring, huh? And thank you for being here for me. You’re the best friend I have.” Her laugh sounded bitter. “What am I saying? You’re the only friend I have. Abe won’t allow anyone to get close to me.”

Bertha felt a tug in her heart. This was her chance to say what she’d come for. She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Annie, I’ll always be your friend, for as long as you’ll have me. But I know Someone who’ll make a better friend to you than I ever could.” She reached to smooth tangled hair from Annie’s face then plucked at the torn fabric of her gown. “He can help you out of this mess, too, if you’ll let Him. What do you say, Annie? Would you be willing to meet Him?”

A hard look crossed Annie’s face and her hand came up. “Stop right there. I’ve had my share of those kinds of friends. Got me one now, in fact. And, honey, I don’t need another. You can tell him so, too, whoever he is.” She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’re here? Some two-penny hustler put you up to conning me?”

“Of course not! Oh goodness, you don’t understand.”

Annie turned her back. “And I don’t care to, thank you.”

Bertha gripped her shoulder. “You’ve got it all wrong. Or rather, I didn’t say it right. Let me try again.” She swallowed hard and said a silent prayer for courage. “You know yesterday at the bluff, when we talked about the devil and dying?”

Annie’s eyes changed, as if a curtain dropped inside her head. “What about it?”

“I believe God can protect you from both of those threats.”

“Whoa, there. Abe’s pretty bad, I’ll admit, but he’s not the devil.” She smirked. “At least, I don’t think so.” She took a few steps away. “Look, I know where you’re going with this. I’ve heard it all before. I’m not interested.”

Bertha cringed. “But why? God just wants to care for you. Why would you reject such a loving offer?”

Annie stared off into the dark alley behind them. “Sugar, your God doesn’t want someone like me.”

“Yes, He does.”

Annie’s tense shoulders slumped in an attitude of defeat. “Then He doesn’t know what all I’ve done.”

Bertha cocked her head to the side. “I wouldn’t count on it. God knows things you can’t even remember and those you wish you could forget.”

Fear paled Annie’s face. “Bertha, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I mean it.”

“But–”

“I mean it.”

Bertha felt heartsick. Begging Annie to accept God’s grace seemed like force-feeding a starving man. But if she didn’t want to
hear it, Bertha could only do as she asked.

When the idea came, Bertha knew it wasn’t hers any more than standing in the dark streets of Jefferson while Thad stood on her porch was her idea. Without trying to reason it out, she reached behind her neck to undo the clasp of her cross necklace and held it up to Annie. “Very well, I won’t say another word. But take this as a reminder of what I did say.”

Annie’s startled eyes followed the motion of the swinging necklace. “I can’t take that.”

“I want you to have it. Turn around and let me fasten it for you.”

Annie backed away as though the chain would burn if it touched her flesh. “I could never wear it.”

Embarrassment burned Bertha’s cheeks. Maybe she hadn’t heard from God, after all. Why would someone who owned diamonds wear her secondhand silver? “I’m sorry, Annie. You don’t like it.”

Annie’s mouth gaped. “What? Don’t be silly. Of course I like it.”

“What, then?”

Tears clouded her tortured gray eyes. “It’s a cross, Bertha. I’m not worthy.”

Bertha’s own eyes blurred. “Stop it. Why would you say that?”

Annie started to cry in earnest. Great splashing teardrops hit the front of her coat and rolled down her cheeks, making watery tracks through already-smudged makeup. “Because I do things with men. Shameful things. Things that make me feel sick.”

Bertha’s insides recoiled in shock, but for Annie’s sake she held her ground. “Why would you. . .with those men. . .I mean, if you don’t want to?”

“He beats me, all right? Abe beats me if I say no. He slaps me and drags me by my hair. He pushes me down and hits me with his fists until my eyes swell and I can’t see.”

Bertha covered her ears with her arms. “No, Annie. I can’t bear to hear this.”

Too wound up to stop, Annie paced the alley and sobbed. “After he’s finished with me, he gets even madder when he realizes what he’s done.”

“Because he’s sorry?”

“Oh, he’s sorry enough. Sorry he won’t get as much money now that I don’t look so nice.”

Annie cried so hard by then, Bertha feared they’d hear her clear to Dallas. She took three steps back to peer up and down the dark street but saw nothing. “Annie, why do you stay with him? How can you even think of going back there tonight?”

Annie sniffed and swiped her arm under her nose. She spoke, and her voice held a mournful tremor. “I have nowhere else to go. No one to take care of me.”

Bertha frowned. “Why can’t you go home?”

Annie shuddered. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

She crossed her arms and paced back and forth again, this time in a calmer stride. “I left home when I turned fifteen. Ran off with an older man I thought I loved. He claimed to love me, too. Even said he wanted to marry me.” Shame flashed in her eyes. “But he left me high and dry. My parents were so angry, and I couldn’t go back after disgracing them.”

“What did you do?”

She looked at the ground. “The only thing I knew how to do at fifteen. I turned to strange men for money and love.” She looked up, and her eyes had welled again. “I’m not the least bit proud of it, but I was alone and so scared. When Abe came along, I took him to be my ticket out, and in some ways he was. He treated me good at first. Still does when he’s not drunk or broke.” Annie leaned against the building and continued to pour out the dreadful story of her ill-fated life, complete with all the desperate, wretched things she’d ever done.

Bertha longed to stop her ears, to run away from the vulgar tale, but she sensed Annie needed to confess her past in order to cleanse herself from its hold. So love held Bertha fast.

Annie’s halting words drained her so that by the time she finished talking, her body slumped against the wall and her voice sounded strained. When it seemed nothing else festered inside,
Annie raised her head. Water droplets glistened on the hood of her coat. Whether beads of rain or dew from the heavy night air, Bertha couldn’t tell, but they sparkled like Annie’s tears in the glow from the gaslight.

She breathed a hopeless sigh. “Now do you understand why I’m not worthy to wear that cross?”

Anger stiffened Bertha’s spine. Not anger toward Annie, but toward the man who abandoned her so long ago, toward her parents for doing the same, toward the cruel-hearted Abe, and toward every other beastly circumstance of Annie’s life that had robbed her of hope.

Bertha dangled the necklace in front of her eyes. “Annie Moore, you listen to me. The gift this cross represents is more powerful than any laundry list of sins you may be guilty of, no matter how heinous. The cross covered them all.” Annie turned her face away, but Bertha cupped her chin and pulled her back. “All, Annie. You just have to accept it for yourself in order to be free.”

Annie wrung her hands and searched Bertha’s face with anxious eyes. “I just don’t know how to believe that.”

“Don’t take my word for it, then. Ask God yourself if He’s able to forgive the things you’ve done.” Bertha opened Annie’s hand, pressed the necklace into her palm, and closed her fingers around it. “Hang on to this for now, while you think about what I’ve said. Will you do that much?”

Annie nodded. “I’ll hang on to it. Thank you, Bertha.” She held up her closed fist and looked at her rings. She wore two on that hand, lovely pieces with big diamonds that sparkled even in the sparse light. “How I wish I could repay you in kind. I’d love for you to have one of these.”