Prayers and Lies (24 page)

“Like what?” Ruthann leaned toward me.

“Give her money. Do her chores.” I shrugged. “Whatever she wanted, she’d make me do it. That’s how she is.”

“She oughtta be a politician,” Harley Boy growled. “One of them senators up in Washington, D.C.” His voice was contemptuous. “Maybe even president.”

Ruthann laughed shortly. “Oh yeah, H.B.,” she snorted. “Tracy for president.”

He glared a minute longer at my sister’s small form on the beach, then stood abruptly. “Well, as long as she don’t know about …”

His cheeks reddened as his voice trailed away. Suddenly, he dove into the river, surfacing seconds later swimming toward the far shore, away from my sisters. Away from Ruthann and me.

Ruthann sat quietly, watching him while I watched her.

“Damn her,” she whispered, her voice tight in her throat.

“She’s mean, all right.” I nodded. “But I don’t think she can hurt us.”

“Not Tracy!” Ruthann’s voice came sharp and loud, startling both of us. “Not her,” she said more quietly, jerking her head toward the beach.

Of course she meant Reana Mae.

I lay back on the raft, my stomach knotting tightly. I wished I was not on the Coal River, that I was back in my own house in Indiana … or back in Florida with Aunt DJ even … anywhere else but here.

Ruthann lay back, too. For a long time we didn’t talk. I could almost feel the tension of her body next to mine. I knew she wanted to follow Harley Boy. Staying put was probably the hardest thing she’d ever done.

I cleared my throat, thinking I should say something. But no words came to mind. So we lay there in silence.

Ruthann and Harley Boy, Reana Mae and Caleb, Nancy and even terrible Tracy—all of them seemed like strangers this summer. All of them had changed. They’d gone on into a world I didn’t know … one I didn’t want to know.

After an hour or so, maybe longer, Ruthann said she ought to be getting on home to see if her mother needed help with Lottie.

I knew she was lying, of course. Aunt Vera hardly ever asked Ruthann to watch Lottie. Little Lottie Fern was the spark in Vera’s engine. Born when Vera was past thirty, after a whole series of miscarriages, Lottie was the treasured joy of Vera and Hobie’s lives. Vera had even quit working at the A&P in St. Albans after Lottie was born. Always before, Ruthann had stayed at Ida Louise’s after school, playing checkers, working out math problems, and doing chores with Harley Boy. With Lottie’s arrival, Ruthann had her own mother at home, whether it suited her or not. She bore it well, though she admitted to me that summer she often wished she could just go back to Ida’s and be with Harley Boy.

After Ruthann had gone, I stayed on the raft, glad of being alone. I wondered where Reana Mae might be. Was she with Caleb? Had she told him we’d found their secret place? Would that be enough to make Caleb let her go? What if he simply took Reana and left the valley altogether? What if they rode away on a Greyhound bus, and I never saw Reana again? What if Jolene found them together in Reana’s bed? Would she kill Caleb? Would she kill Reana Mae? Would she even care?

I was twelve years old. I did not want to think about my eleven-year-old cousin having sex with her uncle. I did not want to think about Jolene beating Reana Mae to death, or shooting her with Bobby Lee’s hunting rifle. I did not want to think about how Bobby Lee might feel, knowing his own brother was having sex with his daughter. I did not want to think about any of that … but, of course, that’s all I could think about.

Just as the sun was hedging away behind the trees on the south bank, I started awake, my neck aching in an awkward tilt.

Reana Mae pulled herself onto the raft, smiling uncertainly at me, dripping cold water on my legs.

“Hey, you,” she panted, dropping down beside me.

“Hi.” I forced my voice through my dry throat. How long had I been asleep?

“You got too much sun.”

Reana Mae touched my chest lightly. I raised my head to see a white spot appear where her finger had been.

I rolled onto my stomach, turning my face away from her.

“Did you see Harley Boy today?”

Her voice was soft.

“Yeah,” I said, not looking back at her. “He was here before.”

She waited quietly, patiently.

“He swam on over to the far side,” I said finally, sighing heavily.

“Was Ruthann with him?”

“No.” I shifted slightly. “She went home.”

“Did she talk to him since last night?” Reana Mae asked.

“I don’t think so,” I answered dully. “She didn’t say so, anyway.”

“You reckon she’ll keep her mouth shut?” Her voice, still soft, sounded anxious.

“Yeah,” I said, still not looking at her. “She’ll keep quiet. As long as Harley stays quiet, Ruthann will, too.”

I felt her relax, her breath slowing until it came deep and regular. As she relaxed, I felt my own body tense up, bile rising in my throat. Why should she be so calm, when the rest of us were so damned unhappy?

“Where’s Caleb today?” My voice came out harsh—sharp and angry.

I sat up, staring down at her face, looking for some sign of discomfort.

“He’s working in the store.” She smiled slightly, shifting her hips.

“Does he know about yesterday?” I watched her face carefully, waiting a long time for her response. Finally, she sighed.

“No, Bethany,” she said, raising her head to look me in the face. “He don’t know that ya’ll found … found out,” she finished hesitantly.

“You didn’t tell him?” I was stunned. How could she not tell him?

“Naw.” She shook her head, her wet braid swinging heavily from side to side.

“But …”

My voice stuck in my throat. How could she not tell him? We knew—Harley and Ruthann and me—we all knew. Didn’t that even matter?

I stared at her in disbelief. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I was aware how stupid I must look—my eyes round, my mouth hanging open. But I didn’t care. Or at least, I couldn’t help myself.

“Bethany,” Reana Mae cooed, her hands cupping my chin so that I had to look at her. “Look … don’t worry, you hear? Don’t worry yourself over it.”

She smiled, her eyes holding mine. I noted again how much older she seemed than the last time we’d been at the river. As if she’d lived a whole lifetime since then.

“Listen,” her voice pleaded now, sweet and firm. “It’s gonna be all right, you hear me?” She nodded firmly, her braid flapping silently in affirmation. “I promise you, Bethy, it’s gonna be all right.”

“How, Reana?” I found my voice finally. “How is it going to be all right?”

She looked away from me for a minute, then looked back, holding my eyes. “It just is,” she said firmly. “Caleb … well, Caleb’s gonna make it all right.”

She touched my cheek.

“Honest, Bethy,” she pleaded. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s God’s own truth. Caleb’s gonna make it all right, you’ll see.”

She nodded again, not looking at my face now. “He’s gonna make it all right … and then,” she rushed ahead, holding my hands tight in hers, so tight it hurt. “Then, you’ll see, Bethany. We’ll have us a real house, me and Caleb. Not a shack like here, a real house like they have up in the city, with lacy curtains in the windows and air-conditioning and everything! And we’ll have money to buy nice things.” She nodded eagerly at me, as if nodding could make it so.

“We’ll have a big house and a big car—bigger even than Aunt Belle’s. And then we’ll have babies … at least two.” She smiled eagerly. “I want a boy for Caleb and a little baby girl for me. You know, Bethy?” She stared right in my eyes. “You know what I mean? I want me a little baby girl I can dress up and take shopping and spoil real bad.”

I stared at her in disbelief, at my eleven-year-old cousin in her too-small bikini, her wet braid swinging from side to side as she spun fairy tales out of thin air.

“And she’ll be real pretty, Bethy,” Reana Mae continued eagerly. “She’ll be a real pretty little baby, just like my grandma … my mama’s mother, I mean. She’ll look just like EmmaJane. Everyone knows she was flat-out gorgeous.”

I stared at her, aghast.

I’d never heard Reana Mae mention Jolene’s mother. EmmaJane had been dead for years before Reana even was born. Jolene hardly ever talked about her. Neither did anyone else, except sometimes Aunt Loreen. I couldn’t fathom that Reana Mae would want any child of hers to take after old, crazy, dead EmmaJane.

“Course, she’ll have more sense than EmmaJane,” Reana Mae said quickly, watching my face. “But she’ll be real pretty … pretty like EmmaJane—that’s for damn certain.” Her voice trailed off as she stared hard at me.

“My baby girl will be so pretty,” she repeated firmly, her chin rising defiantly. “And me and Caleb, we’ll be so happy then.”

Her voice rose, till it carried far away down the river.

“You just wait, Bethany. Me and Caleb and our baby, we’ll be real happy.”

I nodded. What else could I do?

Three weeks later, I lay on my belly in the back of the station wagon, watching Reana Mae waving good-bye.

One evening the week before, Aunt Belle had burst into our cottage to announce that Daddy had called her house. He had a promotion!

He would be calling back in half an hour, so Mother had to come down to Belle’s right away.

He wasn’t going to be a regional director anymore. He was going to be a vice president at Morrison Brothers’ Insurance Company.

That meant more money, Belle said. And a bigger office … even a secretary, probably.

But, most important, we all knew immediately, it meant he wouldn’t have to travel. He wouldn’t be gone all summer anymore.

Nancy, Melinda, and Tracy had erupted into joyous whoops and wild dancing at the news. Mother fairly beamed as she climbed into the big Lincoln to ride up to Aunt Belle’s house so she’d be there when Daddy called again.

When she came back an hour later, she was smiling still. Her black eyes sparkled.

“It’s a good promotion,” she announced. “He’ll have an office of his own and there will be more money. Best of all, he’ll be home more.”

Her voice quavered, and I saw tears well in her eyes as she repeated, “He’ll be home more!”

The next few days we spent packing for the trip home.

My sisters were overjoyed, of course. None of them cared a whit for the Coal River.

Nancy was anxious to start packing for college. She was going away to Indiana University in the fall. Melinda was ready to get back to her regular swim practices before school started. And, of course, Tracy couldn’t wait to get back to Paul.

Mother sang as she scoured the oven and washed the windows. Even Aunt Belle seemed elated, though I was sure she would miss us when we’d gone back north.

“You okay, honey?” she asked one day, watching as I folded towels and packed them into the cedar chest under the front window.

“I’m fine, Aunt Belle,” I said.

And, to be honest, I was.

For the first time I could remember, I was ready to go back to Indiana.

Back to my reliable best friend, Cindy, and her grandma’s soap operas. Back to old Skipper, who bayed when anyone knocked at the front door. Back to my own bed in my own attic room in my own tidy house on Lowell Street.

For the first time ever, I was ready to leave the river.

I watched Reana Mae’s waving form retreat, ever smaller, from the back window.

Then we rounded a curve in the road, and I flopped back onto the blankets, staring at the car roof. I felt like an old towel, wrung out and hung up.

Beside me, Tracy sighed happily.

“I can’t wait to get home,” she said. “Can you?”

20
Truth Be Told

F
all brought changes for all of us. After many tears and a few screaming matches with my parents, Nancy finally left for college. From the fuss she made, you’d have thought she was moving to Mars instead of Bloomington, only an hour away. Melinda began her senior year in high school as captain of the swim team. Tracy started high school, winning a spot on the freshman cheerleading squad and catching the eye of a basketball player two years older than she was. With Tracy at a different school, I felt I had finally arrived. I was twelve. I was nearly grown up.

In November, Daddy and Mother drove to West Virginia for Aunt Loreen’s funeral. She’d dropped dead one morning at the store, the telephone receiver still clutched in her hand. I felt very grown up, staying at home with Melinda and Tracy while my parents were gone.

On a Wednesday night the week before Christmas, I sat at the kitchen table, staring grimly at my math homework, wishing I could skip the next two days and get right to Christmas vacation. Two glorious weeks at home to bake cookies, wrap presents, and forget about fractions and long division.

I had been staring at the same problem for several minutes when the phone rang.

Glad of any diversion, I ran down the hallway, reaching the phone just ahead of Melinda.

“Hello?” I panted, smiling triumphantly at Melinda stalking back down the hall.

“Bethany Marie, is that you? It’s me, child. It’s Aunt Belle.”

“Aunt Belle!” I cried out happily. Belle’s phone calls sometimes lasted for hours. Maybe she would talk until bedtime, and I could skip my math homework altogether.

“How you doin’, Bethy? You bein’ a good girl for Santy Claus?”

“I’m trying,” I said.

“Good, darling, that’s real good.”

Her voice was quieter than usual, and instead of prodding for every detail of my day, as she usually did, she asked abruptly, “Is your mama there?”

“No, ma’am,” I said, surprised. Didn’t she want to talk to me at all?

“How ’bout Jimmy, then? Is he there?”

“Yes, Aunt Belle,” I said, laying down the receiver. “Daddy! Aunt Belle is on the phone.”

Daddy padded down the hall in his slippers, his smoking pipe cupped in one hand, a folded newspaper in the other. He handed me the paper as he took the receiver.

“Hey there, Belle! How’s my favorite lady?”

He was silent for several minutes. I stood watching as his grin froze, slowly dropping into a dark frown. Melinda had stopped in the hall behind me and was watching, too. Just from Daddy’s face, we knew something was wrong, something bad.