Night Journey (23 page)

“Danny. Your baby brother.” Tyme glanced nervously at Ivy. “You don’t know about him?”

“I had a baby brother?”

“Don’t tell me they never told you?”

Ivy stared at Tyme. She felt her temperature rise. “No they didn’t. This is news to me.”

“Oh, dear. I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Tyme sighed and related the story. “You weren’t much more than a year old when he was born, just barely walking. But you always wanted to hold him. You used to call him your dolly.”

“I have no recollection of him.” Ivy shook her head. “What happened to him?”

“Well, of course you were way too young to remember. He seemed so big and healthy. Everybody just loved him. Then, when he was about four months old, he just died in his sleep. Nobody knows why. The doctors called it crib death.”

“So that’s what happened to Mama.” Ivy wiped a tear from her face. “Harry said she’d been wounded somehow and that’s why she acts the way she does. Now I know.”

“Yes, Ivy. But most people go through a grieving stage and then continue on with life. They pick up the pieces and love the ones who are left. But your Mama didn’t do that. She just withdrew into herself.”

“What did Papa do?”

“Well, he wanted to try again. Everyone said they should have more children to help fill the void left by Danny. But your mother wouldn’t have it. She moved out of Caleb’s bedroom and took up a career as an invalid.”

“Poor Papa.”

“Humph. Don’t feel sorry for him. He just went out and got himself a mistress. He did just fine.”

“Did Mama know about that?”

“Sure, she knew. She acted like she was hurt, but in truth I think she was relieved. It just gave her an excuse to continue down her own path of destruction.”

Ivy’s mind reeled. What a day of discovery this had turned out to be. She braced herself for the turn as Tyme drove the car down Doc Pruett’s bumpy old driveway.

“What time is it?”

Tyme glanced at her watch. “We’re a little early. They’ll be along soon.” She pulled up to Doc’s house and parked. “Boy, are they gonna be surprised.”

“Tyme, are you going to tell my father where you’ve gone?”

“Look, honey. That’s something I’ve got to talk to you about.” Tyme turned in her seat and gazed at Ivy. “I’ve got to disappear for a while. When everything blows over, I’ll write to you. But until then…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you remember Earl, the sheriff’s deputy? Well, he’s been sniffin’ around ever since that little brouhaha at the dance. He’s threatening me with an inquest.”

“For what?”

“For Chauncey, of course. He’s beginning to question the way he died.”

“I thought he died of natural causes.”

“Well, that’s what Doc Pruett put on the death certificate. Bleeding ulcers is what it says. But there was a little more to it than that—it was actually something he ate.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” Ivy shivered.

“Let’s back up a little before you go jumping to conclusions, okay?” Tyme’s hand shook as she lit another cigarette. “I want to tell you what happened.”

Ivy nodded and flexed her shoulders.

“We had a visitation that day from some G-men out of Washington DC. They were snooping all over the place like they owned it and Chauncey was nervous. I was tidying up in the store, minding my own business, when one of them came up to me and started asking questions.”

“Do you think they knew about all that money he had hidden?”

“I don’t know. That’s not the type of thing he was asking me. I remember he had a face like a bulldog’s and he acted real tough. Said his name was J something Hoover. Anyway, he told me he wanted to buy his sister a red satin corset, and he needed it in a rather large size. So I took him back to the ladies’ intimate apparel section.”

“He was buying a corset for his sister?” Ivy laughed and covered her mouth.

Tyme rolled her eyes. “That’s what I thought. But he kept holding it up to himself and looking in the mirror. I swear, his sister must have been really fat, because it would have fit him!”

“Did he buy it?”

“Um hm. And then Chauncey saw us and I knew I was in trouble.”

“Oh, gosh.”

“After they left, Chauncey pulled me upstairs and read me the riot act about flirting with other men. I tried to tell him I wasn’t that guy’s type, but he just smacked me across the jaw. He loosened this tooth right here.” Tyme pointed to her mouth. “Then he pulled out a knife and ran the tip across my right breast, going just deep enough to slice the skin. He promised me that the next time he caught me talking to any man he’d cut it off.” She opened her blouse and showed Ivy the scar.

“Oh, Tyme. What did you do?”

“Well, I knew he meant business and I’d had enough. So after I got my breast to stop bleeding, I walked into the kitchen and began preparing supper.”

“How did you manage to cook after what he’d done to you?”

“Oh, I really enjoyed it. I made him all his favorites. Chicken fried steak, green beans, mashed potatoes, and cream gravy. Only I added a little extra ingredient to the gravy. He gobbled it down like it was his last meal—hm, I guess it was.”

“What did you do?”

“I simply used my own, secret recipe.” Tyme grinned and lowered her voice. “A pinch of salt, a dash of black pepper—and a cup of rat poison.”

“You killed Chauncey?” Ivy shrank back, suddenly repulsed by the aunt she had grown to love so much.

Was Tyme a cold-blooded killer? She couldn’t believe it. Even though Chauncey had been an evil, domineering sadist, she still couldn’t condone murder. There must be more to the story than what appeared on the surface.

“Yes, Ivy. I did. And that’s why I have to run away.” The expression on Tyme’s face pleaded for understanding. “But I assure you, it was in self defense.”

Ivy reached for Tyme’s hand, ashamed at her flicker of doubt. She had faith that what her aunt was about to tell her would explain everything. “I’m sure it was. But why don’t you just go to the authorities and tell them what happened? There’s no need for you to be a fugitive.”

Tyme shrugged and lit another cigarette. “It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, yes. I guess you’d have to give up the money.”

“No, it’s not the money, although I guess in a way it’s all intertwined. I can’t go to the authorities. I already tried that once.”

“After he died, or before?”

“Before.” Her hand shook and tears welled in her eyes. “When things got so bad I feared for my life, I went to the sheriff and told him I thought Chauncey was trying to kill me. But he just laughed. You see, my husband was a charter member of the
Good Ole Boys Club
in this town. The sheriff must have told Chauncey what I said, because things just got worse after that. My complaints are probably the reason Earl got so suspicious of me afterwards.”

“But surely they’d understand, after the way he treated you?”

Tyme sniffed. “They didn’t care. But I knew for a while he was planning something. He’d been giving me little hints for several weeks that my days were numbered. Making remarks about what he’d do when I was dead and how glad he’d be when he was rid of me.”

“He actually said that?”

“Um hm. Twice in that final week he came up behind me while I was washing dishes and held my head underwater until I thought I was going to drown—and another time he shoved me down the stairs while I was carrying laundry. Stuff like that really amused him.”

“Such an evil man.” Ivy shook her head.

Tyme reached under her car seat and pulled out a large brown envelope. “I found this in another of Chauncey’s secret stashes the morning he—ahem—died. I walked in on him while he was hiding it inside a panel in the wall of our bedroom. He didn’t know I saw him and when he left the house I pulled it out. When I realized what it was, I knew for certain he was planning to kill me.”

Ivy opened the envelope and stared. Inside was a book entitled
The Coming Race
. A narrow piece of paper protruded from the top of the book and she pulled it out. It was a one-way passage ticket for a ship bound for Bremerhaven, Germany. The date of embarkation was February 12, 1938—one week after Chauncey’s death.

“What does this mean? Was he going to Germany?”

“Apparently so. And as you can see, there was only one ticket, and he wasn’t planning to return.” Tyme tapped her ashes out the window. “There’s no way he would have left me alone—and alive.”

Tyme reached for the ticket and turned it over. On the back, someone had handwritten the words
Thule Society
and beside it was a crudely drawn picture of a dagger atop a broken cross within a circle. Ivy gasped when she recognized the emblem.

“That’s the same symbol on the stickpins Chauncey and Jared wore. It also reminds me of that horrible necklace my father gave me to wear to the debutante ball.”

“Oh, my. Is Jared mixed up with them too?”

“Mixed up with whom?”

“The Thules. Chauncey called it a fraternal organization, but it’s really a secret society. I’m not surprised Jared’s a member after what you’ve told me.”

“Papa is a Mason. Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not at all.” Tyme stubbed out her cigarette. “I’ve heard that the Masons participate in secret rituals and handshakes and such. But these other groups—they’re deeply involved in the occult, maybe even satanic worship. I think there’s something very evil about the Thules.”

Ivy shivered, grateful she hadn’t given in and married Jared like her parents wanted. “Do they practice witchcraft?”

“I don’t really know what they do. But I did snoop around and hear some very disturbing things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I think Chauncey was involved with another sect within the Thules called the
Vrils
. I heard him talking to one of his
brothers
about some kind of flying saucer machine the Nazis had been building in caverns in Bavaria—I think Hitler himself is a member.”

“Oh, my gosh. Do you think that’s why Chauncey was planning to go there?”

Tyme shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. But I do know that I want to distance myself from this place and you should too. If that money was earmarked for the Nazis, it could prove dangerous for me and Clyde.”

Ivy shivered when she remembered what her friend Margot had said about Jared selling lead to the Nazis. Her father had laughed at her, but now she knew it must be true. Her instincts had been correct.

The sound of a car coming up the driveway interrupted the somber moment. But despite the day’s disturbing events and revelations, Ivy smiled when she saw Harry in the back of Doc’s old truck. She climbed out of Tyme’s car and ran to meet him, not even waiting for him to get out before she kissed him.

“Are you girls all right?” asked Doc.

“We’ve been worried sick about ya,” said Clyde.

“We’re fine,” replied Tyme. “Why’ve you been worried?”

Doc leaned against his truck, folded his arms, and replied, “’Cause right about now, your store’s burnin’ to the ground.”
Harry cuddled Ivy and stared out the back window of the car. She sighed softly and rested her head against his chest. A sense of wonder and excitement filled him to the bursting point. He ran his hand up and down her arm just to make sure she was really there and that he wasn’t dreaming.

He couldn’t believe what had just happened. The workweek had dragged by; he’d been so anxious to see Ivy again. He’d expected to spend the evening with her watching James Cagney’s latest movie, but instead, here they were riding in the back seat of a car on their way to Fort Smith to get married.

“How’re we gonna get a license this late in the day?” Harry leaned forward and looked at Tyme. “It’s after five. Courthouse is closed.”

“Doc has all that taken care of.”

When they arrived in town, they followed Doc Pruett’s truck onto a quiet, tree-lined street and parked in front of a big Victorian house.

“Whose place is this?” asked Ivy. She climbed out of the back seat and followed the others up the front steps.

“My friend, Tom’s. He’s one of my fishin’ buddies,” explained Doc as he rang the doorbell. “He’s also the county clerk.”

Tom welcomed them all inside, they went into the dining room, and sat at the massive oak table. He was already prepared for them, with the necessary paperwork spread out and ready to sign.

“Sure was glad Doc managed to get hold of me b’fore I left the courthouse.” Tom smiled warmly. “Always like to help nice young people who wanta get hitched.”

Their next stop was a used car lot owned by another of Doc’s friends. Tyme and Clyde wandered around and gazed at the inventory. They made their selection, handed the salesman some cash, and then transferred the steamer trunk, along with Tyme’s and Clyde’s possessions into the new car.

“Here ya go, Harry.” Clyde tossed him the keys to Tyme’s Model A.

Harry made the catch and looked at Clyde with a question in his eyes. “What’s this for?”

“It’s yours.” Tyme replied. “We’ve got no use for two cars now.”

“But…”

“No arguments,” Tyme scolded. “Just shut up and follow us.”

He couldn’t believe her generosity. Ivy’d told him her aunt had given them some money to get them started—and now she was giving them a car too! Ever since the box-supper auction, he’d been broke and forced to bum money off Clyde, but he’d kept a close tally. He’d sworn to repay every cent when he got paid.

Now he felt guilty about leaving the CCC so abruptly, but he knew it was necessary. After the girls had explained what had happened, he’d written a hasty note to Sarge, letting him know that he and Clyde wouldn’t be coming back. He’d sealed the envelope, stuffed it into Doc’s mailbox, and raised the flag.

Ivy giggled and climbed into the front seat beside Harry. He started the engine and followed the two lead cars down the street, caravan style. They drove to the edge of town and then turned into a driveway beside a small country church. Harry parked, helped Ivy out, and followed the others into the parsonage.

The pastor greeted them at the door and motioned for them to come into the parlor. A plump, elderly woman walked in, wiping her hands on her apron.

“My wife, Martha, will play for the ceremony,” said the minister. She smiled, went over to an upright piano, and began to play the wedding march.

“Licenses all in order?” The pastor scanned the documents, his bifocals riding low on the tip of his nose. When he was satisfied, he nodded to his wife at the piano and she stopped playing. “If everyone’s ready, I’ll ask you to please stand here and join hands. Martha, we’ll need you and Doc to act as witnesses. Do you have any rings?”

Harry and Clyde looked at each other and shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter. You can always get ‘em later,” said the pastor and then proceeded with the ceremony.

Moments later, both couples repeated their vows. Overwhelmed with joy, Harry had to fight to keep the gravel out of his voice. He promised to love Ivy forever, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do they part—and he meant every word of it.

“I love you, Harry,” Ivy whispered.

Choked with emotion, Harry just smiled and obeyed the pastor’s invitation to kiss the bride. He couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t Ivy Turner anymore. She was now Ivy Fuller. And he was the happiest man in the world.

Doc Pruett beamed at both sets of newlyweds. “Well, I guess it’s about time for me to head on back to my place.” He stuffed the completed marriage licenses in his jacket pocket. “I’ll make sure these get filed first thing Monday morning. Write me when you get settled and I’ll send you your copies. Sure am gonna miss you all.”

“Thank you so much for everything,” Tyme said. She and Ivy hugged him and the men shook his hand. “We’d never have been able to pull this off without your help.”

“All right, now. Ya’ll go on and git.”

The four newlyweds waved at Doc as he pulled his old truck onto the road and drove away. Harry put his arm around his bride and turned to Clyde and Tyme. “So now what?”

“So now we all go start our new lives,” replied Tyme. She reached over and embraced both Ivy and Harry. “We’ll try to contact you when everything settles down, okay? Goodbye. Love you both.”

Harry and Ivy stood and waved until the car disappeared into the gloom.
Darkness descended on the newlyweds as they drove south on the winding forest road. They’d left the Ozarks far behind, but now the elevation rose again as they made their way through the Ouachita Mountains. Intermittent rain made driving difficult and reduced visibility. Ivy’s body tensed as the car’s headlights sliced a path through the thickening fog. Not wanting to distract Harry, she remained silent.