The Truth According to Us (49 page)

“Not worth a nickel,” she repeated.

“Haven't I always said so?” Felix prodded. “Isn't that what I always said?”

“Yes, you always said that, and I always thought you were wrong”—Jottie spoke sharp and clear—“but how could I be sure? I'd been so
mistaken about Vause that I didn't trust myself. How can I know anything, I'd think, because I thought I knew Vause. You
swore
that you weren't there; you swore it on the Bible, remember?”

“I know—”

“And now you're trying to tell me I'd be better off without Sol? Better off with
you?
. You
liar
,
”
she spat, her face stiff with loathing.

“If you're thinking that you're going to get back at me by marrying Sol—”

“It has nothing to do with you,” she snapped. “I know you can hardly imagine such a thing, but I wasn't even thinking about you when I said yes. I said yes because I wanted to!”

Sol made a vindicated sound they both ignored.

Felix glared at her. “Well, that's fine. Fine. Sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander.” He slid toward Layla. “My betrothed,” he said, laying his hand on her shoulder. Willa gave a muffled cry, but he didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on Jottie. “You like that?”

“No,” Layla said, jerking her shoulder away. “No.”

They had nearly forgotten her. All five of them turned to look at her flushed face.

“No?” said Felix quizzically.

“No.” She took a jagged breath. “You—you—lied. About that poor boy. He was your best friend, and your sister loved him, and you let her think—you let her suffer so that you didn't have to.” She put her hand to her cheek as if it hurt. “I can't believe—Jottie, I'm so sorry about—what happened. And you, too, Mr. McKubin; I'm sorry for the things I said before. I didn't know.” She gazed at Felix. “All this time, people hinted about you and I thought they were lying. I never questioned—because I was in love with you—” Her eyes widened. “Oh God. You never cared about me at all, did you?”

“Sure I did. I'm crazy about you,” said Felix.

“Don't.” Jottie winced. “Don't do that, Felix.”

He looked at her impassively. “Up to you, Jottie.”

“You can't—” she began.

But Layla interrupted. “Jottie? Up to Jottie? It's not up to Jottie. You
think that I'm such a—a—a
weakling
that I'd take you even if you're a liar and a thief? Even if you broke Jottie's heart? Even if I know you don't care about me? No, Felix.”

He smiled at her mockingly. “Pretty easy to change your mind last time.”

She flinched.

“Didn't even take five minutes.”

“No,” Layla said, backing away. “Don't.”

“And it was fun,” he went on. “Especially the last part. Remember? When you—”

“Stop it!” she cried.

“Where do you think you're going?” Felix snapped as Emmett took a step toward Layla. “Don't you touch her.” Emmett froze.

“Stop it, Felix,” Jottie said. She drew herself up. “I've had enough. You have to go.”

“No,” he said obstinately.

She stood stiff and straight. “Yes. It's over. I'm done with you.”

“You can't,” he said.

“I can. I am,” she replied. “Out.”

With a wail, Willa buried her face in her aunt's neck. Jottie cradled her head close.

Felix eyed the pair of them. “The girls. They're mine.”

“No. Don't even try it. You know what I'd do.” She glared at him. “They stay with me.”

For a moment Felix stood, searching her for something he knew. She shook her head. “No, Felix. Not this time.”

“Not this time,” he repeated. Still, he didn't move but stood, rocking slightly on his heels, his face tilted upward as though he were waiting for something. He shook his head as if to clear it, and then he nodded. “Okay,” he muttered. “Hang on. Okay.” He took a breath and stepped forward to touch Willa's shoulder with a single finger. She didn't move. “Okay.”

Without a glance at the others, he went out the door.

I heard him go. I felt him touch me and then I heard his footsteps, and I thought, He's making noise so I'll know he's leaving. He's saying good-bye. But I kept my head down. I'd been turned to stone. I couldn't look at him, I couldn't speak, I couldn't do anything. Finally, when I knew he was gone, I lifted my head from Jottie's neck. The minute I did, I began to pant, and then there were some minutes I don't remember very well, because the kitchen was tipping and spinning, lighter and darker and back and forth. My heart was racing. I have to go to him, I thought, I have to run. But when I moved it was only to put my hand out to steady myself against the table. I held on, trying to catch my breath. I ought to be in a hospital, I thought.

“Willa?” It was Jottie. She put her arm around me, worried. “Willa? Sweetheart?”

I blinked. Her face was rolling up and down, too.

“She should sit down,” said Miss Beck, and she touched my arm. It was like a burn on my skin. I stumbled forward and scrambled, half running and half falling, across the room and out the back porch. I flung myself down the porch stairs and into the backyard, and then I raced to the gate, the one that led to the alley, and threw it open—and there
was his car at the end of the alley, just turning out onto Walnut Street. I ran—my Lord, I'd never run that fast in my life—but the alley was so long, it was miles long, and by the time I got to the end of it, he was gone. I didn't even see his car in the distance. I didn't think to yell. I wonder if he would have come for me if I'd yelled.

Emmett picked me up off the ground. Just like it was nothing, he plucked me up and carried me back to the house in his arms. He didn't scold me, not a bit. In fact, he didn't say anything, which was a big relief. “Better take her up to my bed,” Jottie's voice said, so he carried me up the stairs and laid me gently on Jottie's bed, like I was sick. Which maybe I was. I felt his big hand brush over my hair, and I started to cry. I thought I'd cried myself out the night before, but I hadn't.

“Sweetheart.” It was Jottie's voice again. “Sweetheart, everything will be all right.”

I wanted to tell her how I'd failed—how I'd meant to protect Father from Miss Beck, how hard it had been to watch them and keep quiet, how I'd tried to be devoted and ferocious and instead I'd destroyed everything, ruined everything, lost everything. But I couldn't. All I could do was cry.

Jottie held Willa until there weren't any more tears left in her and she dropped off to sleep. Even after that, Jottie kept watch over her, noting the tracks of her tears, tallying the damage, laying it to Felix's account, and allowing the beautiful scourge of fury to clean her heart of him.

When, at last, she came downstairs, she found Sol waiting for her in the front room. He whirled around as she entered, his face glowing. “Sweetheart. Jottie. My God!” he said, moving toward her.

She lifted her chin proudly. “Starting now, I decide for myself what's right and wrong. Starting this minute.”

“All right.” He nodded. “That'll be fine.” He slid his arms around her.

“Everything Felix stole from me, I want back,” she said, pulling his arms tighter around her. “Everything.” An entire life was owed to her. She pressed herself more closely against him.

“Jesus,” he murmured after a moment. “Let's get married. Now.” He drew back and grinned at her. “You're going to marry me!”

“That's what I'm going to do,” she said, remembering her agony for Felix the night before. “That's exactly what I'm going to do.”

“Good,” he said. His eyes circled the room. “Let's live here. It's bigger.” He leaned in to kiss her.

“But,” continued Jottie, not kissing him, “if you ever lie to me, I will end it. I will toss you out so fast your head will spin. And I will never let you back.” She raised her eyes to his. “You hear me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Sol. He butted her forehead gently with his. “I wouldn't lie to you. I wouldn't dare.”

She nodded imperiously, acknowledging the promise.

Emmett's footsteps sounded on the porch. “I found 'em,” he announced, coming into the front room. “They'll be along soon. Minnie's going to stop at her house first.”

“Thanks, honey. How's Bird?”

“Cantankerous. You want some ice-tea?”

“Oh God,
yes.”
She was so thirsty. Sol nodded, agreeing with her thirst. His agreement rankled. Agreement was the vanguard of pacification, and she would not—ever—be pacified again. She dropped into her pink chair, closed her eyes on him, and didn't open them until she heard Emmett return.

“Stick-tea,” Emmett commented, setting down the pitcher and glasses.

She smiled, reaching for a glass. “I thought Felix was the bootlegger in this family.”

Emmett lifted one eyebrow. “I got untapped depths.”

For the first time in what felt like days, she laughed. “Thank God someone does. Emmett, honey, can you spend the night tonight? I think it would make Willa feel better, and I know it'll make me feel better.”

“Be glad to.”

“You want me to stay, too?” Sol asked hopefully.

She turned to appraise him and his hope. It was, she saw, a desire to be helpful, to come to her aid in her time of need, to perform the duties of a fiancé worthily. So, she said to herself, this is what safety looks like when it's in my front room. Ornamental. She smiled. “It's real nice of you, Sol, but I have enough to explain to Minerva and Bird without trying to explain you, too.” She patted his hand. “And there's Willa,” she added. “I'll need to be keeping an eye on her.”

He nodded solemnly. “Okay. But we've got a lot to talk over, the three of us.”

“No, we don't,” she said.

“No, we don't,” said Emmett at the same moment.

“Now, just hold on,” Sol said, spreading his hands. “I know how you feel. Of course, he's your brother, and I don't say it's a case of bringing
charges
. But I'd like to find out what Tare Russell was up to—”

“Leave Tare alone,” said Jottie, picturing his sad, freckled face. She hoped Felix had been honorable enough to repay him—in kindness, at least—for his lie.

“And then there's the money,” Sol went on, as though she hadn't spoken. “You reckon he's been spending it all this time? She said there was a lot.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I guess we got to get into that basement.”

“No,” said Emmett and Jottie together.

He looked up, startled. “But that's how we'll know!” His eyes moved between them. “You want him to get off scot-free?” he asked indignantly. “Think about Vause!”

Think about Vause? He was telling
her
to think about Vause? She stared in amazement at Sol's face, reading the story she found there. It wasn't a story about Vause; it was about Sol. It was about how he had been right all along. All these years, he had been fighting to win this particular piece of property from Felix. For eighteen years, Felix's version of the tale, unpopular though it was, had been the official one, the agreed-upon reality, and Sol's version had been wrong. It
had been the hole in Sol's life, and it was now filled: He was now the rightful owner of the truth about Vause's death. And that's what he cares about, she thought, seeing his comfortable posture, his relaxed hands. Not about Vause himself. My poor darling, she mourned, my poor boy, they let you go. Their truth is nothing compared to yours, and I would let either story be true if it would make you live again. She turned to Sol, but there were no words to explain how terrible it seemed to her, that he and Felix should have lived so long on Vause's death. “You need to drop this, Sol. If you want to marry me, you've got to drop it. I won't put Willa through it, nor Tare. I won't have it. You'll need to let it go.”

Sol's forehead furrowed as he tried to comprehend her. “But that's—” He caught sight of her face. “Well, okay—if you're sure. I mean, do you think Tare knows the case is there? Don't you want to go see if—”

Emmett laughed softly. “If you think that case is still down in Tare's basement, you're crazy. He's had”—a watch-checking pause—“over two hours. It's long gone.”

“Ah,
shit
,
”
said Sol.

When Sol finally, reluctantly, took his leave, Emmett saw him out. Returning to the front room, he found his sister standing still in a shaft of golden sunlight, brilliant golden motes spiraling about her. He watched her, seeing something years-ago gone restored to her face. Was it freedom? Authority? Love? No, he decided, it was her self.

She glanced up, suddenly aware of him. “Emmett,” she said, stretching out her hand.

“There you are.” He took her hand in his, and, reunited, they smiled at each other.

—

It was lucky there were so many bedrooms, she thought. That was a good thing. One for Emmett. Henry—who, Jottie admitted, had been genuinely worried about Willa—and Minerva in the room she usually shared with Mae. Mae off in Willa's bed. Layla in her room, of course. No one in Felix's. Bird had taken one look at Willa and refused to leave
her side, and now the two of them were in Jottie's bed, packed tight together despite the heat. Jottie could just see Bird's silvery curls glistening beyond the dark breadth of Willa.

She was longing for a cigarette. Longing. But she wouldn't move. No, she wouldn't. Willa had purposefully wrapped her fingers in a handcuff around Jottie's wrist, and though her grip had loosened in sleep, Jottie would not free herself from it. When Willa awoke, she would find Jottie exactly where she'd left her. But between that moment and this, Jottie had time. Hours. She stared into the darkness and, diver on the precipice, looked down at the glittering blue. Now. Now she could. Carefully, schooled in starvation, she allowed herself to conjure Vause. First, the whole of him, from a distance, then, closer, his shining eyes, his golden hair, and now his beautiful hands against her face. She dove, and the water closed cool around her. Oh, the luxury of it, the greedy joy of assembling him rather than banishing him, oh—and she was lost in it: He smiled with one side of his mouth first and he tucked his head like so when he ran and his legs were too long for his bicycle and there was that accordion he carried around for weeks and he was scared of babies and he wore that purple tie and he bit into oranges to peel them and one day in February he buttoned me into his coat—