“You can do it,” she says, still in a whisper. “You can make him tell what he done to Dale, and you can make him tell what he done to me.”
“Juna, no,” I say, dropping my arms and backing away. “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
“What’s that you’re saying?” Abraham says.
Sheriff Irlene covers her mouth over with one hand and shakes her head. Her three deputies turn away. John Holleran does the same. They’re trying to spare Abraham his shame.
“He ruined me, Abey,” Juna says. “He didn’t spare me. Not like you said. I’m so sorry, Abey.”
“You saying Joseph Carl ruined you, girl?” Ellis says.
“Can’t bear to say what he done to me,” Juna says.
“Man can’t very well ruin what’s long since been rotted out,” Ellis says.
At this, Abraham Pace lunges for Ellis. John Holleran grabs at him, wraps him up in two arms. Ellis holds up a hand to his two brothers, stopping them from raising their guns.
“Would guess half the fellows here have had a hand in ruining this girl,” Ellis says, nodding off toward Juna. “But Joseph Carl damn sure ain’t one of them.”
John Holleran holds on tight, pulling against Abraham, who is still pushing to get at Ellis. Abraham leads with his square jaw, and his heavy brow shades his eyes, making them look dark like Juna’s when really they are pale brown.
“You surprised I’d say that, Abe,” Ellis says. “Don’t mean no harm. Guess I shouldn’t speak for the others, but I damn sure had her. Damn sure of that. She’s been ruined all right, but it wasn’t by that boy in there.” He calls Joseph Carl a boy even though he’s the oldest Baine brother. “And he sure didn’t do nothing to Dale. It’s a damn fool thought.”
John’s arms loosen from around Abraham. He’s no longer struggling to get at Ellis but instead is staring at Juna. I can’t help but stare myself.
She’s known, known all along, I wanted Ellis Baine. She’s known I’ve been waiting for him to wring himself out and be ready for a wife. She’s known I watch him in the field, fingering the dirt until it’s just so and knowing the perfect time to set his crop. She’s known my wanting him is like an ache. She’s told me over and over that Ellis will want me too and has told me how he’ll marry me one day and take me in and we’ll grow beans and cabbage and our fields will be filled with tobacco. And still I believe Ellis Baine. I know he’s telling the truth.
“Don’t you let him say that, Daddy.”
Juna tilts her head in that way she does. She’s wanting Daddy to remember the wife who died and the boy Juna was supposed to be. She’s wanting Daddy to remember he’s afraid of her.
“Don’t you let him, Daddy.”
Sheriff Irlene walks among the men, pushing them aside as she makes her way to the small door at the back of the room. She leans inside and says, “You sit tight, Joseph Carl. I’ll be in to tend to you shortly.” Then she pulls the door closed, though, because the latch is broken off, it doesn’t shut all the way.
“I heard it myself, Ellis,” she says, turning her attention to Ellis Baine. “Joseph Carl said he took the boy, so you all need to go on now. Joseph Carl’ll be staying right here until we sort this through. And all the rest of you, you all go on home. Ed, you. And Ellis, you too. All of you. Get on with looking for Dale. Joseph Carl is staying here with me, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Tell you right now,” Ellis Baine says, backing toward the door, “this will not be the end of it.”
12
1952—ANNIE
NO ONE EVER talks about Aunt Juna being Annie’s real mama, at least not in a place or in a way Annie could hear. When Annie was younger and would happen by a group of girls skipping rope and singing about Juna and how many Baines would die this day, sometimes those girls would stop and huddle, one whispering to another. They were the ones who knew Aunt Juna was Annie’s mama even before Annie knew. Other times, the girls, different girls, would keep right on jumping and singing and not knowing Annie was Juna’s relation.