Harley’s voice sounded like the squeak of a mouse when the trap trips.
“I do.”
The bailiff droned his questions while Collins scanned the eyes of the jurors, finding every one fixed upon Overmire’s trembling, four-fingered hand.
“State your name and occupation, please.”
“Harley Overmire, superintendent at the Whitney Sawmill.”
“You may be seated.”
Collins pretended to read over his notes for a full thirty seconds while Harley quickly sat and hid his right hand at his side. The air felt electric, charged with opinion. Collins let the voltage build while glancing pointedly over the tops of his half-glasses at Harley’s hidden hand, the infamous hand that had already gained him a countywide reputation as a military shirker. Collins removed his glasses, stretched to his feet as if his rheumatism was acting up and approached the witness stand. Putting a finger to his chin, he paused thoughtfully, then turned back toward his table as if he’d forgotten something. Halfway there, he did an about-face and stood silently studying Overmire. The courtroom was so silent a spider could have been heard spinning its web. Collins scanned every face in the jury before resting his gaze on its chairman. In a voice rich with innuendo, he said, “No questions.”
It was four-twenty P.M. Stomachs were rumbling but not a person thought about supper. Neither did Judge Murdoch check his watch. Instead, he called for closing summations.
They were, to Collins’ delight, anticlimactic. Exactly as he would have it. A hungry jury, a judge and gallery in thrall, and a witness sweating on the sidelines.
The jury filed out leaving behind something unheard of: motionlessness.
As if everyone in the room knew the wait would be brief, they all stayed. Including Judge Murdoch. Reverently silent, too warm, hungry, but unwilling to miss the sound of the first returning footstep.
It came in exactly seven minutes.
Twelve pairs of shoes clattered across the raised wooden platform where twelve chairs waited. When the shuffle of bodies stilled, a question vaulted from the high ceiling.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached your verdict?”
“We have, your honor.”
“Would you give it to the bailiff, please?”
The bailiff accepted it, handed it to Murdoch, who opened the small white paper, silently read it, then handed it back to the jury chairman.
“You may read your verdict to the court.”
Elly’s hands clutched those of Lydia and Miss Beasley. Will stopped breathing.
“We, the jury, find the defendant, William Lee Parker, not guilty.”
Pandemonium broke loose. Will spun. Elly clapped her hands over her mouth and started crying. Miss Beasley and Lydia tried to hug her. Collins tried to congratulate him. But they had a single thought: to reach each other. Through the crowd they lunged while hands patted their shoulders but went unheeded. Voices offered congratulations but went unheard. Smiles followed but they saw only each other... Will... and Elly. In the middle of the throng they collided and clung. They kissed, hard and hasty. They buried their faces in the coves of one another, harboring, holding.
“Elly... oh, God...”
“Will... my darling Will...”
He heard her sob.
She heard him swallow.
With eyes sealed tightly, they rocked, smelled each other, felt each other, shutting out all else.
“I love you,” he managed with his mouth pressed against her ear. “I never stopped.”
“I know that.” She kissed his jaw.
“And I’m so damn sorry.”
“I know that, too.” She laughed but the sound was broken by a sob.
People bumped against them. A reporter called Will’s name. Witnesses waited to congratulate them.
“Don’t go away,” Will’s voice boomed at Elly’s ear before he tucked her securely beneath his arm. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed close while he performed the rituals expected of him.
He shook Collins’ hand and got a firm clap on the back.
“Well, young fellow, it’s been a pleasure all the way.”
Will laughed. “Maybe for you.”
“There was never a doubt in my mind that you’d win.”
“We’d win, you mean.”
Collins put his free hand on Elly’s shoulder, including her. “Yes, I guess you’re right. We.” He chuckled and added, “Anytime you want a job, young woman, I know a good half dozen lawyers who’d pay you handsome money to ply your wiles on behalf of their clients. You’ve got a nose and a knack.”
Elly laughed and lifted her cheek from Will’s lapel long enough to look up into his happy brown eyes.
“Sorry, Mr. Collins, but I got a job, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
Will kissed her nose and the three of them shared a hearty pileup of hands that passed for a shake until it was interrupted by Lydia Marsh, who caught Elly around the neck. “Oh, Elly, I’m so happy for you.” They pressed cheeks. “You, too, Will.” On tiptoe she reached up to offer him an impetuous hug.
His heart felt full to bursting. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs. Marsh.”
She shook her head, battling tears, unable to express her fondness in any way but to touch his cheek, then kiss Elly and promise, “I’ll see you both soon,” before she slipped away.
A second reporter called, “Mr. Parker, may I have a minute?” But there were Nat and Norris MacReady, smiling like liver-spotted bookends, standing proud in their military uniforms which smelled of mothballs.
“Nat... Norris...” Will gave them each a hand-pump and a bluff squeeze on the neck. “Was I glad to have you two on my side! What can I say? Without you it might’ve gone the other way.”
“Anything for a veteran,” Nat replied.
“Say you’ll keep a supply of that honey comin’,” Norris put in.
While they laughed Mrs. Gaultier and Dr. Kendall brushed past, touching Will’s shoulders, smiling.
“Congratulations, Mr. Parker.”
The reporter snapped a picture while Will shook their hands and thanked them.
Feeling as if he was caught in a millrace, Will was forced to give himself over to strangers and friends alike while the reporters continued firing questions.
“Mr. Parker, is it true that you were once fired from the mill by Harley Overmire?”
“Yes.”
“Because of your prison record?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true he cut his finger off to avoid the draft?”
“I really couldn’t speculate on that. Listen, it’s been a long day and—”
He tried to ease toward the door but the well-meaning crowd swarmed like gnats around a damp brow.
“Mr. Parker...”
“Congratulations, Will...”
“Eleanor, you too...”
“Congratulations, young man, you don’t know me but I’m—”
“Hey, Mr. Parker, can I have your autograph?” (This from a youth in a baseball cap.)
“Nice goin’, Will...”
“Elly, we’re so happy for you both.”
“Congratulations, Parker, you and the missus come by the cafe and have a free meal on me...”
Will had no wish to be the center act of a three-ring circus, but these were his fellow townspeople, welcoming him and Elly into their fold at last. He accepted their handshakes, returned their smiles and acted duly appreciative. Until he simply had to escape and be alone with Elly. In response to someone’s humorous banter he squeezed Elly tighter, tipped her till one of her feet left the ground and pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, “Let’s get out of here.” She hugged his waist as they turned toward the door.
And there stood Miss Beasley, patiently waiting her turn.
The reporter hounded Will and Elly as they moved toward the librarian. “Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker, could either of you make a comment on the arrest of Harley Overmire?”
T
hey ignored the question.
Miss Beasley was dressed in drab bile green and held her purse handle over the wrists crossed militantly beneath her superfluous breasts. Will propelled Elly forward until the two of them stood within two feet of Miss Beasley. Only then did he release his wife.
A male voice intruded. “Mr. Parker, I’m from the Atlanta Constitution. Could you—”
Elly ran interference for him. “He’s busy right now. Why don’t you wait outside?”
Yes, Will was busy. Fighting a losing battle against deep, swamping emotions as he stepped close to Gladys Beasley and folded her in his arms, hooked his chin on her tight blue curls and held her firmly, choking in the scent of carnations but loving every second of it.
Unbelievably, she returned the caress, planting her palms on his back.
“You gave me one hell of a scare, you know that?” Will’s voice was gruff with emotion.
“You needed it, you stubborn thing.”
“I know. But I thought I’d lost you and Elly too.”
“Oh, bosh, Mr. Parker. You’ll have to do more than act like a complete fool to lose either one of us.”
He chuckled, the sound reluctantly escaping his taut throat. They rocked for several seconds.
“Thank you,” he whispered and kissed her ear.
She patted his hard back, her purse rapping his hip, then blinked forcefully, pulled away and donned her didactic façade again. “I’ll expect you back at work next Monday, as usual.”
With his hands resting on her shoulders, Will’s attractive brown eyes fell to her face. A crooked smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.
Collins interrupted.
“You gonna hold that woman all day or let somebody else have a crack at her?”
Surprised, Will stepped back. “She’s all yours.”
“Well, good, because I thought I might take her over to my house and feed her a little brandy—see what develops. What do you say, Gladys?” Miss Beasley was already blushing as Collins commandeered her. “You know, when we were in high school I always wanted to ask you on a date, but you were so smart you scared the hell out of me. Do you remember when—”
His voice faded as he marshaled her toward the door. Elly slipped her arm through Will’s and together they watched the pair leave.
“Looks like Miss Beasley’s got herself an admirer at last.”
“Two of them.” Elly grinned up at him.
He covered her hand, squeezed it tightly against his arm and let his eyes linger in hers. “Three.”
“Mr. Parker, I’m from the Atlanta Constitution—”
On tiptoe, Elly whispered in Will’s ear, “Answer him, please, so we can get rid of him. I’ll wait in the car.”
“No, you don’t!” He tightened his hold. “You’re staying right here with me.”
They weathered the questions together, begrudging every moment that kept them from privacy but learning that a warrant had already been issued for the arrest of Harley Overmire and he was already in custody. When asked to comment, Will only replied, “He’ll need a good lawyer and I know a damned fine one I could recommend.”
It was nearing dusk when Elly and Will escaped to their car at last. The sun glowed low along the rough stone building they left behind, lighting it to a pale copper. On the grounds of the courthouse the camellias were in full bloom, though the branches of the ash trees were bare, casting long thin shadows along the hood of their ramshackle automobile which sported a wrinkled front bumper and one blue fender on a black body.
When Elly headed for the passenger side, Will tugged her in the opposite direction. “You drive,” he ordered.
“Me!”
“I hear you learned how.”
“I don’t know if Miss Beasley would agree with that.”
He glanced at the bumper and the fender. “Banged ‘er up a little, did you?”
“A little.”
“Who put the new fender on?”
“Me’n Donald Wade.”
Will regarded his wife with glowing eyes. “You’re some woman, you know that, Mrs. Parker?”
A glow kindled deep within Elly. “Since I met you,” she answered quietly.
They let their eyes linger for another devout moment before he ordered, “Get in. Show me what you learned.”
He clambered in the passenger side and left her no choice. When the engine was revved she clutched the wheel, manhandled the stubborn shift, took a deep breath—“Okay... here goes”—and promptly drove onto the sidewalk, hitting the brakes in a panic, jouncing them till their heads hit the roof and rebounded toward the windshield.
“Dammit, Will, I’m scared to death of this thing!” She socked the steering wheel. “It never goes where I want it to!”
He laughed, rubbing the crown of his head. “It brought you to Calhoun to hire a lawyer, didn’t it?”
She felt herself blush, wanting to appear competent and prove how worldly she’d become in his absence. “Don’t tease me, Will, not when this—this piece of junk is acting up.”
His voice softened and lost its teasing note. “And it brought you to Calhoun to visit your husband.”
Their eyes met—sober, yearning eyes. His hand took hers from the wheel, his thumb rubbed her knuckles.
“Elly—is it true? Are you pregnant?”
She nodded, a trembling smile tilting her lips. “We’re gonna have us a baby, Will. Yours and mine this time.”
Words eluded him. Emotion clotted his throat. He reached for the back of her neck and her belly, placing a hand on each, drawing her across the seat to rest his lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes and put both hands over his widespread right hand, covering the life within her body.
“A baby,” he breathed at last. “Imagine that.”
She pulled away to see his eyes. For infinite seconds they gazed, then suddenly both laughed.
“A baby!” he cheered.
“Yes, a baby!” She took his head in both hands and ruffled his hair. “With shaggy blond hair and big brown eyes and a beautiful mouth like yours.” She kissed it and his lips opened to taste her, possess her, gratify her. His hand moved on her stomach, slid lower and made her shiver.
Against her lips he said, “When this one’s born you’ll have a doctor.”
“All right, Will,” she answered meekly.
He deepened his kiss and his caress until she was forced to remind him, “Will, there are still people going by.”
Drawing a tortured breath he released her and said, “Maybe I’d better drive after all. We’ll get there faster.” The door slammed behind him and he jogged around the hood while she slid over. As he put the car in reverse he warned, “Hang on to that young one. We don’t want to shake her loose.” He backed down the curb, bouncing them a second time, while Elly clutched her stomach and they both laughed.
They drove around the courthouse square and out onto Highway 53, headed southeast. Behind them the sun sank lower. Before them the road climbed out of the valley, lifting them through rolling woodland that soon would burgeon with green. Will rolled down the window and breathed deep of the fresh winter air. He locked his elbows, caught the wheel with his thumbs and thrust his wrists forward, tasting freedom, drinking it like one parched.
Free. And loved. And soon to be a father. And befriended. And accepted—even admired—by a town that sprang to his defense. And all because of one woman.
It overwhelmed Will. She overwhelmed him.
Abruptly he pulled off the highway, bumped along a field access and pulled up behind a clump of leafless willows. In one motion he killed the engine and turned to his wife.
“Come here, Green Eyes,” he whispered, loosening the knot of his tie. Like heat lightning she moved into his embrace. Their lips and breasts met and their tongues, cautious no longer, made reckless sweeps. Crushed together, they healed.
He broke away to hold her head and gaze into her eyes. “I missed you so damn much,”
&
nbsp; “Not as much as I missed you.”
“You cut your hair.” He scraped it back with both hands, freeing her face for his adoring gaze.
“So I’d look up-to-date for you.”
He scanned her countenance, hairline to chin, and wondered aloud, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“Don’t thank me, Will, I—”
He cut her off with a kiss. As it lengthened they grew breathless, feeling the bond strengthen between them. At last he freed his mouth. “I know everything you did. I know about the honey, and the ads, and the witnesses you found, and the car you had to learn to drive and the town you had to face. But the house, Elly. My God, you faced that house, didn’t you?”
“What else could I do, Will? I had to prove to you that it wasn’t true what you saw on my face the day you were arrested. I never meant it, Will... I...” She began crying. He caught her tears with his lips, moving across her face as if taking sustenance.
“You didn’t have to prove anything to me. I was scared and stubborn and I acted like a fool, just like Miss Beasley said. When you came to visit me the first time I was hurt, and I—I wanted to hurt you back. But I didn’t mean what I said, Elly, honest I didn’t.” He kissed her eyes, murmuring softly, “I didn’t mean it, Elly, I’m sorry.”
“I know, Will, I know.”
Again he held her face, searching her pale eyes. “And when you came the second time, I kept telling myself to apologize but Hess was there listening, so I talked about stupid things instead. Men can be such fools.”
“It doesn’t matter now, Will, it doesn’t—”
“I love you.” He held her possessively.
“I love you, too.”
When they’d held each other a while he said, “Let’s go home.”
Home. They pictured it, felt it beckon.
He took a lock of her short brown hair between his fingers, rubbing it. “To the kids, and our own house, and our own bed. I’ve missed it.”
She touched his throat and said, “Let’s go.”
* * *
They drove on home through the purple twilight, through the brown Georgia hills, past cataracts and piney woods and through a quiet town with a library and a magnolia tree and a square where an empty bench awaited two old men and the sunshine. Past a house whose picket fence and morning glories and green shades were gone, replaced by a mowed yard, scraped siding and gleaming windows reflecting a newly risen moon. As they passed it, Elly snuggled close to Will, an arm around his shoulders, her free hand on his thigh.