The Book of James (39 page)

The little girl lay in her bed all that day, shaking, sweating, and crying. Two days in darkness. She had wet herself. She had thrown up. Her punishment for taking the kerosene lantern from the carriage house for their little fort in the woods. And then lying about it. But if she had told the truth, her father would have made her bring it back, and those nights in the woods meant everything.

“Edward died . . .” Ginny’s voice was soft.

Yes, Edward died. Her father. But not until Cora had felt the

worst humiliation of al .

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Only fifteen years old. She stood in her bedroom, grimy, cov-

ered with sweat and dirt from the woods. She’d finished her chores, and then she’d spent a few hours with Harry and Ginny. Ginny had

made lemonade and brought it to the swimming hole. The three

had shared it and dipped their feet and talked. The sun was low in the sky before Cora decided it was time to go in, to clean up and get dinner started before her father came home.

Now she was pulling the dress over her head and dropping it

to the floor. Her underthings followed. She dipped the washcloth

into the washbowl.

“Where have you been?” His voice startled her. Turning

quickly, she grabbed her damp dress from the floor to cover her

nakedness. She stared into his eyes, but his mood was hard to read.

“Cleaning.” The fewer words the better. “I want to wash up and

make dinner.” Her gaze went to the floor. He was an expert at reading her expression and uncovering her lies.

“Cleaning? In the woods?” Before she could utter another

word, his hand went around her neck, pinning her to the wal . His face hovered near her left ear. “Just remember, Cora, I own this.”

His breath tickled her face. His free hand grabbed her breast. Then the hand around her neck loosened, and he grabbed her between

her legs, pinning her with his body. She dared not move.

“I own you. I will tell you what to do and when to do it. You

will be clean until you marry Whitfield. Nothing happens to

this”—the hand between her legs tightened hard enough to leave

bruises—“until I say so.”

Hot tears rolled onto her cheeks. “Run in the woods with that

Cooper boy and you’ll be sorry. I’ll kill you both. Do you under-

stand?” She moved her head up and down. He stared down at her

nakedness. “Get dressed and make my dinner.” He slammed the

back of her head into the wall and left the room.

“. . . acting hateful toward James . . . looked for reasons to hurt him . . .” Ginny’s voice broke through the fog in her head.

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ELLEN J. GREEN

James. That pale boy with the light-brown hair and blue eyes.

His face was there in Cora’s mind, but it was hard to separate him from her father. They were fused together. A small boy and an old man. They were one and the same.

“. . . thought he was kidnapped . . .”

Cora thought about grabbing Ginny’s throat the way her father

had grabbed hers, choking her. The thought of leaving her there,

dead, for the animals to pick apart, was comforting. She slammed

her back against the wall again and realized the back of her dress was wet, probably from blood. But there was no pain. Ginny was

so close, right on the other side of the stone wal . And Mackenzie.

Before she sucked the last bits of air into her lungs, Cora was going to let that girl know exactly how she felt about her. Snooping

around. Keeping her son away. Mocking her with the information

she had. What right had these two?

Those voices in the cemetery were wrapping up. Cora closed

her eyes, whispering, “
Bring destruction on all who oppress me
. . .”

Her silent prayer. She watched Ginny move quickly from the cem-

etery. Those old legs were sprightly, agile. Cora let her go. She was an animal on the hunt, and she was going to bring back a catch.

And yes. She knew Harry was going to be there with her, just

like always.

Everything was black. I looked up at the sky that peeked through

the trees. It was overcast. Not a hint of the moon was visible. I tried to walk forward, but a branch smacked me in the face. I made progress by holding my arms out in front of me and taking one

tentative step, then stopping and listening for any sounds to guide me in the right direction.

Ginny had to know that I wasn’t behind her anymore. She

would’ve reached the clearing by now. Suddenly I was afraid. I was in the middle of the woods with only a general idea of which way

to go. No light of any kind to guide me. I leaned against a tree and took a deep breath. I heard a scurrying sound not too far from me, and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Ginny,” I whisper-yelled. For some reason I was afraid to

scream her name. She was on the lam, and I didn’t want to get her into trouble. There was no answer. No sound of footsteps. Nothing.

I pushed myself off the tree and started walking again. It was

painstakingly slow. I couldn’t see the overhanging branches that hit about my head and shoulders. I bumped my shin on a thick branch

that had fallen across the path, and it hurt like hel . I was rubbing 324

ELLEN J. GREEN

my leg when I heard footsteps. The crunching of the autumn leaves and dry pine needles was unmistakable. And it wasn’t the sound of little animal feet. They were big, human footsteps. “Ginny?” I said again. “Ginny, is that you?”

I suddenly didn’t care about branches hitting me or bumping

my legs. Someone was out here. Quietly stalking me. I was half

running when it suddenly occurred to me that I had come full

circle. I’d been running through these very same woods trying to

find the front gate not that long ago. Dylan had boosted me over

the fence, and I’d tramped in circles, not sure of where I was going.

I wasn’t sure even now.

Just then something hit me full force in the face. Something

hard and rough. I fell flat on my back and grabbed my nose.

Moisture came off on my hand. Blood? Pain spread out across my

face. I lay there on my back, staring up at blackness, when I heard the footsteps again. Close.

I pushed myself to a sitting position. Wetness rolled down

onto my lips. Blood. Salty, coppery blood. I tried to wipe it away, but the pain near my nose was excruciating.

“Hello,” I called out. Even the movement of my mouth caused

agony. My head was spinning. I heard footsteps again. Right near

me. And then I blacked out.

There were voices in the distance. I couldn’t hear what they

were saying, but I knew they were there. More than one. Something in the back of my head told me to scream for help. But the words

didn’t reach my lips. Every so often I felt pain, and then it would dim. I had the sensation of someone standing over me, but I

couldn’t open my eyes. I coughed up the bloody taste of burned

pennies. Hands lifted me. Moved me. I felt a stabbing pain in my

arm—and then nothing.

My mouth was dry and my tongue was swollen. My face felt as if

I’d been beaten. I wanted to open my eyes, but my lids were glued together. I lay in the same spot for the longest time without moving. Bits and pieces of what had happened floated in front of me, but I couldn’t grab them and put them together.

I reached my hand out for something familiar, but felt only a

hard surface around me. When my eyes final y opened, they met

with nothingness. The thought passed briefly through my mind

that I was blind.

There were no shadows or flickers of light. I had been in the

woods, walking back from the cemetery, when I hit something, or

something hit me. It wasn’t likely that I was still there in the woods.

There was cement under me. Or something hard. It was cold, but

there was no breeze. The air was damp and stagnant. I started to

panic. What the hell had happened?

Before I could ponder it, a door opened and light spilled in.

My eyes were open only a crack, but it was enough to see that I was in the old gardening room I’d stumbled on before.

“What’s she doing?” It was Cora’s voice.

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ELLEN J. GREEN

“She’s still out. She probably doesn’t remember what happened

in the woods.” A male voice. “I can give her another shot that’ll put her out for another couple of hours at least.” They were close to me.

“No. Leave her be.”

“But what’s the plan, Cora?”

“I’m not sure yet!” Her voice had gone up into a strident,

squeaky range.

I hadn’t ever heard her speak this way before. She was always

so contained around me. Now she was coming undone.

“It’s not too late to fix this. We can take her back to her room

and leave her there. Tell her we found her in the woods.”

“No.” Then silence. “How can I?”

“How long do you plan on keeping her here? And don’t you

think if you let her go, she’ll run to the police? This is insane, and I warned you . . .”

Cora took so long to answer, I thought they might have left. “I

don’t know what I want to do with her. If she dies, she dies. She’s going to know why before it happens. She’s going to know what

she’s done to my life, and she’s going to sign those papers to move Nick’s body. That’s all I care about.”

“I helped you get her down here and I gave her that shot, but if

I’d have known this is what you—”

“Oh please. ‘If I had only known . . .’ That’s the story of your

life, Harrison.”

“She has friends who will come looking for her.” I heard foot-

steps to my right, and I tried not to flinch. “That train ticket to Harrisburg that I put on her credit card will only stall them for so long.”“Bradford’s family was from Harrisburg, so it makes sense

that she might go there looking for something. The train left at ten thirty last night. As far as anyone will know, she was on that train.

It will take them a while to chase that lead.” There was silence. “Her Jeep is at the train station and her room is cleaned out? Right?”

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The male voice was closer. “She has friends here—they’re not

going to just go away because you say she got on a train. She would have told them if she were leaving. They’ll call the police, and everything is going to be dragged up again. Do you hear me?” There was no response. “Do you want tomorrow’s headline to dredge up old

business? It would make a good story. James’s disappearance, then Nick’s, then his accident. Now this. What are you thinking?”

“She killed my son.” Cora’s voice was furious. I had to concen-

trate not to cringe. “Then she comes here snooping around—”

“Cora—”

“I wanted to watch her. To try and figure out how much he told

her. See what he saw in her.” Her foot made contact with my side.

She kicked me right under my ribs, and it took everything in me

not to utter a sound. I relaxed my body like a rag dol .

“We can’t afford to make any more mistakes. We’ve made

enough.”

My heart started dancing.

“That letter didn’t cause the accident. It was sent so long ago—

it was only meant to bring him home,” Cora said.

“It set a whole chain of events in motion. Threatening to

come after him? Kill him and drag his body back here? That was

prophetic—damn William.”

“Don’t bring him into this. Don’t!” Cora was getting angrier.

“He’s been nothing but trouble all these years. Sick of it. I told you not to involve him.” Harrison’s voice had an edge.

“I could have brought Nick back here, Harrison. He would

have come if things had been handled right.”

“I know.”

“Everything that I did in my life was for him, and now he’s

gone. And I’m not letting her go. I don’t care what you say!” she screeched. “You’re in this with me just like you were twenty-five years ago. You’re in this, and that’s it.”

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ELLEN J. GREEN

“God knows, you won’t let me forget it. But you can’t just let

her die down here. Don’t you see it’s going to bring everything

down on your head? Our heads?”

“It’s always been you and me.” Her voice had softened.

“And I’ve spent a lifetime paying for it.”

“Everything was for you and Nick.” She’d gone to the other

extreme and now sounded like she might cry.

“Let’s not go over this again.”

I could tell he had moved over to her. I heard nothing for a few

minutes, and I assumed that he was hugging her or kissing her. If I weren’t so afraid, I might have been repulsed.

“She’s not stupid. She’ll put the pieces together, if she hasn’t

already, and she’ll go back to the cemetery. We have to stick

together one more time, Harrison. Just one more time.”

“At least bring her water. Then we’ll figure this out.”

They were moving away, and I could hear the door close and

lock into place. I counted to five hundred before I dared to sit up.

My side hurt where she’d kicked me. I probed it gingerly with my

fingers. Cora and Harrison were obviously involved and had been

for a long time. I rubbed my fingers over my face. She was crazy.

She’d hunted down her son, hoping he’d come home, and instead

he had died. Maybe because of her.

I had no doubt that if I hadn’t come to her, she would’ve come

to me. She would have lured me here somehow. My inquisitiveness

had only sped up the process. I looked at the wal s around me. Was this where my life would end? Then they’d dump my body somewhere in the woods to rot, and they’d go on like nothing had hap-

pened. Just like with James. No guilt, no remorse. I meant no more to her than that. A nuisance. I swore to myself that no matter what Cora did to me, I wouldn’t sign papers to move Nick’s body. And it didn’t seem that Harrison would stand by and let her torture me to death. That was the best I could hope for.