The woman told Sara, "Your boyfriend here raped my daughter."
Sara felt light-headed. She put her hand out to the wall to keep herself steady.
"He raped her and got her pregnant, and when she asked him for help, he killed her, and left me to raise his little bastard of a son." The woman shoved her finger back in Jeffrey's face. "This isn't over."
"Yes," he said. "It is."
"You tell that fucking buddy of yours if I see him in the street, he's a dead man."
"Why don't I tell Hoss and he can run you in for making threats?"
"You fucking coward," she said, her lips twisting into a sneer as she coughed in the back of her throat. Before Jeffrey could move away, she spit on his face.
"This isn't over," she repeated, grabbing Eric by the wrist. He already had bruises up and down his arm, but the child did not protest. The other boy in the yard trotted back to the car, looking for all the world as if his mother had told him they were going for ice cream.
Jeffrey took out his handkerchief and carefully unfolded it. He patted his face, wiping off the spit.
Sara took several minutes to find her voice. She kept hearing the woman's accusation over and over in her head. Finally, she managed, "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"
"No."
She threw her hands into the air, feeling angry and vulnerable. "Jeffrey, she said you raped her daughter."
"Do you believe her?" he asked, looking her right in the eye. "Do you believe I raped somebody? That I killed somebody?"
She had been too shocked to let her mind fully consider the possibility. The accusation had hit her like a hammer, knocking her senseless.
"Sara?"
"I don't…" She shook her head. "I don't know what I believe anymore."
"Then we don't have much to say to each other," he told her, walking away.
"Wait," she told him, following him down the driveway. "Jeffrey." He did not turn around, and she had to run to catch up with him. "Talk to me."
"Looks like you've already made up your mind."
"Why won't you tell me what happened?"
He stopped, turning to face her. "Why won't you let it be, Sara? Why can't you just trust me?"
"It's not a matter of trust," Sara told him. "My God, that woman says you raped her daughter. She says you have a son."
"That's bullshit," he snapped. "You think I could have a kid and not know it? There's no way."
Sara remembered Jared, and bit back the urge to throw Nell's secret in his face.
"What?" he demanded, mistaking her reticence for something more sinister. "You know what? Fuck this." He continued to walk down the street, obviously exasperated. "I thought you were different. I thought you were somebody I could trust."
"It's not an issue of trust."
" 'Issue,' " he repeated. "Fuck that."
"Oh, that's really mature," she said, mocking him. " 'Fuck that.' "
She tried to grab his shoulder to stop him but he jerked away, advising, "You wanna leave me alone right now."
"Why?" she asked. "Are you going to rape me, too? Strangle me?"
He had been angry before, livid, but she read his hurt like an open book, immediately regretting her words.
Sara tried to take it back, but he shook his head like he did not trust himself to talk. He held up his finger to her, as if to make a point, but still he said nothing. Finally, he shook his head again and continued down the street, walking toward his mother's house.
"Shit," Sara whispered, tucking her hands into her hips. Why did everything have to be so difficult between them? The minute things were going well, something – usually someone – came along and ruined it. Rape. She could handle anything they said about him but this. Why had he not told her before? Why hadn't he trusted her? Probably for the same reasons she did not completely trust him.
Nell was sitting on the front steps when Sara walked up to the house, and she stood, holding her hand out to Sara, saying, "I saw Lane Kendall's car up at Robert's. What did that old cow say to you?"
Sara opened her mouth and to her surprise burst into tears.
"Oh, honey," Nell said, leading her into the house. "Come here." She pulled Sara toward the couch. "Sit down."
Sara sat, and Nell hugged her. She felt ridiculous and grateful at the same time, and her words came in jagged murmurs between sobs as she let everything out that she had wanted to tell Jeffrey. "Those poor children."
"I know."
"They looked so dirty, so hungry."
Nell shook her head, tsking.
"I don't want to feel this way."
"Oh, now," Nell said, stroking her hair. "Shh…"
"What happened?" she begged. "Please just tell me what happened."
"Come on," Nell soothed, taking a Kleenex out of the box. She held the tissue to Sara's nose and said, "Blow."
Sara did as she was instructed, feeling silly for her outburst. She sat up, wiping her eyes with another tissue. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."
"It's a wonder you haven't broken down before this," Nell said, taking another tissue to wipe her own eyes.
"Those children…" Sara murmured. "Those poor boys."
"I know. It makes my stomach ache every time I see them."
"Why can't anyone do something?"
"Don't ask me," she said. "I'd put an ad in the paper if I thought someone would take them."
Sara tried to laugh, but she could not. "What about children's services?"
"You wanna know something funny?"
Sara waited.
"She used to work for them."
"No," Sara said. She could not believe it.
"She did," Nell confirmed. "About fifteen years ago she was a caseworker at the Department of Family and Children's Services. Then she got into a car accident on the way to do a house visit and sued the county and the state and anybody else she could get her hands on. Between her disability and whatever she got from the settlement, she's not hurting for money."
"Where does she spend it?"
"Not on any of her kids," Nell answered ruefully. "The upshot is, she knows all the rules. She knows how to get around having those kids taken away. D-FACS is scared of her. If it wasn't for Hoss making drop-bys every now and then, she'd probably put those two boys in a closet and throw away the key."
"What's wrong with the youngest?"
"Some blood thing," Nell said. "He's always having to get transfusions."
"Hemophilia?" she asked, thinking Nell probably meant infusions. Even in a town as small as Sylacauga, the doctors would know better.
"No, something else like that, but not hemophilia," Nell told her. "State pays all the bills, I'm sure."
Sara sank back into the sofa, feeling an overwhelming exhaustion. The two women sat there in silence, and for some reason Sara told her, "I was raped."
For once, Nell did not respond.
"I've never said that out loud," she said. "I mean, the actual words. I always say I was attacked or I was hurt…" She pressed her lips together. "I was raped."
Nell let her take her time.
"It was when I worked in Atlanta," Sara said, adding, "Jeffrey doesn't know." She picked at a piece of string on the cushion.
Nell gave Sara a moment before saying, "I guess we've each got our secrets from him."
"I've never felt like this with a man," Sara said. "Not about anybody." She tried to find a way to articulate it. "I feel totally out of control, like no matter what my brain tells me, there's this little thing in the back of my head saying, 'No, don't listen to them. You can't live without him.' "
Nell repeated, "He has that effect on women."
"I just want…" She threw her hands into the air. "I don't know what I want." She picked at the string again. "I can't even tell him to his face that I love him, but every time I see him or even think about him…"
Nell took another tissue and handed it to Sara. "I never believed it," she told her. "What they said about him and Julia."
"What exactly did they say?"