Necessary Lies (32 page)

But I wouldn’t let Mrs. Forrester and Mrs. Werkman and Nurse Ann and the doctor do to me what they done to Mary Ella. “I want children, Mrs. Forrester!” I pleaded. “You got to let me do that.”

“Can you see anything good about this, Ivy? You’ll have one precious baby and then not have to worry about—”

It was the same kind of thing she’d said to Mary Ella and it was all wrong. “No. There ain’t nothin’ good about it!” I shouted. “Just one baby ain’t natural. You said Mrs. Werkman came up with this idea, right? Don’t you have some say? Can’t you stop them?”

She shook her head. “Please think about it,” she said. “Think about the good things that can come from having just one child to—”

“Get out of my house!” I stood up again, not caring how rude I sounded. “I hate you!”

“I know you feel that way now—”

“Get out. You’re a horrid person.”

“I want to check on Mary Ella to see—”

“Don’t bother!” I wanted to push her out the door, but going to jail was the last thing I needed. “She don’t want to see you no more than I do.”

She stood up. “All right,” she said as she walked to the front door, “but I’ll be in touch.”

I slammed the door behind her as hard as I could, wishing it would hit her and I could say it was an accident, but she was too fast. She wanted to get away from me as much as I wanted her to go.

38

Jane

I pulled my car to the side of Deaf Mule Road, unable to see to drive. I put my head in my hands. I’d made such a mess of things. I’d wanted to help Ivy see why this could be a good thing for her, but I’d bungled it, just as I had with Mary Ella. How could I
not
bungle it? It was just wrong. The whole damn thing was wrong! There was no way to be honest with a girl about sterilization without making a mess … unless you took the Charlotte Werkman approach of not telling at all. Charlotte was going to kill me. She was right: I couldn’t keep an emotional distance from the people I worked with. Or at least, not from these particular people.

I looked over my shoulder down Deaf Mule Road. I could go back to Ivy. I imagined her crying now, terrified as she tried to understand what would happen to her. I pressed my fist to my mouth, imagining how scared she was right this minute. I wanted to hold her. Comfort her. But the truth was, she probably wouldn’t let me near her right now.

I blotted my eyes with a tissue, then started driving again. I was a couple of miles from the farm when my car suddenly began slowing down. I pressed the gas pedal harder, but it made no difference. I looked at the gas gauge in disbelief. Empty. The needle was actually below the E.
Stupid, stupid
.

I was able to pull to the side of the narrow road before the car came completely to a stop. The tires sank into the sand on the shoulder and I wondered if I’d just given myself two problems instead of one.

I got out of the car and turned in a circle to plan my next move. I couldn’t see another car on the road in either direction. Fields surrounded me. A few tobacco barns stood here and there, and in the far, far distance, I could see a farmhouse. At least I hoped it was a farmhouse. It had a red roof. A good sign.

I got my purse and briefcase from my car and started walking. At least this hadn’t happened to me in the heat of July or August, I thought. The temperature still had to be close to eighty degrees, but it was bearable. And anyway, it wasn’t the weather that was troubling me most today.

I heard the sound of a vehicle a distance behind me, and turned to see a truck approaching. I started to lift my hand to wave, but something about the appearance of the truck kept my hand at my side. As it got closer, I could see that one of its front fenders was missing and the body was rusting through the fading green paint. The right side of the front window was a spiderweb of cracked glass. I suddenly felt very exposed walking alone down the road. I faced forward, my gaze on that little farmhouse, willing the truck to pass me by, but I heard it slow until it was even with me.

“Where you goin’, blondie?” a man asked. “Need a lift?”

I looked up to see two men in the cab of the truck. I guessed the man leaning on the windowsill closest to me was the one who had spoken. He looked like every stereotypical depiction of a backwoods nutcase—goofy grin, toothpick jutting from the side of his mouth, graying hair askew, and three days’ worth of whiskers. Against the window behind his head, I could see a gun rack holding two shotguns.

I ignored him, facing forward again, but my heart had sped up.
Just go away,
I thought.
Leave me alone.
I wouldn’t get in a truck with those two if my life depended on it. I had the feeling my life depended on
not
getting in the truck with them.

“I
said,
need a lift?” the man asked again.

“No, thank you,” I said.

“She got manners,” one of them said. “Her mama raised her right.”

I kept walking, faster now, keeping my eyes straight ahead, and they continued driving right along next to me. Then I heard them stop. The squeak of a door opening. I wanted to run, but I’d never make it to that farmhouse before they caught me.

The man from the truck started walking behind me and to my left, enough out of my line of sight to make me paranoid.

“Please leave me alone,” I said, without turning around.

“What you got in that there case you’re carryin’?” he asked.

I ignored him. I was walking as quickly as I could, getting nowhere fast.

“Come on now, blondie,” he drawled. “Where you headed? We can take you to the garage if that’s what you want.” He pronounced it “gay-roj.” I heard another set of footsteps and knew they were both behind me now. At least one of them was close enough that I thought I could smell his whiskey breath. Any second, he could grab me, and then what? I felt sweat trickle down my neck.

In the distance, I saw another truck coming toward us and I ran into the middle of the road, waving my free arm. Maybe I’d be jumping from the frying pan into the fire, but right then I didn’t care, and as the truck grew closer I saw the color: pale blue. Mr. Gardiner’s truck? Could I possibly be that lucky? I lifted my arm to wave again, and one of the men reached out and touched my breast.

“Get the hell away from me!” I smacked his face with my briefcase.

“Oh, she’s a live one!” he said, his hand to his cheek.

The truck neared and I realized it wasn’t Mr. Gardiner at all. A colored man was behind the wheel, but as he slowed to a stop, I recognized Eli. For the first time, I was happy to see him.

“Get in,” he called to me through the open window.

“You get in that nigger’s truck, he’s one dead nigger,” one of the men said. The other was heading for his own truck, and I remembered the guns.

I had no choice. I ran around the other side of the truck and climbed in, and Eli took off before I even closed the door. Getting in a truck with Eli Jordan seemed just one step up from being with those two drunks back there, and I sat close to the door. I’d never been comfortable around him. I always felt as though he were studying me, seeing something inside me that I didn’t want anyone to see. Something even I didn’t know was there.

“I’m getting you in trouble,” I said.

“We’ll lose them,” he said, looking in the rearview mirror as he took a turn onto another road. “Matter fact, we done lost them already.”

“Is there a chance they’ll find you, though? Come looking for you?” I tried to look behind us, but Eli was driving so fast, everything was a blur. I felt conspicuous riding with him. If we passed another truck or car, I’d crouch down and hide.

“You mighty worried about me all of a sudden, ma’am,” he said.

“I’ve always been concerned about your family.”

“I s’pose. Mama says you all right.”

It burned me that he was passing judgment on me when it should be the other way around. I didn’t know the real story between him and Mary Ella, but I did know he’d taken advantage of her and was taking no responsibility for William. Did he even care about the little boy?

Eli made another turn and then another, and I was relieved that I knew where we were now. The farm was no more than a half mile from here. My heartbeat returned to normal and I suddenly felt brazen.

“Are you upset William Hart was taken away?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself.

He didn’t look at me. He kept those amber eyes of his on the road ahead, and soon we turned into the long drive leading up to the farmhouse and the barns and shelter beyond.

“Baby William ain’t my concern, ma’am,” he said. “Why you aks me that?”

“Eli, let’s talk straight, all right?” I said. “I’ve seen how you act around Mary Ella. I know you’re … close to her. And I’ve had a good look at William.”

He stopped the truck next to the farmhouse and shot me a quick, hard look. “You call that talkin’ straight?” he asked, then faced forward again. “You can get out here, ma’am,” he said. “I’m sure Mr. Gardiner’ll help you with your car.”

I didn’t know what else to say, and that look he gave me told me the less I said right now, the better.

I got out of the cab and shut the door behind me, then said through the open window, “Thank you for picking me up.” I wasn’t sure what he’d saved me from, but I was glad I never had to find out.

“You know”—he leaned across the front seat to look at me—“I may be plum broke, and I may not be smart as you with your schoolin’ and all, but I can tell you one thing, and this is for sure”—he glanced ahead of him, toward the barns and the fields, then back at me—“I wouldn’t
never
do my own sister.”

He pressed on the gas and took off toward the shelter where the other truck and the tractor were parked. I stared after him, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. To my right, I heard the screen door slam and turned to see Mary Ella walk onto the porch from the Gardiners’ house.

“Mary Ella!” I started toward her as she walked down the stairs, but when she saw me, her face registered absolute panic, and she took off at a run in the direction of the path leading to her house. “Mary Ella!” I called again. “Please wait! I want to talk with you!”

She kept running without looking back, the basket over her arm swinging with each step. I wouldn’t chase her. There was no way I could catch up to her now, anyway.

“Hello, there!” Mr. Gardiner came out of the house. “Didn’t see your car.”

I was still watching Mary Ella run toward the path through the woods, and it took me a moment to shift my attention to Mr. Gardiner.

“Hello.” I set my briefcase on the ground and tried to smooth down my hair. I was sure I was a sweaty mess after the last half hour. “That’s just it,” I said. “I ran out of gas on … I’m not sure the name of the road. I can’t believe I didn’t check the gauge before I left home this morning. Eli happened to be driving by and he gave me a ride here.”

He chuckled. “That’s the kind of thing you only let happen once,” he said.

“Could I use your phone to call a garage?” I looked toward the woods again. Mary Ella had disappeared inside them.

Mr. Gardiner followed my gaze. “She came over to see if there was a way I could get her boy back for her.” He shook his head. “Sad situation there.”

“It is,” I agreed. “There are no winners.”

“I appreciated your help with it. It needed to be done.”

I nodded.

“That poor boy,” he said. “He’ll have some mental scars from it all, don’t you think?”

“I hope not,” I said.

“I know Mary Ella and her folks are tore up about him being took away, but the next mishap might have been the last, if you know what I mean.”

“Exactly,” I said, relieved to talk to someone who understood why William had to be removed.

“Well, come on now,” he said, nodding toward his car, where it was parked at the side of the house. “You don’t need no garage,” he said. “I’ve got a gas can in the shelter and we’ll fix you up good as new.”

“Oh, that’s really kind of you, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

We got in his car and he drove to the shelter, where Eli was unloading whatever he’d had in the truck. Mr. Gardiner got out of the car, and I heard him say something to Eli about the gas can. Eli looked in my direction, but not for long. In a moment, Mr. Gardiner returned with the can. He put it in the trunk and we turned around and headed back toward Deaf Mule Road.

“Mr. Gardiner,” I said, as he turned onto the road. “Eli said something disturbing to me.”

“Eli did? He’s a good boy. Ain’t the type to do no harm. I’ll have a word with him.”

“No, no. I don’t mean anything … like that. I mean, I jumped to the conclusion based on some things Charlotte … Mrs. Werkman had said that Mary Ella’s little boy was … well, his. Eli’s.”

He chuckled again. “I can tell you that ain’t the truth.”

“I said something to him about it, and he said … well, he
implied
that Mary Ella is actually his sister. He was angry at my accusation, I think, so maybe he was just saying—”

“No, that’s true.” He turned onto the road where my car had run out of gas. I could see it in the distance. “They’re half sister and brother,” he said. “But don’t go spreading that around now, all right? No need to write it in your little notebook there.” He motioned to my briefcase. “Eli shouldn’t have said it.”

“How can that be?” I asked.

“Let’s have a look-see at your car.” He pulled up behind my car and we both got out of his. I watched as he poured gas into my empty tank. Then he checked the tires on the right-hand side to be sure I wasn’t stuck in the sand on the shoulder.

“You’re good as new and can be on your way now,” he said, putting the gas can back in his trunk.

“I can’t thank you enough,” I said, “but Mr. Gardiner, please explain to me about Eli and Mary Ella…” My voice trailed off.

He looked toward the fields in the direction of his house. “You ain’t got to be no scholar to figure it out, now do you? Their daddy, Percy, and Lita Jordan and me … we all knowed each other since we was little. Percy had it bad for Lita, right from when we was kids. Of course, he couldn’t marry her, so he married Violet, who even back then was crazy as a loon, but pretty, too. Looked a little like Mary Ella. The thing was, Violet started suspecting Percy of messin’ around, only she guessed the wrong woman. Thought it was my wife.” He glanced over at me, and I’m sure I looked as shell-shocked as I felt. “When Percy got killed, that’s when Violet cut my wife,” he said. “Violet blamed her. Said he was thinking about her instead of his work.”