Page 109 of The Night the Lights Went Out
“We don’t have to say anything more about it, and we can go back to pretending you don’t have a heart. But I know the truth. And I suspect Wade does, too.” She let go of Sugar’s hand and sat back in her chair. “You haven’t asked me about the damage to your woods.”
Sugar stared back blankly. “I shouldn’t have to. If there’s something to say about them, I would think you would have told me already. You seem to like talking.”
Merilee’s face remained expressionless. “The tornado cut them in half. You can smell freshly cut pine for miles around your property.”
Sugar didn’t say anything, focusing instead on smoothing the blankets over her lap.
“It didn’t touch the cemetery.”
“That’s good.”
“Wade said the flowers you placed on several of the graves the last time you visited were still there. Untouched. It’s amazing, isn’t it? How a tornado that can knock down trees with such force can leave something as delicate as a flower completely untouched.”
“Amazing,” Sugar agreed, wondering why she felt so tired all of a sudden, when she should be more alert than ever before. But she was tired. It was exhausting to hold on to a secret for so long.
Merilee continued. “But when Wade went in to make sure the cemetery was okay, he did find something interesting not too far from there.”
“He did?” Even to her own ears, she didn’t sound convincing.
“He found what he’s pretty sure is an unmarked grave. Well, not exactly unmarked. It’s a small mound with two large rocks marking the top and the bottom, but nothing was written on them. It was protected by a pine bough that was partially covering it, but it looked good as new when Wade lifted the branch off. He said it appeared to have been there for a long time, but somebody has been keeping it clear of weeds. But no flowers. They could have been blown away in the tornado, but probably not if the ones in the cemetery weren’t. You can’t see one from the other, according to Wade, but they’re close enough so that when the tornado picked a place to draw a line, the cemetery and the one lone grave were on the same side.”
Sugar met Merilee’s gaze. “Where’s Wade now?”
“I sent him to your house to pick up a few things I thought you’d need while you’re in the hospital. So you’d be more comfortable while you’re away from home. Like your nightgown. And lipstick.”
Again, the annoying prickle behind her eyes. “Thank you,” Sugar said. Her gaze slid involuntarily to the door, then quickly back to Merilee’s face. “Tell him not to go in my daddy’s library downstairs with the closed door. It’s a mess in there, and I don’t want him to see it.”
Merilee pulled out her phone and began typing. “I’ll text him now.” She lifted her gaze from the screen. “So you’d have time to tell me the rest of your story, if you’d like.”
Sugar studied Merilee, recognizing a part of her younger self. They had both left their girlhoods long behind them, probably before they’d been ready. But they’d survived the transition, bruises and all. Maybe it had been the holding back of a secret that had kept them alive, kept them breathing. Kept them moving forward. Yet Merilee had no more secrets to tell, her life now an open road allowing her to choose where to turn. Or not turn at all. Sugar straightened her shoulders, marveling at how rounded they’d become over the years. Maybe that’s what the burden of a secret kept for nearly seven decades did to a person.
“The army trunk in the cellar... ,” Sugar began.
Merilee leaned forward. “Yes?”
“I didn’t put it there.” She paused, her fingers plucking at the fabric of the blanket. “But I know who did.”
• • •
SUGAR
1943
I lay in bed, unable to sleep. I was in my old bed in the farmhouse, where I’d returned shortly after Tom had gone overseas. My daddy was back at Camp Gordon negotiating for more POWs for manpower on the farm. His crop production was twice what it had been before the war but operating with about half the manpower needed because of all the men heading out to fight.
I’d preferred to stay in my new house, which still smelled of fresh pine and reminded me so much of Tom, and sleep in the bed we’d shared for such a short time. But Mama was scared now to be by herself, and since I knew why, I thought it best that I stay with her on the nights Daddy had to be away.
An owl hooted outside my window from the old hickory tree. The bird hadn’t been there before Jimmy died, but almost every night it kept me company as my belly grew. Most people couldn’t tell I was pregnant yet, even at four months, and I was happy to let them guess. I didn’t care if it was a girl or boy, but I prayed that it would be born healthy but small, on account of people knowing how to count nine months from a wedding date.
I grabbed Jimmy’s binoculars from the nightstand before sliding out of bed and moving the curtains away from the window. An enormous harvest moon lit up the autumn sky and the entire room through the glass. Very cautiously, I slid the window sash up, going slowly over the sticky parts that liked to cling together and make noise. Mama slept lightly, every bump and crack enough to awaken her.
I put the binoculars to my eyes and trained them on the branches of the hickory, trying to spot my feathered friend. I tried for a good five minutes without any luck.Hoot. Hoot.The bird was still there, then. I moved the binoculars’ aim very slowly through the branches, up and down and then from side to side.Hoot. Hoot.In my frustration, I jerked my gaze toward the bottom of the tree and froze. A figure stood in the shadows of the branches, staring at the back porch.
I suddenly remembered the smoke from the chimney in the old deserted house, remembered the feeling of unease as Tom and I had driven past it. I now knew with certainty who had been in that house. And I knew who was leaning down now to pick up a rock and walk toward the back door, with its small windows big enough to fit an arm and a hand.
I stepped back, holding my breath as if he could hear it. I kept backing up, light-headed from fear, until my legs hit my bed, jolting me.Mama.I had to get to my mother. She was downstairs and all alone.
I ran out into the moonlight-flooded upstairs hallway, everything awash in a milky glow that blurred all the edges and made it difficult to run without tripping. I made it to the top of the stairs and had my hand on the banister before stopping at the sight of the figure outlined like a shadow at the bottom of the steps.
