• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

"Arnold," I said. "How would you like to be called Arnold?"

He blinked at me.

"Look, it's not after Benedict Arnold or anything. I just thought it had a nice solid ring to it. Well then, what about Sad Stock? It's a new plant Marietta got for her garden."

He licked his paw, feigning disinterest.

"No, you don't look sad enough. Maybe I'll call you Custer. You know, he's the boy general and he has long blond curls. Don't like that? Too dandified for you? Well then, what about Ulysses? Nothing dandified about him."

I decided on Ulysses. Maybe when I got to Richmond I'd change my name, too. No more Emily Pigbush. I'd start over when I got there, new name and everything.

After I finished packing I went under my bed, where I'd hidden the twenty gold pieces from Johnny. I took two out of the little velvet sack. That ought to be enough for a ticket to Richmond and a wire to Aunt Susie. I knew she was still at the same address. Hadn't she written to Uncle Valentine, "This is my home. Here I shall stay. Richmond will re-build"? So what if Richmond was a mess now? I'd thought I was safe coming here.

And what did it get me? Two dead bodies lying on a table, and Myra Mott snickering up the ladder at me. My uncle was a body snatcher. How could I show my face back at school? That was what trusting people and wanting to be safe got you. I'd gone from the frying pan into the fire.

Oh, I couldn't bear the thought of it. Every time I closed my eyes I saw those two dead bodies on that table. And heard Robert's voice. "Why would I be bringing back dead people, Emily?"

How could I have let Robert sweet-talk me out of my suspicions? Oh, what a simpleton he must think me to be! My face burned with the shame of it. And what about Uncle Valentine? How many times had my suspicions been aroused against him? And always I'd found an excuse for him. He'd helped Annie. He'd given me a home. He had warm brown eyes and his voice healed me.

Well, I wasn't healed now. I was betrayed, naked, and used. I felt like those bodies on the table. Like my face was all burned off.

***

First I went to the telegraph office and wired Aunt Susie. I told her I would be down to see her in a couple of days. Then I went to the railroad station and purchased a ticket. Both errands took me the rest of the afternoon.

I would leave tomorrow morning, early, before Maude even got here. Uncle Valentine wouldn't be home from Baltimore until tomorrow evening. I'd leave a note for Maude saying I'd been invited to have breakfast with Mrs. McQuade. By the time they missed me I'd be halfway there. Then, once in Richmond, I'd wire Uncle Valentine and tell him I was staying with Aunt Susie.

I felt a mite better walking home. I was filled with a sense of purpose and determination. I'd go home and grab a plate of food from the kitchen and take it to my room. Tell Maude not to bother with supper. I'd help myself. She'd be glad of it, an evening off.

There were just two more things I had to do first.

"What do you mean, you're leaving?" Annie stood in the open doorway of her mother's house, her hair disheveled, her sleeves rolled up, and white flour on her hands and arms.

"Tomorrow. On the ten o'clock train to Richmond. I have to leave, Annie. I can't live in that house anymore. Something bad has happened."

Her eyes darkened. "It's Robert, isn't it? You've been seeing a lot of him. He hasn't been playing free with you, has he? You're not in trouble?"

"Oh, God, Annie, no."

"Well, what else could be so bad?"

I stepped inside the hall. Immediately I felt dizzy. Memories can do that to you, make you dizzy. It was all too familiar—the textures, the light, the smells. "It smells good in here," I said.

"I'm baking," she said. "Come into the kitchen."

"Are you having company?"

"No. I'm baking to keep from going insane."

We sat in the kitchen. She reheated some coffee and gave me a cup, then went back to kneading her bread. "Now tell me," she said.

"You must promise not to tell anyone."

"Oh, in heaven's name, Emily, who