Peter Matthiessen - Shadow Country

“Folks always thought of Eddie as pretty meek and mild behind his bluster, but lately he took to hinting how he’s a chip off the old block, might have a violent streak. Figured your average American might take to an insurance man with a dangerous past and he weren’t wrong. Even hauled out a copy of your list, let on as how he went down to the Islands took care of them ringleaders. ‘Didn’t have no choice,’ he told ’em. ‘Watson honor.’ ”

Chortling, Tant wrote down the phone number of Pearl Watson’s institution. “She’d be tickled to hear from you,” he said.

In parting, Tant clung a moment to his hand. “You could always count on your backdoor family, Lucius, and you still can, what’s left of us.”

Pearl Watson had been nine or ten when their father was killed, a self-starved creature, a fugitive from the sun whose thin pale hair with its thin white ribbon let her scalp shine through. At Caxambas that black autumn, Tant had said, the child had been dumbstruck by her father’s death and terrified by the outcry of her mother, who had lost her infant son and fled her agony for days with shrieks of woe.

Pearl’s frail voice came over the wire after a long wait.

Who are you? Who is calling?

This is Lucius. Your brother Lucius.

Brother Who?

Pearl, this is Lucius. I just called to say hello, see how you were getting along.

Why are you hollering? Did you say Lucius? Oh Good Lord! Oh, Lucius honey, I was so worried, sweetheart! Lucius? Do you look awful, too? Where are you? Why are you calling?

Please, Pearl, don’t upset yourself. I just wanted to hear your voice. Pearl honey? I’m so sorry I haven’t called before. I never knew you’d gone away.

What’s become of you, sweetheart? Why haven’t you called?

I-well, I’ve been so busy doing a book about our father.

Our Father Who Art in Heaven. Those men killed Mr. E. J. Watson, blew him to Kingdom Come-did you know that?

Pearl, listen-

Did you know J. stood for Jack? Did you know my mother married up with E. Jack Watson? Had a daughter by Mister Jack and that was me so how come you forgot me?

Pearl? Don’t cry-

When E. Jack Watson died my mother was still married to him, common-law. My mother loved him, too, all except his temper. He was a drinker but he loved his children dearly.

Pearl? Did your mother ever tell a story about a hired hand at Chatham Bend who insulted her nice peas?

No, I never heard about insulted peas. But if Jack Watson told you he would kill you, he would do it, Mama said, because being a man who kept his word, he expected the same integrity in others. She was weeping . Who are you anyway? Whoever you are, you must be a liar! Lucius would have called me long ago! I’m his baby sister!

Pearl, please don’t be upset. I don’t mean to upset you. I’ll call another day, maybe next week.

They won’t let me go home! They say I have no home to go to! I’m all alone and they won’t let me go home! They say I have no home!

Carrie Langford lived in the shadow of her husband’s bank in a small house off First Street. Turning the corner, he caught her in a dressing gown of faded blue with a frayed pink satin collar, fetching her newspaper at the picket gate.

At the sight of him, her hands flew to her hair. “You could have called first, Lucius. Or are you just on your way somewhere else?”

Fussing with her collar when he leaned to peck her cheek, she withdrew through the rose gate into an arbor of trellised wisteria and bougainvillea. He did not venture through the gate. “Carrie, I’m sorry-” She turned away to ward off any bluster. “Well, come in, then, darn it. You want me arrested for soliciting?”

He held the screen door as she preceded him into a small sitting room overfilled with big dark furniture from the house at the Edison Bridge. “From ‘the good old days,’ ” she sniffed with a dismissive wave. In louvered shade, in the hum of fans, the room was dark and silent like a funeral parlor, as if somewhere within Banker Langford lay in state.

In a formal portrait, proud-bosomed Carrie in white evening gown made a handsome subject, and Walter in a suit of houndstooth tweed appeared portly and prosperous. His hairline, slicked back hard, was rapidly receding, but his eager amiability seemed undiminished. He did not look the least bit like a man whose liver would fail for good just three years later.

Lucius took a hard chair near the door in sign that his visit would be brief; to reassure her, he perched forward on the chair edge, poised for flight. On the sofa, hands folded on her lap, Carrie shrugged off his civilities as he struggled to explain what he’d been up to. “I thought you’d like to know that Papa’s bad reputation was much exaggerated-”

“So you’ve always claimed. That why you’ve come?”

“That’s my excuse. I wanted to see you-”

She checked him again.

“I wanted to see you,” he insisted when she closed her eyes. “Though I’ve never been sure how welcome I would be. I thought you and Eddie-”

“We don’t consult about you, Lucius.” Changing the subject, she asked crossly if he’d had any news of their young stepmother and her children. “I must say I thought less of Edna for running away before the burial, then changing the children’s names like that-”

She stopped, anticipating his frown of protest and accepting it; Carrie had no heart for unkindness. Then suddenly her defenses fell away. “You and Edna left. You never had to deal with those dreadful writers who pestered us year after year for yet another lurid article slapped together to make money with no regard for truth. And how often I thought”-here she looked up, close to tears-“if only I could talk with Lucius. I so hoped you’d come. You never did. The baby brother I adored lived only a few miles down the coast and never even came to Walter’s funeral, never bothered to inquire how his sister might be getting on.”

“Carrie? I came. I arrived late-”

“Of course you did. I hardly saw you.” She paused to compose herself. “I got almost no help from Walter’s partners and would not accept it from others-not even my own brothers, had they offered it, which they did not. For different reasons, of course. You, at least, were generous when you had anything, which was almost never.” She was teasing now, yet unready to be mollified.

With parents and husband dead, with Rob and Lucius vanished from her life and her two girls married, Eddie was all she had left in the way of family. Fortunately, she added with a little smile, Eddie adored her.

“Kindred spirits,” Lucius suggested.

Carrie cocked her head, elevating her eyebrows. “Let’s just say,” she reproved him gently, “that dear Eddie feels a bit more kindred to his sister’s spirit than she feels to his.

“Though Eddie can be very courtly, don’t forget,” she added dutifully when Lucius smiled. “Mama taught him manners and he has his own peculiar charm, at least he used to. But because of Papa, the poor stick is always out to prove something, make a good impression. You suppose that’s why he never dared to drink?” She shrugged, not much interested. “You were the opposite, of course-quiet, a bit pensive, but when you grinned, you really grinned, and your eyes sparkled.” That memory made her smile herself and he was smiling with her. “See?” she laughed gaily, pointing at his eyes. “As a boy, you were very handsome, Lucius. You still are. And you drank too much. All the Watsons were handsome”-she took a deep hard breath-“and they all drank too much. Myself included. And I married another handsome drunk while I was at it.”