Diamond Duo (38 page)

She shook her head. “I don’t need to. I’ve already said good-bye.”

He sniffed then chuckled. “So Sarah’s dress will be there, but she won’t?”

She grinned. It was time to tell him. Until now she’d kept her secret suspicions to herself. She needed to be sure before she broke the news.

Heart pounding, she took his big, calloused hand in her own and slid it down over the front of her skirt. “Before long that little dress wouldn’t have fit me nohow. Even after I deliver, I don’t expect that tiny waist would ever go all the way around again.” He tensed, and she flushed with pleasure. “They claim a woman’s body changes after birthing a baby.”

Henry let go and moved around to stare at her with furrowed
brows. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, reminding Sarah of the poor befuddled fish that once took a swim with his overalls. She pressed his hand tighter against her waist. “Speak up, Papa. How do you expect to teach my daughter to talk if you can’t?”

He found his voice. “You mean it, Sarah?”

Smiling so hard her face hurt, she nodded.

He took off up the hill whooping so loudly he flushed a mess of wood thrushes from the nearby brush. After he tromped up and down a few times, shouting and bashing everything in sight with his hat, he ran back to her so fast she dodged for fear he’d run her down. He caught her before she got away and swung her off the ground. “Henry King gon’ be a papa! You hear me, world? Henry gon’ have a son!”

As if remembering her delicate condition, he stopped short and set her down gently. She took his cheeks in both hands and gave him a fierce look. “Now we have good reason to make things better in Jefferson. This baby is part of us, and she’ll be part of this town.”

Henry’s eyes blazed. “My son gon’ walk these streets with his head up, Sarah. I won’t allow nobody to treat him how they done me. Or steal his self-respect like they done yours.”

She shook her head. “You want change, Henry? Well, Jefferson may never change, but we can. If we raise our daughter to always look to God, her head will always be lifted, now, won’t it? I refuse to pass on a legacy of hate.”

They glared at each other for a spell before they both started to laugh. He nestled her under his arm and walked her up the hill. “You jus’ forget that daughter stuff right now. It’s a boy, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Hush up, Henry King. I need me a little girl to make white dresses for.”

At the top of the rise, he hauled her around to face him. “I tell you what. . .if you give me a son this time, next time you can have a girl. But after that, all boys. We need brothers for Henry Jr.”

She nudged him and started for the house. “Humph! Sisters, you mean. For my little Annie.”

Papa followed the horse-drawn hearse along the winding, tree-lined paths of Oakwood Cemetery.

The warmth of the day had long since given way to a chilly afternoon breeze, so Bertha raised her collar higher and bundled into the wool blanket Papa kept for her under the seat.

“You holding up all right, wee girl?”

She lifted her trembling chin in his direction and nodded.

Mama begged Bertha not to attend Annie’s funeral, but she had insisted.

Papa stood up for her, saying, “The obligation of a friend doesn’t end until the last clod hits the casket.” The way Bertha had it figured, she’d not get off so easy. She fully expected the debt she owed would follow her to her own grave.

Since Annie’s death, the yoke had altered but not lessened a whit. The burden of hope had become a load of guilt; one so heavy Bertha stumbled beneath its weight. And though she tried, Magda hadn’t said a word to make her feel better. Before she left, she asked Bertha to pray, but she couldn’t. God wasn’t interested in a word she had to say.

As for Thad, she had given up on him, too. After all, she didn’t deserve happiness, and Thad didn’t seem to care, so why should God intervene in the details of their lives?

The hearse came to a stop in front of them, and Papa helped her down. When her feet touched the ground, she swayed a bit, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I haven’t called it wrong, have I, sprite? Will this be too much for you?”

She straightened her spine. “It would be too much for me to miss it. I have to do this, Papa.”

He squeezed her tight. “That’s me girl.”

The men hired to bear the casket were walking away from the hearse toward the open grave. Except for Mr. Stilley, Dr. Turner,
Dr. Eason, Sheriff Bagby, and a few other townsfolk, curious strangers made up most of the hushed gathering. A small band of colored residents stood off to the side, including most of the staff from Brooks House–Jennie Simpson, Thomas and his wife, and the one they called Cook.

Papa nudged her forward. “Let’s go, Bertha. I’ll be right here holding you, and I promise not to let go as long as you need me.”

She gripped his steady arm. “I hope you mean that, because I need you.”

The six men who carried Annie’s casket gently lowered it into the ground with ropes. The assembled mourners crowded closer, and the minister opened the service with a prayer. Bertha struggled to focus, but her mind swirled with thoughts of Annie and the times they’d shared–their long talks about crushes and corsets and candy–and every other childish wasted word that kept her from saying the only thing that mattered. The words of faith Bertha had managed to spout seemed weak and trite. Not nearly enough to save her friend.

Bertha lowered her face to her hands just as Papa’s arm lifted from her shoulders. She felt him step away, and it shook her back to the present. She felt cold and alone without the comforting weight around her neck and more than a little cross. Hadn’t he promised not to leave her as long as she needed him? Yet he’d left her the second she needed him most.

She turned to see where he’d gone. He stood behind her, his features alight with a sappy smile. Confused and hurt, she faced the front again just as another comforting arm, another warm body, took Papa’s place from the opposite side. Startled by the surprising familiarity, her gaze jerked to her consoler’s face.

Thad!

His expression remained solemn except for the barest of smiles and a tiny wink. She glanced over her shoulder again. Papa beamed and raised his thumb.

The rest of the service became a blur of questions and scattered feelings. The poor minister might’ve yodeled the rest of the message
for all she heard. That is, until his booming voice read the closing passage of scripture. “ ‘What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? Shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?’ ” His burning gaze swept the circle of mourners. “That’s why, dear children, it becomes imperative that we who have been enlightened with the truth persist so diligently to obey the admonishment in James 5:20.” He held the book aloft and began to read. “ ‘He which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins.’ ”

Bertha spun away from Thad, brushed past Papa, lifted her skirts, and ran. She ran through the idle curious, providing more than their money’s worth of morbid entertainment, and past the grieving staff of Brooks House, who stared with sympathetic eyes. She passed up the wagon and didn’t stop until she’d barreled through the front gate, thundered a good ways up the road, and crashed into a heavy thicket standing between her and a winding trail.

The branches clutched at her sleeves and tore long scratches in her ankles. Cruel briars crisscrossed in front, and in back her skirt caught around the thorns of a tall devil’s walking stick growing up through the brush. If she attempted one more step, she’d fall facedown on the briars or be pulled back on the spiny stick. Trapped, she couldn’t move an inch. Her dilemma reminded her of her life. Thad’s return stirred hope in her heart, but guilt over failing Annie left her at a standstill.

Too distraught to cry, she looked around to weigh her options. If she could possibly sit down without ripping the flesh from her palms, she might manage to free her skirt from the cruel spike. She leaned to lower her body onto one arm when a hand shot out and latched onto her waist. “Don’t move, Bertha. That’s stinging nettle beneath you.”

“Oh, Thad,” she wailed. “I’m stuck.”

“I can see that. Let’s get you unstuck.” He held her up with one hand and carefully freed her skirt with the other. When the last piece of cloth inched free, he lifted her from the thicket and set her
down on the road. “Are you all right, sugar?”

With trembling fingers, she smoothed her tattered skirt. “I guess so.”

“Good. Now tell me what just happened. Why did you run off like that?”

Bertha averted her gaze. “I believe I need to sit down.”

Thad scanned their surroundings then took her by the wrist. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, I think so.” She wasn’t pretending feminine frailty. Her legs trembled so much she feared they might fail her.

Thad led her to a clearing where a big tree lay, felled by the wind in a recent storm. He took off his overcoat and spread it over the bark then helped her to sit. Settling beside her, he inched a bit closer. “I missed you, Bertha.”

Surprised, she raised her head. His simple declaration brought a sweet smile to her lips. She’d expected more questions or a demand for an explanation. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re here. How did you hear about Annie?”

He studied his twiddling thumbs. “I didn’t. Not until I got into town today.”

She frowned, considering his words. “Then why did you leave school?”

“I didn’t.” He raised his head, and something flickered in his eyes. “I never made it to school.”

Bertha couldn’t trust her ears. Of all the bewildering events of the past few days, this confused her the most. “What are you saying? You’ve been gone for two weeks. If you weren’t at school, where have you been?” She bit back the important question. If he hadn’t gone to school, why had he left her?

“I spent some time down in Houston.”

“Houston?”

“I got on the train in Longview with every intention of going to Bryan. When it pulled into the station, I couldn’t make myself get off. I stayed on and rode it clear to Houston.”

She stared up into dark brown eyes with long blond lashes and
a sprinkling of tiny freckles at the corners and tried to sort out what he was telling her.

“I was plenty scared at first, but the trip gave me time to think. By the time the train hit Houston, I’d made up my mind. I won’t be going back to Bryan. I’m never going to college, Bertha.”

Her heart raised its head. “Does your papa know?”

He answered with a somber nod.

“What did he say?”

“It’s not what he said this time; it’s what I said. I told him I appreciated his intentions, but they were misplaced, that Cyrus should be going to school, not me. I told him to apply the money he’d saved for my education on sending Cy to Texas AMC.” He shrugged. “The old man bucked a little at first. When he saw I meant business”–Thad snapped his fingers–“just like that, he set his dream on Cy, where it always belonged.”

By now they were both smiling.

“How does Cyrus feel about that?”

Thad shook his head, remembering. “You never saw a happier boy in your life.”

Bertha touched his arm. “What took you to Houston?”

He caught her hand and squeezed it. “Just north of there, in a little town they call Humble, is where our future lies. I can’t explain it now, but as soon as we can be married, I’ll take you there and show you.”

A shock surged through her. She cringed and slid her hand away as surprise replaced the confident joy in Thad’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, sugar?”

“I don’t know. I’m confused.”

He swallowed. “About me?”

When she didn’t answer, he pushed off the log and paced in front of her. “I don’t know what there is to be confused about. Two weeks ago you said you loved me. How could that change in such a short time?” He stopped to glare, but his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “If I’d known you don’t really care for me, I would’ve stayed down in Humble and saved myself a trip.”

She sprang up and stood with him. “I never said I don’t care for you.”

Bewilderment replaced the pain. “What, then? This frog-hopping has to stop. You need to pick a toadstool and light, Bertha.” Then his mouth opened. The look in his eyes said he thought he’d figured it out. “Wait a minute–I know what’s wrong. You want a proper marriage proposal, and you deserve one.”

He plowed ahead before she could deny it. “A proper proposal suits me fine, Bertha Maye Biddie.” He dropped down on one knee. “I’ve already proved I’ll wallow in the dirt for you.”

“Wait! Please don’t kneel, Thad. That’s not it.”

He howled and gripped his head. “Girl, you’re driving me mad. If you care for me, what’s there to be confused about? You’ll either marry me or you won’t.”

“It’s not a matter of will or won’t,” she shouted. “I can’t.”

Thad tugged her down in front of him and laced his long fingers through her hair, his grip too tight around her head. “That’s crazy. I won’t hear it. You already said you love me.”

“I do love you.”

His voice trembled. “All right, then. You said loving each other should be what matters most.” He pulled her closer as his darting gaze roamed her face for answers. “What happened to that?”

Bertha lowered her gaze and gave in to threatening tears. Thad let go of her hair and rocked her, murmuring comfort in her ear. A few yards south, a train rumbled past on the way to the station on Alley Street. The whistle blew as the engine approached the Line Street crossing, and the woeful sound filled Bertha’s chest, mourning with her and echoing her grief.

When she quieted, he patted the top of her head the way he had the last time she saw him. It hurt to remember that day, the day he said he loved her but had to leave. Now she understood how he must have felt.

He pushed her back to look at her. “I think I know what’s ailing you, sugar. You don’t want to marry while losing Annie is so fresh. That’s all right. I can wait. For as long as it takes to grieve
your friend, I promise I’ll wait for you.”

She shifted her eyes to his. “I don’t deserve such a promise. Or hope for such happiness.”