The Pecan Man(19)

He nodded then and put the car into reverse.

“Go over that story a thousand times while you’re driving, son, and don’t ever, ever change a word of it. No matter what anyone says.”

He nodded again and backed down the driveway. I stood at the garage door and watched the LTD glide slowly down Main Street until it was out of sight. Then I turned and looked at the empty spot where Walter’s car once sat. I have never felt more alone.

Looking back, I might have made better choices if I'd taken more time to consider. I spent my entire life doing only what I believed to be right and true. Yet, there I was, faced with the most crucial decision I would ever make and nothing remotely resembling the truth felt right. But, I had too much to do to stand there feeling sorry for myself. I closed the garage door and went back into the house.

I knew Blanche would be out of her mind with worry when Marcus didn’t come home the night before, but I couldn’t risk talking to her so soon after he left. I took the phone off the hook and got busy cleaning up every trace of evidence that Marcus was wounded when he showed up at my back door the night before.

Evidence. I remember using that word in my mind as I opened a new package of rubber gloves and got the bleach from the utility room. I was destroying evidence the police might use to solve a crime. I was taking justice into my own hands and, though I’ve wrestled with doubt since, I was downright fine with it then.

I finished mopping the kitchen floor, took the bucket of water and bleach and doused the back steps clean.

The clothes were a problem. They were torn and bloody and no amount of bleach or washing would render them clean. They would have to be burned. The nights were cool enough, but I hadn’t taken to using the fireplace yet this year. I washed the bloody laundry with two cups of bleach to cover the smell and packed them away in a plastic bag, planning to burn them the first chance I got.

When I finished what I’d set out to do, I put on a fresh pot of coffee and headed upstairs to take a shower. I was drying off when I heard the front door open. I had barely gotten my robe on when I heard Blanche coming up the stairs, screaming for me at the top of her lungs.

“Miz Ora!” She waited only a couple of seconds and hollered again, “Miz Ora!”

“I’m coming, Blanche. Good Lord, what is the matter?” I was surprised at how quickly I slipped into my new role.

“Oh, Law’, Miz Ora!” Blanche huffed and wheezed. “I thought you was dead!”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, Blanche, of course I’m not dead! What in the world would make you say such a thing?”

Blanche mopped her face with a handkerchief.

“I been tryin’ to get ahol’ta you all mornin’, Miz Ora. What’s the matter with your telephone?”

“Nothin’s wrong with my phone, Blanche. It’s off the hook. I’ve been trying to catch up on the sleep I lost sitting up with your boy half the night.”

“Marcus? Marcus is here? Oh, thank you Jesus! I been outta my mind with worry.”

“He was here, but he’s gone now.”

“Gone! But, he didn’t come home. Where’s he gone?”

“It’s a long story, Blanche and I need some coffee to be able to tell it.”

She followed me downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Smells like bleach in here.”

Blanche doesn’t miss a trick. In all the years she’s been my housekeeper, she’s never known me to mop. It’s not one of my favorite chores.

“That’s what I get for giving you the day off. I spilled a whole cup of coffee - with cream and sugar already in it. I figured I might as well mop the whole floor so it wouldn’t be sticky all weekend.”

The lie came amazingly easy.

“This is my second pot of coffee today. That boy of yours can sure talk once he has a mind to.”

“I don’t understand, Miz Ora. Why was Marcus here last night? Why didn’t he come home? He‘s in trouble, idn‘t he?”

“You should have told him the truth about Grace. He went to find Eldred Mims when he left here, Blanche.”

“Oh, Lord, no,” she breathed.

“He didn’t know everything when he came back, but he knew enough to be beside himself with grief. He came back to find you, but you and the girls had just left.”

“Well, why didn’t he just come on home then?”

“Marcus was very upset, Blanche. I wanted to calm him down first, and by the time we got through discussing the whole thing, I thought you were both better off if he stayed here to think things over.”

“Well, you’d think somebody woulda called me and tol’ me all this. I was worried sick about that boy. He ain’t never done nothin’ like this, not comin’ home all night.”

“He didn’t want me to call, so I didn’t.”

Blanche was breathless and she sat heavily on the kitchen chair, still clutching and occasionally patting her broad chest.

“Where is he now?”

“He left you a note. He knew you'd be upset, but he needed time to think.”

I handed her the note and watched her read it. When she finished, she laid the scrap of paper on the table, covered it with both hands, and sat staring out the window as she was inclined to do when she was thinking.

“Somethin’ ain’t right, Miz Ora. I know my boy and somethin’ ain’t right.”