“Lilliana!” Aunt Hyacinth’s voice trailed my exit.
But it was a good excuse to dash up the wide staircase, gaining time to pull my heaves into deep breaths. I sat on the edge of the poster bed, taking time to calm my nerves, to blow my nose. The shame of my desperation, of my father and husband counting me as nothing but a burden to be gotten rid of, overwhelmed my heart.
Aunt Hyacinth must have thought me crazy, but I couldn’t help that. It was best to get everything out in the open and know just where I stood with her—what she believed. I couldn’t bear to trust her and find myself betrayed into Gerald’s or Father’s hands.
Pulling the ring from the lining of my purse at last, I straightened my skirt—much the worse for wear these last three days—and made my way downstairs. Aunt Hyacinth still sat by the window. If I didn’t know she was blind, I’d have thought she was watching the cardinal outside her window peck at the seed she must have spread across the wide sill. She didn’t turn her head as I entered the room—not until I slipped the ruby ring into the palm of her hand. Her quick intake of breath told me she recognized it.
“Henry’s ring. I never thought to see this again.” She fingered it lovingly, caressing the intricate setting. “Until your father telephoned, I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. Not that he suggested you’d come. I just knew from the way he talked that you had no home with him, and I wanted to be ready—in case.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Mama said she took the ring from you.” I couldn’t imagine my mother stealing, and yet hadn’t I just used money that wasn’t mine to escape my husband?
Aunt Hyacinth shook her head. “I gave it to her. She didn’t want to take it, knowing what it meant to me. But she needed ‘portable wealth’—something valuable that’s small and can be hidden. I wanted her to have some small security—some means of escaping your father if she ever needed to. If I’d given her cash, he would too easily have found it.”
“I never saw the ring until Mama told me to dig it from the lining of her robe. She must have kept it near her always.” Like I did, in my purse.
“I’m glad. I’m glad if it gave her comfort. I’m only sorry now that she didn’t sell it to get away from him.”
“Father bullied her—all my life he bullied us both. I thought marriage would be a way to escape him, but it didn’t work like that.”
“I’m so sorry that it didn’t.” Aunt Hyacinth slipped the ring on her finger. The combination of small diamonds and cut rubies sparkled in the morning sun. I wondered if she could see it at all. “You could have sold this and run far away. I love this ring, but it was gone for me. I would never have known.”
“It wasn’t mine, and Mama made me promise to return it to you . . . when I could.”
“She knew you would—that you’d come—that you’d need to come.” Aunt Hyacinth smiled. “That was her way to protect you, to give you an opportunity—a possibility, even though she couldn’t allow herself that gift.”
That hadn’t occurred to me. I’d sometimes blamed Mama for not loving me enough—wished she would have taken me away, taken us both away from the horror we lived. But I knew, too, that she’d done her best to stand between Father and me when he grew angry. She’d been helpless to prevent my marriage—helpless in so many ways. Yet she’d given me Aunt Hyacinth’s ring to return, and her address, thereby opening a window for sanctuary. Oh, Mama! You loved me even more than I knew.
“We must think of a new name for you before your father or husband telephone or send someone looking for you. I haven’t told anyone that I was expecting my grandniece or why—only that I was expecting a relative. I didn’t know how things might play out, if you’d really come or how soon.”
“A girl named Celia Percy was at the platform when I arrived and showed me the way here.”
“Oh, dear. Did you tell her who you were? Your relation to me?”
I tried to remember. I’d been so weary and so relieved to have a guide through the dark. “No, I was conscious not to give my name. I didn’t know if you’d let me stay and I didn’t want to leave a trail for Gerald or Father to follow. I don’t think I said that I’m your niece—or you’re my aunt—but she said you were expecting me or someone.”
“It’s good you didn’t give your name. Celia’s a dear, but whatever you said will likely be all over town by now.”
The lump in my stomach settled into a deadweight.
“Well, it can’t be helped. Did you say where you were from? That you’re married?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“All right, then, we’re going to begin as if Celia heard nothing or as if she got it wrong. Your name is Grace—that’s true, your middle name—and you are, after all, a Belvidere by blood. We’ll let it be thought you’re a distant cousin come to live with me as a companion in my old age. That’s plausible and will do for now. We’ll let them assume that you’re a maiden cousin looking for a place.”
I nodded, feeling the sting and reality of part of that and the relief that perhaps if I could earn my keep, I really could stay without becoming a burden. “I can be that companion to you, Aunt Hyacinth. I can keep house and cook.”
“We’ll work it out. It just might be a new beginning for both of us—though we must be careful not to exclude Gladys Percy, Celia’s mother. She’s been helping me with groceries and food, even a little cleaning and cooking now and again. I’ve needed the help, and she’s needed the work.”
“Celia said her father’s in jail for running moonshine.”
“Yes—he’s not been much account, but it’s not fair to judge. There’s no legitimate work in No Creek—not since this ugly Depression began. The few businesses that were here closed early on, except for the general store. So many folks have moved down into the cities, hoping for factory or mill work. Times are lifting, or so I’m told, but there’s still nothing here. Men are desperate for employment of any kind—anything that will put meat on the table and shoes on their children’s feet. Moonshine is the only income too many have, though few would admit to making or running it.” Aunt Hyacinth shifted in her chair. “No, I want to employ Gladys and her children as much as I can. Thanks to Papa’s Belvidere legacy and my savings over the years, that’s still possible. Gladys is raising those children—remarkable children, really—on her own in a bleak little cabin half a mile away. But I know there are other things that need doing around here that she doesn’t tell me—probably doesn’t want to hurt my feelings or take advantage. Now that you’re here, we’ll think on that.”
Chapter Five
CELIA THOUGHT IT GREAT GOOD FORTUNE that the roguishly handsome Reverend Willard happened along with Miz Hyacinth’s mail from the post office just as she and Chester stepped through the front gate to deliver a dinner basket. Roguish was a new word for Celia and she figured that, what with his shining brown eyes, the dimple in his chin, and all that thick wavy hair, it fit Reverend Willard to a T, despite him being the preacher. If he wasn’t so old—probably nearly thirty—she might have turned sweet on him herself.