The Woods at Barlow Bend (14 page)

“Oh, um, of course, of course I’m available.”

“Wonderful, we will meet here at six.”

With that
, he turned and walked away, his shoulders and back straight as a board. I could almost see the outline of a book balanced on his head.

I can barely
describe exactly how I felt in that moment. I was excited to see and talk with Daddy. I hadn’t talked to him in over a year. I missed him terribly. I missed my family as I once knew them, but I was nervous that Daddy wouldn’t like the woman I was becoming. I was stronger than I was a year ago, more mature and determined. I was definitely more refined, thanks to Ms. Jenkins’s teachings and Aunt Mittie’s example. I was never wild, but now, I was more in control of my emotions, with the exception of last night. Even with all of the training I had received, however, my mother’s spirit had also begun to flourish inside me. I knew my capabilities and knew that I had value all on my own. Would Daddy appreciate these changes? Would he see that I was no longer a child, or would he continue to make the rules and dictate every situation, even in his current predicament? Maybe, he was scared and lonely and just wanted to be with family. Six o’clock seemed days away.

After the recess, Mr. Poole
called Papa Lowman to the stand. Before then, I didn’t even know Papa Lowman was in town, much less in the courthouse. I felt a weight pressing on my chest as Papa Lowman settled into the witness chair.

Papa Lowman was the proud father of seven children.
He had buried two beloved wives in his life and had farmed countless seasons of cotton, corn, and soybeans. The years had started to take their toll on his face, wrinkled skin, and ailing body. He had used every muscle in his body to provide a good life for his family. I knew that, but I also knew that by taking that witness stand, he was trying to destroy what was left of my family.

“Please state you
r name and relation to the deceased,” said Mr. Poole.

“I am James
Malachi Lowman,” he said, “and Addie Andrews was my daughter.”

“And did you know your daughter to be a hunter?”

“Yes. We loved to hunt. Taught her myself as soon as she was strong enough to carry a gun.”

“Was she a good hunter?”

“She was a fine hunter, right good indeed. Best shot in Crenshaw County two years runnin’ at the Spring Shoot. Juvenile division, but a real good shot. She had the touch.”

“What did she prefer to hunt?”

“Anything really, but squirrel was her favorite.”

“What type of gun did she shoot?”

“She preferred a .22 rifle. First, she had one that belonged to her momma. And then I gave her one as a weddin’ present.”

“That’s a nice gift.
What did you give your son-in-law as a wedding present?”

“Objection,” said Mr. Jones, “Is this a
trial or a review of the Sears and Roebuck catalogue?”

“Your
Honor, I assure you this line of questioning is relevant,” Mr. Poole said.

“
Alright then, overruled. Get on with it, Mr. Poole,” ordered Judge Bedsole.

“Go ahead, Mr. Lowman.
What did you give your new son-in-law as a wedding gift?”

“Well, I gave him my daughter, first and foremost.”
Papa Lowman’s voice cracked a bit. He cleared his throat and continued, “I gave him a shotgun. A shotgun.”

“Once last question, if given the choice between her .22 and her husband’s shotgun, which gun do you think your daughter would choose?”

“Always the .22, her .22.”

After Mr. Poole took his seat, Mr. Jones stood and
walked to the front of the defense table. He rested against the edge of the table during his entire cross-examination of Papa Lowman. Mr. Jones first offered his condolences and then began his questions.

“Would you consider your daughter to be a selfish woman?
” Mr. Jones asked.

“No,
Sir.”

“So in your opinion, Addie was a generous woman?”

“Yes, most gen’rous. She’d give you everything she could. I raised my children to be good people and good Christians.”

“Was she generous with her children?”

“Of course.”

“And her husband?”

“She gave Hubbard whatever he wanted.”

“Even her gun to shoot a squirrel?”

“I don’t know that.”

“No, you don’t, Mr. Lowman, because you weren’t there.
You weren’t there.” Mr. Jones walked around the table to his seat, and then looked at Papa Lowman, “Again, I am so sorry for your loss. That’s it, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Poole,” Judge Bedsole said, “
Call your next witness.”

“Mr. Lowman was our last witness, Your Honor.
The State rests.”

“
Alright then, let’s call it a day. Mr. Jones, be ready to go at 9 a.m. tomorrow. Court dismissed.”

Judge Bedsole rapped his gavel.
The courtroom went from silent to chaotic almost immediately. The reporters and photographers surrounded Mr. Poole and Mr. Jones, shouting questions and snapping pictures as fast as they could. Uncle Melvin escorted Aunt Mittie and me through the crowd. Luckily, the reporters were too fascinated by the attorneys to worry with us, and we were able to scoot out of the room without much delay. I needed to get back to the hotel in time to fix myself up a little before dinner with Daddy.

Chapter 20

September 24, 1935

Grove Hill, Alabama

I arrived back at the courthouse a few minutes before six.
I chose my blue floral dress with matching gloves and hat. The dress had held up well over the last year since Daddy gave it to me, and Mittie’s alterations made it fit perfectly. Alone in the hallway, I listened to the heels of my shoes tapping the floor as I paced back and forth in front of a long bench for several minutes. At six sharp, Mr. Jones’s assistant met me in the lobby as promised. Even after court, he had his tie perfectly positioned, along with his jacket and vest, and walked just as stiffly as he did earlier that day.

The assistant
led me down a long hallway toward the rear of the building. Two deputies sat outside the last door on the right. The assistant showed me into the room, and then left Daddy and me to dine alone, or whatever this strange meeting was going to be. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. Daddy looked nervous, too. He stood up from a cot against the far wall when Mr. Jones’s assistant had opened the door.

I stood in the doorway and
looked at the meager furnishings of the small room, not really knowing what I was supposed to do. The cot with a flat pillow and blanket was pushed against one wall. In the center of the room, a small table with two chairs had been set for dinner with two plates of fried chicken, okra, and white rice with brown gravy. Two slices of strawberry cake and two glasses of iced tea finished off the meal. Daddy had somehow arranged for all of my favorites. I recognized the china pattern on the plates from the café, and Henrietta’s skilled hand with the fried chicken.

After a moment, Daddy crossed the room and gave me a quick hug, “Would you like to sit down, Hattie?”
He pulled a chair out for me.

I sat down and placed the napkin in my lap as Momma had tried and Ms. Jenkins
finally succeeded in teaching me to do. Daddy stared at me for a long time while I fidgeted with my napkin, silverware, and tea glass.

“You’ve grown up, Hattie.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You look well.
How have you been?”

“Fine.
And you?”

This was
all very odd. I felt like I was speaking with an acquaintance, not my father. Had he been gone so long that we forgot how to interact with each other?

Daddy continued the idle, unc
omfortable chitchat for a while longer. “How are Meg and the boys?”

“They’re
alright, I guess. I haven’t seen them for a few weeks. I’m back at Thorsby for the fall term.”

“Oh, yeah.
How’s school going for you?”

“I love it.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Daddy said as he unwrapped his silverware and awkwardly placed his napkin in his lap. “Well, dig in. I asked Peetie to get all your favorites. Of course, maybe I should have asked you first. Do you still like this stuff?”

“Who’s Peetie?” I asked.

“He works for Mr. Jones. The young man who set this up…well, do you, like it, I mean?”

“Yes, Daddy, of course I do.”

I couldn’t believe how nervous he was. Even though I wasn’t really hungry, I took a bite of the chicken just to try to put him at ease.

“Good,” said Daddy and smiled, “so, how have the Lowmans been treating you?”

“Good. Meg and the boys seem happy, even though Aunt Mittie and Uncle Melvin’s house is a little crowded.”

“I bet it is.”

“Mittie, Melvin, and Papa Lowman are paying for my school, you know.”

“Yes, Hattie, I know.”

Daddy seemed to flinch at the mention of Papa Lowman. I stared at him for a second while he looked down at his plate.

“Are you mad at him?”
I asked.

“At who?”

“Papa Lowman. I’m mad at him, too. He shouldn’t have done that today. He should be on…”

“Hattie, he just did what he thought was right.
That’s all anybody’s doin’.”

“But, how can you let them trash you like that?
And Momma!”

“Hattie, I didn’t ask you here to
talk about the trial.”

“But, I don’t understand how you can let…”

“Hattie, I don’t want to discuss this with you.”

“Well, I do!”

“Hattie, drop it, damn it!”

My breath caught in my throat as Daddy
cut his gaze at me. In the past, arguing with Daddy usually resulted in a pop on the behind, or worse, his belt, but now, he just turned his attention to his fried okra, “Eat your dinner before it gets cold, Hattie.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I told him
, not knowing why I felt badly or why I felt compelled to apologize to him, but I did.

After
several moments, Daddy broke the silence. “Sweetie, I wanted to talk to you about what’s gonna happen once this is all done. I think I need to make a fresh start. I think we all do.”

“But what about the jury?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re gonna go with me. Don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

“Oh…oh,
okay.”

Daddy seemed so confident
about how the trial would end, but after hearing the last two days of testimony, I didn’t know how he could feel that way. In my mind, the jury could go either way. Discussing what kind of
fresh start
he may or may not need seemed pointless without knowing the jury’s decision first.

“I’ve arranged a place for us in Uriah.
We can go there, me and you and Meg and the boys and start over. Forget all about this mess.”

“Uriah?”

“Yeah, it’s real nice and nobody down there has heard about any of this. They don’t care about being an Andrews or a Lowman or anything. We can just start over.”

“Start over?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few connections down there from my Raleigh days, so we should be able to get set up pretty easy.”

“And I’m gonna go with you?”

“Of course, Sweetie. I’m gonna need your help with the boys. I’m sure Meg is old enough now that she won’t need much, but the boys are still growin’. I’m gonna need your help, Hattie.”

“But what about school?”
I asked. Thorsby Institute was my
fresh start
. I had plans. I had a plan for my future. My fresh start had already begun. “Papa Lowman and Mittie already paid my tuition, and I promised Ms. Jenkins that I’d be back!”

I
felt myself getting hysterical, but I couldn’t stop. Every part of his fresh start became crystal clear. It would be the hotel and café all over again. I would quit school again and become housekeeper to four people and mother to two boys. Daddy would go to work, and I would do the rest.

“Sweetie, you’ll finish school, just in Uriah.
You don’t need that school and those people. You need your family.”

“But, what will I tell Aunt Mittie?”

“Hattie, this is my decision. Mittie’s been real good to you, but she ain’t part of this.”

I couldn’t believe Daddy could dismiss Mittie so easily.
She loved me like I was her own. Momma was a part of her. How could Daddy just push Aunt Mittie aside as if he owed her nothing for the last year? Couldn’t he see that I needed her? Couldn’t he hear the arrogance in his words, his tone? Daddy didn’t know it, but he flipped a switch in me during that dinner. Momma’s voice was screaming in my ears.

“Daddy,” I said looking right at him, “did you do it?”

“Hattie, of course not. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“No, Daddy, not kill her.
Did you betray her?”

Daddy didn’t answer, but I didn’t
really let him. With the question just hanging there sucking all the air out of the room, I left. I rushed out without saying goodbye or anything else. At that moment, with him trashing my plans and dismissing Aunt Mittie, I couldn’t stand to look at him. Before saying anything I couldn’t or wouldn’t take back, I left. I walked back to the hotel slowly, trying to digest everything that Daddy had just said, and the fact that I had actually just asked him if he ran around on Momma. I tried to figure out what I was going to say to Aunt Mittie. I didn’t want to use her and throw her away. I didn’t want to be like Daddy.