The Drowning Gull 1 - Page 57

doorway. “You all right, Pearlie?”

“I’m fine, just spooked. Can't be surprised, sticking me in this closet.” She was back to her usual self, now. Hands still and warm, her voice full of vinegar. “Go on now, both of you.”

“I'll stay here Mother,” Addie said. “In case one of those rats decides to poke his nose back in here.” Outside, the dogs had quieted their barking, and the faint twittering of the hens had reclaimed the dusk.

“Alright then.” Ben leaned into the pantry and fumbled his hand among the potatoes to get his balance. “You be sweet to Miss Addie,” he whispered to his wife. “Like I know you can be.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she reached up and touched his lips with her fingertips. They remained like this for the longest time, until a voice from upstairs turned Ben away, and Mother Pearl let him go with wave of her hand, and a weary sigh.

There was more shuffling above them, but if Mother Pearl noticed, she said nothing. Addie let her head fall back, and she drew in a deep breath. The air was thick and heavy with the smell of onions and dirt, and of Mother Pearl's lavender soap. She listened hungrily for the deep roll of her husband's voice, and for the light melody of her precious boys.

“I never cared for you much,” Mother Pearl said suddenly. Her voice was clear and articulate and Addie pulled back with a start. It wasn't the sentiment, but the bluntness.

“I know that, Mother Pearl.”

“It ain't your fault though,” she went on. “I know you're good people. A woman can't help if she's too pretty no more than if she's ugly as sin. You carry the load that God gave you.”

“You thought I was pretty?” Addie strained her eyes, to try and make out the old woman's face in the dim space.

“Oh yes. Too pretty. Too pretty for my boy.” She laughed softly. “When I saw you that first day in my kitchen—remember that day?”

“The hailstorm.”

“It was a hell of a storm. Nearly took the roof off of the house.”

“I remember.”

“I saw you there, and the first thing I thought was ‘Lord this girl’s gonna be trouble.’ ”

Addie squatted down next to her, rested her hand on the old woman’s arm and asked, “And why’s that, Mother?”

“A pretty woman draws the boys like flies and the girls like hornets,” she said. “Like that banty hen. Mean as all get out, stirring up the hen house so no chicken will lay. And that damned rooster won't shut the hell up. It's a pretty thing, but it brings out the ugly in everyone.”

“Including you, right?”

“I reckon so.”

“Sam Tallow!” Thomas’s cry slammed the house like a thunderbolt. “I know you’re out there, you son of a bitch. This is between us and us only. Step off my property and leave my family out of this.”

“Little late for that now, isn't it?” Sam's voice was tinny and desperate, like a boy standing up to his old man for the first time in his life.

“I know I got you wrong, though,” Mother Pearl said, her hand brushing her daughter-in-law's sleeve.” My Tommy, he loves you so much he'd lay down his life. That's something.”

The crack of a rifle shot broke the moment in half, and the two women sat in stone silence. Mother Pearl found Miss Addie's wrist and she held on, gripped it tightly as if she might slide from the chair at any second.

The return shot came like an echo, and in the time that it took Addie to take in her next breath, a barrage of gunfire exploded in the air. Mother Pearl was yelling something, and even when Addie pulled her close, she couldn't make out what she was saying.

Addie let her head drop to the old woman's lap, let her lungs take in the heady scent of lavender and wool. The shots came in sets of three. Three here, three there. There would be a lull, then another set until at last the night fell silent.

The women allowed themselves a moment of stillness in the wake of such horror. Addie felt the violent pounding of her heart against her mother-in-law's knees, and she listened to her own breathing grow ever shallower.

There was the dull sound of movement from upstairs, and the volley of voices from one person to another.

“You boys all right?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“There’s glass all over the floor.”

From off the kitchen, across the yard, the hens were in a commotion.

“That damned banty,” Mother Pearl hissed.

Addie took in a deep breath and let it go, her body shaking in fits as she began to cry.

“There now,” Mother Pearl whispered. “It's all over, dear.” She combed her fingers through Addie's soft mane of hair, letting it fall loosely in her lap, the combed it once again. “It's just a racket, nothing worse than a big hailstorm,” she cooed. “Remember that? It was nothing to cry about then, and it’s nothing now.” She bent over in her chair, as far over as her old body would let her, and she smoothed the hair from Addie's face.

I got peace like a river, I got peace like a river...

She sang so softly, like a brand-new mother shepherding her baby to sleep against her bosom.

I got peace like a river in my soul...