The Saints of Swallow Hill(82)

She grabbed Rae Lynn’s hand and said, “I don’t know what come over me. I’m sorry. Now I’ve gone an’ ruined things. I’ll be worried sick about you.”

Rae Lynn squeezed her hand and said with a confidence she didn’t feel, “Please don’t worry. We’ll always be friends.”

“But, I ain’t never gonna see you again.”

Rae Lynn knew this was true, and Cornelia put her other hand to her mouth while her shoulders shook with distress. Rae Lynn hugged her tight, released her, and cradling her belongings, she left. She passed the trail to the colored quarters, where it was quiet, and she imagined everyone inside, most likely eating supper. Finally, she was back at number forty-four and being extra careful, she tapped on the door and waited. She could sense it was empty, but she was taking no chances. After a few seconds, she glanced around furtively and shoved the door open. The same fusty air greeted her, quickly reminding her of the weeks she’d spent here. Inside, she flopped into one of the chairs at the small table, despondent.

She had to think about what she might do, where she might go. She pondered the idea of going back to the house in North Carolina for all of a few seconds. There was no telling what had happened since she left, no telling what Butch had said, and for all she knew, Eugene could have the law looking out for her. She could wait tables. Cook. Wash dishes. Work in a store. Take on washing and ironing. Whatever anyone had. First, she had to see where she was going to end up. She pulled the small bundle across the table toward her, undid the string Cornelia used to tie everything together, and at the sight of carefully wrapped food she grew teary-eyed. She thought about how they worked together in Cornelia’s kitchen, at the commissary, in the garden, and how, despite Otis, she’d enjoyed being there. It seemed like a dream now.

She had no appetite, so she wrapped everything back up and drifted dismally around the room, and when she rubbed her arms, the tiny dots of tar spotting her skin drew her attention. She believed a small piece of soap might have been left behind on the shelf. At the wash basin, she felt along the rough wood of the shelf, and it was still there. Carefully, she cracked open the door, making sure no one was around. She quickly pumped a bit of water, hurried back inside, and began scrubbing at the black speckles. When she was done, the soap was gone, but so was most of the tar.

She went over to the god-awful mattress, and a plume of dust rose up when she sat. She’d been so dog-tired after working the trees, the discomfort and stink hadn’t bothered her much. After sleeping at the Riddles in a decent bed, on clean sheets, she might as well have been wallowing in a hog pen. She laid down anyway, closed her eyes. She thought it was only minutes later when a noise aroused her, but as she sat up, she noted how the inside of the shanty was now dark. Tap, tap, tap came on the door. Rae Lynn reached for the pistol, glad to have it now, despite its history. She made her way carefully, quietly, to the door. Tap, tap, tap came again. She cocked the gun and winced at how loud it seemed to her.

She spoke loudly. “Whoever it is, there’s a gun aiming at you through this door.”

A low, but familiar voice said, “Rae Lynn, it’s me.”

“Nellie?”

She pulled the door open, and Cornelia rushed inside.

“Hurry. Shut it.”

Rae Lynn did as she asked and said at the same time, “What’re you doing here?”

Cornelia appeared overcome and held her hand to her chest, breathing hard. Rae Lynn went to the table, struck a match, and held it to the wick of the lantern, adjusting it so the flame stayed low, but enough to light the room in a warm glow. The burns covering Cornelia’s face glistened, like tiny bodies of water across the landscape of her skin. While the tar was removed from her face, her hair was still covered on the one side. Cornelia set a similar bundle to what she’d given Rae Lynn on the table. She pulled on a glob of tar in her hair, winced, and let it go.

She said, “We got to hurry.”

“We?”

“I’m going with you.”

Rae Lynn tried to understand what Cornelia said.

“Leaving? You’re leaving Otis?” she repeated.

Cornelia said, “I can’t stay another minute with Otis. I can’t take him no more, not without you there to help me get through the days! He fell asleep and I took a chance.”

“Oh, my word.”

“We got to go ’fore he wakes up and finds me gone!” She pulled a pair of scissors out of one of her pockets. “Will you help cut this mess out of my hair? I couldn’t do all of it. It won’t take long. Get this part here and here. It’s what hurts the most.”

Rae Lynn didn’t know what to make of all this, or what to do other than take hold of the scissors Cornelia held out to her. Cornelia plopped down into a chair, her back to her. Rae Lynn began to carefully separate chunks of tar-covered hair, and as she started cutting, she made Cornelia tell her everything. Cornelia was still breathless but spoke slower now.

“First of all, after you left, Peewee and Del showed up. Crow’s done for in this camp. Peewee fired him, but even better. Guess where he is.”

Mystified, Rae Lynn said, “Where?”

“Del Reese put him in that sweatbox. He’s also leaving, Rae Lynn. He said to me, ‘You can leave too.’ Said he’d see to it I got on a train. Except, as you know, I can’t go to Mama’s. She’d tell me to go back to my husband. She says it’s a woman’s fault if a marriage turns bad.”