Lovesick by James Driggers Page B

other. You said you think Miss Virginia is your mam. What makes you believe that?” he asked.
    â€œShe hates me, calls me her albatross, her millstone. But even so, she would never turn me out—and there were some hard times before we got to Fayetteville. Some hard times. But she always kept me close, even when there was no need for her to have a child with her. At least not until the major.”
    â€œShe told the major the truth about you?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “The afternoon he was supposed to come to supper I asked her what was going to happen to me if he proposed. She said I was free to come along with them as long as it was convenient for everyone involved.
    â€œWhen I asked her what that meant, she said I could come or I could go—she had done her duty by me, that she had made sacrifices aplenty for me, and she had been on her own younger than me. That’s when I told her that I knew. What I think.”
    â€œWhat did she say?”
    â€œShe told me that I was crazy. Told me that she had helped her friend by taking me in. But when I ask her about Dorothea, she doesn’t ever have anything to say. Where she came from. Who her people were. Why is that? If I was this woman’s child, don’t you think she would want me to know that?”
    â€œMaybe there isn’t anything to tell.”
    â€œI know it, Mr. Butcher. I know it. Anyway, we had a terrible row. I told her I would tell the major if she didn’t.”
    â€œAnd did you?”
    Mona smiled, but only slightly. “Didn’t have to. As we were fighting, the major came by. I’m not sure why. But he heard it all. And he left. Plain and simple. I hid from her. She started drinking and was so angry that I knew she would hit me if she could find me. I heard her calling and calling. But then you stepped in. Brought her the pie. She said it was like the sky opened up and she saw a rainbow that night when you came to the house. A rainbow with a pot of gold.”
    Butcher could tell from her face that there was more.
    â€œShe’s a liar, Mr. Butcher. She don’t care for no one but herself.”
    â€œBut why are you telling me this?” Butcher asked.
    â€œWhen she drinks, she talks. Doesn’t remember what she tells me, what she says. She laughs about how you think she is just going to hand over half that prize money. That once she gets it, she is free and clear all the way to California.”
    Butcher wondered why the walls of the café didn’t fall away from him, why the buildings around them didn’t suddenly crumble from their foundations. He had taught this woman, trusted her.
    â€œDon’t say that, Miss Mona. I worked with her. Partnered with her. She knows she couldn’t have done any of this without me.”
    â€œBut now she can. And if she wins, I swear you won’t see nothing of her but hind parts and elbows.”
    Butcher wanted to throw the ceramic mug against the wall, watch it smash. “She owes me,” he said.
    â€œShe owes us both,” said Mona.

8
    aspic . . .
    When Virginia woke, Mona had already set out a breakfast tray for her—just coffee and a roll. Her two day dresses hung on the back of the closet door: One was a simple yellow shirtwaist; the other was a lilac summer dress, pleated in the front and with capelet sleeves. On the dresser lay a faceted blue glass brooch and earrings she planned to wear with the summer dress, a multicolored flowered rhinestone pin to wear against the buttercream shirtwaist. Which to wear? She quickly decided on the yellow. It was straightforward enough for a day of cooking, but still would set her apart from the mob. She had also purchased an embroidered pleated bib apron to show her practical mindedness. Though everything depended on her performance today, she was not nervous. She was ready. Mona sat in the chair by the window, drinking coffee, staring mindlessly out the window.
    â€œWhat