The Pecan Man(43)

Then she groaned softly and began to mumble, “This ain't right, Miz Ora. This ain't right."

“Blanche," I whispered. “Shhh, now...shhh."

She quieted down, but continued to cry. The bailiff adjourned the court, Poopsie retired to his quarters and we sat until everyone else had left. We were just standing to leave when the good judge appeared in his doorway and motioned us into his office. I shook my head in protest and he came to us instead.

“You okay?" he asked.

“I've been better."

“Anything you want to tell me now? Last chance, Ora. After today, I really don't want to know."

“I believe it's all been said now, Harley."

“Same for you, Blanche?"

She stood and looked him square in the eye and I thought it was all over for us. But she turned without a word and left the courtroom. Harley sighed and gave me a hard, perplexed look. I returned his gaze until I had to look away.

“Good day, Mrs. Beckworth," he said and returned to his office without so much as a backward glance.

It had all been said, as far as I was concerned. Ralph Kornegay knew the truth - the whole ugly truth - and I left it up to him to decide which way the ball would bounce. If he interfered or caused Eddie any further harm, I would tell everything, and I meant everything, including what Skipper did to Grace and what I did to cover up for Marcus. Prison be damned, the town would know the truth.

It hurt to watch the man receive my news. He may have been ignorant; he may even have been a bigot, but he was a father first and his pain was raw. I remember thinking it was odd that Ralph never once tried to deny what Skipper had done. He was silent at first; then he asked one pointed question after another until he had no more to ask.

I gave him the names of the boys who I believed were with him that day. His shoulders dropped with each name I spoke until I thought he would disappear beneath the seat of his patrol car. He never condemned or threatened me. He simply received the news, asked his questions, nodded his acceptance of my terms and drove away. We never spoke again after the day I delivered my ultimatum. Not once. Ralph was dead of a heart attack within a year. His wife survived him by only two years. If he ever told her about their son, I never knew and never wanted to know.





Twenty-four





Eddie was sent to the state corrections facility just outside of town. They took him that very day. Blanche and I returned home from the courthouse in complete silence; neither of us daring to speak a word. I directed the cab to Blanche’s house first, even though the day was barely half over.

She opened the car door, then asked without even a glance my way, “What about yo’ supper?”

“I can manage,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Girls’ll be there off the bus.”

“I’ll call the school.”

“What am I going to tell them about Eddie?”

I knew full well that was not a question that needed an answer, but I forged ahead anyway.

“Tell them Eddie loves them. More than they will ever know.”

She got out of the cab then, and hauled herself up the sidewalk and into the house. I could feel her weight as if it were cast upon my own frame. I had not known sadness to feel heavy before, not even when Walter died. That grief was weightless, almost buoyant, as if I could feel myself floating toward some enormous abyss. It was not a good feeling, mind you. It was more like having been tethered by a lifeline and being cut loose in a gentle, but persistent tide.

This grief pressed down like gravity amplified. The seat of the cab cut into the backs of my legs and my head would not rest squarely on my shoulders, but bobbed uncomfortably between the headrest and my collar bones. I could barely gather myself out of the vehicle when the driver pulled up to my house. I gave him a twenty and did not wait for change.

The first time I visited Eddie in prison, I went alone. I wasn’t sure who would be on his visitors’ list, so I didn’t risk having the children turned away. As it turned out, had I not brought a batch of Blanche’s oatmeal cookies, I might not have been received myself. Seems Eddie decided not to allow visitors at all. Negotiations were brief. The cookies came in with me or went home the same way. Never underestimate the power of baked goods. I was sitting across a table from him within five minutes.

Eddie looked drawn that first visit, but it was only a week after his arraignment. By the time I made my fourth weekly trip, Eddie had already filled out a bit and his eyes had lost their yellowish glaze. Blanche and I visited when we could. We still took treats every now and then and made sure he had books and magazines to read. I waited each time for him to tell me he wanted out of there, but he never did. He seemed happy and healthy and he even gained a bit of weight, which he swore was from Blanche's cookies.

Our visits became less frequent as we focused on Patrice's graduation and all it entailed. We had already measured her for cap and gown when I thought to ask her where she had applied to go to college.

“College?" She seemed almost indignant. “I didn't apply to any college at all, Miz Ora."

“Well, why in the world not?" I asked.

“Because we can't afford college."

“Well, what about scholarships? You made good grades; you're in the National Honor Society, for crying out loud."