The Tender Years (21 page)

There stood Jamison, books tucked under one arm, a smile lighting his face.

“Mind if I walk along?”

What could she say? She did not mind. Not one bit. But Jenny would mind. Terribly.

She gave one nod of her head, and Jamison fell into step beside her.

They walked in silence for half a block before Jamison spoke.

“Noticed you’re pretty quiet today.”

Her head came up. When had he been noticing her?

“Worried about something?”

Virginia nodded. She was worried. Not just about Jenny. More about Rett.

“I … I guess I am,” she admitted.

Silence.

“Want to talk about it?”

Virginia debated the answer she should give and decided to be open and truthful—at least in part.

“Rett Marshall. He’s been … locked up, you know.”

Jamison nodded. “I heard.” He didn’t sound particularly disturbed.

“He didn’t do it,” said Virginia, agitation coloring the words.

He looked at her then. “I don’t know him well. Just seen him wandering around.”

“My grandpa has known him since he was a baby. Grandpa doesn’t think he did it, either.”

Now she seemed to have Jamison’s full attention.

“It just doesn’t add up,” she went on, her disturbed thoughts giving her freedom.

“Yeah? How so?”

“He … he’s never cared about … things. Just birds and animals. He never even gathered pretty rocks—or flowers. And he never builds things. What would he want with a crescent wrench and a lathe?”

“Some people say the crow—”

“How could a crow transport an object that heavy?”

“A crescent wrench, you say? That’s true. Crow couldn’t haul that. I’d just heard of things like Mrs. Parker’s red pin and Mrs. White’s necklace. Bright stuff like that. They say crows like shiny things.”

Virginia nodded. She had heard that, too.

“Well, it doesn’t add up. I’d like to—”

He turned to her, a glint in his eyes. “You wanna play detective?”

“Me?”

“Sure. Somebody’s got to get to the bottom of it.”

“I couldn’t—I wouldn’t even know how to go about it.”

“But you think he’s innocent—you want to help him.”

She nodded her yes on both counts.

“Then why don’t we see what we can find out?”

She wondered if she understood his question correctly. Was he suggesting that they work on it together? She looked at him. “I’m not sure. My father is trying to help him, and … and I don’t know if he would appreciate me snooping around.”

“Then perhaps I’ll have to do the snooping. You sort out whatever I find.”

She stopped and turned to him. “You’re serious?”

“Totally.”

She was still hesitant.

“I … I just don’t know. Papa said we should pray.”

“We can do that, too.”

Of course they could.

“It’s just that …” She began to walk again, and he matched her steps. “I have this strange feeling about all this. I keep thinking that it is somehow tied in with the accident.”

“What accident?”

“At the creek.”

“The rafting?” He sounded incredulous.

But she held to her opinion. “Ever since then the Crells have vowed to get back at Rett for not saving Freddie.”

He nodded slowly. He had heard some of the rumors. “I guess they were pretty angry, all right. But you don’t think they would go so far as to do something—unlawful—do you?”

“I don’t know. Mr Crell was awfully mad.”

He shook his head. “It sounds pretty vicious. Setting up an innocent man just because—”

“Maybe they still don’t think he was innocent. Maybe they have convinced themselves that Rett really could have saved Freddie. Papa says that the mind and emotions can play some terrible tricks.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Look—maybe we’d better just stay out of it. Just pray—like Papa says.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I’d never make a good detective.” He grinned. “Besides, I’d never have the time. My folks keep me too busy choring.”

Virginia managed a smile. She was sure they had made the right decision.

But her mind still could not put the matter to rest. She was sure that something was awfully wrong about this whole theft charge.

CHAPTER 20

G
randpa, may I join you?”

Virginia stood before her grandfather on the back porch of the farmhouse. The day was warm, but to Virginia it somehow held the promises of a coming fall with its cooler weather. Perhaps it was the colors that made the suggestion. Already the nearby trees were showing some changes from the summer dress of green, and her grandmother’s fall flowers were in full bloom in the nearby garden. Her grandfather smiled and patted the seat beside him.

“Where are the other men?” she asked as she lowered herself. It was not often that her grandfather was left alone on a Sunday afternoon.

“Playing horseshoes. I told them I needed a break from all the chatter.”

“Then maybe I—”

“No, no. Sit down. I jest meant male chatter.”

Her grandfather’s words were no longer slurred. Except for the hesitation of his hand to do his bidding, one would have never known that he had suffered a stroke.

“Since the stroke,” he confided softly, as though it was their little secret, “I sometimes need me a little alone time. Brain gets tired trying to keep up.”

He tapped his forehead and grinned.

Virginia smiled.

“You’re doing real well,” she said and laid her hand on his arm.

“Something on yer mind?”

She drew in a deep breath and turned to look at him.

“Rett,” she said simply.

He nodded. “Yeah, it troubles me somethin’ awful, too. I been to see him agin Friday. He looks … looks jest … jest caged.”

She had been to see him, too. She went with Danny, who took the crow over to see his master after school every day. Her father said he thought it was the only thing that kept the man sane.

“I don’t think he did it. I … I have tried to … take him a few things. Just to make him more comfortable. He looks at them and smiles, or looks confused, and then shoves them right back under the bars again. Why would a person like that …
steal
something?” asked Virginia.

“I don’t know.”

“And why would he hide them in among his socks? He wouldn’t even open drawers. Mrs. Kruz had to go in and lay out clean clothes and tell him to make a change. She tried and tried to teach him to open the drawer, pull out the clean things, and do the changing on his own. He wouldn’t.”

“You’ve talked to Mrs. Kruz?”

“I … I—sort of. I know I’m to stay out of it. But Papa let me go over to get Rett some clean things. They had to insist that he change at the jail, too.”

They sat silent, sharing deep, troubled thoughts.

“I still think someone else put the things there.”

“That would be a terrible thing to do—an’ awful hard to prove, I’m thinkin’.”

“I tried to talk Papa into speaking to the sheriff. Getting him to release Rett and then watch.”

“You mean set a trap.”

“Not really a trap, but sort of. I mean, if someone else has done it, it would likely happen again. Especially if they thought that the courts were not convinced it was Rett.”

“What did your pa say?”

“He said the court did not believe in playing games.”

“I don’t s’pose.”

“But Papa is filing a petition to get Rett released until the trial date. He says there is no need to hold him in jail until he is proven guilty. If Papa is successful, that would accomplish about the same thing.”

“That would be a blessin’. I don’t think the boy is even eatin’ in there.”

Virginia noticed the use of the term “boy.” Just like most of the neighborhood, her grandfather still thought of the man as a boy. Virginia guessed that no matter how old Rett became, he would be thought of as a boy right up until the time the grave took him.

“He eats my cookies when I take them,” she said.

“A man cannot live on cookies alone,” quipped her grandfather.

“I still think it has something to do with that creek accident,” Virginia maintained.

“Yer pa and I have talked about thet. I have the same feelin’. He says he has dug into all the past records and can’t find any link.”

“Perhaps they are not
in
the records.”

“Ya mean—maybe there were some facts thet didn’t come out.”

Virginia nodded.

“Well, it were a bit scrambled, but the courts seemed content thet they had pieced it together pretty good at the time. Most of the stories fit.”

“Maybe someone is just using that accident to sort of … sort of implicate Rett to cover their own tracks.”

Her grandfather looked thoughtful. “You might have something there. But what could anyone possibly gain by havin’ the man put away?”

“I have no idea. I’ve tried and tried to figure it out.”

Her grandfather placed an arm about her shoulders and drew her close. “Yer pa is working on it. I think he stays up nights tryin’ to sort it through. Rett couldn’t have anybody better on his case.”

“I know that.” Virginia had confidence in her father. Knew how hard he was working to try to find some way to have the charges dropped. But it seemed as though every new thought led to a stone wall.

Though not exactly friends again, Jenny did start speaking to Virginia now and then. She had found a new friend in Trina Hughes and probably wanted to impress Virginia with that fact. The two tittered and whispered and took to flirting with some of the older boys. Jamison was not in the new little pack. Jenny seemed to have given up, at least momentarily, on Jamison. But he had never given her much encouragement.

“We’re going to The Sweet Shop, wanna come?” Jenny surprised Virginia by asking as school was letting out for the day.

Virginia was tempted to give a quick no, but she was still praying for Jenny. Perhaps this would open the door a crack again. There seemed to be no harm in a little trip to The Sweet Shop.

“I’ll have to pop into Papa’s office to see if it’s all right.” She thought quickly. “Then I could send a note home with Francine,” she answered.

Jenny shrugged. “No problem. We can wait.”

“You won’t have to wait. You go on ahead, and I’ll catch you there.”

“Fine.” Then Jenny added as though it was an afterthought, “Wanna ask Jamison?”

There it was again. Jenny was using her to get to Jamison.

Virginia opened her mouth to say she’d had a change of plans when she heard another voice.

“Ask Jamison what?” Jamison was beside her.

Jenny gave one of her most fetching smiles.

“We’re going to The Sweet Shop. Would you like to join us?”

Virginia could not now change her plans.

“Sure,” said Jamison without hesitation. “When?”

“Now.” It was Jenny who continued the exchange.

“Can’t now. Don’t have any money with me.”

“I’ll lend you—”

But Jamison was shaking his head. “‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’” he quoted.

“Join us tomorrow then,” decided Jenny.

“We’ll do that,” replied Jamison and reached for Virginia’s books. He was speaking for both of them.

Virginia felt relief. Yet agitation. Now she would be able to ask her mother ahead of time and get her permission. On the other hand, what was Jenny planning now? She knew that the girl had some scheme in mind.

“My pa is gonna scour this whole town to get to the bottom of this Loony Marshall thing,” Jenny said the next day after they had all purchased their sodas and gathered around the room’s largest table.

Virginia felt her eyes widen. Was that what this was all about?

“So, what’s to figure?” asked Sammie. “The guy was caught with the goods.”

Jenny nodded. “But some folks”—she said the words with emphasis, giving Virginia a challenging look as she did so—“still think that loony fella is innocent.”

All eyes turned to Virginia. Her chin lifted. She was not going to be pushed into a corner simply to save face in front of her schoolmates.

“I do,” she said with conviction.

There were several snickers around the table.

“She even talks with spooky Adamson,” put in Trina, giving a nod toward Virginia.

“Mr. Adamson is a fine old man.” Virginia could feel the color flushing her cheeks. Had this all been planned? Had Jenny simply brought her here to humiliate her before her school friends? But what of Jamison? Surely Jenny hadn’t turned on him, too.

“Pro’bly likes her brother’s pet skunk, too.” This came from George Booth. A howl of laughter followed. “Virginia the Crusader for the Downtrodden.”

Jamison stood to his feet. “I think we should go,” he said to Virginia, taking her arm. Now it was Jenny’s face that flushed.

“Whoops,” she said, casting a look around the little cluster. “Sorry. Finish your soda. We didn’t know it was a touchy subject.”

Jamison hesitated. “The subject was not touchy,” he said in an even voice. “The attack was.”

“Sorry,” Jenny said again with a light shrug. Her face was pale now. Apparently she realized her mistake. She would not win Jamison by attacking Virginia.

“Sit down, Curtis,” said Georgie. “We didn’t mean no harm. Just having a little fun.”

“I don’t care for fun at another’s expense.” “We said we’re sorry. Sit down.”

Jamison sat down. Virginia felt that he knew she wished to let the matter drop.

There was an uneasy quiet at the table. No one looked up from the sodas before them.

“Let’s see …” Jenny mused. “What can we talk about … that’s safe?”

She gave Virginia just the hint of a look under her long lashes. Virginia knew that the girl was attempting to gain control of the group again.

“What did you think of that history exam?” burst out Sammie.

“Oh, not school. That’s boring,” chided Jenny to squelch any answers that might be forthcoming.

Silence again.

“Hey, I know. We should plan a party.” This was Jenny’s idea.

“A party?”

“Yeah, a … a Harvest Gathering or something.”

The idea seemed to be appreciated.

“Where?”

“Well, I’ll do it.” Jenny sounded all bravado.

Virginia wondered how she planned to pull it off. Parties took a lot of work. It had taken her mother and Clara many days to prepare for her birthday. Jenny had no one to help her.

“What kind of party?” asked Trina, sounding excited about the prospect.

“Maybe a … a masquerade party. That would be fun.”

Trina beamed. It was clear that she was enthused by the idea.

“When?”

“Hey, how about Halloween?”

Most of the members at the table expressed their agreement.

“You help me with it, Virginia?”

There. That was part of Jenny’s unspoken plan. It was she, Virginia, who would be called upon to do the work. Maybe Jenny even expected her mother and Clara to pitch in.

Virginia shook her head. “My parents don’t favor Halloween parties.”

Jenny looked disappointed.

“When then?” she asked, tipping her head to one side.

Virginia knew that if she named a date, it would mean they would all expect her to be part of the plans. Jenny would put her in charge of the preparations. Jenny’s party preparations. She didn’t want to be a snob, but she didn’t like to be used, either.

“I’m afraid I’m out,” she said with finality. “I’m already on the committee for the Youth Group fall party. I don’t have time for two.”

“Jamison?” asked Jenny coyly.

“Me too.”

Virginia could see the anger rise in Jenny’s face.

“So what is your exclusive Youth Group planning?” she asked, making the words a distinct dig.

“A hayride,” answered Jamison, pushing back his empty soda glass. “And we are not exclusive. You’re all invited. October twenty-fifth. Meet at the church at seven.”

And saying the words, he stood and reached for the pile of schoolbooks. Since Virginia’s books were also in the pile, it seemed her signal that it was time for them to leave. She nodded to the group and rose to join Jamison.