Still Waters (18 page)

Still, there seemed to have been no harm done. Kitty replayed the scenario for the thousandth time: Jenna is stopped by the side of the road. A colored man pulls over to help her, finds there’s no trouble, and they go their separate ways. Later, Jenna sees the man, introduces him to her family, thanks him for his kindness. He shakes the hand of the woman’s son — and there Kitty winced slightly, but so slightly that she barely acknowledged it to herself — and they again go their separate ways.

It all seemed fine. No harm done.

Then why did it trouble her so?

It was almost a week before she could share her worry with anyone. Jenna would have been offended if Kitty even brought up the subject. Bill would have told her she was overreacting. But Frank — dear, sweet, clever Frank — would listen and understand.

The Sunday after their encounter at the hardware store, Jenna finally brought Frank and Christopher over for dinner. Kitty made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans, which were Frank’s favorites. She loved cooking for a full house. After dinner, everyone agreed it was too beautiful an evening to stay indoors. Bill took Jenna and Christopher out back to look at the vegetable garden, and Frank went to sit on the porch and enjoy a cigarette.

Kitty knew that this was her chance, and she took it. She brought Frank a glass of lemonade and settled herself on the rocker next to him. She told him the story as rapidly as possible, while the sun dropped slowly over the valley, and the wind stirred the trees on the lawn.

As Kitty had known he would, Frank listened to her carefully and with gravity.

“Of course, it’s not like we’re racists up here,” she summed up quickly. “Not like those savages down south, burning and lynching like barbarians. It’s disgusting. But sometimes I think that Jenna lacks even common sense about the differences between the races. And that worries me.”

Frank spoke at last. “And Jenna said nothing further to you? She offered no reassurances, no explanation other than what you’ve told me?”

She shook her head.

“Damn inconsiderate,” Frank murmured. “Still, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything to fret about.”

“I know,” Kitty said softly. “But there’s some part of me that can’t help but worry about it. And you know why.”

Frank stared. “What? You mean that you think this man was somehow connected to — ”

Kitty felt herself flush. “No. I don’t know. It just reminded me that you can’t really trust people when it comes to matters of race.”

“I don’t know if you can ever trust people, period,” Frank said flatly, with the kind of blunt honesty that Kitty felt he saved especially for her. “People lie. They keep secrets. They go quietly mad, and nobody notices.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “That’s what happened to my wife Evelyn. Her mind splintered so gradually that I never knew it. I didn’t really even know
her
. But I never would have thought that Jenna….”

He trailed off, and Kitty waited for him to continue, watching the shadows as they played across his face. For a moment his features looked dark, like clouds when they gather before a storm. But then he smiled his sympathetic smile, and she smiled back in relief. It was just Frank, after all. There was nothing to fear.

“So you don’t think I should be worried?” she asked.

“Well, you’ll worry whether I think you should or not,” he told her fondly. “But from what you’ve said, I don’t think that there’s any great cause for concern, no.”

She put a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Frank. I knew you would make me feel better.”

* * *

Frank kept the smile on his face as he watched Kitty Appleton go inside, listened to her footsteps as she traveled down the hall to the kitchen. From the backyard came the sound of Christopher’s laughter, and Jenna’s voice calling to her son rang lightly on the crystalline air. Frank leaned back in the rocking chair and closed his eyes. His smile faded.

Jenna’s secrecy disturbed him, much more than he would have let on to Kitty. Of course, Frank knew that women lied and kept secrets. But he had allowed himself to believe that Jenna would never keep anything important from him. He had thought that the very brutality of her nature would have forced her to come out and tell him anything and everything that happened to her. She should have told him immediately that she had talked with a colored man by the side of the road, that the man had actually been in her car. But she had said nary a word, and that worried him. Sometimes silence is the loudest confessor of all.

Kitty had her reasons for being concerned; she had secrets of her own, guilt that was prickling at her. She’d wanted him to reassure her, so that was what he’d done. But this situation did seem to bear watching.

Evidently Jenna was not as trustworthy as she’d seemed. He would have to be more careful from now on.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
O
NE

I
T WAS
S
EPTEMBER BEFORE
J
ENNA FINALLY
received the call that she’d been waiting for. She had just finished cleaning up the lunch dishes when the phone rang. Fritz was pawing impatiently at the back door, and she reached over to let him out as she stretched to pick up the phone. She left the back door open, enjoying the breeze that wafted through the screen. These early fall days tended to be warm and muggy, the last relics of a summer reluctant to depart. But the light had begun to take on the particular golden quality that belongs to autumn alone, and the air felt soft and mellow as warm honey.

The phone was cool in her hand. She leaned against the wall as she spoke. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Appleton.” The voice at the other end of the line was unmistakable, as was the cadence with which it spoke, uttering her name not as a question, but as a statement.

Jenna caught her breath and gripped the receiver with both hands. “Mr. Graves. Hello. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m calling to tell you that I’ve located my sister and nephew. They’re living in Washington. Would you like to go see them?”

“What? Today?”

“Immediately, if you’re available.” There was the barest pause. “Before I remember that I think this is a bad idea.”

Jenna’s heart leapt into her throat. She swallowed it back down and spoke rapidly. “All right, yes. Do you want to pick me up, or shall I come to you?”

Another pause. “I think it would be better for me to give you the address. We can meet there.”

Jenna wrote down the address and directions carefully, repeating the information back to him to make sure she had everything correct. Then she called Stella, who was willing for Christopher to come over for a few hours.

“Lovers’ meeting?” Stella teased. “Be sure to tell me all about it when you get back.”

Jenna laughed off Stella’s ribbing, but she couldn’t brush aside the anxiety that sat so thick on her chest. What would Adam say if he knew where she was going? And what about Frank, not to mention Bill and Kitty? But she couldn’t worry about that now. She pulled the photo of Maya and Joseph from her purse and gazed at it. In an hour or less, she would be face to face with this woman and child, these people she’d been wondering about for so long. Beneath the anxiety, excitement was simmering.

“Christopher!” she called. “You’re going to visit with Stella and Rose for a little while.” She gave the photo one last look before returning it to her handbag. “Mommy has to go out and see someone.”

* * *

On a quiet street lined with youthful maples still green from summer, Jenna pulled the car to the curb and set the parking brake. Alexander was waiting for her on the corner, as promised, and as soon as he recognized her, he started in her direction. She took a deep breath before getting out of the car. Without a word, Alexander offered her his arm and escorted her to a house in the middle of the block.

The house was narrow and built of dark red brick. Much like with Jenna’s own home, a short set of stairs led from the sidewalk to a narrow walkway. A front porch with brick balustrades welcomed them at the other end of the walk. They mounted the stairs slowly. Jenna raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door was opened, and Jenna stared down into Denny’s eyes.

The resemblance was so pronounced that Jenna almost cried out. She swayed slightly, then felt Alexander’s hand on her elbow, steadying her.

Jenna forced her features into a tremulous smile. “Hello,” she said softly. “You must be Joseph.”

“Yes ma’am.” He was a tall child, reaching almost to her chest. When he smiled at her, it was Denny’s smile. It was Bud’s smile, too. She’d thought she would never see that smile again, and there it was, alive in this little boy.

He was a miracle.

Words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m your Aunt Jenna.”

Alexander’s grip tightened convulsively on her arm, and a woman’s voice spoke sharply from inside the house. “Joseph, who are you talking to?”

Maya Sinclair appeared at the door, hovering behind her son. She looked exactly like her photograph. Tall and slender, her hair cut stylishly around her ears. Soft, chestnut-colored skin stretched smoothly over perfectly-sculpted cheekbones. Her jewel-dark eyes rested on Jenna, and recognition flashed.
She knows me,
Jenna thought giddily.
She knows who I am. It’s going to be all right.

But Maya’s look of surprise and guarded pleasure changed to one of consternation when she saw her brother standing on the porch.

“Alex.” She spoke his name grimly.

Alexander stepped forward and removed his hat. “Hello, Maya. Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

* * *

What happened next was a hurried confusion of good manners. Jenna was ushered into the living room and given a cup of tea. Joseph was told to sit at the piano and play for their guest. Then Maya and Alex excused themselves and retreated to the kitchen, ostensibly to prepare more refreshments.

And before she knew it, Jenna was perched on the edge of an antique horsehair sofa, with yellowy sunlight slanting through the wide front window, sipping her tea and trying not to stare at the boy who was her nephew.

It was no surprise that he was beautiful. His body had the slender strength of a young sapling, with skin the color of coffee with cream. His hair was light brown and tightly curled, cut short against his head, and his eyes were wide and blue.

He sat across the room from her at the piano, fingers moving with awkward grace over the keys, picking out strains of an old song — the kind that you remember with your heart rather than your head. The music flowed sweetly through the small, high-ceilinged room. It touched on the dark wooden mantelpiece with the row of photos in gleaming silver frames. It brushed against the carved wood trim on the ceiling and wrapped itself around the old gas lamps that hung on the wall.

The space between the two of them was a sharp void, vivid and cutting. Every now and then Joseph would look up from the instrument, and Jenna would smile her encouragement. But Jenna didn’t want to be over here, sitting here on this sofa. She wanted to be sitting on the piano bench next to her nephew, watching his brow wrinkle with concentration, running her hand over his rough hair with familiar affection.

I want to be a human being,
she thought, with a sudden desperate agony.
I don’t want to be this other, unfeeling thing anymore.

From across the hallway, Jenna could hear voices, low but quarrelsome, exchanging words she wasn’t meant to hear. She blinked back tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. She had to pull herself together and not bring more trouble than she already had. Alex and Maya were dealing with issues of their own. Old fights to fight, old wounds to heal…or not. Things that had nothing to do with her.

And some things that did.

Joseph came waveringly to the end of the song. Jenna set her teacup on the cocktail table and applauded lightly. He looked up at her, his eyes full of questions.

“Are you really my aunt?” His voice was surprisingly firm and adult.

The question took Jenna by surprise, although she knew it shouldn’t have. She’d been impulsive and stupid to blurt out that statement. Of course Joseph was wondering what was going on. Jenna opened her mouth to answer, hoping that she would say the right thing this time. But someone else spoke for her.

“Yes,” a soft voice said, “she is.”

Jenna looked up to see that Maya had come quietly out of the kitchen and was standing in the open doorway.

All of a sudden, Jenna felt naked, from the inside out.

* * *

Maya kept one hand on the cut-glass knob of the heavy oak door, and the other on the doorframe. Her stomach was a stormy sea of nerves. The conversation she’d just had with Alex hadn’t gone well — but then, conversations with her brother seldom did. She had known this day was coming, and though she had dreaded it, she always thought she could deal with it when the time came.

But not today. She had had three students today and a meeting with Joseph’s math teacher. Her husband Fred was bringing company for dinner, and now suddenly this mess was dropped on her doorstep, with the overflow of emotions that accompanied it.