They took deep breaths, sipped their coffee, and let a moment pass. Calmly, Joel asked, “Why did he do it?”
Florry shook her head. “No one knows but him, and he refuses to explain things. I’ve seen him once, the day after, and he’s in another world.”
“There has to be a reason, Aunt Florry. He would never do something so random, so awful, without a reason.”
“Oh, I agree, but he’s not going to talk about it, Joel. I’ve seen the look on his face, seen it many times, and I know what it means. It’s a secret he’ll take to his grave.”
“He owes us an explanation.”
“Well, we’re not going to get one, I can promise you that.”
“Do you have any bourbon?”
“You’re too young for bourbon, Joel.”
“I’m twenty,” he said, standing. “I’ll graduate from Vanderbilt next spring, then go to law school.” He was walking to the sofa where he’d left his duffel. “And I’m going to law school because I have no plans to become another farmer, regardless of what he wants.” He reached into his duffel and retrieved a flask. “I have no plans to live here, Aunt Florry, and I think you’ve known that for a long time.” He returned to the table, unscrewed the top of the flask, and took a swig. “Jack Daniel’s. Would you like some?”
“No.”
Another swig. “And even if I were considering a return to Ford County, I would say that that possibility has been pretty much shot to hell now that my father has become the most famous murderer in local history. Can’t really blame me, can you?”
“I suppose not. You haven’t mentioned law school before.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all year.”
“That’s wonderful. Where will you go?”
“I’m not sure. Not Vanderbilt. I like Nashville but I need a change. Maybe Tulane or Texas. I was considering Ole Miss but now I have this strong desire to get far away from this here.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Florry went to the kitchen and filled a large bowl with stew from the pot on the stove. She served it to him with leftover corn bread and a glass of water. Before she sat down, she reached deep into the cupboard and retrieved a bottle of gin. She mixed two ounces with a splash of tonic water, and sat across from him.
He smiled and said, “Stella and I found your gin once. Did you know that?”
“No! Did you drink it?”
“We tried to. I was about sixteen and we knew you kept it hidden in the cupboard. I poured a little in a glass and took a sip. Almost puked. It burned to my toes and tasted like hair tonic. How do you drink that stuff?”
“With practice. What was Stella’s reaction?”
“The same. I don’t think she’s touched alcohol since.”
“I’ll bet she has. You seem to have developed a taste.”
“I’m a college boy, Aunt Florry. It’s part of my education.” He took a large spoonful of stew and then another. After four or five, he put down his spoon and paused to allow his food to settle. He helped it with a sip of sour mash, then smiled at his aunt and said, “I want to talk about my mother, Aunt Florry. There are secrets back there and you know a lot that you haven’t told us.”
Florry shook her head and looked away.
He went on, “I know she broke down when they told us he was dead, or presumed dead. Hell, didn’t we all, Aunt Florry? I couldn’t leave the house for a week. Remember that?”
“How could I forget? It was awful.”
“We were like ghosts, just sleepwalking through the days and dreading the nights. But we somehow found a little strength to go on, and I think Mom did okay, don’t you? Didn’t Mom sort of get tough and put on a brave face?”
“She did. We all did. But it wasn’t easy.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was a living hell, but we survived. I was at Vanderbilt when she called that night with the news that he wasn’t dead after all, that he’d been found and rescued. They said he was badly wounded, but that didn’t seem important. He was alive! I hurried home and we celebrated, and I remember Mom being quite happy. Am I right, Aunt Florry?”
“Yes, that’s the way I remember it. We were elated, almost euphoric, and that lasted for a few days. Just the fact that he was alive was a miracle. Then we began reading stories about how badly the POWs were treated over there, and we worried about his injuries, and so on.”
“Sure, now back to my mother. We were thrilled when he was released, and when he came home a hero my mother was the proudest woman in the world. They could not have been happier, hell, we were all ecstatic, and that was only a year ago, Aunt Florry. So what happened?”
“Don’t assume I know what happened because I don’t. For the first few weeks all was well. Pete was still recovering and getting stronger by the day. They were happy; things seemed to be fine. Then they weren’t. I was not aware of their troubles until long after they had started. Nineva told Marietta that they were fighting, that Liza was acting crazy, prone to long bouts of foul moods and time alone in her room. They stopped sleeping together and your father moved into your bedroom. I wasn’t supposed to know this so I couldn’t really ask. And you know it’s a waste of time to ask your father anything about his private matters. I’ve never been close to Liza and she would never confide in me. So, I was in the dark, and, frankly, that’s not always a bad place to be.”
A long pull on the whiskey and Joel said, “Then she was sent away.”
“Then she was sent away.”
“Why, Aunt Florry? Why was my mother committed to the state mental hospital?”
Florry sloshed her gin around her glass and studied it at length. Then she took a sip, grimaced as if it was awful, and set down the glass. “Your father decided she needed help, and there’s no one around here. The professionals are at Whitfield, and that’s where he sent her.”
“Just like that? She got shipped off?”
“No, there were proceedings. But let’s be honest, Joel, your father knows the right people and he’s got the Wilbanks boys in his back pocket. They talked to a judge; he signed the order. And your mother acquiesced. She did not object to the commitment order, not that she had a choice. If Pete insisted, which I’m sure he did, she could not fight him.”
“What’s her diagnosis?”
“I have no idea. Being a woman, I guess. Keep in mind, Joel, that it’s a man’s world, and if a husband with connections feels as though his wife is suffering through the change and depressed and her moods are swinging right and left, well, he can send her off for a spell.”
“I find it hard to believe that my father would have my mother committed to a mental institution because of the change. She seems kind of young for that. There’s a lot more to it, Aunt Florry.”
“I’m sure there is, but I was not privy to their discussions and conflicts.”
Joel returned to his stew and gulped a few bites, followed with more of his whiskey.
In a futile effort to change the subject, Florry asked, “Are you still seeing that girl?”
“Which girl?”
“Well, I guess that’s enough of an answer. Any girl in your life these days?”
“Not really. I’m too young and I have law school in front of me. You said on the phone that you’ve spoken with John Wilbanks. I assume he’s taken charge of the defense.”
“He has, or what there is of it. Your father is not cooperating. Wilbanks wants to use an insanity defense, says it’s the only way to save his life, but your father will have none of it. Says he’s got more sense than Wilbanks or the next lawyer, which I won’t argue.”
“More proof that he’s crazy. He has no choice but to plead insanity, there’s no other defense. I did the research myself at the law school yesterday.”