Fireflies in December (13 page)

That week, Daddy hired a new hand, figuring that he needed to be around the house more to keep an eye on things. Jeb Carter seemed a good sort, kind of quiet and shy, and he mostly kept to himself. I liked him a lot from the start. Just the way he smiled at me made me trust him. We had some other farmhands, but none of them paid much attention to the family. They only worked for us. But Jeb . . . he was different. He and I seemed to have something that made us like each other.

“What’re you doin’?” I asked him on his second day as he sat on a tree stump taking a midday break. “Whittlin’?”

“Makin’ me a bird call.”

“What for?”

“Like watchin’ birds.”

“Oh.” I sat down on the grass and picked a leftover dandelion, blowing the white tufts into the breeze. I looked at Jeb with one eyebrow cocked, wondering at his short way with words. He never seemed to speak full sentences. “Which birds you like?”

“All kinds.”

I blew another dandelion and asked, “You like workin’ the farm?”

“Just like workin’. Don’t matter what kind.”

“You like workin’?” I asked in surprise. “What kind of person likes workin’? Most people only do it ’cause they have to.”

“Workin’ keeps the mind busy.”

“So you like keepin’ your mind busy?”

“A busy mind,” he said with a short nod, “quiets bad memories.”

I wanted more than anything to ask him what his bad memories were, but I could see by his face that he didn’t want to talk anymore, so I just sat there watching him whittle. After several minutes of silence, I got up and brushed the dried grass from my backside. “Guess I’ll see you later.”

Jeb reached his dirty hand out and handed me the bird call.

“Want me to keep it for you till you’re done workin’?” I asked.

“Want you to keep it for good.”

“Keep it? I thought you were makin’ it for yourself ’cause you like birds.”

“I’ll make another one.”

I studied it for a minute before asking, “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Then he walked off without another word, grabbing his gloves on his way.

I called after him, “Thank you!” but he kept walking without turning around.

Those were the kinds of things Jeb did all the time, I would find. He liked helping people, but he didn’t like getting attention for it. So I’d always just accept his kindness, give him a quiet thank-you, and leave.

I especially enjoyed my visits with Jeb because we didn’t have many visitors anymore, and life on the farm was getting good and boring. Daddy told us it would last for only a little while longer. He thought once some time had passed, people would get used to us having Gemma, and life would get easier. But from what I’d seen recently, it seemed that hard hearts had long memories.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t so sure my daddy was right.

Luke didn’t trust Jeb from the start, I could tell. After our trouble with the Klan, he started hanging around our house every day after work, and he’d watch Jeb from the porch with a suspicious eye.

“What you got against Jeb?” I asked him one day.

“Ain’t got nothin’ against him.”

I hopped onto the porch rail and tucked my knees under my chin. “You’re lyin’. You watch him like Duke watches a squirrel.”

“You imagine things,” Luke told me around the piece of tall grass he was chewing thoughtfully, but his eyes never left Jeb.

“Then how come you can’t look at me instead of Jeb?”

He just kept rocking in his chair, stewing.

“I said why can’t you stop watchin’ Jeb? You listenin’ to me?”

Luke stopped rocking, pulled the grass from his mouth, and looked at me with extra-wide eyes. “There! I’m lookin’ at you. You happy now?”

I rolled my eyes and hopped down from the rail.

“Where you goin’?” Luke asked as I walked down the steps.

“To talk to Jeb.”

“What for?”

“’Cause I like him, that’s what for. What’re you so worked up about?” I asked wryly, my eyes squinted to avoid the late afternoon sun. “You ain’t got nothin’ against him, remember?”

Luke sighed loudly enough for the neighbors to hear and got out of the rickety rocking chair so hard it slid back against the house.

“Where you goin’?” I asked.

“With you.”

“I ain’t goin’ into town or nothin’. I’m just walkin’ over to the meadow.”

“So?”

“So you don’t need to follow me everywhere.” I watched as his mouth curved down into a frown, and I hoped my argument didn’t really change his mind. I may have talked like he was being ridiculous, but I wanted him to come with me all the same. I wanted him going everywhere with me.

To my pleasure, he threw the piece of grass to the ground and said, “Ain’t no law against a man walkin’ through meadows, is there?”

I shrugged like I didn’t care, but there was a mile-wide smile on my face when I turned back around.

Jeb was busy sharpening some tools when we came upon him, but he stopped and looked up at us. “Hey there, Miss Jessilyn. . . . Talley,” he said to Luke with a nod. “Doin’ fine?”

“Gettin’ by,” Luke replied curtly.

“I’m doin’ just fine too,” I said quickly to talk over Luke’s harsh tone. “You look hot there, Jeb. You need some lemonade or somethin’?”

“Naw, I done got me a big old jug of water over there by the shed. That’ll do me just fine.”

Luke sauntered around the shed, studying the area like a detective, taking time now and again to peer sideways at Jeb.

Jeb watched him for a minute until I asked him, “Ain’t you ’bout done with work today? It’s gettin’ late.”

“I wanted to get these tools taken care of tonight so I can use them in the mornin’. Like to get started right off tomorrow.” He wiped his hands on an old rag and then wiped his forehead with it too. “Guess I’m through now.”

I glanced over my shoulder as a shadow came up behind me and saw Luke strutting toward us with his hands on his hips. “You been rummagin’ in that shed there?” he asked Jeb.

“Just gettin’ out the tools I needed to work on.”

“Uh-huh.” Luke eyed those tools and kept nodding methodically. “You know anythin’ about that hole under the shed, Jeb?”

“Hole?” I asked. “What hole?”

“There’s a big ol’ hole there,” he said, pointing toward the far end of the shed.

I went over and stuck my right foot down into it, wiggling my toes around. “Must’ve been Duke lookin’ for somethin’ again.”

“Don’t know,” Luke said. “Maybe a person’s been diggin’ there.”

“Diggin’ for what?” I spluttered. “Last I heard we ain’t got treasure buried on Lassiter property.”

“I ain’t talkin’ treasure. Maybe someone dug there to get into the shed. Your daddy locks it every evenin’, you know.”

I shoved my foot in as deep as it could go. “Luke, you know any midgets in these here parts that want to go breakin’ into people’s toolsheds? I can only just get my whole foot in that hole.”

“You got big feet,” Luke said. “Everyone knows that.”

“They ain’t big as a person,” I shouted, pulling my foot from the hole. “You ain’t got to tease me about my feet, anyhow. You can tease me about most things, but you ain’t got call to tease me about my big feet or my freckles, you hear?”

“I don’t think you got big feet, Miss Jessilyn,” Jeb said. “They fit you just fine.”

I bit my bottom lip and stared at Luke before saying, “Thank you, Jeb. Least someone round here knows how to say polite things to girls.”

“I wasn’t settin’ out to tease you,” Luke said without much sincerity. “I was tryin’ to figure out why that hole’s there.” He came over to me and peered into the hole again. “Maybe someone’s been tryin’ to bury somethin’ there.”

“Like Duke,” I said. “Dogs do things like that, ya know.”

“Y’all never tie him up over here,” he argued.

“We let him run around free durin’ the day, Luke. He ain’t never tied up till night so’s he don’t go chasin’ raccoons.”

He shook his head and then said to Jeb, “You sure you don’t know nothin’ about this here hole?”

“Nope. Ain’t even noticed it.” He got up and grabbed the shovel that was leaning against the shed. “I can fill it in for ya.”

“No, no!” Luke fairly shouted. “No, I want Mr. Lassiter to see it first.”

“What for?” I asked.

“’Cause I want to make sure it’s safe.”

“What could be unsafe about a hole under the shed?” I argued. “You lost your marbles?”

“Jessilyn, I know danger. I done got a sixth sense about such things. What if someone was tryin’ to bury weapons or somethin’?”

“Weapons?” I repeated. “Weapons?” I started laughing. “We ain’t at war. Ain’t you been keepin’ up with the papers?”

“I ain’t talkin’ about war spies. I’m talkin’ about Klan.” He studied Jeb. “You know anythin’ about the Klan?”

Jeb set the shovel down and brushed his hands against his dirty dungarees. “Can’t say as I know more than most. I tend to stay clear of men like that.”

“Do you now?”

“That I do.”

The two of them stood there staring at one another like they were in a duel, and I threw my hands up in disgust. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.” I went over and picked up the shovel and started digging in the hole.

“Jessie, put that down,” Luke shouted when he finally tore his eyes away from Jeb to check on me. “That might be dangerous!”

But by that time, I’d gotten enough dirt out to hit something hard with a clang. I dropped to my knees and reached into the hole with Luke yelling at me to stay away. “You want some explosives to blow your arm off?” he asked when he reached me. He tugged at my shoulders, and I fell backward onto my backside in a puff of dust. “How do you know there wasn’t somethin’ down there that would hurt you?”

I held my hand above my head and said, “Like this old coffee can?”

Luke looked at the can for a minute. Then he took it from my hand, inspecting it. “Well, I’ll be . . .”

“You’ll be an idiot,” I said. “Ain’t nothin’ but Duke buryin’ like I done told ya.”

“What’s he buryin’ coffee cans for?” Luke asked angrily, his pride hurting.

“Momma used to keep his biscuits in that can till it disappeared one day. I suppose he done run off with the biscuits and decided to bury the evidence.” I got up and dusted my britches before handing the shovel to Jeb. “Think you wouldn’t mind fillin’ in that hole after all? Seems Luke’s done a right fine job solvin’ the mystery of the missin’ dog biscuits.”

Jeb nodded at me with a smile, and I set off toward the house, laughing.

Luke followed, and when I turned around to look at him, I could see that his face was bright red. I laughed at him again.

“Ain’t so funny as you think,” he retorted, but I just kept on laughing.

Once we reached the steps, we could hear Momma calling us from the kitchen.

“There’s supper,” I said to Luke. “You gonna taste my food too? I mean, if someone’s tryin’ to kill me, they may just as well poison me as blow me up.”

Luke opened the screen door for me but kept his gaze pointed toward the ceiling, and when he followed me in, the door slammed much louder than usual.

Daddy stopped dead in the hallway and looked at us strangely. “You tryin’ to break my door off its hinges, son?”

“No, sir.”

Daddy studied Luke for a second. “You sure you ain’t sick or somethin’? You’re red as a beet.”

“Don’t worry ’bout Luke none, Daddy,” I said on my way to the kitchen. “He knows when there’s danger about. He’s got a sixth sense about such things.”

Chapter 12

“Quit chewin’ your nails,” Gemma said from her place on the floor where she was working on her needlepoint. “It’s a nasty habit.”

“I’m nervous,” I whispered.

“So am I, but that don’t mean you should nibble your nails down to the nubs.”

“But what if the sheriff came to arrest me?”

“He ain’t gonna arrest you,” Gemma said, exasperated. “He came here to talk to your daddy about Walt’s trial, that’s all. You heard ’im.”

I tried reading the paragraph again, but I gave up and slammed the book shut.

Gemma startled at the noise. “Don’t do that. You near about made me stick myself with this needle.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I can’t sit here waitin’ to see what’s bein’ said, is all. I’m too nervous!”

Gemma sighed and tossed her needlepoint into her basket. “I don’t know why we’re arguin’ over this. You know you’re gonna eavesdrop on your daddy, anyhow. Might as well get it done with.”

I grinned. “Ain’t as though you don’t want to find out too,” I told her, jumping up and grabbing her arm. “Come on!”

We didn’t have a chance to eavesdrop, though, since we ran square into Daddy as he came back into the house. “Whoa! Where are you girls runnin’ off to?”

“Nowhere,” I lied. “We were just headin’ into the kitchen.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, nodding slowly. “You weren’t headin’ to the porch to listen in or anythin’?”

Being pretty bad liars, Gemma and I just stood there without a word.

Daddy smiled at us. “Weren’t much to hear in an eaves-droppin’. All’s he was here to say was that Walt’s gonna be on trial startin’ tomorrow for assaultin’ a man and that I could come witness it if I like.”

“You gonna go?” I asked.

“Don’t know yet.”

“I want to.”

“Jessilyn, ain’t nothin’ but borin’ stuff in a courtroom. You wouldn’t want to sit still an’ listen to all that. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, anyhow.”

“Maybe not the assault, but Walt does. And if he don’t go to jail, he might come back and try to hurt us again.”

He took my shoulders in his calloused hands. “Ain’t no one gonna hurt you again if I have any say in it. And I do. So you ain’t got to worry none about Walt Blevins. You head on upstairs now and forget all about it. It’s gettin’ late.”

I obeyed him reluctantly, with Gemma following me upstairs, but I couldn’t get Walt’s face out of my head. I didn’t sleep a wink that night, and I was awake and dressed at dawn.

Around six thirty, Gemma rolled over and sleepily peered at me. “What’re you doin’?”

“Nothin’.”

“It’s barely mornin’, and you’re sittin’ there all dressed up and starin’ out the window.” Then she sat up like a shot and said, “Oh no you don’t! You ain’t doin’ it!”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’. Go back to sleep.”

“You’re plannin’ to sneak off to that trial, ain’t you?” She sat and stared at me, but I didn’t say a word. “Well . . . ain’t you?”

I hopped off the stool I was sitting on and smacked my head against the sloped ceiling. “Now see what you made me do?” I hissed at her with a grimace. “I done gone and given myself a concussion.”

“That would make sense since you’re actin’ like you got a bad head.”

“I already told you I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“You’re sittin’ there just waitin’ for your daddy to leave, and I know it. Don’t you go tryin’ to fool me. You ain’t never fooled me before, and you ain’t gonna start now.”

I hesitated before saying, “So what if I am plannin’ to go? Ain’t no reason for me not to. I ain’t no little girl no more.”

“I’ll give you a good reason not to. Your daddy done told you not to, and your daddy ain’t one to be crossed.”

“Well, Daddy ain’t got no reason to know about it unless you tell him.” I watched her for a minute and tapped a finger against one of my front teeth. “You ain’t gonna tell him, are you?”

I could see Gemma’s thoughts run across her face until finally she got out of bed and started getting dressed.

“What’re you doin’?” I asked. “You gonna tell my daddy?”

“You’re gonna go no matter what I say, so I’m gonna go with you.” I smiled at her, but she frowned back at me and said, “Don’t you go gettin’ happy about this. I ain’t doin’ it for no reason other than to watch out for you.”

She was mumbling all sorts of things under her breath while she dressed, saying things about how I was as stubborn as a mule and how my daddy was liable to tan my hide for sneaking out like this. I figured she was right about all of it, but it was the very stubbornness she was talking about that kept me from changing my mind.

Gemma and I crept downstairs, grabbed some corn muffins for breakfast, and went off to wait behind the aspen tree that Daddy parked his truck under.

Come seven o’clock, Daddy came walking out the front door, being careful not to let it slam too loudly and wake us. I felt bad at that moment for being so sneaky with him when he was trying to be nice to us, but it didn’t do much to change my mind. Once he got into the truck and pulled the squeaky door shut, Gemma and I jumped into the bed under the tarp and hunkered down for the forty-minute ride into Coopersville.

As we drove along that early morning, Gemma and I tried to keep the tarp propped up so some air could get in, but we could do only so much without it threatening to puff up and block Daddy’s back view. I had a good idea that if Daddy caught sight of that tarp billowing out, he’d get pretty suspicious, and every time I thought about Daddy finding us, my heart started to do cartwheels and somersaults at the same time. I knew his reaction wouldn’t be good.

As far as my momma, I guessed she wouldn’t suspect a thing because I had mentioned the night before that Gemma and I should head out early to do some berry picking before it got so hot. There was no telling what time we’d be back from Coopersville, but I was certain that Gemma and I would have to get some blackberries good and quick so as not to get Momma wondering. No doubt if we did, Momma would set right off to baking a pie and wouldn’t bother asking us a single question about why we’d been so long at picking berries.

That ride was the worst of our lives. We didn’t say a word to each other, but I could tell by her face that Gemma felt as bad as I did. The air was sweltering already that morning, which didn’t surprise me much because it had never gotten a bit comfortable the night before. Sitting under that tarp was like sitting in a wet oven. The tarp kept the heat and humidity trapped around us, and every breath we took felt heavy and damp. All I could think was that it must be a glimpse into what hell was like.

By the time we got to that courthouse, sweat was pouring down my face and onto my blue dress. Gemma and I had worn our going-into-town clothes so as not to look conspicuous, but we didn’t look too normal after almost an hour crumpled up under a sweaty tarp. Once we heard Daddy leave, we hopped out and stared at each other for a minute. Then Gemma said, “This is the dumbest thing you ever got us to do.”

“I didn’t make you come.”

“You may as well have. You know I always watch out for you no matter how stupid you’re bein’. The stupider you’re bein’, the more I have to watch out for you.”

“In case you didn’t know,” I said defensively, “you ain’t my momma.”

Gemma held her dark brown hand up against my pale white one and said, “You ain’t kiddin’!”

I rolled my eyes at her sarcasm and reached out to smack some dirt off her shoulder. “You look a sight.”

“You ain’t lookin’ much better. Your momma’s gonna cuss you for messin’ up your blue dress.”

I looked at myself in the window of Daddy’s truck and sighed. I did look a sight, plain and simple. Gemma started brushing me off, grumbling at my foolishness, and I tried to straighten my braid out. There were dirty smudges across my nose and cheeks, and I used the underneath of my skirt to polish them away.

“Put your skirt down,” Gemma hissed.

“Oh, hush! Ain’t no one around to see my bloomers.”

“There is too. There’s people comin’ for the trial.”

I glanced around and saw that there were quite a few people coming, all dressed in their finest.

Gemma caught my arm and said, “We best go in the back way or someone will spot us.”

“Ain’t no one gonna know us here.”

“Your daddy’s here, ain’t he? Besides, we’re nothin’ but children, and they might not let us in without an adult. We’ll go in the back.”

Her declaration didn’t leave me much room to say anything, so I went with her around the building. We turned the corner, arm in arm, and found a stairway leading to the courthouse, but we weren’t the only ones about to use that entrance. There was a group of colored people filing in quietly.

“Mornin’, children,” the oldest woman said to us.

Gemma and I looked at her only halfway, since we felt like fugitives that morning, and said, “Mornin’, ma’am.”

The other women smiled at us, two older men nodded, and the children climbed the stairs with their heads swiveled around, staring at us like we were ghosts.

One of the young men snorted and said, “Looks like the little white girl brought her slave along for the show.”

“She ain’t my slave,” I shot back.

“Jody,” the older woman yelled, “you watch that mouth of yours!”

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’, Gran,” the young man said smartly. “I just ain’t never seen white girls and their slaves holdin’ hands before. Ain’t no white girl that’d hold a colored girl’s hand unless she was makin’ sure not to let her run away.”

Gemma’s jaw tightened, and she walked forward, dragging me with her. “You see these hands?” she asked with vehemence. “One’s dark and one’s light, but they ain’t shackled together.”

“Jody,” the grandmother yelled again, “I said shut that mouth of yours, and I mean shut it! You ain’t got no right to go talkin’ to those girls like that.”

“Ain’t got no right? It’s white folks that done got my brother near killed, and I ain’t gotta like seein’ my own kind bound to a white girl.”

The older woman walked back down the steps and seized her grandson by the ear, setting him to howling. “Your brother got hurt by a man, no matter his color, and just ’cause that one man is bad, it don’t mean the rest of his kind is. You hear?” She shoved him with a force that belied her age and shouted, “Now, you get on in there. I said, get on in. You heard me!”

The grandmother stayed behind and took one of my hands and one of Gemma’s. “Don’t you pay no mind to that boy,” she told us sweetly. “Mercy’s sake! What’s an old woman to do with a disrespectful boy like that? I’m bound to meet my Maker someday soon with that boy stirrin’ things up all the time.”

Her voice began to shake, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Jody, he’s the one who always makes trouble. But his brother, Elijah. Now, he’s the good one. It’s him that was beat near to death by that Walt Blevins. He done near took the life right out of that boy.” She took a handkerchief from her handbag, but she didn’t use it. She just twisted it tight.

One of the older men came down the stairs, taking the woman by the shoulders. “Momma, don’t go gettin’ yourself upset again. Let’s go in and set on down now.”

She let him lead her in, but she was sniffling all the way.

Gemma and I didn’t say a word as we watched her disappear into the courthouse. I don’t think there were any words for that moment, anyway. We waited about a minute and then started into the building ourselves.

By the time we got inside, it was a packed house, both in the white section and in the colored section.

“Where we gonna sit?” Gemma wondered aloud. “Ain’t no chairs left.”

“We could sit on the floor somewhere.”

Gemma took a long look around. “Then which section are we gonna sit on the floor in? The white or the colored? We ain’t even, you and me.”

“We’ll sit in the white section, ’course.”

“I’ll be the only colored face in the crowd,” Gemma argued. “It’ll stir up trouble, and your daddy would spot us, sure enough.”

“Well, we can’t sit with the coloreds. I’ll stand out like a porcupine in a henhouse.”

Gemma grabbed my hand and pulled me back outside to an alcove where a brick wall beneath a window housed rows of dahlias. “We can sit here. No one will spot us, but we’ll be able to hear everything.”

“I can’t sit on a wall all through the trial,” I snapped. “That rough brick will eat into my backside.”

I could see Gemma didn’t much care what I was worrying about, so I sat next to her on the bricks, puffing out a long sigh to make sure she knew I wasn’t happy about it. Once I got myself organized, I realized we had one of the best seats in the house. The window was just off to the side of the jury box and covered by tipped-open shutters, providing a perfect view between the slats while keeping our curious faces obscured.

But I wasn’t going to tell Gemma she’d been right after all.

There was no way for me to adequately arrange myself with that dress on, and I looked unladylike enough that Momma would have tanned my hide had she seen me. But I could better afford to be unladylike than miss the trial.