“Of course,” Bessie replied. Short and stocky, in her fifties, she had thick, dark eyebrows and salt-and-pepper curls that always looked as if she’d combed them with her fingers, which she probably had. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to drop in, anyway. I wanted you to see my Angel Trumpet. It’s absolutely gorgeous. It’s a beautiful afternoon-we can sit out in the backyard and have some lemonade.” She gave Lizzy a curious glance. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Oh, just a little family history,” Lizzy said evasively. It was too difficult to explain.
“Goodie!” Bessie said with a broad smile. “There’s nothing I like to talk about more than family history. Unless it’s my own.” Her smile faded slightly. “That’s a different story.”
As the other Dahlias took their empty dishes and left, Lizzy and Verna stayed behind to tidy up the clubhouse, put the chairs back, and sweep the floor.
“Would you check the windows, Verna?” Lizzy called over her shoulder as she wielded the broom. “Make sure they’re all locked and the curtains are drawn.”
Until the last few years, nobody in Darling had bothered to lock their houses. But since jobs had gotten so scarce, men and boys (and sometimes even girls) were riding the rails, looking for work and food and a place where they could sleep out of the weather. Darling wasn’t on the main Louisville & Nashville rail line, but the hoboes often rode in on the freight cars that came to the sawmill. If a house looked vacant, they might try to break in. The residents of Darling weren’t exactly afraid, but they were-well, uneasy. The town felt different, somehow, with strangers traipsing through it.
And even though the strangers might only be down on their luck and without a shred of malice in their hearts, they were also quite likely to be desperate. In Mobile, a string of local household robberies had been attributed to a pair of young vagrants picked up by the police when they were found sleeping in a nearby park. The boys, barely out of their teens, protested their innocence and the only evidence that connected them to the crimes was circumstantial.
At least, that’s what Mr. Moseley had said to Lizzy, after he read about it in the Mobile Register. He called it scapegoating and had gotten quite angry, saying that it sounded to him like the police had simply collared the nearest hoboes, in order to make an object lesson of the poor fellows. But a jury had agreed with the police, and they were sent to jail.
As the district attorney said during his final summation to the court, “Desperate men will commit desperate acts. It is our duty to be watchful.”
SEVEN
Bessie Bloodworth was a dedicated student of Darling’s history and knew the family stories of almost all of the local residents. She could tell you anything you wanted to know about who was related to whom and where people’s ancestors had come from. She had even written a little book, which was sold by the local history club. It was called A Few Skeletons in Our Closets: A Peek at Darling History.
Unfortunately, Bessie had recently been reminded that she had a few skeletons in her own family closet. She had climbed up to the attic to get the old green living room drapes that she was planning to donate to the Darling Quilting Club to make comforters for the needy. Under the drapes, shoved far back in a corner, she found a box of her father’s business papers, left after his old office had been cleaned out. Today was both his birthday and the tenth anniversary of his death, so Bessie thought that maybe she should sit down and sort through everything. Or maybe tomorrow, or next week. There was really no hurry, she told herself. Bessie and her father hadn’t been close for years. That was only one of her painful memories. There were others.
Bessie lived at Magnolia Manor, next door to the Dahlias’ clubhouse. She had given this name to her family home after her father had died, when she turned it into a boardinghouse for older unmarried and widowed ladies. (Mrs. Brewster, over on West Plum, operated a boardinghouse for younger unmarried ladies. Her Rules for Proper Behavior were very strict, whereas Bessie had no rules at all, believing that if her boarders didn’t understand proper behavior by now, they probably never would.)
Running a boardinghouse was the last thing Bessie had planned to do with her life. She had hoped to train as a nurse. But her mother had died when she was a girl-one of the painful parts of the Bloodworth family story-and her three older brothers had left Darling just as quickly as they could. They wanted to get away from their father, who had changed after their mother died. But Bessie didn’t have the same freedom. She couldn’t leave, even if she wanted to. As her father’s only daughter, she was expected to live at home until she was married-to a local boy, of course. After that, she was expected to live close enough to be available to manage her father’s household and take care of him whenever he needed her. There was nothing unusual about this. It was a duty that every Darling parent expected and an obligation that all Darling girls understood.
And that was what Bessie had expected, too. She fell in love with Harold, the boy across the street, and when she graduated high school, agreed to marry him. They planned to live with her father until they could afford their own home. Lots of young people in Darling did this, but it wasn’t an ideal situation and they knew it. Mr. Bloodworth was a volatile man who was given to rash, temperamental outbursts, and he hadn’t approved of his daughter’s choice of a husband. As Darling’s only undertaker and a member of the City Council, he thought Bessie could have done much better if she’d taken the time to look around a little, instead of settling for Harold Hamer, whose prospects were not exactly bright. That’s what her father said, anyway, although Bessie suspected that he would have felt the same way about anyone she chose. Nobody would ever be good enough to marry a Bloodworth.
But the young man’s sister, who had raised him and with whom he lived, was equally temperamental and equally unimpressed by her brother’s choice of a bride, and let Harold know about it in no uncertain terms. So to Bessie and Harold, living with Bessie’s father (who was at least gone all day and quite a few evenings, tending to his funeral parlor and gravestone business) seemed the lesser of two evils.
But as it turned out, they didn’t live there at all-and this was the most painful part of Bessie’s story, the part she had tried so hard to forget. About a week before the wedding, her fiancé left Darling, abruptly and without a word of good-bye, and neither Bessie nor Harold’s sister nor anyone else had ever heard another word from him. The wedding was at first postponed and then canceled, and all over town, people were saying that poor Bessie had been jilted. Everybody felt sorry for her. She could see the pity written on the face of every single person she encountered. The loss of Harold and the pity of the townspeople-taken together, it was almost too much to bear, and her heart had broken.
Surprisingly, Mr. Bloodworth had shown his daughter many small kindnesses in this terrible time, taking her wedding dress back to Mann’s and canceling the arrangements she had made at the church. When she had cried out loud, “Why? Why?” he had answered gruffly but kindly, “Some things don’t bear looking into, child.” It was as good an answer as any, and at the time, she had felt her father was right. Harold was gone. That was all she had to know. The why could remain a mystery forever.
Bessie wept until she couldn’t weep anymore, and then she pulled herself together and went on doing the things she was expected to do. To help her get through, she played a game with herself, pretending that Harold had just gone off on a trip to New Orleans or Memphis and would one day walk through the door and everything would be exactly the way they had always planned it. It wasn’t pretending, she told herself: she believed to her soul that it was true.