The Rebel Wife (5 page)

A small smile blooms on his lips, and he reaches for my hand, covering it and giving it a squeeze. “I’ve tried to do my best by you. I honestly have.”

Rachel enters with tall glasses of iced tea. She moves silently and places the tray on the small table in front of me. She nods to me and cuts her eyes at Judge. She turns away abruptly. He barely notices.

The glasses are covered in sweat from the humidity, and the moisture runs down the sides and pools on the black lacquer tray. The tray was a gift to Eli from a Mobile merchant who imported it from China. The tea looks so cold. I am tempted to take my glass in spite of Judge, but I must wait for him. He looks at the drink but doesn’t move. His head is cocked, listening to Rachel’s soft footfalls as they move down the hall.

“The funeral arrangements,” he says. “Can I offer you assistance with them?”

“No, thank you. Mr. Weems is upstairs now.” I look at the ceiling as if I can see through it to Eli’s room. I cannot look at Judge for fear. “I am leaving all the arrangements to him. I told him I want Eli buried soon. In two days’ time.”

Judge’s eyes follow mine to the ceiling. His face registers no feeling of any kind. “Fine. Fine. Nothing too extravagant, of course. This won’t be like Elsie’s funeral.”

Little beads of water run down the sides of the frosted glasses. I will take some ice after Judge leaves and wrap it in a towel to rub against my temples. That will help.

“Weems,” he repeats. “I thought there was some problem between Weems and Eli. That’s what you reap when you try to force nigger voting down men’s throats. Weems might have voted Republican once, but he has sense enough to know what an abomination it is to give the darkies the vote. I told Eli he wouldn’t be able to keep his party together. We scattered them like buckshot in the last election.”

The sunlight is so bright outside, it makes the parlor seem dark. The Corbins’ dog trots by, a large piebald hound with his tongue hanging out almost to the ground, panting.

“I wasn’t aware of any dispute. Mr. Weems didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I suppose it will be fine now. Eli is no more. Weems didn’t bridle at...”

“No, sir. Not at all. He seemed pleased that I wrote to him.”

“A dirty scalawag practicing a dirty trade. At least we’ve taken the state back from them. A disgusting practice. I wasn’t happy that you did that to your mother, but I like the old ways anyway. If you choose to do that to Eli, well, I won’t interfere.”

We sit together quietly. Judge’s eyes move back to the ceiling. He looks at me quickly and then at the floor, his hands on his knees. “Augusta, I want you to understand that you will never be in need. I will see to that.” He drums his fingers against his knee and then coughs into his hand. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “Were you very familiar with Eli’s business interests?”

“No,” I answer. “But I am very interested to learn.” There is a creeping coldness coming over my shoulders. What could he be getting at?

“I have talked with Jim Stephens at the Planters and Merchants Bank, and I will meet with him again soon. He is doing an accounting in detail, an inventory of Eli’s assets at the bank as well as his outstanding debts. When I heard how serious Eli’s illness was, I went to him immediately.”

“His debts?”

“It seems that Eli has been entangled with the bank for some time, and as more than just a holder of capital stock. He took out mortgages on a variety of his properties and against his stock in the bank.”

“What does that mean?” I lean forward.

“It means that the economic convulsions of the last few years left no one untouched. Perhaps you were unaware. Your mother was in her last illness. But the panic impacted everyone’s interests, Eli included, for all his seeming invulnerability. Eli had interests in railroads and mines, many of which are now worthless. There seems to be more than just losses on investments. He was playing a few rounds of monte with the bank, and it’s unclear at this point who the winner will be, if anyone. I am sorry to have to tell you.”

“How can that be?” The words stumble out of my mouth. It isn’t possible. How could he come here and tell me these things with Eli barely cold?

“Eli and I did not see eye to eye on many things, but we agreed on our concern for you and your interests. It was one of the things we could talk about.” He exhales heavily, almost heaving through his nostrils. I nod, too weak even to smile. Judge inhales to begin again.

“We were not allies otherwise. That’s true. After the war, I could see the way the wind was blowing. It was no use to fight against it, although I’m proud to say I never took the oath.” He pauses and looks at the rug, tracing the curl of the ivy with his eyes. “The wind has changed again, Augusta. I think Eli realized that, too. Maybe he realized it too late. I don’t know. But the Republicans were not going to stay in control of the state. They were not going to ram Negro rule down our throats. The people of Alabama—the people of the South—would not let that happen. I could get beyond that for your sake. I know there was a lot of fear in Albion back when you were married, and perhaps your mother, God rest her soul, did what she thought was best. I know you did, too. And I have stood beside you for all that. I stand beside you now. I know that things are not perhaps as you had hoped, but the days we have lived have been full of unexpected—unanticipated—shocks. You will survive this one as you have survived the others.”

Shocks? Negro rule? What does any of this have to do with Eli’s money? Everyone talked as if the man owned everything in town. And now Judge is telling me there’s nothing left? It’s all worthless? Because of Negro rule and the Republicans?

“I will come back to you as I know more. I wanted to acquaint you with what I knew at this point.”

“Thank you, Judge. I’m sorry, I just can’t believe this. I don’t know what it all means.” He watches me with discomfort. He was never one for sympathy. I tug my handkerchief from my sleeve and grip it.

“It will all work out. I am investigating everything, and I will unravel Eli’s affairs. If there is need, I’m sure the bank can extend you something.”

“How long will it be, Judge? How long, do you think, before you will know?”

He pauses and scratches his beard. “Give me a week, Augusta. Maybe two. Don’t you worry. I am here to protect you. That’s why Eli made me trustee of his estate. He wanted me to protect you.”

My hand pauses, holding the bright white handkerchief before my eyes. “Is that what he said?” Judge moves his hand over to my knee and squeezes. I put that sadness in my eyes like the woman on Mama’s memorial cards.

“Yes,” Judge says, very earnest. “Those were his exact words. It’s been several years ago now, but I remember it as if it were this week. He said if anything should ever happen to him, he wanted me to protect you.”

“Eli was so thoughtful. I’m surprised he never said it to me.” My left hand is clenched on my handkerchief, and I will it to soften.

“He cared for you very much. You must have known that.”

“I guess I did.”

“He was not one of us, but he could show himself to be a man of honor on occasion. I hope you were able to find some happiness in your marriage.”

I cannot meet Judge’s eyes. They are on me, probing. Small streams of water pour down the glass. The chips of ice have melted away so quickly, there is only a thin layer left. The chips are glassy, almost invisible except for the way they catch the half-light of the room.

“Yes, I did. Of course I did. And I have Henry.”

He nods. “Yes, and there’s Henry to think of. You focus your efforts on Henry. He may be Eli’s son, but there’s Blackwood blood in his veins. And I will see to everything else.”

He sighs a satisfied sigh. I reach for my glass, wrapping my handkerchief around it, swabbing the moisture from the base so it does not drop on my dress. I take a long, slow drink. The tea is cool and sweet in my mouth and slides down my throat. I raise the damp handkerchief to my forehead.

“What will you do—exactly—as trustee, Judge?” I ask.

“Nothing for you to worry yourself about. Eli’s will is pretty straightforward.”

“You have his will?”

“Yes, of course. As soon as I heard he was ill, I pulled it out and reread it. Everything is in order.”

“What does it say?” I should keep my voice softer. I look at him and smile.

“Eli has left everything to Henry. You get the income from his investments. And I will oversee the whole. I can bring it to you if you like.” His voice is steely, and his mouth curls down.

“No, thank you, Judge. That’s very kind.” I want to see it.

“It was done with your best interests in mind. And Henry’s. Like I said, we have no idea who might come looking for a piece of Eli’s estate or where things stand. It protects you from—from all sorts of things.”

“Yes, I can see that. It seems very proper.”

“I can guarantee you that it is.”

“And are there other trustees?”

“Me alone. Are you worried I’m not enough?” Judge relaxes into the divan.

My mouth feels stiff as I smile. He is more than enough. “No, that’s perfect. I was worried there would be other people.”

Judge rises from his seat, and I rise with him. His mouth is still hard. He does not appreciate me intruding, no matter how gently.

“We will have plenty of time to discuss it, Augusta. Trust me. I will manage it all.”

“Thank you, Judge. Thank you so much.” The handkerchief in my hand is twisted into knots.

We walk to the door. Judge turns to me. “One more thing. Buck wanted me to send word to you—his condolences. He asks permission to call on you.” Judge squints at me. The handkerchief is taut between my hands.

“Oh—so soon, Judge. I don’t know.”

“He wanted me to ask—not to upset you, of course, but as a good friend. He said, a good friend who has missed you.”

I struggle with the handkerchief. “I don’t think so, Judge. It’s too soon. I cannot. I can’t think of it.”

Judge frowns and puts his hat on. “I will let him know that you are thinking about it. Take your time. But think about it. It would mean very much to him.”

He leaves, walking down the path to the sidewalk, a black cane in his hand that he taps against the bricks.

“Miss Gus, Mr. Weems is asking after you.” Emma stands in the door of the bedroom, eyeing me up and down. Her eyes move away when I look at her.

“Is he with Eli?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll go to him.” Emma leaves the door open and goes downstairs. She must think I’m losing my mind, pacing back and forth in my room.

I tap softly at Eli’s door, and Weems opens it immediately.

“Mrs. Branson, please come in.” He smiles with his lips pressed tightly together and pushes his spectacles up his nose.

Eli is still on the cooling board, but his edges are softened. His cheeks are no longer sunken, but puffed and marked with patches of pale pink. His hair is combed and slick across the top of his head. His hands are folded across his swollen belly. How can he have done this to me?

The rear wall is lined with canisters that have coiled tubes coming out of them, some of them streaked the color of rust inside the translucent yellow rubber. One canister has a tall pump attached to the top with a black rubber ball dangling from it. A hand pump. How much did Weems take out? And how much did he put in? The air is acrid with the bitter almond scent of arsenic.

“My boy will remove these shortly,” he says, nodding at his equipment. “Mr. Branson looks as if he could be sleeping, doesn’t he? Dr. Holmes could not have done any better.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Weems. Thank you so much for your care.” Eli does not look at all as if he is sleeping, though he certainly does not appear dead. He seems waxen and rouged. His whiskers have been smoothed against his jaw in an improbable way.

“Yes, ma’am. It is an art as much as it is a science. Some may sneer at the trade, but it is a valuable comfort we provide to the living. To see once again those they loved as if they still had the breath of life in them. Perhaps it is a deception, but it is a comforting one.”

“Yes, I can see that.” A comfort for some people, I suppose. After Hill was killed at Nashville, his body never made it home. Must you see someone dead to believe he is dead? I feel my brother next to me so often, like a ghost in the house with me, and I know it is because his body never came home. “Is there anything more? I have so much to prepare.”

“I understand.” Weems nods and crinkles his eyes behind his glasses. “Did I hear the voice of your kinsman Mr. Heppert downstairs?” Weems’s lips stretch thin across his face. “Does he have any objections? I know of his preference for the more traditional practices.”

“Not at all, sir. On the contrary, he is very pleased.” A lie can’t hurt. What does Judge or Weems care either way?

“That is gratifying.” Weems’s smile is sour. “Although Mr. Heppert often hides his actions behind his words.”

“Yes, well. Is that all?”

“We may put people in the ground, Mrs. Branson, but we cannot put the past in the ground. As long as we remember the past, it is not dead and buried. Just like Mr. Branson. I know he will live on in your heart.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mr. Branson knew that, too. That we must not forget the past. Mr. Branson did not forget. He was a man very much aware of it, which is why he was so successful—to a point. I would not support him in some things. I do not believe the Negroes are capable or deserving of the vote. Still, I had a great deal of admiration and respect for him.”

“Thank you, Mr. Weems. It means a great deal to me to hear that. If you’ll excuse me, I’m sure you can find your way out when you are done here.”

“It is a pleasure, Mrs. Branson.” He nods and almost bows to me. I will not offer him my hand—not after what he’s been doing with his.

THERE SHOULD BE HUNDREDS
of acres of land. A warehouse by the depot and lots along the square. He talked about railroads. It’s so muddled, but I’m sure he did. He owned some sort of railroad. Or a part of it. There were men here who talked about pig iron. At dinner not too long ago. And a cotton mill. He would bring home the yarn for me. He would say he made it himself. He gave one of the first skeins to Mama when she was alive. There must be something left of all that.