Seeing Red (31 page)

“See, Mama?” My voice was shaking. “See why we can’t move?”

She put her hand against the wall below the office as if to balance herself.

Beau looked up at me. “What do you mean, Red?”

“Freedom Church was never on Dunlop land. Old Man Porter stole it from George Freeman and his congregation. We don’t even
own
all this land. We can’t sell until we find Freedom Church and give it back to Miss Georgia. Right, Mama?”

Her mouth was hanging open, but I saw her head do a definite nod. I felt like I’d finally gotten through to her before she turned around and walked like a robot out of the shop.

Beau watched her leave and then turned to me. “Red, are you okay?”

I shook my head, staring at the axe that was still in my hand.

“Did you apologize to Miss Georgia already?”

My head jerked over to Beau. “I – she doesn’t know yet.”

He tugged his hair. “Well, you’re going to tell her, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

He nodded. “I’m going to go apologize to her, too.”

“Why? You aren’t even a Porter.”

His shoulders sagged and I realized what I’d said.

“Beau, you should be happy right now that you’re not a Porter. It’s not your folk that – that did it.”

He looked up at me, his eyes shining in the shop lights. “It seems like everybody ought to say sorry for something as bad as that.”

My eyes flew around the shop. “This is a shameful place.” I raised the axe and gave the desk another blow. And another. And another one, until I was getting all worked up again.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Beau called up to me.

“Because I want to get rid of my great-great-grandaddy!”

“But that’s just a desk. That won’t get rid of him. He’s still your people.”

“I don’t want him to be my people!” I threw the axe to the ground and it tumbled down the stairs. “My people aren’t like that!”

Beau stood there, both hands tugging at his hair. He looked down at the axe lying at his feet, then up at me.

All the power went out of my voice. “My people aren’t supposed to be like that.” Not Porters. Not Frederick Stewart Porter. Not me. Except I realized something that made me shiver even though I was sweating. Old Man Porter had asked a Dunlop to do his dirty work for him, killing George Freeman, just like I’d asked Darrell Dunlop for help from his gang, and that ended up hurting Thomas. Maybe we weren’t all that different.

I couldn’t stand my name now – his name. Even my nickname was the same. Red. Because of my hair. I even looked like him! I couldn’t even stand my hair – his hair.

“Beau!”

He jerked at my loud voice. “What is it, Red?”

“I need to borrow your electric shaver!”

“Why?”

“Because Mama got rid of Daddy’s.”

Beau squinted up at me. “I don’t see no hair growing on your face.”

“I know. I’m shaving my head.”

“You – you want to be like that
Kung Fu
guy, too? I thought that was just J.”

I kicked the desk. “I don’t want to have the same hair as Old Man Porter, so I’m going to shave it all off.”

“But, Red,” Beau said, tugging his hair, “it’s just gonna grow back again.”

“Then I’ll shave it again.”

“But it’ll grow back.”

“I’ll keep shaving it!”

Beau sighed. “All’s you can do is hide it for a while before it pops back out.”

“Fine! Then I’ll hide it!” I tugged on my hair, just like Beau, wanting to pull it all out.

“I don’t think it’s how you look what makes you different. I think it’s how you act.”

We stood in silence for a while until Beau spoke again. “The way I see it is you got a chance now to make the name Frederick Stewart Porter stand for something different.”

“How? It’s a pretty bad legacy.”

“I know it is. But you can do it.”

“How,” I said again, not as a question. I didn’t really expect an answer.

“Because you ain’t just that nasty old Frederick Stewart Porter’s great-great-grandson. You’s also your daddy’s son.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Confession

I hardly slept that night and by the time the sky was turning from dark to red, I’d about convinced myself that I shouldn’t go see Miss Georgia just yet. It’d be better for her if I could tell her I’d found the church when I told her the other news. But when I walked into the kitchen, Beau was already standing there, holding a plate of pancakes.

He looked at me with his puppy-dog eyes. “I made you your favourite breakfast, Red, because I know it’ll be tough going up to Miss Georgia’s this morning.”

I felt a gnawing in my stomach but it wasn’t hunger.

“I don’t know, Beau. I was thinking I might go look for—”

“I know it must be real hard,” he went on, like he hadn’t heard me, “but it sure is brave of you to go see her.”

I looked down at my sneakers.

“You want I should come with you?”

“No.” I still hadn’t quite decided if that was where I was going.

“I know it’ll mean the world to her to have you tell her the truth.”

I swallowed hard.

“And also –” he put the plate down on the kitchen table with a clank – “it’ll mean the world to your daddy.”

I felt the sigh come out of me more than heard it. I was worn out like I’d just been in a fight. And lost.

I let the kitchen door slap behind me as I headed up to Miss Georgia’s.

Orange sunlight was trying to peek through the morning mist as I stood in the wet grass for a while, staring at Miss Georgia’s front porch. Looking up, I could see the blue painted ceiling, Miss Georgia’s sky. Finally I crossed the path and walked up the steps, one at a time.

I knocked on her door. Softly. Kind of hoping she wouldn’t hear. Then at least I could tell Beau I went. I tried. But she just didn’t answer.

“Come on in, Red.”

My eyes dropped down to my shoes, and I pushed the door open.

“I knew you’d come back, Red. You’re not one to run away from things.”

If I could’ve melted through the floor right then, I would have. I closed the door behind me with a click.

She turned in her wheelchair and looked at me. Really looked at me.

I stared at the fire. It was the only light in the room. It was quiet for a while before I got up the nerve to speak.

“Miss Georgia? I got something to tell you. And it’s not good.”

“You know you can always talk to me, Red.”

I wasn’t sure she’d feel that way after she heard what I was going to say. “My daddy told you that Porters were somehow involved in what happened to your grandaddy, right?”

“He did.”

I swallowed. “Well, it was more than just involved.”

“Huh.” She looked at her hands in her lap, and her voice was pained. “He was part of the posse,” she whispered.

I shook my head. “It’s worse than that.” I swallowed again. “See, he was thinking the church wouldn’t have the money to pay off their debt, so he’d be able to take over the church – and all the land.”

Miss Georgia turned to me. “But they could pay. They were gettin’ ready to—”

“I know. That was the problem.”

Miss Georgia’s face looked as grey as her hair.

I took a deep breath. “He had to stop them from paying off their debt so he could take their land.” I paused, because I really didn’t want to go on.

“What are you sayin’, Red?”

“My great-great-grandaddy made a blood oath with old Mr Dunlop to kill your grandaddy before he had a chance to pay his debt, so he could take his land back.”

For a fleeting moment I thought she was going to laugh. “Red, how in the world did you come up with that?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this some story Ray Dunlop been tellin’ you?”

“No, ma’am.” I slowly pulled the folded-up map out of the back pocket of my jeans and held it out to her. “It’s something Old Man Porter wrote himself.”

She stared into my eyes but reached her hand out, touching the paper but not actually taking it. I wished she would because it felt almost painful to hold that thing. For a while, it was like we were frozen, our hands on either side of the map, neither of us wanting it.

Finally she took it, her hands shaking as she unfolded it. I watched her lips as she mouthed the words
Decedent, G. Freeman
and cringed when she took a sharp breath in. She eyed the rest of the document, squinting when she got to the bottom of it. She pointed at the initials. “What does that say, Red? It’s too small for me to read.”

I almost groaned out loud. It was the last thing I wanted to read. My own initials. “F.S.P., my great-great-grandaddy’s initials, and a Dunlop’s initials. And the date. Fourth of July 1867.”

She turned her head to look at me. “That why you were askin’ about the date my grandaddy died? That why you wouldn’t believe me?”

I nodded.

She looked back at the map and pressed her lips together until water came out of her eyes. Finally, she said, “It’s true, then.”

I hung my head and whispered, “Yes, ma’am.” I backed away to the wall opposite the fire and slumped against it. I looked down and saw, rather than felt, my hand clutching my stomach, just like Daddy had done when we heard Mr Dunlop’s gun go off.

“I’m really sorry, Miss Georgia. I’m so, so sorry.” Sorry seemed like such a weak word. I wanted a word that was a whole lot more powerful than the kind of word you use when you bump into someone by accident. “I wish it’d been different. I wish it’d never happened.”

Miss Georgia’s face was frozen, along with her whole body. I couldn’t help staring at her. I wanted her to start yelling at me, calling me and my family names, or throwing stuff, because that’s what we deserved. I kept waiting, but the only thing that happened was some water coming out of her eyes.

“You must hate me, Miss Georgia.”

Her voice was real quiet so I had to strain to listen. “Why would I hate you, Red?”

I thought of Beau’s words as I destroyed Old Man Porter’s desk:
He’s still your people.

“Because of what…my people did to…your people.” It was too hard to say it again, to say,
My great-great-grandaddy paid someone to murder your grandaddy
.

She was silent for a while before saying, “Well, ownin’ up to it, that counts for a lot.” She stared into the fire as she fingered the map. “Old Man Porter was a piece of work. We knew he was a two-faced, lying—” She stopped herself. I don’t know why. She didn’t need to stop on my account. “He didn’t want us around. Your great-grandaddy was only some better, but your grandaddy, he was a decent man, yes he was. And your daddy, well, we all know what a good man he was.”

I looked away. I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic, because my daddy had hidden the truth from her, a pretty important truth.

“I-I’m sorry Daddy didn’t tell you the whole truth.” I looked at her, almost like I was asking her a question. “I don’t know why he didn’t.”

She nodded. “Maybe he was hopin’ it wasn’t true. Maybe he was still gettin’ used to the idea. Maybe he was comin’ around to it.”

I shrugged. That answer didn’t make me feel any better.

“I suspect your daddy was hopin’ to find the church, and he was goin’ to tell me the whole story once he could give me some good news along with the bad.”

I froze, because that was exactly what I was planning on doing until I ran into Beau. Maybe that’s what was going on. Maybe Daddy wasn’t going to keep it a secret for ever. Maybe he was going to fix it right in the end. I hoped so. But I guess I’d never know for sure.

“I think he would’ve tried to fix it up right,” Miss Georgia went on, “because that was his way. But he didn’t have the chance to finish.” She looked at me.

I nodded and stood up straight. “I’ve been trying to find the church, too, but I guess I was looking in the wrong place. I’ve been all over the Dunlop property, but the piece of land the Dunlops got from Old Man Porter for killing your – as payment – probably isn’t where the church was. Freedom Church must be on our land.”

She coughed several more times, her whole body shaking. I started to get her some water but she grabbed my arm. After she quieted down and took a deep wheezy breath, she leaned forward, and pushed against the wheelchair.

“Be careful, Miss Georgia.”

Her arms were shaking as she pushed hard to get herself up.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing that,” I said, getting ready to catch her if she fell.

She waved me away with one hand, but that made her fall back down into her wheelchair, kind of flopped over to one side.

“You okay, Miss Georgia?”

She took several breaths before she spoke. “You’ll have to get it, Red.” She pointed to the floor, in her bedroom. “Under there. A box.”