It had been a comfortable arrangement, one that worked well for them.

  Their marriage had been a good one, even if she had, from time to time, wondered, “What might have been?” if Manny Gilford had found the courage to step forward and propose to her before he had taken off for college. Before Art had popped the question.

  There had been no point in wondering about it back then, and there was no point now.

  Long ago, Stella had decided that life was a bit like a sweater, knitted with a highly intricate pattern of dark and light yarns. You couldn’t pull out one thread here and another one there without destroying the entire garment.

  She figured, if you truly loved your life and those in it, you had to leave everything as it was, even in your own imagination, or risk losing all you cherished.

  But tonight, when she was so troubled and heavyhearted, she wished she had Art beside her, listening, his arms tight around her.

  “It’s a mess, baby,” she told him. “I found out all kinds of unsettling stuff today. The worst of it is: my momma and Elsie’s were probably killed by the same person. Can you even imagine such an awful thing?”

  “Your momma was killed?”

  The voice startled her, the words spoken nearly right in her ear.

  She jumped and turned her head to see Savannah standing beside her bed, wearing her pink pajamas with black kittens and a look of horror on her face.

  “What?” Stella said. She knew what the child had said but was stalling as she considered what her reply should be.

  “Your mother, my great-grandma, was murdered, like Elsie’s?”

  Stella could see the girl was upset. Far more deeply than she had ever appeared to be while standing near the body that afternoon.

  Murder, Stella remembered, was always an abstract concept, until it struck close to home.

  She reached over and pulled the sheet and quilt back so Savannah could join her in the bed.

  Wasting no time at all, the girl wriggled in beside her and snuggled close.

  Stella kissed her forehead, squeezed her tightly, and said, “Yes, Savannah girl, my mother—your great-grandma—was killed.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “It most certainly was.”

  “How come I never heard about it?”

  “You were just lucky, I reckon. I figured somebody would mention it to you or within your hearing sooner or later. I was hoping for later.”

  “How come? Didn’t you think I could handle it?”

  “Oh, I think you can handle a lot, love, or I never would have let you go out to that burial site the way I did today. But hearing things like your great-grandma was murdered, it changes a child into a grown-up. You’ve heard way too many things like that already. You didn’t get to enjoy being a young’un as long as you should’ve.”

  “I don’t mind. I like being a grown-up more than a kid. Kids don’t have enough say-so when it comes to their own lives. It’s nice to get older and decide for yourself what you’ll put up with and what you won’t.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  They lay in quiet, companionable silence for a while. Stella stroked her granddaughter’s hair and thought of Elsie’s mother doing the same to her, both when she was a child and then in a spiritual visitation.

  “Tell me about it,” Savannah said.

  “About what?” Stella asked, although she knew.

  “About your momma getting killed.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear about it? Once you hear it, you can’t unhear it. It’ll be in your mind and heart for the rest of your life.”

  Savannah shrugged. “If it’s true, I need to know. It’s part of my family’s story. It’s important to know where you came from.”

  Stella laughed softly. “But where you’re at right now and where you’re goin’ is a heap more important than where you came from. A lot of fine people come from ugly places, but they’re beautiful all the same. Maybe even more so because they had a harder road to walk than most, climbin’ outta the mire.”

  “Then tell me about the mire we climbed out of.”

  “Okay. I will. I always figured if a child is old enough to ask a question, they’re old enough for an answer—of some sort anyway.”

  Stella turned onto her side, so that she could look directly into her granddaughter’s face. “It happened when I was ten years old. I’d been over at our neighbors’ house all day, helping out. Farmer Buskirk and his wife were real sick, and my momma volunteered me to go clean up their house to help ’em out.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “I don’t remember having a choice about it, but I’m sure they appreciated me doing it. They were fine folks, the Buskirks. Anyway, it was a far piece between our house and their farm. I didn’t get home till after sundown.

  “When I walked up to the house, I didn’t think anybody was there. My daddy’s truck was gone, and the lights were all off. Our old hound dog came running out to meet me in the road, and he was acting all funny, whinin’ and such.”

  “He knew something was wrong and wanted to tell you?”

  “Something like that, I suspect. I walked into the house and lit a candle.”

  “A candle? Didn’t y’all have electricity?”

  “Sometimes we did. Sometimes we didn’t. Depended on whether or not we’d paid the bill. That time, we hadn’t.

  “I lit a candle, and that was when I saw her, layin’ on the floor by the couch. She was breathing, but she wasn’t movin’. She was wearing her Cherokee tear dress. It was yellow calico, as bright as the sun, with tiny blue flowers. She was so proud of that dress because it was made from a traditional Cherokee pattern.”

  “I’ll bet it was pretty.”

  “It had been. But it was torn, and there was blood on it.”

  Savannah reached over and took Stella’s hand between her two, squeezing it tightly.

  “I could see her hands were bound in front of her.”

  Savannah perked up. “With a tie? A man’s necktie?”

  Stella nodded.

  “Wow! Just like Miss Elsie’s mom there in the woods.”

  “Yes. Exactly like that.”

  “Had she been hit on the head, too?”

  Stella swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. She had. Just like Miss Becky.”

  “What did you do?”

  “There wasn’t much I could do, honey. No grown-ups were there. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. I didn’t own a bicycle, so I’d have had to walk, and that would’ve taken me a long, long time to run to another farm and get help.”

  “You didn’t have a phone?”

  “No, darlin’. A lot of people didn’t have phones back in those days, and we were very poor.”

  Savannah laid her hand on Stella’s cheek and patted it. “I’m sorry, Granny. I’m sorry y’all were so poor and that you found your momma that way.”

  “I’m sorry, too. But mostly for her.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I just laid down on the floor next to her, put my arms around her, and held her while she passed on. It was gentle like, and it didn’t take too long.”

  “Did she say anything to you?”

  “No. I told her that I loved her a few times. She didn’t say it back, but I could see in her eyes that she knew it was me and understood what I was saying. She seemed a lot more peaceful after I told her that.”

  “Wow.” Savannah sniffed and wiped her tears onto her pajama sleeve. “You were such a brave kid! I’d have been screaming and crying and carrying on. I think most kids would’ve been. Grown-ups too. I’m so proud of you, Gran!”

  The two of them hugged for a long time, their faces pressed close together, their tears mingling.

  Finally, when Stella had composed herself enough to speak, she said, “Thank you, granddaughter. You’ll never know what those words mean to me.”

  Savannah smiled. “No big deal, Granny. I just said what I was thinking.”

  “I know. But it is a big deal. A very big deal. They’re the exact same words your Grandpa Art said to me when I told him about it, so many years ago. And just tonight, right before you came in here, I was wishing so hard that he was here to say them again.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  The light of pride shone on the girl’s young face. “I’m glad I could help you, like he did. That’s just so totally cool!”

  “It’s way better than cool, sweetie,” she said, kissing her granddaughter’s tear-wet cheek. “It’s a miracle. Sometimes the good Lord sends us a special angel to minister to us, just when we need it most. And tonight, you were my angel.”

  “An angel? Really!?” The girl sighed, and Stella could feel her body relax softly against hers, the stress of the day leaving them both. “Wow. I got to be an honest-to-goodness police detective today and an angel tonight. You’re right; being somebody’s special angel is way better than cool.”

  Chapter 22

  The next morning, Sheriff Gilford arrived just as a tornado was sweeping through Stella’s little shotgun shack.

  The twister consisted of seven grandchildren, who were in the process of gathering their books, sack lunches, coats, and milk money, while arguing about whose turn it was to wear the red hair ribbon.

  “Marietta, it is Vidalia’s turn to wear that danged doodad,” Stella called from the kitchen in an attempt to quell the ever-escalating argument in the girls’ bedroom.

  “It don’t matter whose turn it is,” Marietta shouted back. “I’m the one wearing a red dress today, and she’s got on her dumb ol’ purple jumper. If she wears red with purple, she’ll look downright stupid. Even stupider than she looks on a regular day, that is. Dumber than a box of hair.”

  “Marietta Reid! How many times do I have to tell you to watch that harsh language of yours? Do not speak of your sister—or anybody else, for that matter—in such an unkind way.”

  “I can’t help it if she’s dumb. I can’t say she’s smart, ’cause she ain’t, and you’ll get mad at me for lyin’, ’cause you’re death on lyin’.”

  Stella stifled a scream as she marched from the kitchen into the children’s bedroom, just in time to see Marietta tear the ribbon, and a few strands of attached hair, from her sister’s head.

  The instant Vidalia saw Stella, she began to shriek like someone getting a wisdom tooth yanked without a drop of anesthetic.

  Stella grabbed the ribbon from Marietta’s hand and resisted the urge to smack her with it.

  Turning to Vidalia, Stella said, “Stop that infernal caterwaulin’, Vidalia, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “It’s my turn to wear it,” Vidalia stated, bringing her hysteria under control with suspicious ease.

  “I know it is,” Stella said, using the calmest and most collected voice she could summon. “I’ve got it marked on my calendar whose day is whose to wear that hair ribbon, and today’s your day.”

  “But I done told you,” Marietta shouted, “she’s wearing pur—”

  Stella grabbed her second oldest grandchild by the shoulders, looked her squarely in the eye, and said, “Marietta Reid, you are dancin’ on thin ice, girl.”

  “I thought it was skatin’ on thin ice,” the girl replied with a nasty smirk. “Nobody dances on thin ice, Granny.”

  Stella tightened her grip and pulled the child so close that they were practically nose to nose. “I am your grandmother, young lady. And if I say you’re dancin’, you are dancin’. Dancin’ on my last nerve, that is. And if it snaps, heaven help you, girl.”

  Marietta pulled back a couple of inches and glanced over Stella’s shoulder at something behind her. “Whatcha gonna do, Granny, when you snap?” she asked with a rudeness that was beyond even her usual level. “Huh, Granny? You gonna beat me to a frazzle right here in front of Sheriff Gilford? He’d have to arrest you for child abuse, and wouldn’t that be a humdinger and a half?”

  Stella whirled around and saw Manny standing in the bedroom doorway, a somewhat amused look on his face.

  She was pretty sure she was going to die of embarrassment on the spot. However, that would have to wait, because she had a discipline issue to deal with before she could quietly move away, find the proverbial opening in the floor, and slither through it, into the crawl space below.

  But before she could decide whether to restrict Marietta to the front swing for the rest of her natural life or take her out to the backyard and introduce her rear end to a hickory switch, Manny took charge.

  Calmly, he walked over to the girl and knelt on one knee in front of her, so they were eye to eye.

  “Are you aware, Miss Marietta,” he began, “that in the fine state of Georgia, spanking little girls who smart off to their grannies isn’t the least bit illegal?”

  Stella noticed that in the face of true authority, backed up with a badge and various weapons, not to mention a well-practiced scowl, Marietta’s bravado evaporated in an instant.

  “No, sir,” she said. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Well, now you are, and I want to tell you something else. The people I arrest all day long . . . the ones who get their backsides thrown into the rear of my vehicle and transported to jails—where there’s nary a hair ribbon in sight—they all have one thing in common.”

  He waited and, eventually, she asked. “What?”

  “When they were growing up, they were disrespectful to their elders. Almost every single one of them. So, when I hear a young lady say naughty things to the grandma who loves her and does so much for her, I tell myself, ‘There’s a little gal who’ll be wearing a nasty orange prison uniform in just a few years and no bows at all.’”

  Stella watched as her most troublesome grandchild practically melted on the spot. What she wouldn’t give to have that same effect on the kid.

  Of course, it didn’t hurt that the sheriff was in uniform, was six foot three, had a deep voice, and an innate air of authority about him.

  Stella cleared her throat and told the crowd of children who had gathered around to watch Marietta get her comeuppance, “Y’all better finish gettin’ ready for school. No dillydallying around. That bus won’t wait.”

  Only Savannah lingered behind and followed Stella and Manny as they made their way to the kitchen.

  “Don’t forget to tell the sheriff, Gran, about what you read in the diary this morning,” she said as she grabbed her books and lunch sack off the table. “You know, about the Mexican lady.”

  Stella smiled. “I won’t forget, honey. Skedaddle now and have a good day at school.”

  “I think it’s really important,” Savannah called over her shoulder as she disappeared out the back door. “I’ve just got a hunch about it, you know?”

  “I know. I was fixin’ to tell him about it first thing over a cup of coffee,” Stella called out as the back door slammed closed, and the house went suddenly silent.

  She grabbed a couple of mugs from the cupboard and headed to the stove where the coffeepot had just finished percolating. “I’m sorry you had to arrive just in time for that ruckus,” she said.

  “I didn’t realize you were on the premises, until I turned around and saw you there.”

  “I knocked, and Waycross let me in. Reckon I should have waited for you to invite me inside.”

  “Not at all. You can walk through my front door anytime you like, Manny Gilford. You know that. But when you do, I don’t have to tell you, you’re taking your life in your hands.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been in a few situations that were more dangerous than your household and lived to tell about it. Takes more than the likes of Miss Marietta Reid to give me the shakes. Though she is a corker. I’ll give you that.”

  “I often have a hard time believing those children are all from the same father.”

  Stella set the oversized mug of strong, black coffee on the table and motioned for him to have a seat. She added some sugar and a dash of evaporated milk to her own cup, then sat in the chair across from him.

  “I didn’t mean no disrespect to my daughter-in-law by saying that, Manny,” she added. “I wasn’t suggesting any misbehavior on her part. I was just making the point that they’re so different.”

  “I know that, Stella May. I also know your daughter-in-law, and I’m not likely to take any offense on her part. I’m sure there are plenty of things that you could complain about, concerning her, and haven’t.”

  “One or two, but we’ve got more important things to discuss.”

  “That’s for sure. I didn’t have any luck at all locating Edom Dingle. It’s like he just dropped off the map.”

  “I was a wee bit surprised that Elsie had no idea whatsoever where her father was. I knew she didn’t associate with him, but I figured she’d have an address or something. Some way of gettin’ hold of him.”

  He nodded. “It’s downright inconvenient for me, since I need to make sure he’s notified and interview him. But I’m sure Elsie’s life has been a lot more peaceful these past twenty or more years, not having him around.”

  “I’m sure it made a world of difference for her, not having him to contend with. Even a loving soul like Elsie would have a hard time putting up with the likes of him. I don’t know about his current disposition, but back in his day, that man would argue with a fence post and win.”

  “It’s a shame that some parents and their children spend their years apart like that. But sometimes it is for the better, to be sure.”

  “I know that my life’s been a lot happier with my father gone than it would’ve been if I’d seen him regular like. Not that I welcomed what happened to him, how he met his end. But his passing did solve more than one problem, I’m ashamed and sorry to say.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Stella. We don’t choose who we’re born to, otherwise a lot of people would go childless, for sure.”

  He took a long drink from the coffee mug, then set it down and gave her a searching look. “What’s this earth-shattering discovery you made in the diary this morning, the one Savannah’s got such a strong hunch about?”

 

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