Page 10 of Fury
“Mama always said it was wrong to lie.” His arm tightened under her grip, and she immediately regretted the words. “Davy, I’m sorry.” She scarcely remembered their mother, had only been four when she died of cat scratch fever. What she did remember was suffused through with a feeling of such safety, warmth, and love that it could bring her to tears. Things that had been missing throughout most of her childhood. “You ever think what life would have been like if she hadn’t died?”
This time his feet stopped working, and he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling her around so he could wrap his arms around her. Eyes squeezed tightly, he looked like he was in pain, and Bethy was suddenly afraid. “Davy, are you okay?”
“Yeah, baby girl. I’m good.” He pulled in a breath and then softly brushed his lips against the side of her head. “I forget sometimes…” Davy’s voice trailed off, and she leaned her cheek against his chest. “Let’s go to your apartment. We can call for delivery or something. I got a…” He paused again to take in a deep breath and at his hesitation, she steeled herself for whatever was coming. “I got a story to tell you.”
***
Feet to the balcony railing, Bethy lifted her clasped hands to her mouth, pressing shaking fingers against her trembling lips. She’d asked Davy for a few minutes of solitude, needing time to process the story he had spun for her tonight. Part of her didn’t want to credit it as truth, but in a small sliver of her mind, she believed him outright. It backed up the remembered fear every time Daddy would march up to her standing at the mound of dirt, snatching at the scraggly wildflowers clutched in her dirty child’s hand. He hadn’t held any reverence for the gravesite. Other people had been laid to rest on the family’s land, and he walked around those flattened patches, taking care with his feet and voice. When held up against those, something about her mother’s grave never felt right. It had been off in a way she’d never been able to pinpoint.
I was twelve when she died, not four. Tears welled in her eyes again and she blinked furiously, trying to drive them back.The year when things went bad. That had been the year when old man Taylor had picked her out of the pack of girls to be his bride.At least he waited two years to claim me.
The door slid open behind her and Davy’s hands landed on her shoulders, heavy and warm, holding her in place. “You doin’ okay, honey?”
She nodded.
“Wanna talk yet?”
Shaking her head, she unclasped her fingers, reaching up with one hand to cover his, holding him in place, too.
“Okay if I sit out here with ya?”
She tipped her head sideways, nodding as she pressed her cheek to his other hand.
He released her to pull a chair over, and then turned hers, bringing her legs across his lap. He reached out, gripping one of her hands and resting their clasped hands on her thigh. Taking a deep breath, he said, “She loved you.”
Swallowing hard, Bethy turned her face away, staring off into the darkness, watching the lights of the downtown buildings twinkle in the night.
“She did. You might not remember, but she loved you. Loved both of us.” He moved, and she heard the scratchy noise of him rubbing his palm across his jaw. “Life in the holler is hard.”
“I know it is. I was there, too, Davy.” Blinking fast, she let the things she wanted to say go ahead and flow out, needing to know if she could. Needing to understand. “Do you know how she died?”
“No.” The word came out on a hoarse croak, and she realized this was as hard on him as it was her, making him relive things he probably would prefer to stay buried. She gave his fingers a squeeze, smiling when he returned it. “Just know she’s gone.”
“And the man who took her, what was he to us?” The idea of her mother being taken wasn’t as farfetched as he might believe it to be, and Bethy knew it from the inside out, being taken unwilling as she’d been.
“Nothing to us, Bethy. He’s nothin’ at all.” Davy shifted in his seat, rocking her legs as he settled. “Justice Morgan is a powerful man, but he ain’t nothing to us.”
“You said she had another baby, a boy?” Bethany remembered the tingling feeling in her breasts as the milk intended for her child had let down, how it had made her cry to know she’d never hold him like that, never hold and nurse him. “I can’t imagine how it was for her, being with us and missing him, or being with him and missing us. Pain no matter where she turned.”
Ty scowled at Bethy from across the room, his brows bowing together. “You gotta tell him.” He shook his head. “Watcher’s gotta know.”
She stood, trembling, arms crossed over her still-rolling stomach. That had been what betrayed her. Ty hadn’t missed her nausea these past two weeks, and her claims of a bug only went so far. Bethy felt her lips quiver, tried to ignore how her chin bumped, but couldn’t dam her tears. Hot and wet, they rolled down her face as she stared at him.
If Ty did this, told Mikey, then Mikey would be honor bound to tell her brother. She knew they were in touch. Mikey, now known as Watcher, had been clear on that when he set her up with Tyrell three weeks back.
“Please.” That one word broke in three places, her voice betraying her. She sucked in a breath, then blew it out, trying to control both her belly and her tears. Accent thick, she pleaded with Ty. “You cain’t. He cain’t know. He knows, he’ll tell my brother. Davy don’t even know what Daddy did. Don’t know about what happened after he left. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times on the phone, haven’t seen him for nearly four years. He don’t know nothin’ that happened. If he knew, he’d kill Daddy. An’ Watcher’ll hafta tell Davy.” She willed him to believe her, to trust she knew the best path. Bending at the waist, she begged, “Don’t. Please, God, don’t. You know how this goes. I just gotta figure out what to do.”
Ty’s scowl deepened. Then he asked the right question. “You wanna raise this baby?” Sobs now shaking her frame, Bethy shook her head, having worked it out in her head that an on-her-own sixteen-year-old mother couldn’t come close to giving this child what it deserved. “Want it to go to a good family?” Her head moved up and down so fast a wave of nausea crawled up her throat. That same wish had fled her lips nightly while she sat close to the open window, staring up at the cold stars overhead. “Then that’s what we’ll do, little girl.” He took a step towards her and lifted his arms out to his sides. Disbelieving for a moment, she watched as the corners of his mouth curled up. “Come here, Bethy.” She flew across the room to him, letting him wrap her up with his warmth and love. “Then that’s what we’ll do. But first, you’re gonna tell me everything about this Taylor dude. Everything you can.”
His voice had taken on an edge of rage when he finished with, “I’ll take care of him, honey.” He rocked them in place, soothing her with his words and body. “Then I’ll take care of you. We’ll do whatever you need, honey. I got you.”
Davy moved again, pulling her thoughts from the past. She froze when he said, “That’s a dark study, honey. Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
Without lying, she answered, “Tyrell. He’s been a really good friend, you know?”
“I know.” Davy’s other hand slowly stroked up and down her shin. His next words were careful. “Y’all are pretty tight.”
Tipping her head, she looked at him and rolled her eyes. “He’s my friend, Davy. That’s all.”
