The Devil's Beating His Wife (34 page)

Throwing my hands into the air, I stepped towards him. Smiling happily, I said, "Okay. I'll do it. I ain't happy about it, but I'll do it if it means everything will be settled between us."

Baxter nodded. "It will." He raised his arms to wrap them around me, but I swatted him away.

"If we're going to do this, we are going to do it my way. I'm the one who'll be attending the funeral."

"He was my brother."

"Yeah, and I killed him. And I'm quite pleased about it. But your nephew will be in attendance. He was quite young when you died, but maybe he saw a few pictures of you. He could recognize your big head, and then where would we be? No, it's better if I go."

Baxter crossed his arms. His lips puckered as he considered my words. "You fail to consider the most important thing. My brother hated your kind. You'll look mighty out of place there, especially to people who think like him."

I leaned onto my toes and brushed my lips across his. "Don't you worry about that. I have it all figured out. Trust me." I placed my hands on his shoulders and drew him towards me. As he leaned into my chest, I wrapped my arms around him and we began to merge. The swift cool wind flowed through us as our souls blended together.

Once Baxter had settled into place, I tugged at my white dress. "First thing we need to do is find something appropriate to wear."

Is that why we're in Minnie-Belle's closet?

"Uh huh." I turned to a rack full of colorful dresses. I pushed them aside as I searched for the perfect dress. My hands settled on a bright red piece, and I pulled it from its hanger. "Excellent."

You ain't wearing no red to my brother's funeral.

"Shut up, Baxter." I pulled my dress over my shoulders and let it drop to the ground. I grabbed Minnie-Belle's dress and tossed it over my head. It was maybe a size too large for me, but I liked the way it draped. Then I walked over to her assortment of shoes and found a pair of black pumps. "See here. I'll be wearing something black." Baxter squirmed inside of me as I slid the shoes onto my feet.

I combed my fingers through my hair before I walked to the closet door and peeked out. No one was around. The residents had been taken up to Atlanta where they would all be enjoying a little excursion. Only a few people remained, and most of them were outside on the patio.

We crept from the dark closet and stepped out into Minnie-Belle's sunny room. On her bureau was an assortment of makeup and perfumes. Turning to face her vanity mirror, I grabbed a ruby red lipstick and applied it to my lips. "Admit it, Baxter. You ain't never looked this good."

He groaned as we left the room and walked down the deserted hallway. We didn't pass a single person as we exited the home. It took us about twenty minutes to walk to the old cemetery. When we got there, I noticed a row of black sedans parked on the hill where the colored folks were buried.

Oh, dear Lord. Please tell me they ain't burying him in the colored section.

We walked up the slope and made our way towards the small group of people attending Carver's funeral. As I passed by mourners, I could feel their scrutiny. I nodded at one particularly surprised older woman. The handkerchief that had been pressed to her eyes floated to the ground as she stared at me, quite dry-eyed.

Carver's son, Frankie, stepped away from the preacher who had been talking. He moved towards me with confusion in his eyes. "Ma'am? Are you in the right place?"

I tossed my hair and pretended innocence. "Are you little Frankie? Carver sure did love talking about you." I lifted my hand and grabbed his cheek. "Ain't you just handsome."

His mouth fell open as he politely brushed aside my hand. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you." I grinned broadly and waved at the others.

I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe I'm allowing this to happen, but I honestly want to know what they are about to do with you, Spicey girl.

I brushed my shoulder against Frankie's arm. "I knew your father quite well," I whispered.

He strained to hear my words. Then he rocked backwards as if the words had been a crushing blow. "I don't think I understand what you mean."

I winked at him. "Yes, you do." I giggled and shrugged my shoulders. I left his side and walked over to the mound of dirt that covered Carver's freshly buried casket. "Oh, shoot. Did I miss it? Oh, baby, please forgive me. I told you I'd be here, but I'm late." I sighed loudly. "I wanted to touch your hand one last time." I brushed away a pretend tear. "But, I'll settle for one final dance with you." I raised my arms as if I was about to begin a waltz. For the next minute, Carver's friends and family stared in silence as I gleefully danced on his grave. When I finished, I dropped my hands to my side and lowered my eyes. I was sure that I must have looked contrite. "I did this. I killed him." I collapsed, faking a gut-wrenching sob.

There was a loud murmur amongst the crowd. I could hear shocked and appalled gasps while they watched my shoulders convulse. I bet they thought I shook with sorrow. Imagine their faces if they'd known it was laughter.

I hope you're proud of yourself.

"Actually, I am. That was an award-winning performance, if you ask me," I said under my breath.

Frankie came to stand over me. He offered me a hand, and I stared at it for a moment before taking it. He pulled me to my feet and embraced me. The hug shocked me into silence.

"I always knew Daddy had his secrets. If only I had known," he whispered into my ear. He pushed me away and stared into my eyes. "I just hope you gave him happiness in his last few days."

I hiccuped. "I gave him something alright. Happiness, I'm not sure."

Frankie began to weep and pulled me back into his embrace. I wrapped my arms around him, unsure of how to proceed. Then, I felt Baxter take control as his arms tightened around his nephew. We stood there as everyone watched. I felt as if Baxter was pressed against my back, and we formed some kind of strange spiritual sandwich. Frankie finally retreated, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Thank you," he said.

Awkwardly, I patted his shoulder. "You're quite welcome." Then with a jaunty wave, I said to the others. "Goodbye now. Enjoy your day." Before anyone could stop me, I scampered away. I fled across the grass and barely noticed when I passed my own mother's grave.

Thank you.

"Why are you thanking me?" I asked as I walked briskly down the hill.

I don't know really, but you can be sure I'm not thanking you for dancing on my brother's grave. I guess I'm thankful that I was able to say goodbye to my nephew.

I halted. "Would you like to see your grave?"

I could feel his denial.
No. It would do no good since I know I'm not there.

No, he wasn't. He was right here with me. I resumed walking out of the graveyard. The walk home seemed shorter than the walk to the funeral. As we grew closer to the community, Baxter separated from me. I expected us to resurrect on the grounds of Colsen's farm. But rather than reappear in our usual spot, we were left standing on the boundary of the land.

I stared at Baxter, and he looked back at me. I knew the confusion on his face was mirrored in my own. We stepped forward and found ourselves blocked by a strong, magnetic push. Its force propelled us backwards, and we stumbled onto the main road.

"What was that?"

Baxter shook his head. "I don't know." He got to his feet and brushed his pants off. We once again tried to enter the property, and we were once again forcibly stopped.

We stood beside each other and stared up towards the main house. "Let's try this again," I said.

Baxter tried to step forward, but he couldn't. I put my hands up and felt around until I felt the invisible barrier that blocked our entrance. I pushed at it and felt my hands slide into a gel-like substance.

I could see Colsen Manor ahead. I could hear Baxter shouting as he watched me be swallowed up by the big wall of nothingness. I could feel my soul getting lighter and lighter.

"Now that I've got your attention, I've got something to ask you." Colsen appeared in the void.

I glanced over my shoulder, and I saw Baxter pounding against the barrier. I was here, and he was there. I could see him, but he couldn't see me.

"Where am I?" I never took my eyes from Baxter. I watched as he fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

"Spicey!" I felt the vibration when he yelled my name.

Colsen looked through the wall. His face soured as he stared at Baxter. "How keen are you on him?"

"I don't understand. Why does it matter?"

The black holes burned into my soul. I knew it was some kind of test. One that would decide my ultimate fate.

"It's a damn shame what that boy did to you. I watched as it happened. Of course, I didn't do anything to stop it. That wasn't my place. But, I figured you got the sour end of a raw deal, so I gave you a reprieve." He scratched at the gnarly hairs on his chin and puckered his lips. "And between you and me, I was just being plain ornery keeping him about. I thought it would be fun watching you two fight like cats and dogs. Imagine my surprise when it didn't turn out like I'd expected. So, I guess what I'm saying is, I'm gonna let you choose your fate."

"How?" I don't know why I even bothered to ask. I knew he was going to make it all very clear to me.

"You can step forward and enter Heaven. Or, you can step back—"

I gasped. "And enter Hell?"

"Girl," Colsen said, wagging his finger. "Don't go interrupting me when I'm feeling charitable. I was going to say that you can take a step back and be with him. I'm giving you a choice."

"Why me? Why not him?"

Colsen pointed at Baxter's bent head. "I don't think he really deserves one, dontcha think?"

I shook my head and glanced at Baxter. "You're wrong. He deserves a choice, too."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, I ain't givin' him one. So make up your mind, I ain't got all day to be lollygagging." He rocked on his heels as his chest puffed up with importance. "Someone's about to croak."

"Who?"

"You're trying my patience, girl."

"I'm sorry."

He lifted his hand and waved away my words. "Make your choice."

I looked deeper into the void and noticed the warmth emanating ahead of me. It heated the skin of my face and arms while the coldness behind me chilled my back and legs. I closed my eyes and allowed the warmth to overwhelm me. Such an easy choice. An eternity in such warmth. It filled me up and made me feel so alive.

I opened my eyes slowly and looked at Colsen. He smiled as he saw the decision deep in my eyes. I drew a deep breath, lifted my leg, and took a large step backwards.

My elbow must have slipped through first because I felt Baxter's fingers curl around it. He pulled on me and I fell back through the invisible wall. He spun me around and wrapped his arms around me.

"Spicey. Spicey." He kept repeating my name in my ear.

I reached over his shoulder to touch the wall. I wanted to feel one last bit of warmth before it finally faded away. But the nothing had become nothing.

"I think we can go home now."

He tightened his arms around me. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you."

"I'm right here, so you don't need to worry about that no more." I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. A chilling breeze flowed over us.

I loved this man, but I would be damned before I ever told him that. "Take me home, Baxter."

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Thank you for reading! Good, Bad, or Ugly, please leave a review! If you are interested in my other books, please visit my website: http://siobhanbeabhar.com/ and join my mailing list: http://eepurl.com/M7BKz

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Acknowledgments

I would like to thank so many people for their love and support during this process. I must thank my mom and dad. They think that I'm crazy for not using my law degree, but they've always supported my dreams. My thanks to my sisters; we're all a bit crazy. I'd love to be successful enough to treat them all to a grand vacation!

I wish to thank Cagnes for creating the wonderful cover. Many thanks to my editors: Elizabeth Stock and Martin Coffee.

Finally, thank you for sharing your time with me!

Copyright

The Devil's Beating His Wife

Copyright © 2015 Siobhán Béabhar

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.