The Funeral Dress (32 page)

“Nolan’ll come looking for me.”

“Don’t worry about Nolan,” Leona said and pointed back at the truck. “Curtis can handle him. If not, I got a .22 of my own that’ll keep him in his place.”

Emmalee laughed, but it faded fast and a serious expression returned to her young face. “He ain’t really got no one but me.”

“You’re doing what’s best for your child. Got to get your priorities straight now that you got a baby. I wasn’t always good at that.” Leona drew a deep breath and blew it out into the holler. “Curtis, there, wants me to be happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted. And I know what will make me happy. That’s doing right by you, by your mama, and by that sweet baby girl of yours. Please, let me do this.”

“You got to go. Go on. Go,” Emmalee said, her face turning white.

Leona looked confused and reached out for Emmalee’s hand.

“You got to go. Please, go on. Told you, damn it, Nolan don’t like people coming around,” she said, her body shaking hard.

“Honey, calm down.”

“Go!” Emmalee backed into the house and slammed the door shut.

“Emmalee!” Leona said, her mouth pressed to the door. “We’ll be waiting on you. You hear me? Thursday morning. Just outside the holler on the main road. Don’t worry about bringing nothing. Just bring yourself and the baby. You hear me?”

There was no answer. “Emmalee,” Leona repeated as she drew back from the door.

Emmalee pulled the blanket to the side and showed her face and then disappeared. Leona rushed back to the truck and climbed inside. Curtis revved the engine and pulled away while Leona spotted Nolan standing on top of a rocky ledge farther up the mountain.

E
MMALEE

F
ULTON
-P
ITTMAN
F
UNERAL
H
OME

“Emmalee,” Mrs. Fulton said as she knocked on the bedroom door. “You’re going to be walking to the church alone if you’re not ready soon. Your daddy will be here soon, and you need to be downstairs when he pulls in the drive.”

Emmalee said nothing.

“You hear me in there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emmalee answered from behind the closed door.

“Listen here. Your father ran over to Pikeville first thing this morning to borrow a second hearse from Heritage. We’re expecting him back any minute,” she said. “Any minute. And I want you riding with your daddy. Emmalee Bullard, are you listening to me or not?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Emmalee stood in front of a long mirror mounted on back of the bedroom door. She studied the
skirt she had taken from Rachel’s closet. She had admired all of Rachel’s old clothes but she favored this skirt best. It was a pretty shade of gray, so warm it looked almost blue. It fell just above her knee, and Emmalee guessed it was perfect for a funeral.

“What are you doing in there?” Mrs. Fulton asked, knocking louder on the door.

“Nothing.”

Earlier in the morning, Emmalee had washed in the Fultons’ tub. She had scrubbed her skin and lathered her hair, wanting to look her best for the church service. She had never been inside a church building for preaching. She woke nervous, her fingers trembling, knowing she’d see Runt and Mettie, knowing they’d be looking to take her baby home. Kelly gurgled happily in the cradle, and Emmalee pinched the skirt’s waistband between her fingers, adjusting for a better fit. She pulled the waistband tighter, folded it, and fastened it with one of Kelly Faye’s diaper pins.

She slipped on a matching gray sweater, one trimmed with gray ribbon and silver buttons. She fastened the sweater so only her shirt’s collar poked its way free around her neck, and then pulled the sweater down to hide the skirt’s pinned waistband. She admired herself in the mirror again, wondering if Leona would recognize her dressed in these fancy clothes. She wondered if Runt and Mettie, maybe even Mrs. Cain, would think better of her dressed like this.

She pulled on her wool socks and worn-out boots, lacing them tight around her ankle. Rachel’s shoes were too big and Emmalee couldn’t figure a way to make them fit.
Ready to go, she turned her attention to the baby, who was working hard at her first smile and waving her hands in front of her eyes as though they were something she had never seen before. Emmalee slipped her fingers underneath Kelly’s diaper to check if it was dry and wrapped her baby girl snug in the pink blanket. She lifted her from the cradle and hurried to meet Mr. Fulton in the hall.

“Emmalee,” he said, “my, my, you look nice.”

“Thank you. I borrowed something of Rachel’s. Hope you don’t mind. I know Mrs. Fulton didn’t want me going through her things.”

“Rachel doesn’t wear those clothes anymore,” Mr. Fulton said. “That’s what she left behind when she moved to Birmingham. I keep telling Hester it’s time to give all that to the church or the Goodwill, but that woman would hang on to a paperclip if she thought it might serve a purpose someday.” Mr. Fulton laughed. “I was coming up to tell you that it’s time. We need to be at the church a good hour before the service begins.”

“Yes, sir. I’m ready. So is the baby.”

“I see that, and you both look beautiful,” he said. “I think your daddy just pulled into the drive. You going to be okay?”

Emmalee nodded as a bell rang downstairs.

“There’s Nolan. How’s that for timing?” Mr. Fulton scooted toward the stairs, reaching for the wall for added support. “Come on, girls, we got a funeral to go to.”

“Excuse me, Doris,” Mrs. Fulton interrupted, “but I’m with Mettie here. We need to get things back to normal as fast as we can.”

“That’s right,” Runt said, “and I want the sheriff involved in this. Everybody here knows you can’t trust my brother not to do something crazy.” Emmalee heard her uncle’s voice clear in the kitchen rising above the others. “And we all know Nolan ain’t going to take the news of this very good.”

“I understand that,” Mrs. Cain said.

Emmalee stepped into the kitchen behind Mr. Fulton. There stood Runt and Mettie. Mrs. Cain sat at the table; a clipboard and ballpoint pen were set in front of her.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Fulton asked.

“Runt and Mettie came by with Doris to check on the baby,” Mrs. Fulton said.

Runt reached out to shake Mr. Fulton’s hand, and Mettie moved toward Emmalee, trying to sneak a look at Kelly Faye. But Mr. Fulton turned to Hester. “What have you gone and done?”

“Basil,” Runt said, “Mettie and I called Mrs. Cain. We think it’s time something official is done about the baby. We wanted to wait till after the burial, but when Emmalee wouldn’t even let Mettie get a look at her yesterday, well, we got to worrying that something wasn’t right.”

“That’s right, Basil.” Doris Cain picked up her pen and made a note on the clipboard. “Runt and Mettie called me over to their house this morning because they wanted my opinion.” Mrs. Cain motioned for Emmalee to join her at the table, but Emmalee refused. “Mettie and Runt do have some real concerns about your ability, Emmalee, to care for a child, especially given your current living conditions and Nolan’s consistent refusal to accept help of any kind.”

Mr. Fulton cleared his throat. “Sounds like you’ve all
decided Emmalee is never going to make a fit mother. I thought we were going to give her a chance, a real chance to do right.”

“Basil, I always give the mother a chance,” said Mrs. Cain. “But I’ve seen too much of Nolan and Emmalee Bullard through the years to think this baby’s got much of a future back in Red Chert. And it was my understanding from Hester here that Emmalee would be heading back there after the service.”

Hester glared at her husband, her body growing stiff. “That baby is not our concern.”

“Hester,” Mr. Fulton said and shook his head.

“Don’t be upset with Hester, Basil,” Mrs. Cain said. “I explained to Runt and Mettie that you and Hester do have more claim to this baby as the grandparents than they do as aunt and uncle. So part of my reason for being here this morning is to let you and Hester weigh in on this.”

Mr. Fulton stared back at his wife but remained silent.

“So does that silence mean that you, as grandparents, are not interested in supporting Emmalee or taking in the baby?”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Fulton said.

“What the hell?” Emmalee clutched the baby tighter to her chest. “I ain’t lying about your precious Billy. Like it or not, Kelly Faye is as much Fulton as Bullard.”

“Don’t go cussing like your daddy, Emmalee,” Mr. Fulton said softly, keeping his gaze fixed on his wife. “Babies hear everything, you know.”

Mettie sat a little straighter and smiled.

Emmalee’s voice started to quiver. “But Dr. Greer said the baby needs to be with me. I heard him say it. I’m the
one that feeds her. She’s mine. She ain’t even your blood, Mettie. She ain’t got a drop of your blood in her. Not one. You ain’t got any claim to her.”

“Emmalee,” Runt said. “Kelly Faye’s got my blood in her and that gives me and my wife every right to take an interest in her.”

“No it don’t,” Emmalee shouted and the baby started to whimper.

Mrs. Cain rocked forward on her seat, her short legs barely touching the floor. “Let’s all calm down here.” Again, she motioned for Emmalee to sit. “Runt and Mettie called me out of concern. I’ve known you for a very long time, young lady, and I’m going to be honest with you. At this point I cannot recommend that you keep the baby on your own, especially given Kelly Faye’s care up to now and your current living conditions.” Mrs. Cain stood and stared at Emmalee. She held the clipboard at her side. “Honey, I’ve been to your house. Many times. Remember? The big difference between back when you were a child and today is that we’ve got a nice couple willing to care for this baby.”

Emmalee looked away. “Funny how they never wanted to take me.”

“It was different then, Emmalee, but I am your family, Em,” Runt said.

“Shut up, Runt,” Emmalee said. “Nolan’s right about you. Everything comes easy for you, and when it don’t, you take what you want. You stole my daddy’s mill, and now you think you can walk right in here and take from me too.”

Runt jumped forward.

“Runt,” Mrs. Cain said, holding her hand up in the air. “Don’t do that. This is not the time for theatrics.”

Runt settled back next to Mettie.

“I think all that Runt is trying to say, Emmalee,” Mrs. Cain said, “is that surely you don’t want that sweet little baby girl to grow up like you had to—no running water, no fresh food, no heat, no clean clothes. Have you forgotten all that? Kelly Faye can have better.”

“But I’m her mama.” Emmalee heard Kelly Faye squealing. She tried to rock her body like Cora had, but she felt cemented to the floor.

“Yes,” Mrs. Cain said gently, “but you are also a very young girl.”

“I’m sick of hearing that. I ain’t that young.”

Emmalee felt everyone’s stare boring down on her. “Nolan said I’m getting better at being a mama.”

Mrs. Fulton rolled her eyes. “Nolan.”

Emmalee wiped her nose on her shirtsleeve. “You seen her being born, Mrs. Fulton. You know this baby’s mine.”

“That’s right, I was there,” Mrs. Fulton shot back, “and you didn’t act like you wanted her then. You remember that? Besides, Mrs. Cain is right. There’s a lot more to being a mama than giving birth. I don’t see how a girl who couldn’t even figure out she was pregnant can raise a baby on her own.”

“Hester,” Mr. Fulton said, “what kind of meanness has come over you?”

“Mean. Really, Basil? You’re the one prolonging the inevitable.”

Mrs. Cain set the clipboard back on the table and folded her arms. “All right. I’m sorry about all of this,
I really am, but this is how it’s going to be. Runt and Mettie have agreed to let you keep the baby till after the funeral. They’re very sensitive to what you’re going through. But after the service, the baby will go home with Runt and Mettie. You understand me? We’ll need to decide where to go from there in a couple more days. But I need to know the baby’s safe, and I need you to look at me and tell me you understand what I’ve said, young lady.”

“You can all go to hell,” Emmalee cried and ran out of the room toward the front of the house where Leona lay in her casket. She leaned over Leona and begged for her attention. “Kelly Faye is my baby. She ain’t Mettie’s. Leona, she ain’t Mettie’s.”

Emmalee felt Mr. Fulton behind her.

“Leona, tell them. Tell them I can be a good mama. Tell them how you were going to take me in and help me raise my baby.” Emmalee reached for Leona’s hand. “Tell them,” she yelled.

“Emmalee, what are you talking about?” Mr. Fulton turned her around with his good arm, and Emmalee fell against his shoulder.

“Leona and Curtis were coming for me.” Emmalee sobbed while the others gathered behind Mr. Fulton. “The very next morning after the accident. They were coming for me, for me and Kelly Faye. She knew I could be a good mama. She trusted me.”

But all Emmalee knew for certain was that most everything had been taken from her. Her mama and Mama’s cancer stole her childhood. Billy Fulton stole her
heart. Runt and Mettie were trying to steal her future. And Nolan, sure and slow, had stolen her soul. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure who had done her the most harm.

“Leona, you’re the only one who wanted to give me something back,” she whispered, still bound in Mr. Fulton’s arms. “Leona, tell them.” But by then Emmalee was crying so hard, no one understood what she’d said.

Both caskets were closed, ready for their procession to the church.

Mr. Fulton said the preacher had talked to Leona’s sister earlier in the morning, and she had made the final decision that the caskets be open during the service. “I’m not real sure of her reasoning, but it’s her decision to make.” He pulled a white handkerchief from inside his suit jacket and wiped his brow. “I don’t really think that’s what Curtis or Leona would’ve wanted, not with Curtis looking the way he does. Sure wish I could’ve done more.”

Emmalee offered no reassurance. Still dazed by Mettie and Runt’s demand, she stood silent by Leona’s casket while the baby fussed in her arms.