When Venus Fell (53 page)

It was as if I’d been added to the Cameron family gallery, and I wasn’t a noble accessory. I was dressed in a plaid, long-sleeved, floor-length flannel gown I suspected was one of Min’s. My face was speckled with red marks. My eyebrows and eyelashes were singed. I eased down the staircase and made my way to the den. The voices grew louder, and took form.

“The early evidence,” someone said, “supports a clear
case of malicious arson. Mr. Nolan here is a consultant for the state fire marshal’s office.” The snide tone, the patronizing inflections.
Emory
. Emory was there. “I asked him to check out the chapel discreetly because he can make precisely this kind of quick analysis. And he absolutely believes the fire couldn’t have been accidental.”

“Aunt Olivia did
not
set the fire with any deliberate or malicious goal in mind,” I heard Gib say. “She lit a lamp and dropped it. I don’t know why she got the candles out. I don’t know how or why she hid the burned hymn books and the rug in the woods. But there’s no doubt in my mind that she didn’t mean to set a fire.”

“Whatever happened last night was entirely unintentional,” Min added. “Aunt Olivia’s been upset about Bea’s condition. She’s not herself.”

“Not herself?” Emory’s voice, again. “Are we talking about the same woman I’ve known all my life? The fire was an accident? Was it an
accident
when she poisoned her husband fifty years ago?”

“That’s an insulting analogy,” Ruth said.

“Let’s consider a different scenario then. The only other person involved. Venus.”

“Don’t you dare!” Ella’s voice was a soft shriek.

“We’re not even going to discuss that,” Gib said, in a cold tone.

“All right, all right,” Emory conceded. “But someone started that fire—and I’m going to find out who and why and what for. I’m not saying formal charges must be brought, but I
am
saying that if we have a firebug among us she must be identified and controlled with humane but appropriate measures.”

“You want to lock Aunt Olivia up?” Isabel asked in breathy shock.

“If she’s suffering some kind of dementia, there are many fine nursing homes in Knoxville—”

“Forget it,” Gib said, cutting Emory off.

“Gib, my only concern is protecting our heritage. I believe everyone but you and Olivia is ready to admit the opening weekend was a disaster. It is
clearly
time to turn this property over to new management. Now, Aunt Olivia is
technically
the only person who can make that decision, but if someone was to have her declared incompetent—”

“You scheming son of a bitch,” Gib said, and then there were crashing sounds, and a myriad of raised voices. I clawed my way down the hallway and staggered into the den. Min, Isabel, Carter, and Ruth were pulling Gib away from Emory. Gib had his hands around Emory’s throat. A well-dressed stranger—Mr. Nolan, the arson expert—stood nearby, gaping at the scene. Joey lurked beside him. Ella, who stood to my left cradling a sleeping Dylan in her arms, turned and saw me. “Vee! What are you doing out of bed!”

Gib released Emory and strode toward me. “You don’t need to be part of this mess tonight,” he said, but when he moved to pick me up I stopped him. I had come to Tennessee to reclaim memories of Mom and Pop’s happiness—of our family’s right to be happy. But happy memories couldn’t survive in the silences between failures. I had brought Ella here, and together we’d destroyed what was left of our fantasies. What was left of our family’s music. Sooner or later, if I didn’t stop this, either Olivia would be blamed for another crime of the heart, or Ella’s ring would be discovered at the chapel and she would be accused, ruined, punished.

“I did it,” I announced, looking straight into Gib’s eyes. “I set the fire.”

Silence. I was the center of a hot universe, feeling the stares from everyone. Gib’s gaze never left my face. I thought my heart would break—he would hate me, he would turn away. He searched my eyes with strange calm, an intensity that went beyond surprise, and then he said softly, “You’re not capable of destroying the chapel. You almost died trying to save it.”

That was the faith he had in me, not knowing that I’d lied
to him already, a sin of omission. “I set the damned fire,” I insisted shakily. “I did it because I wanted revenge for what this family did to Ella. I was going to take Ella and leave last night. But I went back to see if the chapel was burning, and I found Olivia there. I couldn’t let her be hurt. The fire wasn’t her fault. It was mine.”

“You’re only trying to take the blame off Olivia,” Ella cried, “because we owe her so much for her kindness. Don’t honor her by sacrificing yourself. I’m sure she doesn’t want that.”

Carter rushed to Ella’s side. He handed Dylan to Isabel then put his arms around Ella tightly. “Vee’s a hellcat,” he said, “but I don’t believe she’s a firebug.”

“I don’t believe it, either,” Isabel said.

“You loved that chapel,” Min added quietly. “Gib’s right. You almost died trying to save it. You can’t convince any of us you meant to harm it.”

Stunned, I could only repeat, “None of you really know me or what I’m capable of doing.”

Gib reached into his shirt pocket. “Oh? I think we do.” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
My good-bye note
. He opened it and read slowly, “ ‘Keep the money. Keep the piano. I give it all to you openly and freely and with love. There’s no way I can pay you and your family enough for making us feel wanted, at least for a few months.’ ”

He looked at me quietly. “So you gave up everything you originally came here for. You gave it to the family, with love. That’s a strange kind of revenge.”

“You’re not taking me seriously, dammit—”

“For God’s sake,” Emory snapped. “She said she set the fire. There’s no logical reason to doubt her.” He rubbed the red-streaked skin above his shirt collar. “She’s given you a confession. Be that as it may, I really don’t want to see this public-relations soap opera get into the press or the legal system. Despite being attacked just now, I’m still willing to be as fair as anyone could be.”

“Daddy’s being reasonable,” Joey said. “And he’ll be fair when he’s in charge, here, too.”

Ruth stepped past him. “Shut up, Joey.” She walked over to me, her gaze frozen on mine. “I hate to admit this, but I recognize a criminal when I see one, and you don’t qualify.”

“Aren’t any of you listening to me? I said I did it.”

Gib picked me up. “All right. The person you need to confess to is Olivia. Right now.”

“I will,” I said dully.

Bea looked bewildered as she ushered Gib and me into the parlor she shared with Olivia. She clucked at me as Gib set me in a chair across from the tea table. “My poor brave, overwrought, singed dearies, you look the way Herself feels. Like ghosts have bit you on the arse. I’ll fetch Herself. She can no’ even write, she’s so stiff and sore, but I know she’s wanting to see you, Venus.”

“Should I help you?” Gib asked. “I could carry her if she’s still too sore to walk.”

“She’ll whack you if you pick her up. She’s in no mood for pampering.” Bea shuffled away.

My throat hurt, my back throbbed, and my hands felt raw inside the gauze mitts. I stared at my lap and felt Gib watching me. “Did you really think I’d believe you set the fire?” he asked in a low voice. I refused to answer him. What Ella had done stuck in my chest. “Who are you trying to protect?” Gib asked. “I need you to trust me with the truth, Nellie.”

“Facts aren’t the whole truth. The truth is harder to condemn.”

“Are we arguing your father’s case again?”

Olivia crept into the sitting room before I had to answer him. Gib stood. She leaned heavily on Bea’s arm; every movement seemed an effort. The ruffled nightgown she wore with an equally ruffled robe stood out like a bell around her body. But she met my eyes with shrewd energy.

“Sit,” Bea ordered Gib. When everyone was settled she gestured toward the tea table, which bore a small fresh flower arrangement in a basket. The room was filled with flowers. “Herself has received such a bounty from old friends and admirers already,” Bea told us. “ ’Tis certainly her due for trying to put out the fire.”

Olivia scowled. Bea saw the look and scowled back. “I know that’s what you were about doing. There’s no shame in enjoying a bit of grandeur on your own behalf. I do no’ care if some tongues are wagging.” Bea gave a grand huff and frowned at us. “Herself knows what the rumors are. That she spilled the lamp. Caused the accident her own very self. But it’s no’ true. The fire is a mystery we must solve, dear Gib, you with your expert ways, but until then I’ll no’ have folks whispering that Herself may have been responsible. When she can work her poor sore hands again she’ll do her explaining. Look at her hands! Swollen with arthritis due to the brave efforts she made!”

I met Olivia’s blue eyes. “You won’t have to explain to anyone,” I said, “because I know what happened, and it wasn’t your fault at all.”

Olivia’s fine white brows arched in surprise. Bea leaned forward. “What are you saying, child?”

“I set the fire before Olivia got to the chapel. I’m sure she found the rugs burning when she went there. I did it.”

Olivia’s expression frightened me. It slowly became more and more intense—shocked, upset, bewildered, angry. Gib looked concerned. He leaned toward Olivia, his eyes respectful but steady on hers. “I don’t believe Vee did it,” he said. “Whatever happened last night, I don’t think it was deliberate. When you can write again you can tell me what you saw and what you did at the chapel.”

Olivia’s mouth moved in wordless fury. She shook her head. Moving her hands stiffly, she clawed at a pen and pad on the tea table. “Stop, you’ll hurt your poor self!” Bea cried, snatching the writing tools away. “Calm yourself! Are you in
such a fit you’ve lost your mind? Vee is asking for your mercy, I’m sure of that, and it tears at her soul to see she caused harm! I, for one, know what pain that means!”

After that odd comment Olivia gazed at Bea, her mouth working again, frustration obviously building to a steam inside her. She shoved her hands into Bea’s ample bosom, punching her. Bea gasped. Gib and I stood quickly. Gib gently grabbed Olivia’s wrists and kept her from pummeling Bea again.

“I don’t understand,” he said grimly. “You taught us all to be fair, to listen to both sides, to never judge people on their words alone. Why are you condemning Vee without a second thought?”

Olivia turned her tortured, enraged face up and stared at me. She trembled wildly. Her lips pursed. She swallowed with convulsive effort. She seemed so angry, she might spit at me.

“Gib, let her go,” I whispered. I could barely speak myself. “I had no right to expect special treatment.”

I struggled out of my chair and started for the door. Olivia kicked the tea table and it wobbled sideways then crashed to the floor. She struggled to rise from her chair. Bea shrieked. Gib knelt by her chair and firmly trapped his tiny, enraged great-aunt against his chest as if she were a child. Her hair dangled in disheveled gray shanks. She stared at me, her crystalline blue eye almost savage.

“Please, stop,” I cried, backing away. “Please, don’t hate me.”

She flailed an arm at me. I continued to retreat. Her throat flexed convulsively.
“Not you,”
she said.

Silence. Shock. We all stared at her, incredulous. The frail, breathy, rusty little sound that had come out of her might have been an illusion. She writhed as if giving birth, breathing hard, trying to push more words to the surface. Finally they broke free.

“I set … the fire,” she rasped.

After fifty years of silence, Olivia Cameron had finally found her voice. Amazed she’d formed audible words, we were incapable of analyzing what she’d confessed. She seemed amazed, herself, afraid to try another sound.

Gib carried her into the den of the family wing. “Where’s Emory?” he said.

“I politely kicked him out,” Ruth answered. “At least for now.”

“Good.”

Bea sat beside Olivia on the couch, staring at her and murmuring, “It can be so, it can be so,” like a chant to keep the voice muse from deserting. Deep inside me was a symphony, an entire music festival of relief. I had no idea how or why Olivia could have set fire to the chapel, I only knew she’d freed Ella from blame.

Min, Isabel, Ruth, Ella, and Carter clustered around her. “What happened?” Ruth demanded, studying Gib’s and my expressions.

“She spoke,” Gib said simply. “And she told us she started the fire.”

Olivia absorbed everyone’s shock with wide-eyed wonder
of her own. “Let me get this straight,” Ruth said. “Aunt Olivia
spoke
. Actually by God
spoke out loud
and formed recognizable words. And on top of that she said she deliberately tried to burn the chapel down?”

Gib nodded toward their great-aunt as if her solemn presence were proof enough. Ruth pulled a small footstool close to Olivia and perched on it. She laid one hand on Olivia’s arm. “Aunt Olly,” she began with patronizing concern, “with all my heart I want to believe you can speak again. But I
cannot
believe you started that fire on purpose.”

Olivia frowned fiercely. Her throat worked. We all held our breath while she struggled. Then she said quite plainly, “You doubt my
word?
”

Min and Isabel gasped. Ella clapped her hands to her mouth. Carter whooped. Ebb and Flo, listening from a doorway as usual, screamed and ran to tell FeeMolly. Bea cried gently and silently, curling her thick, fleshy hand around one of Olivia’s thin ones. Gib and I traded new incredulous looks. Ruth sat back, gaping at her annoyed great-aunt.

Olivia tasted her own lips with the tip of her tongue. She raised a hand and touched just her fingertips to her mouth, and then touched them over her heart. She looked at me, her eyes gleaming. I nodded.

The connection had been restored.

Gib questioned Olivia gently. She explained about the chapel in short, halting sentences. The explanation made no sense at that point. We were all so caught up in the miracle of hearing her voice. Each word came hard, with stilted pronunciation. Slowly a new, even more bewildering scenario of the fire emerged.