Annabelle threw the blanket down. “Okay! I said okay!”
“Say it out loud. Say T-Bone didn’t rape you,” Ibby said.
Annabelle made a face.
“Say it, for the record,” Ibby said.
“He didn’t do it.”
“Just to make clear. You will be going down to the station and signing a piece of paper stipulating that all accusations against T-Bone have been dropped. Is that correct?” Fannie said.
Annabelle stood. “Yes.”
“Now, why don’t you go down to the station with Commander Kennedy, and we’ll be on our way. You heard all that, didn’t you, Peter?” Fannie called.
Kennedy stuck his head in through the door. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why’d you do it, Ibby? Why didn’t you just let it be?” Annabelle whined.
“I couldn’t let you ruin his life,” Ibby said.
“Why? He’s just a—” Annabelle cried.
Ibby wagged a finger at Annabelle. “Don’t go there. T-Bone Trout has more class in his little pinky than you’ll ever have.”
Annabelle lunged at her, but Honey held her back.
Ibby felt Fannie’s grip on her shoulder. “Time to go.”
Kennedy escorted Annabelle and Honey to his squad car. As soon as he drove off, Fannie started her car.
“I’m mighty proud of what you did in there, Ibby. It took a lot of courage. I’m just curious, though. Was that all true?” Fannie asked.
Ibby looked the other way, out the car window. The sun was sitting low in the sky, hovering over the horizon as if it didn’t want to let go. She gave her grandmother a half smile. “Most of it.”
Fannie patted her on the knee and gave her a wry smile back. “That’s my girl.”
Ibby remembered what Fannie had said in the cemetery not long ago. She said you had to live the life given to you. Maybe that’s true, Ibby thought as she watched the last vestiges of the day fade away.
But sometimes it’s possible to give life back.
Part Three
1972
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It was late May, and Ibby was studying for her last exam, hunched over her desk as the window unit blasted cold air her way, riffling the pages of her history book. She’d stayed up most of the night cramming and was having trouble concentrating. She picked up the postcard she used as a bookmark and was about stick it into the book so she could get some coffee when she turned it over. The edges of the card were frayed, and the writing on the other side had almost completely faded. It was a postcard from T-Bone, one he’d sent from Germany when he’d first left to tour with a band in Europe four years ago. He’d been there ever since.
Ibby looked at her watch. It was almost five o’clock. She still had a lot of studying to do. When she’d enrolled at Tulane University two years earlier, she’d moved out of Fannie’s house and into an apartment across town with the promise that she’d spend every Sunday evening with Fannie. She hadn’t missed a Sunday supper in two years. She was so far behind in her studying that she was seriously thinking about calling Fannie to cancel when the phone rang.
“Miss Ibby?” Doll said.
“I know I’m late,” Ibby replied.
“I think you should come around,” Doll said.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it tonight, Doll. I’ve got my European history exam tomorrow, and I’m just not ready for it yet. I’m afraid I’m going to have to skip supper.” She was feeling guilty. She knew Queenie had already prepared a big meal in anticipation of her weekly visit.
“No, Miss Ibby, I think you need to come,” Doll repeated.
Ibby held the phone out from her ear, wondering what had her all riled up. “I’m sorry but I’m really behind in my studies.”
“Miss Ibby, I need you to come on by now.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
There was no answer—Doll had hung up. Ibby held on to the phone receiver, thinking what an odd conversation they’d just had.
She got up from her desk and stood by the window, watching the other students that had already finished their exams heading over to Bruno’s Tavern. She wished she was one of them. She thought about what Doll had just said. Perhaps a break might do her some good. And Queenie’s courtbouillon, fried okra, and bread pudding would be just what she needed to get her through the long night of studying ahead. She slipped on her clogs and headed for the door.
When she arrived at Fannie’s house, Doll was standing on the front porch, obviously upset about something. Ibby noticed Fannie’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
“Come on in, Miss Ibby,” Doll said.
Queenie was in the front hall, wringing her hands. “We didn’t know what else to do, Miss Ibby, so we call you.”
“Where’s Fannie?” Ibby followed Queenie into the dining room, where two places were set for the evening meal.
“Miss Fannie, she went out for a drive, but she ain’t come back,” Doll said.