Greg Iles - Blood Memory

“This old house was falling down back then, but it sat apart from the others, and I liked that. So Luke fixed it up for me. He said he was fixing it up for himself, so Dr. Kirkland wouldn’t pay no mind. But then I started using it when Luke was gone. After a while, we’d stay in here together. Everybody knew, but nobody said nothing, since Dr. Kirkland didn’t. Some of these women round here called me a ho, but I didn’t pay no mind. Narrow-minded and mean, most of them.”

“My grandfather knew about the affair?”

“He’d have to have been blind not to. And that’s one thing Dr. Kirkland ain’t. ”

“What do you think about my grandfather, Louise?”

She takes her time answering. “Dr. Kirkland’s a hard man, in some ways. But soft in others. He’s tough on dogs and horses. He’s good at taking care of people, though. Saved a lot of lives out here over the years. Saved my uncle after a chain saw accident. Lost his arm at the shoulder and damn near bled to death, but Dr. Kirkland pulled him through. The doctor’s got a temper, now. If he gets mad, there’s hell to pay. Luke’s the only man I ever saw defy him and get away with it.”

“When was this?” I’m sure I never saw anything like that. In my experience, Grandpapa’s word was always law.

“Dr. Kirkland and a cousin of mine was breaking some horses one spring. One of those broncs was stubborn, and Dr. Kirkland lost his head. He tied that horse to a fence and started beating it with a hoe. That animal was screaming something terrible. Dr. Kirkland was using the handle end at first, but the more he beat that horse, the madder he got. I think he was about to flip that hoe around and start chopping that poor creature to pieces when Luke grabbed his arm.”

“No,” I whisper, unable to imagine such a scene.

She nods once with an exaggerated motion. “Dr. Kirkland’s a big man, you know that. And strong as an ox back then. But Luke knew things he never showed nobody. He caught ahold of Dr. Kirkland’s arm some way that he couldn’t move it. Dr. Kirkland was yelling he was gonna kill Luke when he got loose. He tried to beat Luke with his other hand, but Luke did something to that arm he was holding, and Dr. Kirkland turned white and dropped down to his knees.”

“My God. What happened?”

“Luke kept squeezing until Dr. Kirkland let go of that hoe. Then Luke patted that horse, turned, and walked off into the woods.”

“Did my grandfather do anything to get back at Luke?”

Louise shakes her head. “I reckon he did. He shot that horse five minutes later.”

“Jesus.”

“It don’t pay to cross Dr. Kirkland. He don’t play.”

A strange current of emotion wells up from my soul. “Louise, what would you say if I told you Grandpapa killed Luke that night? Not a prowler?”

She stares at me for several moments, then begins shaking her head like a superstitious native confronted by a ghost. “Don’t tell me nothing like that. I don’t even want to think that.”

“If it scares you that much,” I say softly, “you must think it could be true.”

She finally stops shaking her head. “What are you saying, Cat?”

“Nothing. Crazy thoughts.” I want to tell her what I know, but something stops me. Is it my lack of proof of Grandpapa’s motive or just common decency? Louise has precious memories of my father. What good could it do for me to smudge them with accusations of child molestation? “May I see your bedroom, Louise?”

A knowing expression comes into her face. “You want to see if Luke built the bed.”

“Yes.”

“Come look.”

She leads me to a door set in the back wall and opens it. In the small bedroom beyond stands a bed that looks as if it belongs in a Manhattan loft. Four brushed-steel posts support an oval-shaped canopy frame, and within the headboard and footboard are ornate patterns rendered in different metals, some of them reminiscent of the mandala on Dr. Malik’s office wall. It’s one of the most detailed pieces my father ever did.

“My God,” I whisper. “Do you know what that bed is worth?”

Louise laughs. “I got an idea. I guess this bed is what I’ve got instead of retirement.”

“Please don’t let anybody steal it. And if you ever want to sell it, give me a call.”

“I may take you up on that one day.”

She leads me back into the front room, and we stand in a suddenly awkward silence. The economic gulf between us could scarcely be greater than it is.

“How old are you, Louise?”

“Forty-six.”

Older than I thought, but still only fifteen years older than I am. “What do you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She looks at the floor. “I got a man here takes care of me. I just keep up this house for…well, you know why.”

This wasn’t what I was hoping to hear. “Is the man Jesse Billups?”

Louise sighs, and for a moment I dread her answer. “Not Jesse,” she says. “Henry. The man who drove you onto the island. He ain’t pretty like Luke, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Are you married?”

“I ain’t interested in getting married. I dreamed of it for a long time, but…the man I wanted to marry got killed. That was the end of that dream for me.”

I reach out and take hold of her hand. I never met this woman before today, yet I feel more intimately bound to her than to people I’ve known my whole life. When I think about what Grandpapa told me about my father’s death, it makes no sense. How could the man this woman loved so profoundly commit unspeakable acts with a child? With his own child. And yet…the professional in me knows that such things happen.

“Sounds like the rain’s slacked up,” Louise says.

“You’re right. I should go now, while I can. Do you have a car?”

She shakes her head. “No, and Henry’s gone to Lafayette to see his kids. They stay with his ex-wife.”

“What about Jesse?”

She opens a kitchen drawer and takes out a cell phone. After dialing, she listens, then says, “Jesse, this is Louise. I still got Miss Ferry with me at my place. She needs to get back to Natchez. You carry your narrow ass back here and take her to her car. Call me back and tell me you’re on your way.”

She hangs up and looks at me helplessly.

“Does anybody else have a car we can borrow?” I ask.

“Lots of people here own cars, but they keep them on the mainland, by the ferry dock.”

“What do they use for transportation here?”

“There’s five pickups on the island, and Jesse got the keys to all of them. Use to be, lots of people had keys. But Dr. Kirkland started complaining about the gas they were using, so Jesse keeps all the keys now.”

“What do you do in an emergency?”

“Make do. But Jesse’ll call back in a minute. He’s probably just checking that everything’s tied down tight for the storm. The fishing boat on the south end, maybe.”

“No, he left the island. He said he had to get some supplies on the mainland.”

Louise looks bewildered. “That’s funny. Jesse don’t leave the island too often. And never at the same time Henry’s gone.”

“Somebody called his cell phone, and he said he had to leave right then.”

“He say who it was?”

“No.”

“That don’t sound right.” She shrugs, then goes to the front window and looks out. The sky is darker, if anything. “If Jesse doesn’t call back, you can stay the night with me. I know it’s not what you’re used to, but I can sleep on the sofa. You can sleep in the bed your daddy made.”

I stand motionless in the close air of the shack, listening to the rain drumming over the drone of the air conditioner. My skin is crawling. “There’s no guarantee the bridge will be there tomorrow, is there?”