The Devil's Beating His Wife (8 page)

This was only a misunderstanding. She blamed me for what happened to her brother, but she would understand that I had no part in his murder. My thoughts turned inward. I concentrated on soothing my pain. "She will forgive me," I pledged.

"Ain't you comin' in to eat?" asked a timid voice.

My heart clenched in my chest. I wasn't aware that someone else had entered the barn. Rage began to consume me as I turned to confront the intruder.

"Go back to the house, Mary-Alice," I ordered, staring her down.

She looked back at me with concern on her face. She glanced over my body and took notice of my fingers rubbing my thigh.

She knelt down before me. Her fingers reached out to touch my thigh. "Do you want me to help you?"

I slapped her hand away and fought down revulsion. The lingering smell of fried beef and fresh onions clung to Mary-Alice's body. "I'm okay, Mary-Alice. Go back to the house."

Instead of following my order, she sat back on her heels. She placed her hands on her thighs, causing her skirt to lift and expose her satiny skin. "I don't want to be in there at the moment." She glanced towards the house. Through the kitchen windows I could see Carver, Nixon, Richard, and Charlie seated around the table.

Mary-Alice turned back towards me and smiled sadly. "I'd rather keep you company, if you don't mind."

I pushed away from my spot on the hay. I grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. My fingers clenched her skin tightly as I started to drag her back to the house.

She grabbed onto my hand and squeezed. Her feet dug into the ground, abruptly stopping our progress. The sudden move caused me to lose my balance, and to my embarrassment, I stumbled towards her. She grabbed me around my hips and looked into my eyes. She lifted a finger to her lips and took my hand into hers.

Right there, not more than a stone's throw from my brother's house, we stood in the darkness and looked at each other. She lifted her hand and sunk her fingers deep into my hair. Abandoning thoughts of rejoining the others, I welcomed the softness of her warm touch. There was no rejection here, only acceptance.

Mary-Alice lifted her finger to her mouth again. She tugged at my hand and led me back to the barn. When we stepped through the doors, I shuffled away from her and returned to my seat on the hay. I rubbed my hands over my eyes, fearing that I was about to make a bad decision.

She sauntered over to me and sat down beside me. Her fingers clasped my weakened thigh. This time, I didn't push her away. She gave me a shy look and then began to press her fingers deep into the tortured muscle. I groaned with pleasure as she kneaded away a particular painful spasm.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Her eyes were lowered, focused entirely on her task.

I stared down at her. Her red bottom lip was captured between her teeth. I looked lower and caught sight of the hollow between her breasts. She glanced up at me and then followed the direction of my gaze. Without saying a word, she moved towards me and placed her mouth against mine.

The softness of her lips was surprising. The feel of her smooth skin quite refreshing. I looked over her features and took note of her small nose and big eyes. Then I closed my eyes and allowed my fingers to roam over her body.

Just at that moment, the scent of honeysuckle filled my nose. In my mind, the woman with me didn't have light brown hair and pale gray eyes. No. My dream lover had rich brown skin. Tightly coiled black hair and dark eyes. Her lips were fuller. Her nose broader.

The kiss turned harder. More desperate. I wrapped my arms around her waist, turned our bodies, and placed her beneath me. I kept my eyes tightly closed as I kissed her neck and inhaled the sweetness of her skin. A hint of honeysuckle spurred me to raise the skirt of her dress around her waist. I planted myself firmly between her thighs and waited for her next move.

She welcomed me. Her arms wrapped firmly around my shoulders. Her legs fell open, allowing me access. I pulled down her drawers and let my fingers comb through the fine curls there. I had to tell myself what I felt was actually coarser than what I encountered. I had to tell myself that the woman beneath me was my Spicey. Not my sister-in-law.

She fumbled at my zipper and released my dick from my pants. I could hear her heavy breathing as she guided me into her wet pussy. I shoved her hands away as I pushed deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around me, causing me to sink deeper into her.

My thrusts were uncontrollable. She wanted to touch me, but I didn't allow her to. I kept her hands pinned to her sides as I hammered into her. Just as my body neared completion, I could feel Mary-Alice lurch under me as if she wanted to buck me off. Right before I came, I pulled from her body and spent myself into the golden hay beside her leg. A name slipped from my lips.

"You're such an ass," she said, slamming her fist into my stomach.

I doubled over from the impact. My body reeled as pleasure shifted to pain. I opened my eyes and looked down into the pissed-off face of Mary-Alice.

"I hate you," she said, pounding her fists into me.

Groaning loudly, I rolled off her and stood up. I shoved my shirt back into my pants as she laid curses onto my head.

"I'm telling Carver," she said, pushing herself up from the hay.

Those words chilled me. The shallow glow faded from my body. I bent forward and wrapped my hands around her throat. Applying a bit of pressure, I waited for her eyes to widen with shock before I said, "You will do no such thing."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I hate you."

"We've already established that." I felt disgusted with myself. I had broken an old vow—never to touch this woman again. Now, I had to live with yet another mistake.

Mary-Alice's mouth opened and closed. She raised her hands to cover her face as she wept softly. "I told myself that this would never happen," she said. "Not with you."

I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to deal with her tears. "I need to go."

"You used me. And I let you. But that's not the worst of it. You called me her name." She pushed against my chest, and I stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. "You called me Spicey. Why don't you see that she hates you? She has always hated you. I gave you my virginity, but that didn't matter to you. Only she mattered."

This time when she made to push me, I grabbed her hands and forced her back towards the wall of the barn. I lowered my face towards hers. "You and I both know I wasn't the first. Did Carver believe that lie? Did he believe your tears as you told him that he nearly ripped you apart? My brother's a fool if he believed that."

"You used me and got me pregnant. Then you left me and joined the Army," she whispered.

I shook my head. This was an old, tired argument between us. "Molly wasn't mine."

"How can you say that? Everyone said she favored you over Carver. You know she was yours." She shook her head as if to rid it of disbelief. "But you didn't want me or our daughter. You wanted that little nigger."

That word coming from her lips truly incensed me. "Don't you ever use that word around me." I slammed my fist into the wood near her head. She shrunk away from me as fear crept into her eyes. "Now you and I both know that Molly was born over nine months after we were last together. You had already moved on to Carver by then. That child was not mine."

She closed her eyes and sunk down onto the floor. She wept as I stepped away from her and left the dark barn. As I walked away, I glanced towards the house and saw that the boys were still laughing and drinking in the kitchen. With my head lowered, I shot one last glance in Mary-Alice's direction and then I started my long walk home.

CHAPTER FOUR

April 12, 1945, Wilkinson County, Georgia

Cold water poured down on me. I flopped onto the floor like a suffocating fish. My drenched pajamas clung to my body. I swiped my hand over my face to stop the water from dripping into my eyes. "What the hell?"

There hovering over me was my mother. Her skin was flushed. Her breaths were quick and shallow. "I can't think of another time when I have been so disgusted with you, Baxter."

I blinked a few times before I realized that she was angry. Very, very angry with me.

"It's all over town, what you did yesterday! What is wrong with you? Can't you think with something other than your dick?" She shrieked and threw the tin bucket at my head.

I ducked just in time. The bucket collided with the headboard and banged to the ground. Mother launched towards me and slapped me across my face. "Why can't you leave that poor woman alone?"

That was an abrupt change. Mary-Alice had gone from being a slut to that poor woman. I didn't think Mother had it in her. "Mother, please calm down. I can explain what happened yesterday. It never should have happened. I hadn't been thinking clearly."

"That's obvious, Baxter."

She watched me from the corner of her eye as her face was turned away from me. Not only was I disgusted with myself, but I had also deeply shamed my mother. Oh, God. If she knew, then surely Carver knew as well.

"I know what you're thinking. How could I have done this to Carver, but I—"

Her hand sliced the air, cutting off my words. "Leave Carver out of this."

I could feel my mouth fall open. "But he's a part of this."

"I know that, you dumb ass. None of us would be where we were if your hot-headed brother hadn't hurt that boy. But that stupid slut of his told everyone that boy had tried to molest her. If you believe me, she probably led him on." Her voice rose as she advanced towards me. "Baxter, don't you dare turn this subject around. How could you be so stupid? Going over to Ms. Della's store and terrorizing the colored folk!"

I shook my head as the words settled into my mind. Ms. Della's store? Relief flooded me and a chuckle escaped from my mouth as I realized we were talking about two different things. Mother raised her hand as if to strike me again, and I crouched away. "Hold on. Let me explain."

She lowered her hand and placed it on her hip. She cocked her head and waited for me to explain myself.

"I went there to see Spicey."

"I figured that out already." Mother shook her head. "Leave that girl and her mama alone." Her dirty fingers twitched. She had probably been in her victory garden, pulling at weeds and planting green beans when some gossip gave her the news.

"How did Ms. Della get that store?" I asked her. They said she had inherited money from some kinfolk. I wondered who had that type of money tucked away.

"Stop changing the subject. I have told you time and time again to leave that poor girl alone." Even though Mother's lips were white with rage, her eyes dropped meekly to the floor. As she adjusted the skirt of her dress, she struck a contrasting image, wearing a lovely blue checkered dress with my father's dusty, trail-worn boots. I could tell she was hiding something from me.

"Are
you
dodging my question?"

She closed her eyes. I could see her lips moving as she counted for patience.

Deciding the best way to learn her secrets was to share a bit of my own, I said, "Yes, I went to see Spicey. No, I will never leave her alone. She's mine."

Her eyes opened and locked on my face. Sadness was drawn in her features. "It will never be, Baxter. It will never be."

She stepped around me and leaned over the bed to grab the water bucket. When she straightened, the sadness had disappeared from her face. In its place was rigid determination. "I'm going to have that party for you. There's a fabulous young thing that I swear's gonna be up your alley. You trust me, now, Baxter. She'll set you to rights."

"I don't want anyone but Spicey, mother."

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she stared back at me. "You know that can't be, Baxter. That will never, ever happen."

A white man with a black woman wasn't the most common of things. I had only heard of one other couple, and that hadn't ended with the most positive of circumstances. The residents of Allentown would never approve, but it wasn't their choice to make. They could continue living in this divided environment while me and Spicey would find ourselves our own bit of heaven and live out the remainder of our existence peacefully.

Of course, the only thing I had to worry about now was getting into Spicey's good graces.

"So what do you know about Ms. Della's store?"

Tears fell down Mother's cheeks. She used the back of her hands to wipe away their trails. "Baxter. Leave. It. Be."

Seeing the upset in my mother's eyes only heightened my curiosity. But her tears stopped me from asking any more questions. If I kept at it, she would begin to wail and blubber, and then she'd expect me to comfort her as she wept into my shirt. I was just starting to dry off from the water she dumped on me, and I wasn't looking to get soaked again with her fresh tears.

"Cecilia!" My father's bellow torpedoed through the floorboards and ricocheted off the walls. "Did you kill my boy?"

Mother's head fell back as she looked towards the ceiling. As she rolled her eyes, the tears retreated. She shook her head and said, "No. Your little bastard is safe and sound." Mother punched my shoulder. "Tell your father that I didn't kill you."

"She tried, Daddy. She really did." I fell back on top of the bed, just missing her swinging hand. I lifted my hands to protect my head. "Pax. Pax."

The heavy sounds of Father's footsteps stopped Mother's progress. She kicked her foot out and closed the door in his face. He simply grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and entered the room.

There I was, a grown man, sitting on the edge of my bed with my head hanging low as both my parents stared down at me with disappointment. Mother disapproved of my continued courtship of Spicey. Father, well, he was disappointed about something. I just didn't know what it was.

"While you were up here trying to kill Baxter, our other son dropped by to say hello." His blue eyes bore into mine. The corner of his lips turned downward as he cleared his throat. "I'm glad your mother wasn't successful. She had plotted this for most of the night."