Varina(51)

The preacher paused to draw breath, and Ryland said, I never heard this one before. Does it just go on and on?

—Nope. What Daniel said happened. That night Babylon burned down, kingdom done and gone. Daybreak, Belshazzar woke up dead in hell.

Ryland said, Can you read the Bible for yourself?

The preacher paused and then said, Yes.

—Who taught you?

The two men glanced at each other. The preacher said, I’m not saying.

—Law, Cleon said.

Bristol said, Probably that law’s not gonna apply after the sun comes up. A lot of others too.

They all sat quiet. Out the door, the burning city behind them had become nothing but a pretty amber glow in the sky. The train rolled toward Petersburg, and the night swept by in blurred gray shapes of houses and barns and cornfields and cow pastures. All they saw of Petersburg was the wrecked landscape of a lost war. The government train didn’t stop at the station, just tooted the whistle. But crowds stood around in the lamplight of the platform watching it roll past, hope bleached out of their faces. Soon after that, nothing but black pinewoods on either side of the tracks.

Ten or fifteen miles south, the train slowed for a curve, taking it at a little above a trot. The preacher looked at Cleon and nodded. They didn’t say a word to each other, but both stood and picked up their carpetbags and underhanded them out the door. Then—like jumping down a well or taking a leap of faith—they ran three strides and disappeared into a future that looked nothing but dark and red at the moment.





Fourth Sunday





Saratoga Springs


AFTER BREAKFAST V SITS BY THE WINDOW READING A NEW novel, The House of Mirth. She prefers books set in New York or Europe—anywhere except the South—because they don’t bring unwelcome memories.

Laura wanders in, turns back the covers, and climbs into V’s bed and immediately falls asleep.

When she wakes she asks, What time?

—Ten.

—Wake me at eleven? I need an ally. My mother’s coming for lunch.

—Are you asking me to join you?

—Please, Laura says.

She turns her face to the wall and sleeps again.


V WAKES HER AND SAYS, Dear Girl, if we’re going to meet your mother, you need to dress.

Laura swings her legs over the edge of the bed and looks at the floor.

—She’ll be horrible. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to see it. She can be nice for half an hour, and then it’s always horrible.

—Oh, I doubt she’ll be too bad, and if she is, I’ve seen enough that I’m inoculated. If I can be a comfort to you, I’ll come along.

—Really? You’d do that?

—I stood in the real White House arguing toe-to-toe with one of the more corrupt presidents of the United States, at least up to that point in time. So let’s go back to your room and pick out a pretty dress.

They choose a summer frock, sky blue with tiny yellow flowers. V wipes Laura’s face with a wet washcloth and powders her cheeks lightly and pats her hair into slight order, the way it looks best. As they walk to the lobby, Laura clutches V’s hand.

Laura says, Please don’t be frightened.

—That much I can promise, V says.

—My brother will be there too. He steals money from my inheritance and thinks I’m too dumb to know. I come from a lineage of crooks dating back to the Mayflower. I’m supposed to be proud, but I just imagine a very long card game down in the lower decks. Sharks all eating each other for months at a time.

—Long passage back then. Imagine all the different purses their coins fared through. The sleights of hand, dealing from the bottom.

—Exactly. But they were all so religious.

—Except about money.

—Mother claims they came for freedom, Laura says.

—Freedom to do exactly what they wanted without anybody getting in their way.

—I’ve had relatives so crooked they nearly went to prison, but if you have money you never actually go. They make you think it for a while, and that’s your punishment.

—My husband was in prison for two years. They tried to make us think they were going to hang him, but they didn’t.

In the lobby, V stops and asks Laura, When my friend arrives I’d like for him to join us.

Laura says, The bigger the group the better she behaves. And I’ll make sure she gets the check.

V walks to the desk and writes a quick note and seals it in an envelope.


LAURA’S MOTHER LOOKS LATE FORTIES. She dresses expensively, and her eyes rest in her head hooded as a snapping turtle’s. She rises from her seat at the table and kisses Laura on the cheek and then holds her by the shoulders and studies her at arm’s length for an uncomfortably long time. Laura squirms.

When her mother finally lets her go, she says, Well, at least that’s a pretty dress. Usually you look like a Gypsy in an opera. But your hair is still a mess. And you should get that boil looked at. We’re paying the hotel enough that they can surely get the house doctor to treat an infection gratis.

The mother’s every word leaves her mouth as a blaring pronouncement. The boil is a faint blemish below Laura’s right cheekbone, slighter than an adolescent pimple.

The brother stands and shakes V’s hand and says, Blount Scott. Head of our company’s accounting.