“It wasn’t him,” I said. “It was James Stilwind.”
Rosy nodded, guided Callie to the couch. Daddy came into the room, looked at me standing by the door, Callie on the couch with Rosy. Rosy was holding Callie, rocking her, saying, “It gonna be all right, girl.”
“What in hell happened?” Daddy said.
No one answered.
Mom came into the room. “Why is Callie crying? Callie?”
Mom went over and sat on the couch so that Callie was between her and Rosy. Callie came loose of Rosy and hugged Mom.
Mom said, “Tell me, Callie.”
“Listen to your mother,” Daddy said. “Tell her . . . Who ripped your shirt? Callie?”
“Leave her alone, Mr. Stanley,” Rosy said. “She got to take her time.”
Daddy looked at me. “What happened, Stanley? You damn well better tell me. One of you better.”
“Mr. Stanley, you go on and leave the room,” Rosy said.
“What?” Daddy said. “Are you talkin’ to me?”
“I’m lookin’ at you, ain’t I?” Rosy said.
“Now, Rosy—”
“Now, you listen to me. I’m grateful for all you done for me. But am I part of this family, or ain’t I?”
Daddy groped for words, didn’t find any.
Callie said between tears, “You are, Rosy. You are.”
“She is,” Mom said.
“Well . . . yeah,” Daddy said.
“Then I got a say that matters, don’t I?” Rosy said.
“Sure,” Daddy said, “but—”
“No buts. You don’t need to be in this business yet. This is for the women. Then, we’ll tell you when you need to know.”
“If someone has hurt my little girl, I need to know,” Daddy said.
“You gonna find out soon enough,” Rosy said. “Now go on and leave.”
Daddy looked at me, said, “What about him?”
“He knows already,” Rosy said. “Now go on.”
Daddy, perplexed, turned and left the room. I heard him go outside on the veranda.
“Callie?” Mom said. “Can we have the story now? What could be the matter?”
Callie told her.
When she finished, Mom said, “If we tell your father, and we must, you know what’s going to happen.”
“He’ll beat James up,” Callie said.
“Kill him maybe,” Mom said. “That’s what worries me. You weren’t raped. But you were mistreated.”
“I flirted.”
“Women flirt,” Mom said. “That’s what we do. A young girl like you, that’s all you do. It comes with being sixteen, and it doesn’t stop there. It goes on until your charms are rusty.”
“Or they just run off and leave you,” Rosy said.
“I am so sorry,” Callie said.
“You ain’t done nothin’, honey,” Rosy said, and patted Callie on the back.
“No, you haven’t,” Mom said. “But your daddy might. I don’t know exactly how to handle this. Tell you what. Go upstairs, clean up, and when you come down, I’ll have thought of something.”
“And I’ll fix you some cookies,” Rosy said.
In our family, food was always thought of as medicine.
Callie went upstairs. Mom said to Rosy: “I’m tempted to tell Stanley right now, and have him get that man.”
“You know Mr. Stanley kill that man, don’t you?”
“I said as much.”
Mom turned to me. “You were very brave, Stanley. I’m proud of you. Your daddy will be proud of you.”
“Callie fought him off,” I said. “Looked to me like James was glad I broke the door down. I think I saved him.”
Rosy and Mom laughed.
Mom said, “I have to break this to Stanley in such a way he doesn’t take a stick and go find Stilwind. I’ve got to come up with something.”
“You could lie,” Rosy said.
Mom looked at Rosy and laughed. They hugged one another.
“Don’t think that hasn’t crossed my mind,” Mom said. “Lying has its place. And this may just be the place. Way I see it, it’s over with. James Stilwind got his comeuppance, and Callie is okay.”
“Does it once, he’ll do it again,” Rosy Mae said.
Mom, who was holding Rosy’s hand, said, “You’re right, of course. Nothing says this was his first time, for that matter.”
“Oh yeah. He old enough he probably done done it befo’,” Rosy said.
“I guess lying is out,” Mom said.
“You could sugarcoat it some,” Rosy said.
“How do you mix sugar in this?” Mom said.
“I can’t say, Miss Gal.”
Mom laughed. “Did you see Stanley’s face when you told him this wasn’t any of his business and he had to leave the room?”
Rosy giggled. “I sho did. He didn’t like it none, now did he?”
“No,” Mom said, “but I sure got a kick out of it.”
20
NO ONE TOLD DADDY anything right away, and it was a long time before Callie came down from upstairs. She had bathed and was dressed in jeans and a man’s shirt that fit her in a very loose fashion. She wasn’t wearing any makeup.
When Daddy, who was sitting at the table drinking coffee, saw her, he said, “Young lady. Maybe now you should tell me what went on?”
Callie nodded. She sat down at the table. Mom and Rosy were fussing over a bowl of cake mix. Rosy poured the mix into a pan and quietly shoved it into the oven.
Mom said, “She can tell you, Stanley. But you have to hold your peace some. It’s important that you do. We can talk about what we should do when she finishes. But you can’t jump up and run off mad.”
“Someone did something to you, didn’t they?” Daddy said. He was already halfway out of his chair.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Mom said. “Sit down, Stanley.”
“I’m all right,” Callie said.
“Someone didn’t . . . They didn’t . . .”
“No, Daddy. I’m fine.”
Daddy eased back into his chair. Callie was just about to start her story when there was a knock on the door.
Rosy answered it. I heard her say, “Yes, sir. Can I help you?”
I heard a voice outside, but couldn’t make it out.
Rosy said, “Yes, sir. This is the Mitchel residence . . . Oh. You wait here jes’ one moment.”
Rosy came back into the kitchen. “Mr. Stilwind. The older man. The daddy. He at the do’.”
“Invite him in,” Mom said.
Poor Daddy just looked perplexed.
Mr. Stilwind seemed so much older than I would have thought, and as Buster warned me, not all monsters look the part. He had a pleasantly wrinkled face with slightly red cheeks and a touch of sweat above his eyes. He was tall and well dressed, wearing a suit with vest, tie, and hat, which he removed as he entered the door. His shoes were buffed and I noticed the reflection of his hand in the shine of one of his fine leather shoes as he extended it for my father to shake.
“Irving Stilwind,” he said. “I suppose you know why I’m here?”
“No,” Daddy said.
“Yes,” Mom said. “You’re here to talk about what your son did to my daughter.”
“What?” Daddy said.
“He hasn’t heard yet,” Mom said. “We were just about to discuss it.”
“I see,” said Mr. Stilwind. “Might we sit down?”
“Your son is a dead sonofabitch,” Daddy said.
“Now you hold it,” Mr. Stilwind said.
“Stanley,” Mom said. “Just wait . . . Come sit down, Mr. Stilwind.”
“I’ll po’ up some coffee,” Rosy said.
They seated themselves around the table, except for Rosy, who made fresh coffee, and myself. I sat on the counter and let my feet hang.
“My son told me he had a misunderstanding,” Mr. Stilwind said.
“It was no misunderstanding,” Callie said. “A misunderstanding didn’t tear my blouse.”