Saving Grace (The Grace Series Book 2) (11 page)

Clandestinely, she patted the pocket of her robe where she’d hidden the key. “I was just leaving.” Hastily she pulled a book from the shelf.

“I didn’t know you could read German,” he commented blandly.

“You don’t know anything,” she retorted.

As she stomped past him, she could smell whiskey. Why it galled her so badly, she didn’t know. He was a drunk and she knew that very well.

Not long thereafter, from the security of her bedroom she heard him coming up the stairs. He hadn’t knocked on her door in months. There was no reason to believe he would do so now, and yet she was certain he was going to. Hastily she turned her lamp down, lest he notice light coming from under the door. At the very least she could pretend to be asleep.

She was right about where he was headed. He came straight to her door, pounded on it and called out, “Jessica, open the door. I know you’re awake.”

“Go away!” she yelled.

“Give me the key. I know you have it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t make me break this door down. I need that key now!”

“You’re drunk! Leave me alone!”

“I’m not drunk. Let me in.”

This time she said nothing. A second later, he was moving again. He went down the hallway to his room, and then he was at the connecting door. In one swift crack, the wood around the lock splintered and pieces of it flew. The door swung inward and banged hard against the wall behind it.

Jessica stared wide-eyed, waiting for him to come through. He didn’t, at least not right away. When he did, he was carrying a candle. He had taken his coat off and opened several top buttons of his shirt. It still wasn’t tucked in. The flame from the candle made the white material glow oddly. It also illuminated the many stains, some of them like droplets, others like smears. They were all of a deep, brownish-red hue—blood.

He came right up to the bed, held out his hand and barked, “Give me the key, Jessica!”

“Get away from me, you filthy creature! Get away! I hate you!” Jessica scurried across the bed, well out of his reach. “What key? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He sighed heavily and dropped his hand. For a long moment he just stared at her, then quietly said, “Please, Jessica. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Please give it to me.”

“No!”

He bowed his head and closed his eyes briefly. When he spoke his voice was so low it rasped. “Please, Jessica. I don’t have the energy to fight with you. It’s late. I’m very tired. I still have things to do tonight that I can’t do without that key.”

“I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” she scoffed. “Well, I don’t!”

His entire body seemed to sag in defeat. He didn’t say anything more. He just turned and limped toward the connecting door.

“What does it go to?” Jessica called out.

He stopped short, but he didn’t turn around. “The safe.”

“What’s in the safe?”

“Money. My revolvers.” This time he did turn. The candle in his hand cast his face in shadow. He looked like pure evil, like the devil incarnate. It was an apt description.

“How much money?” she demanded.

He took a few steps toward her, but didn’t come close to the bed. “Enough. Is there something you want, something you need? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll see to it you have it right away.”

“If you give me money, I’ll give you the key back.”

“How much money do you want, and what for?” he asked.

“It’s none of—” Jessica cut herself off and started again. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could feel it in her ears, yet her voice was calm. “I need to buy things for the baby, and I want to decorate the nursery.”

Very quietly he said, “Please return the key where you found it. I will have money for you in the morning.”

“How much money?”

“If what I give you is not enough, I will give you more. All you have to do is tell me.”

She said nothing.

“I will have Ditter repair this door tomorrow.” He took all of three steps and tripped on a piece of the splintered wood. With his free hand he floundered for the door jamb, but wasn’t close enough to reach it. The candle tipped, hot wax ran over the back of his hand and he dropped it. The candle hit the carpet, extinguishing instantly. At the same moment he came down hard on his knees. An involuntary cry flew out of him, and he quickly rolled. Then he just sat there on the floor, with his head down, clutching his bent leg.

For a moment Jessica felt badly for him. She almost crawled out of bed to help him, but she caught herself in time, and instead forced herself to laugh. It wasn’t a true laugh, more of a cackle, but it was loud and it was cruel.

Without bothering to pick up the candle, he pushed himself up off the floor. “I’m glad you are able to find amusement at my expense!” he snapped.

Jessica’s laughter died. “Get out!”

“Right now I have no desire to be near you either. You don’t need to worry the door won’t lock,” he said.

“Don’t even think about coming in here!”

“No, Jessica, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He took one brief step toward his room onto his bad leg and made another pain-induced noise deep in his throat. Balanced on his good leg, with one hand on the door jam, he grabbed his knee.

“Here’s your stupid key!” She threw it at him. It hit the floor several feet away from him and skittered across the carpet. “Now get out!”

He didn’t make any attempt to pick up the key and he didn’t say anything. Limping heavily he went through the door and pulled it shut behind him. The force was so strong the door bounced against the broken frame and flew back open.

Through the doorway Jessica watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore. She heard the creak as he opened his wardrobe and thereafter the rustle of clothing. It wasn’t long before his bedroom door slammed and his uneven footfalls could be heard on the stairs. He was almost at the bottom, when, instead of the dull click of his boot heel, she heard a thump followed by a handful of successive bumps. And then there was silence.

He’d fallen down at least the last quarter of the stairs. The need to go see if he was okay was overwhelming, but Jessica hesitated before she got out of bed. With candle in hand she went out to the hallway and peered over the railing.

She expected to see him sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, but he wasn’t. There was light coming from under the door of the study. Somehow he’d made it there without her hearing him. Back in her room, she went in search of the key. With candlelight reflecting off the metal, it wasn’t difficult to find.

Seconds later, she tapped lightly on the study door. “I have the key,” she called out.

“Leave it by the door,” he said.

Jessica turned the knob and slowly pushed. He was where she expected him to be, in the chair behind the desk. A bottle of whiskey sat in front of him and he held a newly filled shot glass in one hand.

“Would you like a drink?” he drawled.

Before Jessica could reply, he swallowed the shot and slammed the glass down. Looking at the tightness of his features and the droop of his eyelids, she deduced he was either extremely drunk or his knee was causing him a great deal of pain.

She crossed the room and dropped the key on the desk. “Here.”

He ignored the key. Instead he filled his glass and downed it. His next words were so slurred she could barely understand them. “Can’t you seeee I have things to dooo? Go awaaay. Go back to your precious sanctuary upstairs. Why don’t you lock my bedroom door, too, so you can protect yourself from me? What is it you say I am? Scum, filth of the earth? That’s right. That’s what you say. Go protect yourself from scummm. Go read your German book. Protect yourself from your filthy husband and learn the language of the man you love!”

Jessica marched out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

He called out after her, but this time there was no evidence in his speech that he had too much to drink. The words flew out of him like urgent pleas, “Jessica, come back, come back! Please come back! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Oh my God, Jessica! Please…”

He said more, but she was already halfway up the stairs and too far away to hear him. Just as she reached the top step, there was a loud crash. It was followed by another, and the second one was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

* * *

Jon was more generous than Jessica ever imagined he would be. He left the money stuffed neatly in an envelope on the dining room table for her to find in the morning. When she asked Ditter where he was, Ditter said he’d gone out and wasn’t expected back until evening. The note accompanying the money read, ‘Please forgive me. I love you, J’.

From Sebastian, Jessica knew there were two hundred forty-seven families living in Shanty Town. There was enough money to feed all of them for at least two weeks and still buy every person a pair of shoes. The only problem was the bills were large in denomination. In order to divvy it up fairly, she would need to make change at the bank. After school, she headed out to the stable. Her intention was to go to the bank and then give the money to Sebastian to distribute. She was smiling excitedly when she met up with Herlin and asked him to saddle Jasmine.

He looked at her skeptically. “What ya be up ta dis time, Miss Jessica?”

“I’m going to town and then to visit Reverend Nash.”

“It’s Tuesdee. Ya said ya could only visit wit da reverend on Sundee,” Herlin said.

“Yes, but I need to speak with him today. I’ll have to take my chances that he’ll be home.”

“I’s comin’ witchya, Miss Jessica.”

“It’s not necessary,” she said.

“I’s comin’ witchya anyway.”

During the ride to town, Jessica was glad Herlin was by her side. It was rather nerve-racking carrying so much money on her person. And, even though she originally resolved to tell no one her intentions, she ended up confessing to Herlin. She told him everything, and she got a good chuckle out of his flabbergasted expression.

He waited outside the bank while she went in to exchange the money, and then together they headed toward the parsonage. As she’d feared, however, Sebastian didn’t answer her knock. She was about to suggest they go look for him at Reverend Amos’s church, but Herlin didn’t give her a chance.

“I kin take dat dere money to Shanty Town and distribute it fer ya, Miss Jessica,” he said.

Taken aback, she stammered, “I can’t ask that of you.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I kin take it tomorra night. I don’t have nothin’ betta ta do.”

* * *

Herlin was halfway to Shanty Town when he heard a horse approaching from behind. Glancing over his shoulder, but unable to see anything in the darkness, he quickly veered off the road and up a steep embankment toward trees that would, together with the night, hide him. At least he hoped so.

He was reining Buster in behind some large stickered foliage, when the horse decided to protest. The major often teased that Buster was more of a donkey than a horse. Herlin had never done anything to hurt his ever faithful mount, but when the old animal let loose one of his famously loud hee-haws, Herlin almost punched him.

Going to Shanty Town at night was not safe for anyone. Because of the Klan’s random lookouts, it was especially dangerous for someone of color. The Klan’s lookouts were supposed to merely observe and report back any questionable activity, but it wasn’t unheard of for them to attack a lone colored man, especially on the more isolated sections of roadway.

From his hiding place, Herlin couldn’t see who was following him, but he could hear. Whoever it was stopped at the exact spot in the road Herlin had veered from it. Silently he prayed whoever it was would just keep on going.

“Sorry, Herlin. That donkey of yours gave you away,” the major said.

Relief poured out of Herlin like a spilled glass of water.

It didn’t take long to direct Buster back down the embankment to meet up with the giant black horse and its rider. Looking up at the darkly draped figure, Herlin said, “You don’t have to come with me, Major. I can handle it. The people in Shanty Town know me well enough.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Herlin nodded knowingly. The major was concerned about the Klan’s lookouts, too. A few weeks back, after Herlin went with Jessica to seek out Weber, he got an ear full. Later the major apologized for losing his temper, but Herlin wouldn’t have needed an apology. He understood. The major didn’t want any of them out here at night. With good reason.

Side by side, at a slow gait they continued along the road. Chuckling, Herlin said, “Jessica is something else. I swear I feel like Santa Claus right now.”

The spook didn’t comment.

They continued on and Herlin had to slow Buster several times to keep pace. When he found himself half of Buster’s body length in front of the spook yet again, he cast a worried glance over his shoulder. “I’m sure the Klan is long gone for the night. Everything will be fine,” he said. “You really shouldn’t be here.”