Souls Aflame (33 page)

“Oh, you devil, leave her alone—” Julie leaped up and shoved him to one side, placing herself as a shield in front of her mother’s bed. “Get out of here, Virgil, or I’ll send someone for Sheriff Franklin. I won’t have you torturing her in her final hours. You are evil! A spawn of Satan himself!”

“Am I now? Well, you know you’ll be punished for such talk. A wife must respect her husband. I’ll remember you’re due a lesson in obedience.”

She placed both hands against his chest and gave him a shove so sudden that he almost tripped and fell as he struggled to steady himself. Reaching for the first thing she could get her hands on—the china water pitcher by the bed—she held it threateningly above her head. “Get out of here, Virgil! I’m warning you! Get out of this room and out of this house.”

He brushed at an imaginary fleck on his waistcoat. “Very well, Julie. I suppose it’s only proper that you sit with the dying instead of satiating the hunger I know you feel for me. It will keep. But remember, you’ll be punished—and severely.”

She shook the pitcher at him. “Out! Take your filthy, depraved mind and body out of this room at once.”

He backed toward the door, smiling. “Very well. I’m leaving. But remember. Rose Hill is mine now, and you would be wise to come to terms with yourself regarding your insolence. I can throw you out of here any time I choose—”

How Julie longed to tell him this was the last time she would be subjected to his nauseating company. Instead she turned her back on him, focusing all her attention upon her mother. It was not long before she heard the sound of the door opening and closing and knew he was gone. A wave of relief washed over her.

Her mother continued to sleep deeply, her breathing becoming even more labored. Sara came in, and together they raised her head by putting more pillows behind it. This helped some; her chest looked a wee bit stronger as she struggled to breathe. But she did not open her eyes. If anything her slumber seemed even deeper with each passing moment.

Sara told Julie that Lionel and Myles had everything ready. They were taking a wagon and two mules. All provisions were loaded, and she had packed a small trunk for Julie.

“I even got some more silver out to ’em, and they’re buryin’ that now,” she said proudly. “I’m gonna get a few more pieces of yo’ mama’s jewels. We’re gonna be in the cemetery waitin’ on you, honey. And whenever you gets there, we’ll go.

“Praise the Lord that mean man went to town,” she added.

Julie murmured, “Yes, yes. I’ll be along, Sara. It’s just that I hate to leave her. I wish—” she swallowed, choked on a sob, reached out to touch her mother’s still face lovingly, “—I wish she would go on and die before I leave. The thought of leaving her here with Virgil is more than I can bear. She won’t understand why I left her.”

“She ain’t gonna know you did.” Sara shook her head with sad finality. “Miz Julie, I seen lots of folks die, and I knows the signs. She gonna lay just like that till the angels come to carry her home. Ain’t nothin’ fo’ you to do but leave. And if she knew the truth, she’d tell you to go on. I knows she would.”

Julie was silent for a long time before she whispered, “Yes, I know you’re right, Sara. But please. Let me stay just a little while longer.”

With a sigh, Sara walked out of the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked away their remaining moments together. There was so much Julie wished she could say, but when she really thought about the words, she wondered what they would be. How do you tell someone goodbye forever? How do you give your own mother up to death?

The clock struck twelve, its sound echoing through the still room. Julie had been sitting in a chair pushed up very close to the bed. When she leaned over, she could barely see the rise and fall of her mother’s chest. A tear trailed down her cheek as she pressed her lips against the cold, clammy skin.

She rose to stand on legs that trembled as a pine seedling quakes in the fierce winds of spring. Tucking the quilt about her mother’s chin, she whirled and hurried from the room, not looking back. It was done. There was nothing left. She must go forward, plunging into the future as Derek had plunged into those shark-infested waters. Whatever tomorrow held, she would face it. All she asked was the same thing that Derek had probably requested in that split second between life and possible death: a chance—just a chance—to face the unknown…and conquer it.

Lanterns burned dimly in the hallway, but Julie kept her eyes straight ahead, not wanting to take one last look at the house where she had been born and raised.

The late December wind was bone-chilling as she stepped out the back door. Christmas had come and gone with little fanfare. A few neighbors had stopped by with cakes and pies, to pay their respects to her mother, who did not remember any of them coming. Perhaps next year, Julie thought feverishly as she hurried through the night, things would be different. They would rejoice on the holy day, and there would be singing and laughter, with no thoughts of the miseries of days past.

She moved past the barns and farrowing houses, down the dark path that led to the cemetery. It was a moonless night, and she had to feel her way along, trusting her memory. She had trod this way countless times, but now and then she would step off into brambles and brush and her dress would catch on something, wasting precious time as she paused to free herself.

Then she heard it—the sound of a whippoorwill. Myles! It was the signal they had used as children, when he was hiding to keep from being punished for something he’d done. She would answer with the same trill to let him know it was safe to come out. So she answered him now, then saw his shadowy figure step out from behind a tree. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, whispering, “It’s okay, Julie. We’re on our way. Everything is ready.”

“Myles—” she said painfully, her heart twisting for him.

He had moved ahead, still holding her hand as he led the way, but he paused to say in anguish, “Don’t say anything, please. I know you feel sorry for me because I didn’t get to see Mother, but that’s the way it has to be. It’s too dangerous for me to hang around any longer. It could lead to bad trouble.”

They reached the cemetery, the crooked tombstones standing white against the darkness like curious sentries of the dead. “The wagon is over there.” He spoke so low she had to strain to hear. “I’ve had a time keeping Sara and Lionel from leaving without us. You know Negroes don’t like to be around cemeteries, especially at night. They’re very superstitious—” He stopped and looked about wildly, straining to see in the blackness of the night.

Julie was frightened. “Myles, what’s wrong?” she cried.

“I don’t understand. I left them here, by this wrought-iron fence that surrounds Grandfather Marshal’s grave. I told them not to move. We were going to walk the mules down the cemetery path and then get in the wagon and leave as fast as the mules could go. I was teasing about them leaving without us, but now I’m starting to worry.”

They stumbled about in the darkness, with Myles calling first to Lionel, then to Sara. “Dammit,” he swore, “I’ve been back there behind that tree for over an hour waiting for you. I never heard a thing, but it was a good ways off. Where the hell are they?” He stamped around in little circles, waving his arms in despair and fury.

Julie swallowed hard. The knot of fear was getting tighter in her throat. She began to tremble. Surely they wouldn’t have gone off and left them. Sara and Lionel were too loyal. Something had happened…something terrible. She could feel it.

Reaching out to touch Myles’s arm, she said hesitantly, “Maybe you should go back into hiding. I’ll go stay with Mother. I’ve been thinking perhaps I shouldn’t go off and leave her this way. It won’t be long before she dies, and I can meet you somewhere later.”

“No!” he responded in a fierce tone. “I don’t want you in that house with Virgil Oates another night. Something’s going on that I don’t know about. I can feel it, and I don’t like it.”

His tone softened as he said, “Julie, I know it seems cruel, running off and leaving Mother to die alone, but Sara said she’d never know you were gone, that she probably wouldn’t last the night.”

Julie sucked in her breath, swallowed the knot of pain, and murmured, “All right, but we can’t just keep standing here. Please go somewhere and hide till I can find out what happened to Sara and Lionel. Maybe they did get scared, and they’re hiding.”

He didn’t move, and she threw her arms around him to give him a reassuring hug. “Myles, this is the only way. Now don’t worry about me. Virgil has gone to town and won’t be back tonight. We can try tomorrow.”

He sighed, disgusted and disappointed, knowing there was nothing else to be done. “All right. Can you make it back all right?”

She assured him she could. “I’ll send word to you tomorrow. Sara will probably come creeping in sometime tonight, and then I’ll find out what happened to frighten her away.”

Myles bent forward to kiss her cheek. Just then they heard it…the sound of a twig breaking in the stillness. Instantly Myles grabbed Julie and shoved her behind him, then faced the direction of the sound. “Don’t move,” he whispered, so low she could hardly hear him over her thundering heart.

And then men were coming at them from all directions, stepping out of the woods. Lanterns were being ignited. The cemetery took on an eerie glow, and the faces of the approaching men leered out at them like the ghouls in the stories Lionel had frightened Julie with as a child.

Julie screamed and pressed her face into Myles’s back. She wanted to run, but there was no way out of the tightening circle. She turned her head slightly and saw Sheriff Franklin, his fleshy belly bouncing with glee as he walked toward her brother, a handgun pointed straight at him.

She could feel Myles tremble, knew that it was with great effort that he made his voice steady as he said, “All right, Sheriff. You have me. I won’t put up a fight…”

“Damned right you won’t,” someone yelled, and Julie heard the sound of wood splintering against flesh. She clung to Myles as his knees buckled, and they sprawled on the dirt upon their father’s grave.

A beefy hand clamped down on Julie’s arm and she was jerked to her feet, pulled away as she shrieked and fought to return to Myles’s side.

“Now, you just calm down, little lady,” Sheriff Franklin was saying. “I told you we’d get him sooner or later. It might have took me awhile, but he’s a murderer, and he’s got to face the law.”

“You call this the law?” She kicked out at his shin, but he jumped back, still struggling to hold her. He twisted her arms painfully behind her back and forced her down to her knees.

And then she saw Virgil coming out of the shadows. “Oh, Julie, dear,” he said solicitously, a concerned look pasted on his face. “I was hoping it wasn’t true, that my suspicions would not be confirmed.”

She hoped the hatred she felt showed in her eyes as she looked up at him in the glow of a lantern. “You filthy animal! You set us up, didn’t you? You found out Myles had returned and that I was going to leave with him. So you went and got the sheriff.”

His eyes danced with malicious fires, but he kept that pitiful, hurt look on his face. “Julie, I always knew this boy had a hold on you, that you worshipped him because he was your brother, but I had hoped he could not persuade you to desert your dear, dying mother…”

“Don’t start your lies in front of these people,” she screeched, knowing she sounded like a madwoman but not caring.

Desperately she lifted her face to the sheriff. “Please, you have to believe me. He has raped me repeatedly. That is why I was running away with Myles. Myles never knew about it. He would have killed him if he had. You’ve got to let us go. Myles will never hurt anyone again. All we want is to go in peace—”

“Why, Julie, I’m surprised at you,” the sheriff drawled. “Sayin’ such terrible things about your stepdaddy, and him such a fine man. And you know I can’t let your brother go. He’s got to stand trial for what he did. That’s the law. Now you calm down and let your stepdaddy take you back to the house. If your mama is as bad off as I hear tell she is, then you ought to be ashamed of yourself for tryin’ to run off. You go back there and do what you can to make her last moments peaceful.”

He started to help her to her feet, but she twisted away, crying out for Myles.

“Sheriff, let her go to him,” Virgil said with mock compassion. “That boy isn’t going anywhere. He’s out cold. She’ll calm down in a moment.”

The sheriff released her, and she crawled through the dirt to clutch at Myles and sob and plead with him to wake up…let her know he was not really hurt.

“Now, Sheriff,” Virgil went on, quite calmly. “These are unfortunate circumstances. I mean, we’re at war, and the boy’s mother is dying, and he only came home to try and see her one more time. True, he committed a crime, but you and I both know if you take him into Savannah, a mob will form and storm the jail, and he’ll be hung by morning. To them he’s not only a Union sympathizer who shot and killed men they considered friends and neighbors, but also one who ran away to join the North—”

“That’s a lie!” Julie lifted her head to scream. “He ran away to keep from being lynched, but he never joined the Yankee Army. He told me he didn’t, and Myles would never lie to me!”

“Be quiet, Julie.” Virgil shook his finger at her. “I’m trying to help your brother.” Turning back to the sheriff, he said, “Now I should think the people around here would respect my position in the community, including you. Therefore, out of respect for my dear wife, who will soon depart this life, God rest her soul, I must ask that you not take Myles into Savannah.”