Fireflies In December Part 13

I tried reading the paragraph again, but I gave up and slammed the book shut.

Gemma startled at the noise. "Don't do that. You near about made me stick myself with this needle."

"Sorry," I muttered. "I can't sit here waitin' to see what's bein' said, is all. I'm too nervous!"

Gemma sighed and tossed her needlepoint into her basket. "I don't know why we're arguin' over this. You know you're gonna eavesdrop on your daddy, anyhow. Might as well get it done with."

I grinned. "Ain't as though you don't want to find out too," I told her, jumping up and grabbing her arm. "Come on!"

We didn't have a chance to eavesdrop, though, since we ran square into Daddy as he came back into the house. "Whoa! Where are you girls runnin' off to?"

"Nowhere," I lied. "We were just headin' into the kitchen."

"Uh-huh," he said, nodding slowly. "You weren't headin' to the porch to listen in or anythin'?"

Being pretty bad liars, Gemma and I just stood there without a word.

Daddy smiled at us. "Weren't much to hear in an eaves-droppin'. All's he was here to say was that Walt's gonna be on trial startin' tomorrow for a.s.saultin' a man and that I could come witness it if I like."

"You gonna go?" I asked.

"Don't know yet."

"I want to."

"Jessilyn, ain't nothin' but borin' stuff in a courtroom. You wouldn't want to sit still an' listen to all that. It ain't got nothin' to do with you, anyhow."

"Maybe not the a.s.sault, but Walt does. And if he don't go to jail, he might come back and try to hurt us again."

He took my shoulders in his calloused hands. "Ain't no one gonna hurt you again if I have any say in it. And I do. So you ain't got to worry none about Walt Blevins. You head on upstairs now and forget all about it. It's gettin' late."

I obeyed him reluctantly, with Gemma following me upstairs, but I couldn't get Walt's face out of my head. I didn't sleep a wink that night, and I was awake and dressed at dawn.

Around six thirty, Gemma rolled over and sleepily peered at me. "What're you doin'?"

"Nothin'."

"It's barely mornin', and you're sittin' there all dressed up and starin' out the window." Then she sat up like a shot and said, "Oh no you don't! You ain't doin' it!"

"I ain't doin' nothin'. Go back to sleep."

"You're plannin' to sneak off to that trial, ain't you?" She sat and stared at me, but I didn't say a word. "Well . . . ain't you?"

I hopped off the stool I was sitting on and smacked my head against the sloped ceiling. "Now see what you made me do?" I hissed at her with a grimace. "I done gone and given myself a concussion."

"That would make sense since you're actin' like you got a bad head."

"I already told you I ain't goin' nowhere."

"You're sittin' there just waitin' for your daddy to leave, and I know it. Don't you go tryin' to fool me. You ain't never fooled me before, and you ain't gonna start now."

I hesitated before saying, "So what if I am plannin' to go? Ain't no reason for me not to. I ain't no little girl no more."

"I'll give you a good reason not to. Your daddy done told you not to, and your daddy ain't one to be crossed."

"Well, Daddy ain't got no reason to know about it unless you tell him." I watched her for a minute and tapped a finger against one of my front teeth. "You ain't gonna tell him, are you?"

I could see Gemma's thoughts run across her face until finally she got out of bed and started getting dressed.

"What're you doin'?" I asked. "You gonna tell my daddy?"

"You're gonna go no matter what I say, so I'm gonna go with you." I smiled at her, but she frowned back at me and said, "Don't you go gettin' happy about this. I ain't doin' it for no reason other than to watch out for you."

She was mumbling all sorts of things under her breath while she dressed, saying things about how I was as stubborn as a mule and how my daddy was liable to tan my hide for sneaking out like this. I figured she was right about all of it, but it was the very stubbornness she was talking about that kept me from changing my mind.

Gemma and I crept downstairs, grabbed some corn m.u.f.fins for breakfast, and went off to wait behind the aspen tree that Daddy parked his truck under.

Come seven o'clock, Daddy came walking out the front door, being careful not to let it slam too loudly and wake us. I felt bad at that moment for being so sneaky with him when he was trying to be nice to us, but it didn't do much to change my mind. Once he got into the truck and pulled the squeaky door shut, Gemma and I jumped into the bed under the tarp and hunkered down for the forty-minute ride into Coopersville.

As we drove along that early morning, Gemma and I tried to keep the tarp propped up so some air could get in, but we could do only so much without it threatening to puff up and block Daddy's back view. I had a good idea that if Daddy caught sight of that tarp billowing out, he'd get pretty suspicious, and every time I thought about Daddy finding us, my heart started to do cartwheels and somersaults at the same time. I knew his reaction wouldn't be good.

As far as my momma, I guessed she wouldn't suspect a thing because I had mentioned the night before that Gemma and I should head out early to do some berry picking before it got so hot. There was no telling what time we'd be back from Coopersville, but I was certain that Gemma and I would have to get some blackberries good and quick so as not to get Momma wondering. No doubt if we did, Momma would set right off to baking a pie and wouldn't bother asking us a single question about why we'd been so long at picking berries.

That ride was the worst of our lives. We didn't say a word to each other, but I could tell by her face that Gemma felt as bad as I did. The air was sweltering already that morning, which didn't surprise me much because it had never gotten a bit comfortable the night before. Sitting under that tarp was like sitting in a wet oven. The tarp kept the heat and humidity trapped around us, and every breath we took felt heavy and damp. All I could think was that it must be a glimpse into what h.e.l.l was like.

By the time we got to that courthouse, sweat was pouring down my face and onto my blue dress. Gemma and I had worn our going-into-town clothes so as not to look conspicuous, but we didn't look too normal after almost an hour crumpled up under a sweaty tarp. Once we heard Daddy leave, we hopped out and stared at each other for a minute. Then Gemma said, "This is the dumbest thing you ever got us to do."

"I didn't make you come."

"You may as well have. You know I always watch out for you no matter how stupid you're bein'. The stupider you're bein', the more I have to watch out for you."

"In case you didn't know," I said defensively, "you ain't my momma."

Gemma held her dark brown hand up against my pale white one and said, "You ain't kiddin'!"

I rolled my eyes at her sarcasm and reached out to smack some dirt off her shoulder. "You look a sight."

"You ain't lookin' much better. Your momma's gonna cuss you for messin' up your blue dress."

I looked at myself in the window of Daddy's truck and sighed. I did look a sight, plain and simple. Gemma started brushing me off, grumbling at my foolishness, and I tried to straighten my braid out. There were dirty smudges across my nose and cheeks, and I used the underneath of my skirt to polish them away.

"Put your skirt down," Gemma hissed.

"Oh, hush! Ain't no one around to see my bloomers."

"There is too. There's people comin' for the trial."

I glanced around and saw that there were quite a few people coming, all dressed in their finest.

Gemma caught my arm and said, "We best go in the back way or someone will spot us."

"Ain't no one gonna know us here."

"Your daddy's here, ain't he? Besides, we're nothin' but children, and they might not let us in without an adult. We'll go in the back."

Her declaration didn't leave me much room to say anything, so I went with her around the building. We turned the corner, arm in arm, and found a stairway leading to the courthouse, but we weren't the only ones about to use that entrance. There was a group of colored people filing in quietly.

"Mornin', children," the oldest woman said to us.

Gemma and I looked at her only halfway, since we felt like fugitives that morning, and said, "Mornin', ma'am."

The other women smiled at us, two older men nodded, and the children climbed the stairs with their heads swiveled around, staring at us like we were ghosts.

One of the young men snorted and said, "Looks like the little white girl brought her slave along for the show."

"She ain't my slave," I shot back.

"Jody," the older woman yelled, "you watch that mouth of yours!"

"I ain't sayin' nothin', Gran," the young man said smartly. "I just ain't never seen white girls and their slaves holdin' hands before. Ain't no white girl that'd hold a colored girl's hand unless she was makin' sure not to let her run away."

Gemma's jaw tightened, and she walked forward, dragging me with her. "You see these hands?" she asked with vehemence. "One's dark and one's light, but they ain't shackled together."

"Jody," the grandmother yelled again, "I said shut that mouth of yours, and I mean shut it! You ain't got no right to go talkin' to those girls like that."

"Ain't got no right? It's white folks that done got my brother near killed, and I ain't gotta like seein' my own kind bound to a white girl."

The older woman walked back down the steps and seized her grandson by the ear, setting him to howling. "Your brother got hurt by a man, no matter his color, and just 'cause that one man is bad, it don't mean the rest of his kind is. You hear?" She shoved him with a force that belied her age and shouted, "Now, you get on in there. I said, get on in. You heard me!"

The grandmother stayed behind and took one of my hands and one of Gemma's. "Don't you pay no mind to that boy," she told us sweetly. "Mercy's sake! What's an old woman to do with a disrespectful boy like that? I'm bound to meet my Maker someday soon with that boy stirrin' things up all the time."

Her voice began to shake, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Jody, he's the one who always makes trouble. But his brother, Elijah. Now, he's the good one. It's him that was beat near to death by that Walt Blevins. He done near took the life right out of that boy." She took a handkerchief from her handbag, but she didn't use it. She just twisted it tight.

One of the older men came down the stairs, taking the woman by the shoulders. "Momma, don't go gettin' yourself upset again. Let's go in and set on down now."

She let him lead her in, but she was sniffling all the way.

Gemma and I didn't say a word as we watched her disappear into the courthouse. I don't think there were any words for that moment, anyway. We waited about a minute and then started into the building ourselves.

By the time we got inside, it was a packed house, both in the white section and in the colored section.

"Where we gonna sit?" Gemma wondered aloud. "Ain't no chairs left."

"We could sit on the floor somewhere."

Gemma took a long look around. "Then which section are we gonna sit on the floor in? The white or the colored? We ain't even, you and me."

"We'll sit in the white section, 'course."

"I'll be the only colored face in the crowd," Gemma argued. "It'll stir up trouble, and your daddy would spot us, sure enough."

"Well, we can't sit with the coloreds. I'll stand out like a porcupine in a henhouse."

Gemma grabbed my hand and pulled me back outside to an alcove where a brick wall beneath a window housed rows of dahlias. "We can sit here. No one will spot us, but we'll be able to hear everything."

"I can't sit on a wall all through the trial," I snapped. "That rough brick will eat into my backside."

I could see Gemma didn't much care what I was worrying about, so I sat next to her on the bricks, puffing out a long sigh to make sure she knew I wasn't happy about it. Once I got myself organized, I realized we had one of the best seats in the house. The window was just off to the side of the jury box and covered by tipped-open shutters, providing a perfect view between the slats while keeping our curious faces obscured.

But I wasn't going to tell Gemma she'd been right after all.

There was no way for me to adequately arrange myself with that dress on, and I looked unladylike enough that Momma would have tanned my hide had she seen me. But I could better afford to be unladylike than miss the trial.

Walt Blevins sat at the very front looking as evil as ever, an arrogant grin pasted across his stubbly face. When I caught sight of him, the whole feeling of that night came back to me, and I felt like an army of ants was crawling down my spine. My hands were clasped tightly on my lap, and every time I swallowed, I made a gulping noise, so by ten minutes in, I had started to swallow only when I began to drool.

Once the judge called the court to order, the first thing we heard about was exactly what had happened to Elijah Joel Baker. He had been beaten, kicked, and tied to a wagon and dragged. The doctors didn't even know if he would ever walk again. When the prosecutor held up photographs of Elijah after the a.s.sault, I was glad I couldn't see from where I was. Those who could see gasped and hid their eyes, men and women alike. It was a horrible thing what had been done to that boy, just like his gran had said, and by the time we'd heard the whole story, Gemma and I were in tears like most others in the courtroom.

From that point on, Daddy's words about trials being boring mostly came true. There was a lot of stuff being said that I didn't understand. I supposed I wasn't the only one who felt that way since I could hear snoring somewhere in the building, and the man sitting behind Daddy kept bobbing his head up and down like he was trying his hardest to keep from nodding off.

As for me, I was busy counting the dots on my blue dress. It was only when Walt Blevins took the stand and put his grimy hand on the sacred Bible that I popped my head back up. I thought it was a shame that a man like Walt should ever swear on anything that had to do with G.o.d, and I knew he'd lie even if he swore on his own momma's grave. I figured that a man who didn't know who G.o.d was wouldn't care so much breaking an oath to Him.

"Mr. Blevins," the prosecutor said, "do you recall the events of June fifteenth, nineteen hundred and thirty-two?"

Walt leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin like he was hard in thought. "Well now, that was more'n a month back. Maybe you'd better narrow it down for me."

The prosecutor sighed and looked at Walt over the gla.s.ses he had perched on his nose. "Let's start with seven thirty that evenin', shall we?"

"Seven thirty," Walt muttered. "Let me see . . . that was a long time ago. Can't say as I recall what I was up to. Seven thirty . . . I was probably gettin' me some supper over at Ed's grill."

"That's what you've said before," the prosecutor said while studying a stack of papers. "Thing is, no one at Ed's remembers seein' you that night until nine o'clock. Not even old Ed himself." He faced the jury of white men and said, "Now, you boys know Ed. He knows every face that comes in and out of that grill of his." Then he turned back to Walt to say, "And Ed don't remember seein' hide nor hair of you till nine o'clock."

Walt shrugged. "Can't say as I hold much stock in people's memories."

"Yes, but the courts do, Mr. Blevins. It's called witness testimony, and we have quite a few of those who recall seein' you that night after nine. In contrast, we have absolutely no witnesses who can account for you bein' there at seven thirty."

"Maybe I don't stand out in a crowd," Walt replied. "You got somethin' else to talk to me about?"

"As a matter of fact," the prosecutor said, "I do. Would you mind tellin' the court why you were even in Coopersville that night? Because my records show that you've been a resident of Calloway for over fifteen years. Isn't that so?"

"That's right."

"So then, why were you in Coopersville?"

"Seein' friends is all. There a law against seein' friends? Do I need to get a permit or somethin'?"

"And these friends of yours . . . who were they?"

"Mr. Frank Beauman and his son, Frank Jr. They'll tell you I was here to visit them."