She’d been mentally planning their next course of action when the door swung open and Frank walked in, dressed in work clothes. She hadn’t imagined running into him during this outing, as his mother usually did the shopping. “Why, Frank!” she said, giving him her widest smile. “What a pleasant surprise. Are you doing the shopping today?”
He strode quickly to her side, then took her elbow and pulled her away from the counter, leaning in to whisper, “I saw you through the window and came in to speak with you.”
Pearl glanced over at Emma, who was daydreaming over maple hard candy and peppermint sticks. Mrs. Trapp was still in the back, out of earshot. “You wanted to talk to me?” Her first thought was that Frank, having been spurned by Alice, now had his sights set on her. This was not entirely a bad thing. Frank’s family had money, and Frank had shown himself to be a serious and generous beau. Alice hadn’t even acknowledged him as a suitor and he’d left her gifts of flowers and, knowing of her love of knitting, skeins of soft yarn in sky blue, her favorite color. She’d returned all the gifts, and in response he’d written her poetry, begging her to reconsider. Frank might be fun for a short while, even if he was Alice’s castoff.
“Yes,” Frank said, keeping his voice low. “It’s about John Lawrence. He’s not who he says he is. His real name is John Lawrence Robinson.”
Pearl didn’t really see the distinction. “So he doesn’t use his last name?”
“No, and this is why he hides behind a different name . . .” Frank leaned in so close, she could smell coffee on his breath. “His father is a murderer—killed a man in cold blood. He’s in prison for life and will never get out. Everyone in Gladly Falls knows about it.”
“No!” Her hand flew to her mouth. How scandalous! Pearl didn’t know of anyone who’d committed a major crime, and killing someone was the worst of all. “His father is a murderer? Are you sure?”
Frank nodded. “I got a letter from my uncle who lives there. I wrote him and asked what he knew about John Lawrence, and when he wrote back, boy, did I find out a lot of dirt. John’s father killed a man when he was just a baby, and ever since, John and his mother have been working as servants. And here he’s acting all high and mighty, like he’s better than me.”
“I just can’t believe it.” Pearl wondered if her father knew. Would he have hired him if he did? Maybe. Her father didn’t believe in casting judgment, and John wasn’t guilty of murder just because his father had killed someone. Her father was always willing to give people a chance.
“It gets worse,” Frank said, his face clouding. “John is a damn Negro.”
“No.”
“Yes, he is. My uncle said so. If I see him go anywhere near Alice, I’m going to beat him so hard, he won’t be able to walk. I can’t believe he’s been passing himself off as one of us. The nerve!”
“That can’t be true,” protested Pearl. “His skin is as light as yours or mine.”
“Sometimes they come out that way. It was his father’s granddad who was a darkie, and you know what they say. No matter what you do, that stain never comes out.”
“That’s just talk,” Pearl said. “People say things all the time. That doesn’t mean it’s true. Someone probably just made the whole thing up.” She knew herself how stories grew from the smallest of things. How many times had it been gossiped that she was a bit loose with the boys when she hadn’t done much of anything yet?
“No.” He squeezed her elbow. “It’s true, and I’ll prove it. Let’s go to the mill right now and ask him. I’ll ask him right to his face and make him tell the truth. He’s going to have to confess, and once that gets out, your father will send him on his way. We don’t want that kind of garbage in our town.”
Pearl shook her head. “No, don’t do it now.” The timing was all wrong. John was supposed to drive her and Alice to the Barn Dance, something she was looking forward to. For the first time, they’d be at a social event unaccompanied by their father. She’d heard, of course, that Mrs. Donohue would be keeping an eye on them, which was perfect, because Mrs. Donohue didn’t have the best eyesight. Even more than that, most of her attention would be on her own son, Howie. It would be easy enough to slip away from her watchful eye, almost as if they weren’t chaperoned at all. If Frank ran John out of town now, it would ruin everything. “Do it at the Barn Dance in front of Alice. That’s the only way she’ll believe it.”
“That’s days away,” Frank said with a frown. “What if he gets his paws on Alice before then? The idea makes me sick.”
“Oh, Frank,” Pearl said, her tone matter-of-fact and reassuring. “You know how Alice is. She can’t help herself. She’s such a lady. She’s not about to do a single thing with any man unless she’s engaged, and you know that’s not going to happen. My father would never allow it. Alice will be fine until the Barn Dance. You have my word.”
“I’m not sure I can wait.”
Pearl was good at making men wait. “You can and you will, Frank.” She leaned in close and gestured for him to lower his face to hers. When he did, she brushed her lips against his cheek and softly said, “I promise I will keep Alice away from John, and you need to promise me that you’ll wait. It will make a better impression if you do it in front of the crowd at the Barn Dance. Doing it now at the mill, you’ll only have old men as witnesses.”
He hesitated, and she added an enticement. “It will be more of a scene if you bring your revolver and wave it at him. You can run him out of town.” She knew Frank was proud of the .44 Colt that had once belonged to his grandfather.
“I can do a lot more than wave it at him. I’m a crack shot. Best of anyone around here.”
“I know that,” she said soothingly. “But it will hardly be necessary. Everyone knows you could do it. The sight of the gun alone will cause a stir.”
Frank gazed down at her as if seeing her for the first time. He sighed. “If you think it’s best, Pearl, we’ll do it your way.”
“I think it’s best to wait until the Barn Dance. Do you promise to wait?”
“I promise,” he said. “But it’s not going to be easy.”
“I know,” Pearl said. “But do it for me, Frank.” She ran a hand over his shirtsleeve and felt the muscles of his arm loosen under her touch. He would wait. They always did.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
1983
That night, lying in bed on the second floor of his grandmother’s house, Joe had a lot to think about. Sleep wasn’t going to come anytime soon, not with the way the wind whipped outside, howling like some kind of beastly ghost. This was the kind of weather that had spooked Linda when she was little, but it had never scared Joe, not even when he was a kid. Tonight, his biggest concern was the noise level keeping him awake and the fear that he’d lose power. It was bad enough without air-conditioning, but not having the fan would make it even worse.
He and Kathleen had stayed at their table at the Pine Cone and talked long after Pearl and Howard had bolted from the restaurant. Kathleen felt terrible for having asked about Alice. “I should have known that talking about her sister’s death would be upsetting,” she said. “It’s been so long that I thought it would be okay, but from her reaction . . .” She sighed. “I guess you never really get over losing someone so close to you.”