The Truth According to Us (20 page)

Layla Beck seemed to glow in the dim dining room, radiant against the dull luster of wood and tarnished silver. There was a kind of electricity coming from her, Jottie thought. You could almost see it, a thin rim of gold hovering over her brown curls and the soft curve of her cheeks. Emmett had clammed up even more than usual in the presence of such splendor, and without Minerva or Mae to help bear the load, Jottie plodded through inquiries about Dolly's Ford, the weather, and the ride. The dullness of the material freed her thoughts to glide and hover in their own private jungle. Emmett hadn't said a word about Sol; had he been angry? Sol, angry? It wasn't a thing she'd ever seen much. And Emmett, why was he so grim? Felix, of course, taking poor pretty Miss Beck; it wasn't right, it wasn't fair, but Felix didn't care about fair, not when it came to women; he never had, he never would. Oh dear, she fretted, look at Emmett, so solemn, Miss Beck would never look at him twice with Felix in the room; he acts like someone died. My Lord, she is just beautiful and real smart, too, about Parker the old stuffed shirt, him and his first families! Maybe she'll be smart enough to have Felix's number, maybe she will. She's sophisticated, been around, New York, probably—what was it, the Rainbow Room? I bet she's been there, dancing or something. Champagne cocktail? Why, thank you, I do love a champagne cocktail. I'll tell her about Felix, I'll warn her—but she won't listen. I warned Raylene and Letty, and they didn't listen. I even warned Sylvia, for all the good it did, but this girl, maybe she's not what I think. Oh God, look at her, look at the way she's shining; she's already crazy about him and he's going to break her heart—maybe she won't let him, maybe she's one of those pure girls, maybe she's a big Christian, though so was Mrs. Selman and it didn't stop anything atall. I guess I'll find out tomorrow if she goes to church. I guess I'll wear my pink, it's ironed. Emmett, honey, why don't you
talk
, you used to talk, to me at least. If she gets pregnant, I'll kill Felix with my bare hands. And Willa! She'll know, she'll know what it means—wonder what she saw at Mae's. At least they're married. She'll have to learn about Felix and
women sometime, but not yet, not yet. She's too young now, she'll—what?—she'll hate it, she'll think it's her fault—oh Lord, they're waiting on me again. Talk, Emmett, show her that you can talk! Oh! “Now, Miss Beck, did you know Emmett here teaches history over in Morgan County?” she asked brightly.

Layla lifted her face to Emmett, smiling. “I had no idea. Nobody tells me a thing.”

Unexpectedly, Willa spoke up. “Nobody tells
any
body anything. You've got to find it all out for yourself.”

Emmett gave Willa a dark look before he turned to Layla, saying, a bit stiffly, “Yes, I teach at the high school. Not much local history, though. United States history.”

“Don't they have to learn the history of West Virginia anymore?” asked Jottie. “We had to hear about Governor Spotswood and the salt trust and the Cumberland Road until we were blue in the face. I remember it still.”

“Governor Spotswood,” giggled Bird.

“I've just begun researching the religious institutions of Macedonia,” said Layla, looking alertly at Emmett. “It seems as though there was an enormous increase in the number of churches in the 1820s and '30s.”

“Oh. Well, I don't know much about that,” he said, dropping his eyes to his plate.

“I do,” said Jottie, exasperated. “You just ask me, Miss Beck, and I'll tell you all about it. Quite a story.”

Emmett snickered, looking more like himself. “I give you Miss Josephine Romeyn, noted scholar of the religious history of Macedonia.”

“Pooh,” said Jottie, cheering up. “You teachers don't know much if you don't know about Reverend Goodacre and his sister.”

“Who?” asked Layla.

“Reverend Goodacre—oh, he was a rascally thing,” she began. Emmett lifted his dark eyes and rested them thoughtfully on her. “I'll tell you all about him tomorrow, Miss Beck, though it isn't a fit tale for a Sunday.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Miss Romeyn—” Layla broke off, startled, as a thunderous stampede of feet shook the front stairs and stormed across the porch to the door. There was a pause, filled with heavy breathing, and then the unmistakable thud of someone getting hit in the head. “WillanBird?” squealed a child.

“It's the Lloyds,” observed Willa.

“And Lottie and Myra and Mary-Shore,” said the little voice helpfully. “Come on out when you're done, okay?”

“What're you playing?” called Bird.

“Capture the flag.”

Bird pushed back her chair, muttering, “M'I please be excused?” and galloped down the hall without waiting for an answer. Willa rolled her eyes and followed more sedately. The three grown-ups laughed softly.

“I guess some things don't change,” Emmett said.

“They don't seem to break as many bones as we used to,” Jottie said.

“That's because Felix and Vause aren't in charge,” said Emmett, smiling.

Jottie shook her head. “Jun Lloyd is just as bad as Felix and Vause ever were. He was trying to get Bird to jump out a second-story window last week. And of course she was perfectly happy to do it.”

“Who's Vause?” Layla asked.

They turned toward her. Emmett said, “Vause Hamilton. He was my brother's best friend.” He stood. “That was a fine supper, Jottie.”

—

In the kitchen, Emmett picked up a plate and scraped a few carrots into the can.

Jottie stared at him. “When did you start that?”

He scraped another plate. “How do you think my dishes get done?”

“I guess I thought you left them for—what's that girl's name—Ota?”

“No. Ota comes to clean house. I cook and wash up for myself.”

Jottie whistled softly. “A pearl of great price, that's what you are.”

“Thanks.” He stacked the dishes by the sink.

She watched his back. “You should get married.”

“I could say the same to you.”

That wasn't fair.

“And who'd I marry, anyhow?” he went on.

“Plenty of girls would jump at the chance,” said Jottie. “Stella.”

Emmett spun around, outraged. Jottie laughed. “All right, all right. A lot of men think she's real pretty.”

“I'd rather talk to a bread box.”

“Don't you go with anyone?” she asked, daring.

He frowned. “Remember? I'm the one that doesn't answer all your questions like you were God Incarnate.”

“I don't think I'm God Incarnate,” sputtered Jottie.

Emmett smiled at the plate in his hand. “Sol sent you his best, by the way.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “That's all he said?”

“That's exactly what
you
said!” Emmett exclaimed. “If you'd said something more, he would have done the same.”

“What should I have said, if you're so smart?” Jottie asked.

“How about Sorry I don't talk to you,” he suggested.

“I do talk to him!” she protested. “I said hello to—”

“Or,” Emmett continued over her, “Sorry Felix won't let me talk to you.”

“That's not true!” Jottie said. She turned to scan the kitchen for her cigarettes. “And besides, I
do
—”

“Or, Sorry I do every single damn thing Felix says and Sorry I can't go anywhere and Sorry I can't see anyone and Sorry I'm stuck in this house forever because I'm too much of a coward to leave it.”

“Stop that!” She snatched her cigarettes from the table. “That is just not true! I go places—”

He snorted contemptuously. “Oh, that's right! You go to scenic downtown Macedonia. To the New Grocery and Krohn's Department Store. Yes, it's quite a life,” he said. “You'll die young from that kind of excitement.” He set a bowl on the drainboard with a crack. “I can't believe Sol still cares,” he said bitterly. “How many years has he been trying to get your attention? Twenty? Jesus. I hope he gives up. I hope he finds himself someone nice and gets married. Hell,
Sol
can marry Stella,
and they can have themselves a pile of babies. Better than him spending the rest of his life waiting for you to get out from under Felix's thumb.” Jottie tried to steady herself. He was mad about Felix and Miss Beck, that's all. He was jealous. “Emmett,” she began, “honey. I know you're upset”—he glared at her—“but you're not being fair. You're not seeing Felix's side. What Sol did, it wasn't something Felix could forgive.” She looked up, into his eyes. “Imagine what it was like for Felix after Vause died. It was like the end of the world. And then to have Sol say it was Felix who'd done it, that it was his fault—”

“That's not what Sol said.” Emmett shook his head. “He only said it
seemed
like something Felix would do.”

She tried to explain. “But that's just it. Don't you see? It was just an idea, and then people started to believe it because they wanted to. Everyone had been waiting for years to see Felix fall off his high horse, and nobody wanted to think anything bad about Vause. Everybody loved Vause.” She sighed. “I don't hold it against Sol, I really don't. I think he was beside himself with grief. But Felix? Felix almost went out of his mind. He can't forget it.” She looked up at him. “Don't you see? After finding out that Vause had betrayed him—”

“Vause betrayed
him
?” said Emmett. “What about you?”

And there it was: Betrayed. Lied to. Abandoned. Not loved. Never loved. All of it, a lie. A joke. Shame squirmed inside her, an awful worm.
“Don't
,
”
she said. “Just don't.” She brought a cigarette to her mouth with trembling fingers. “It was terrible, and Felix stood by me. He didn't leave me and he didn't lie to me and that's all. That's all there is.”

For a moment, Emmett stood, watching her fruitlessly strike match after match. Finally he sighed and took a match from the box. “I'm sorry, Jottie,” he said. “I'm sorry, honey.” He held out the lighted match and she bent over it. When she straightened, he said, “You paid.” He gestured to the tired kitchen. “You gave up college, you stayed home with Mama and Daddy, you're raising the girls. You paid like it was your fault, and I don't understand why.”

She tried to smile. “I paid for being stupid, I guess. For being so in love with Vause that I couldn't see what he was like.”

He frowned. “Nobody saw it. Not Felix, not you, not anybody.”

“I should have known,” she murmured.

“What? How could you?”

“If I'd known, I could have stopped it from happening. If I had seen it, I could have saved”—she hesitated—“all of us.”

“Hold up. Are you saying you think it was your fault the mill burnt down?”

Her eyes darted toward him and away. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. There was a silence. “One time, it was right after Vause got back from the war, when he was still so worn down with the flu, we went to the river, the two of us. He fell asleep, there in the shade, with his head in my lap”—she flushed—“and I watched him. For hours, I looked at him. I didn't stir. I didn't want to wake him. I just looked at his face, and all I thought was how beautiful he was, like something in a picture of heaven. Golden.” She lifted her eyes to Emmett's. “Remember that about him? Like there was gold under his skin?” He shrugged and she dropped her eyes. “But that was my weakness, you see? If I had looked
better
, I would have known what he was inside, and I could have stopped him. I could have told him to leave, and”—she smiled at herself—“oh, it's silly, I know, but I always think that then he'd still be alive, and Felix would be the president of the mill, and everything would be fine.”