Chesapeake Tide (27 page)

She shrugged. There were far more important things to think about, such as how and when she would begin to provide a home for Chloe. She couldn't live with her parents forever. It wasn't healthy for Chloe to see her mother as a dependent and it wasn't what an adult would do.

As often happens when a sleep pattern is disturbed, Libby woke earlier than her usual time. The rest of the house was silent, shrouded in lowered shades and curtains pulled against the light. Soundlessly, she pulled on her shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt and running shoes. Then she tiptoed out the door and down the path toward the water line. There, she started her run.

A smoky blanket of mist settled over the wetlands, covering all but the spiky tips of the tall southern pine, colorless in the early gray morning. It was already warm. Libby breathed in the moist air flavored with smells of peach, salt, water and mineral-rich soil. She ran past the dock, across the flat, open road and out past the fields filled with sharecroppers bent in half, hoisting boxes filled with produce to their muscular, sweating shoulders. Road stands spilled multicolored fruit and vegetables and trucks hauling tomatoes, oranges, onions, coriander, cabbage and lettuce passed her by.

When the sun burned away the clouds, bringing the distinctive blue color to the bay water, she stopped, bent over, breathed deeply and checked her watch. It was only seven-thirty. She turned around and jog-walked home. Verna Lee's red car was in the driveway. Once again, Libby checked her watch. Why would she be here at eight in the morning? Fearing another unpleasant surprise, Libby slowed her steps to a crawl. She stopped at the door, drew a deep, steadying breath and opened it quietly. The house was silent. She frowned, stooped over to untie and step out of her tennis shoes, picked them up and walked down the hall.

Voices pierced the silence. She heard her mother's, slow and deliberate, coming from the sitting room. Then she heard Verna Lee's higher one. It was angry and insistent. Libby was both fascinated and repelled. She wanted to know more and at the same time she wanted no part of the truth she'd guessed for some time now. The fabric of what she had believed was a well-structured childhood had been rent from top to bottom until it bore no resemblance to the memory in her mind. The one constant of her life, her perception of her childhood, was being destroyed, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take. Electing to pass by the room quickly and hope she wasn't seen, Libby moved quickly past the door and started up the stairs.

“Libba Jane.” Her name on her father's lips stopped her short.

Slowly, she turned around. He stood at the entrance to his study, his retreat where, except for Chloe, the women of the family never ventured.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

“I'd like to speak with you when you have a chance.”

She looked down at him, a vital, lucid man, even though he was nearing seventy. She swallowed. “I have time now, Daddy.”

“It can wait until you've cleaned up.”

She nodded and continued up the stairs, checking on Chloe on the way. She was sleeping soundly. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, but her breathing was slow and even and she hadn't moved from the position she was in when she'd gone to bed last night.

Libby showered, washed her hair, changed into clean clothes and walked down the stairs to meet her father. Chloe slept on and the voices in the sitting room were muted, almost friendly.

She stepped into her father's study and closed the door. “What's going on in there?” she asked.

Cole marked his place in the book he was reading and looked up. “Your mother and Verna Lee have an issue that needs settling. I imagine they'll let us in on it when the time is right. What I have to tell you is much more serious.”

Libby felt the cold fist of fear in the pit of her stomach. “Where's Bailey?”

“Bailey didn't do much sleeping,” her father replied. “He wanted to go home as soon as possible. I dropped him off about thirty minutes ago. Now I'm not sure I did the right thing by letting him go.”

“Why not?”

“Lizzie Jones was murdered by asphyxiation. The coroner says someone held a pillow over her head and smothered her.”

Libby's hand flew to her mouth. “Dear God. Who?” Suddenly, her father looked old and tired.

“Bailey is the only suspect the police have.”

“W
hat are you going to do?” Libby asked. Her voice was hushed, shaken.

“If Bailey is charged, I'm going to represent that poor boy,” her father answered.

“Why would he do such a thing?”

Cole Delacourte shook his head. “I won't know until I ask him. My guess is that his mother was suffering and they couldn't afford the medication to keep her pain free. She may have even asked him to do it. Lizzie Jones was wedded to that land. It's been in her family for generations. More than anything she wanted to leave it to her son.”

“I can't imagine a mother doing such a thing. Surely she knew he would be blamed.”

“Lizzie was a simple woman. Her mind wasn't whole. I doubt if she knew how sophisticated forensics has become.”

Libby was cold for the first time since she drove her rental car out of the air-conditioned airport in Richmond into the wet heat of a southern afternoon only two months ago. She rubbed her arms and began to walk back and forth across the room. “This is awful. We never should have come back here. Chloe will take this on. Clearing Bailey will become her special project. I know it will. She'll feel as if she has to rescue him. Oh, God, Daddy. What am I going to do?” “

Calm down, Libba Jane. Chloe will have to answer some questions. Although she's not directly involved with Bailey and his mother, she was probably the last person to see the two of them together. They trusted her. She'll be asked about their relationship.”

Libby stared at him, horrified. “She couldn't possibly be considered an accessory, could she?”

Cole smiled. “No, honey. No one would even consider it.”

Libby's heart pounded. Every instinct told her to take her daughter and run as far away from Marshyhope Creek as four wheels and a manual transmission would take her. “What will I tell her?”

“The truth, Libba Jane. Always fall back on the truth. If everyone would just follow that path, we wouldn't spend so much energy on trying to fix it later on.”

A soft knock interrupted them. Chloe's voice followed. “Mom, I need a note for school.”

Libby opened the door. “Come in, sweetheart. Are you sure you're up to going in today? Under the circumstances, it wouldn't hurt to stay home this time.”

Chloe stared at her mother in amazement. “You never let me stay home, not unless I'm throwing up.”

“I thought you might like to for once.”

Chloe shook her head. “It's the second day of school. Will you drive me?”

Libby smiled brightly. “Of course. Let me get my purse and I'll meet you out front.”

Chloe disappeared down the hall. Libby glanced at her father. “Wish me luck,” she said softly.

“She can take it, Libba Jane. Give her some credit.”

“I don't want to tell her this minute.”

“I'd warn her about the rumors,” Cole warned her. “News spreads fast in a small town. She'll hear it at school. Give her a heads-up so she's prepared. You want her to have the advantage, don't you?”

“I hadn't thought of that.”

“Would you like me to drive her to school?” her father asked.

Libby shook her head. “No. I'm her mother. I'll do it.”

Cole smiled approvingly. “Good girl.” He cleared his desk, reshelving his books and sweeping the pens into the top drawer. “Now, I think I'll look in on your mother and Verna Lee. My guess is the fireworks are over.”

“Is it what I think it is?” Libby asked.

“You always were a clever child,” said her father. “What gave it away?”

“Besides the fact that the resemblance is remarkable?”

He nodded. “I've always thought so. Usually no one looks past color. I'm surprised you did.”

“All the years I grew up here, I missed it. It took a seventeen-year absence to see what was right in front of my nose.”

“You aren't taking it too badly,” her father observed.

“Don't think for a minute it isn't important to me, Daddy. I like Verna Lee, more now than I ever did when we were kids. It's what Mama did that's disturbing. I'm not sure why, but I feel as if she's betrayed us, somehow. As for my not becoming hysterical, there are more important things to worry about, like euthanasia, for instance.”

“It's a tangled web we mortals weave,” he said softly. “Don't take too much on yourself, Libba Jane. It'll work out the way it's supposed to. Meanwhile, I want you to do something for me.”

“All right.”

“Keep on this pesticide thing. There's more here than we know. If you have to go public, do it. I can't help thinking these two incidents, Drusilla Washington and Bailey Jones, are related.”

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing yet.”

Chloe poked her head in. “Are you coming?”

“Right now, honey. I'm on my way.”

Chloe followed her mother into the front door of the high school attendance office. Her head felt light and distant, as if it was attached to someone else's body. She waited while her mother filled out the requisite papers and said something about the yellow one Chloe was to take around to the teachers whose classes she'd missed. She wondered what Bailey was doing and why he'd wanted to go back so soon to that horrible place where it had happened. He wouldn't be here today. She knew that. But maybe she could pave the way, somehow, and make it easier for him to come back.

She walked outside, waiting for Libby to say goodbye. Her mother was the goodbye queen. She couldn't just get it out with a simple two-syllable word. She had to drag it out, kiss one cheek and then the other, stroke her hair, touch her arm, hug her once and then again, all the while saying things like “Have a good day” and “Work hard and pay attention” or “I'll miss you” and always, always the proverbial “I love you.”

Normally Chloe would have remained stoic, neither complaining nor condoning her mother's separation anxiety, but today, in light of Bailey's loss, she welcomed it, even going so far as to encircle Libby's waist and kiss her cheek.

She pulled away and saw that her mother's eyes had welled up. “Don't cry, Mom,” she said, embarrassed. “I'll be all right.”

“Chloe,” Libby began. “There's something you should know.”

“If I don't go now, I'll be late for another class.”

“This is important.” Libby pulled Chloe down on a bench outside the office. “Bailey may be in some trouble.”

“That's an understatement.”

“No, Chloe. I mean legal trouble.”

“What kind of legal trouble?”

“Oh, God.” Libby's hands twisted in her lap. “I didn't want to do this now. Can't we just go home? I don't want to leave you here, not after you hear this.”

Chloe's temper flashed. “Just tell me.”

Libby wet her lips and strove for a matter-of-fact tone. “Lizzie Jones was very ill, but she didn't die because of that. She suffocated, Chloe. The police think someone smothered her. There's a possibility that Bailey may be charged.”

Chloe's mouth dropped. Her eyes were two blazing slits of blue in her pointed little face. “That's insane. Bailey
loved
his mother.”

“He may have loved her so much that he did what she wanted him to. She was in terrible pain with no hope of recovery.”

“He wouldn't do that. I know he wouldn't.”

Libby looked down at her clenched hands. “Maybe he wouldn't.”

“There's no
maybe
about it,” Chloe insisted. “He wouldn't.”

“Can we go home, Chloe? Others may know and say things. I don't want you to face that right now.”

The girl shook her head. “No way.”

Libby stared at her daughter. “I don't know what to say to you. I'm frustrated and yet I'm incredibly proud of you. You're the bravest person I know.” Once more she kissed the smooth, young cheek. “Good luck, love. Call me if you need me. You aren't alone.”

Chloe picked up her backpack and walked slowly up the steps into the student entrance of the brick building.

Libby watched until her daughter had disappeared behind the double glass doors. For the first time in years, she felt the urge to genuflect before a church altar and light a candle. She sat for a minute inside her car waiting for the air conditioner to kick in. Then she pulled out on to the road and made her way slowly into town. Work was what she needed. It would pass the time and keep her mind off of Chloe's ordeal.

On another day she would have stopped at Perks, but it was closed. Verna Lee was otherwise occupied. Libby pulled into the diagonal parking space in front of the EPA office beside Russ's Blazer. He sat in the front seat holding a cup of coffee and a sugary beignet.

She waved. He grinned and handed her a second cup of coffee and a beignet through the window. Her heart lifted. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“What's going on?”

“You mean you don't know? I thought everyone would know.”

He shook his head. “I fell asleep last night beside a beautiful woman. I woke up less than an hour ago and she was gone. I don't know about anything.”

Libby blushed. “Lizzie Jones is dead.”

Russ looked puzzled. “I didn't realize you were friends,” he said carefully.

“Don't be ridiculous, Russ. You know we weren't friends. But Bailey and Chloe are and she was there when the police came.”

“Whoa, Libba.” He reached out, removed the coffee and beignet from her hands, set them on the roof of her car and drew her to him. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

Libby closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. They were in the middle of Main Street at nine-thirty in the morning and she didn't care who saw them. Without embellishment of any kind, she told him, beginning with the police lights flashing in front of her family home, to her last conversation with Chloe. She finished with “And there's every possibility that Verna Lee Fontaine is my half sister.”

He whistled softly. “Holy Christ, Libba Jane. No wonder your heart's fluttering like a shad caught in a net.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You certainly did stay southern.”

“Only for effect.”

“What am I going to do?”

He lifted her chin and looked down into her face. She was smaller than she looked, a combination of long brown legs and thigh-skimming shorts. “How about if we go for a drive?”

She nodded. Sensing her mood, he dumped the food into the nearest trash receptacle, settled her into the Blazer and climbed into the driver's seat. Within minutes Marshyhope Creek was behind them. “Will you be hungry some time today?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I could eat, I suppose.”

“If we took the ferry, we could be at Steamers by noon.”

Libby hesitated. It was appealing, but there was Chloe to think of.

He read her mind. “We'll be home in plenty of time for you to pick up Chloe from school.”

Suddenly the idea of Steamers' hush puppies wrapped in newsprint and eaten on a picnic table overlooking the bay sounded wonderful. It was like time rolling back before all the trouble. “All right,” she said. “Let's go.”

Russ grinned. “Good girl.”

Steamers sported a new coat of paint, but otherwise it was exactly the same. The food was still limitless, dumped in piles in the middle of tables. The hush puppies were just as tasty and the corn as sweet. Libby bit into the last fried chicken leg, tossed the remains on the table and sat back with a contented sigh. “That was delicious. What a great idea.”

“You're welcome.”

“You never answered my question.”

“I'm getting around to it. You asked me what you should do. A question like that requires some thought.”

“And?”

“What comes to mind is that it isn't about you, not any of it, and you can't really do anything that will make a difference.”

“Explain that, please.”

He signaled the waitress for a refill on his iced tea. “Do you want another glass of wine?” he asked Libby.

She shook her head, waiting for him to resume his conversation.

“Chloe will have to tell what she knows whether you go back to California or stay here, and your father will represent Bailey. Both of those things will happen no matter how you feel about them. As for Verna Lee and your mother, that's their story. I'm not saying you don't have an interest, but they'll make their own peace or they won't.” His voice gentled. “Relax, Libba Jane. Don't try to control the world. Things'll work out.”

She didn't know whether it was his straightforward Hennessey logic or the mellowing effect of copious amounts of protein and the glass of wine she'd consumed with her lunch, but suddenly she felt better. She laughed out loud. “You're right. Have you learned a lot in the last seventeen years or was I just too blind and stupid to notice?”

“A little of both.”

“You're different,” she said bluntly.

“I hope so.”

His answer surprised her. “Why is that?”

“I've been around awhile longer. Experience is worth something.” He reached for his cigarettes, remembered he'd quit and drummed his fingers on the table.

She leaned forward. Her hair in the sunlight was a deep, rich brown. “Do you have demons?”

“Everyone has demons.”

“What are yours?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“You seem so grounded,” she replied slowly. “I want some of that.”

“Why, Libba Jane,” he teased her. “I thought I'd made it quite clear you could have it any time you wanted.”

She sighed. “Don't make this into a game. I'm serious. If I'm prying, just tell me it's none of my business.”

His eyes narrowed. Against the backdrop of the water they were a thin line of glittering blue. “I thought it was fairly obvious that my worst demon is my ex-wife and the power she continues to wield over me because of Tess.” He laughed bitterly. “I had no idea I'd care about a child like this. The funny thing is, I wanted a boy. I was disappointed when it turned out she was a girl. Now I wouldn't have it any other way.”