Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

“Awake! He’s awake!”

The voice belonged to Lovesong.

I opened my eyes and saw him leaning over me, holding my hand.

I must have stirred, I must have moved, I must have given some indication that I was conscious and alive and—

“In a hospital bed?” My voice was rough, dry, confused. “What am I doing in a hospital bed? What happened?”

As I asked the question and looked around at the heart-monitoring machine and the IV drip and the x-rays on the wall, the accident with the pickup came rushing back to me.

“Chet! Where’s Chet?”

“He’s okay. Leroy took him to a veterinarian down the road. He called to say Chet’s gonna be just fine. You were the one who took the brunt of the blow.”

“Cybil. What about Cybil? I saw her collapse at the wheel. Is she…?”

“She’s in the cardiac ward, they’re going to operate soon. The doc says she needs a stent put in. Earl is with her now, as well as all the cotton pickers. The second the accident happened, everyone scrambled to get y’all to the hospital here in Baton Rouge.”

From the doorway, Maybelle appeared. “Noah! You’re awake. I thought I could hear Lovesong hollerin’ from down the hall.” She hobbled up to the bed with her cane. “How you feeling, hun?”

“Sore. But… alive.”

“You weren’t for a minute there,” said Maybelle. “The pickup threw you ten feet into the air. When Lovesong got to you, you weren’t even breathin’. He gave you CPR till you came back to us. I guess the kiss of life works after all.”

“You did?” I smiled at Lovesong. “You saved my life?”

Lovesong was blushing. “It was nothin’. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’ve never given anyone CPR before. I accidentally stuck my finger up your nostril a couple of times when I was trying to pinch your nose. But I guess it worked in the end.”

I laughed and my side hurt. “Ow!” I winced.

“The doc says you got a couple of broken ribs, but that’s about it. He said it’s a miracle you ain’t more beat up.” Lovesong paused, remorse settling over his face. “Noah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for gettin’ all mad at you. I feel like this is all my fault.”

“No. Don’t say that. It’s not your fault at all.” I suddenly remembered what we were arguing about in the first place. “The letter and the note. The Bible. The tape. Where are they?”

“I have them,” Maybelle said. “Lovesong was already on the way to the hospital with you in George’s truck. Earl was on his way with Cybil, and Leroy had already rushed Chet to the vet. I got a ride with Auggie. I saw your things on the side of the road near where the accident had happened.”

“Where are they now?”

“Still in Auggie’s truck. Why?”

“The note. It’s the original note that was found in Lovesong’s basket when he was a baby. Everybody thinks it was written by Harper, but it wasn’t. It was Reverend Jim who wrote it. It’s his handwriting. He’s been covering up what really happened at the crossroads all these years. He’s been lying to everyone. Not only that, when I was at their house last night, there was a gun missing from the wall. I think the reverend has done something terrible. And I think he’s capable of doing the same again.”

“What are you saying?” Maybelle said in a hushed voice.

“I’m saying I think Lovesong is in danger. I think we need to get him out of here. Before the reverend finds out the note is missing.”

Lovesong shook his head. “This ain’t true. It can’t be true. Noah, none of this can be true.”

I took his hand. “Lovesong, I’m sorry. But you need to see this— sense this—for what it is. You need to remember each and every time the reverend bullied you, belittled you, told you that you weren’t enough… that your dreams were unachievable, unimaginable, that you were nothing more than a simple, blind cotton picker in a small town, and that was all you’ll ever be.”

I could see on his face he knew it was all true. A tear streaked down his cheek and I quickly brushed it away. “It’s time you proved him wrong. It’s time you proved to yourself and the world what you can really do. Are you ready?”

He nodded, wiping away the rest of his tears himself. “Yes. Hell, yes.”

I sat up in pain, then yanked out the IV and the cords taped to my chest and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing now?” Maybelle whispered harshly.

“I’m getting out of here, and I’m taking Lovesong with me. We’re going back to town, packing our bags and leaving. We can pick up Chet on our way back through Baton Rouge.” I looked at Lovesong and squeezed his hand. “Are you with me?”

He didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes. I trust you. I have faith in you.”

I kissed him, then said, “Go find Auggie and tell him we need to borrow his truck.”

Lovesong disappeared as Maybelle shook her head at me… while at the same time helped me out of bed. “Noah, you can’t just walk out of a hospital?”

“I broke into the reverend’s house, I can sure as hell break out of a hospital.”

“Well, you sure as hell can’t drive in your condition, and if you ain’t gonna let Jesus take the wheel, you might as well hand it over to me.”

“You can’t drive.”

“Why not?”

“Your hip.”

Maybelle lifted her walking stick. “What the hell do you think the cane’s for?”

The gears crunched as Maybelle drove with her one good leg operating the accelerator while using her walking stick to push down on the clutch and brake. Auggie’s truck lurched and a semi-trailer behind us blared its horn.

“It’d be great not to be involved in two car accidents in one day,” I muttered, sitting between Maybelle and Lovesong on the bench seat in front.

“Oh hush, child, and let me concentrate!”

By the time we pulled up in front of Maybelle’s Manor , the afternoon sun was sinking toward the western horizon, a bank of furious black clouds rolling in from the south.

Already the heat was intensifying.

Already a snarl of thunder filled the sky.

With the note and the letter tucked into the reverend’s Bible in one hand, and Lovesong’s cassette tape in my pocket, I made my way to the elevator with Lovesong’s arm around my waist for support. There was no taking the stairs with broken ribs.

“I’ll fix you some food for your journey. And coffee,” said Maybelle, hurrying toward the kitchen. “If you wanna get as far from the reverend as possible, you gonna need to stay awake on the road.”

Lovesong and I climbed into the elevator and slowly the clunky old thing ascended.

In our room, I made sure Joel’s urn was tucked safely into my suitcase, then packed the tape and Joel’s letter, as well as the reverend’s Bible and the forged note. I wasn’t about to leave behind proof of the reverend’s evil doing. That note was a smoking gun, it was coming with us as evidence and, if need be, insurance against harm.

I shut my suitcase.

Lovesong was busy packing his instruments into their cases. He paused over the electric guitar. I saw the look on his face.

“You’re not going to the crossroads,” I said firmly. “Your days of trying to summon the Devil are over.”

“Maybe I can make a different deal,” he said, his nostrils flaring as a lifetime of anger started to bubble to the surface. “Maybe I could ask for my mother back, in exchange for the reverend’s soul.”

“Lovesong, enough. The fire and brimstone ends now. We’re getting out of here. I’m going to Earl’s to get our car. Meet me downstairs in five minutes. It’s time to get the hell out of Clara’s Crossing.”

I kissed him and left Lovesong in the room, then took the elevator back down.

I winced and grunted my way down the street to Earl’s Auto as a storm swirled and thickened in the sky. A flash of lightning gave warning that soon the heavens would open.

Inside Earl’s Auto , I found the key to Joan Collins hanging on a rack. I slipped in behind the wheel, turned the key in the ignition, and the car started instantly, the purr of the engine smooth and sound.

“Nice work, Earl,” I nodded to myself.

I drove out of the auto shop and pulled up in front of Maybelle’s Manor .

I got out of the car and raced to the front door, but before I could open it, I heard a voice roar—“Mr. Van Owen! I believe you have something of mine!”

My blood ran cold as I turned to see the reverend, dressed in black and storming down the middle of the street heading straight for the manor, his fiery eyes fixed on me.

“Oh fuck.”

I charged into the manor and slammed the doors shut, only to find a distressed Maybelle hurrying toward me.

“Maybelle? What’s wrong?”

“I tried to stop him. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Lovesong? Oh God, where’s Lovesong?”

“Noah, he’s gone back to the crossroads.”

At that moment, the doors to the manor burst open… and there, looming large and furious, stood the reverend. “Where’s my Bible?” he boomed in a voice as loud as thunder. “Give back what you have stolen, you filthy wicked boy!”

Maybelle and I both reeled backward at his frightening, ominous presence.

The reverend rushed at me, but before he could grab me, I bolted for the grand staircase.

I needed my suitcase…

The evidence against the reverend…

Joel’s ashes…

I wasn’t leaving Clara’s Crossing without them.

The reverend charged after me.

I glanced back to see Maybelle trying to stop him, but he easily shoved her out of his way, pushing her to the ground.

“Maybelle!”

“I’m okay,” she cried. “Just run, Noah! Run!”

I leapt up the stairs, dodging the pitfalls, bounding over the crevasses and cracks.

Glancing back, I saw the reverend approach the staircase warily, yet nonetheless determined to chase me down. He started his ascent, stepping over the hazards and half-broken steps.

I reached the top of the stairs and bolted for the bedroom.

I grabbed my suitcase and raced back into the hallway, but as I did, Reverend Jim appeared at the top of the stairs, leering with rage and malicious delight.

I knew I was going to have to get past him to get back to the stairs.

I hoisted my suitcase in front of me like a shield and with a defiant roar I charged at him.

The reverend charged back at me, plowing into me with so much force that he knocked me to the ground.

The suitcase flew from my grip and slid across the floor.

With both fists, he latched onto my shirt and hoisted me to my feet, shoving me against the balustrade overlooking the grand staircase.

I cried out in pain, feeling the shards of my broken ribs stabbing me on the inside, but the cry soon turned to a choking sound as the reverend’s hands reached for my throat and started to strangle me.

“As the book of the Ephesians says,” he spat through clenched teeth, a diabolical grin on his face, “‘Let him who stole, steal no longer!’”

I tried to fight him off, but he was powered with rage.

My vision began to blur.

I heard the rush of blood in my ears.

But I also heard something else—

It was the rattle and grind of the ascending elevator.

The reverend tightened his grip on my throat.

Bright stars began to fill my eyes.

I heard the elevator clunk to a halt.

I heard the grill door being yanked open.

And then I heard—

THWACK!

The reverend grunted in pain and suddenly my throat was free of his grip.

THWACK!

I gasped for air, coughing and wheezing and pulling myself away from the balustrade. I blinked away the stars and saw Maybelle bring her cane down once more, as hard as she could, on the reverend’s skull.

This time he reached for her weapon, seizing it in his grip, trying to yank it from her hands.

Maybelle refused to let go, the two of them staggering backward, fighting for possession of the cane, side-stepping left and right until—

Maybelle was teetering on the top step of the grand staircase, about to lose her balance.

The reverend laughed. “Time to meet your maker, you meddling old bitch!”

He went to shove her.

But before he could do his worst, I charged as fast as I could, ramming my shoulder into the reverend’s back.

At the same time, I snatched Maybelle by the forearm and hauled her out of the way.

Together, she and I fell to one side, while the reverend staggered forward toward the stairs, his eyes wide as he lost his balance, swaying for a moment on the top step before he blinked in horror and uttered, “Oh Lord!”

He lost his balance as gravity took hold, sending him crashing down the grand staircase.

Fragile steps broke under the weight of him as he toppled, head over feet, thump after thud…

His limbs bending…

His wrists and ankles snapping…

His torso contorting and his back breaking.

Until soon he crashed onto the floorboards at the foot of the staircase, his arms and legs knotted, his body mangled into an ungodly mess, like a spider washed down a drain, disfigured and dead.

“Oh shit,” I panted, panic setting in. “I killed him. I fucking killed him.”

But Maybelle took me firmly by the hand. “Take your suitcase to the car and go find Lovesong. We need to get our story straight, before the reverend’s wife comes looking for him. Now go!”

I did exactly what Maybelle told me.

I grabbed my suitcase and raced to the elevator, the stairs now completely impassable.

As I hurried across the vestibule I glanced back once at the tangled body of the reverend.

Part of me was sickened by the fact that I just killed a man. But part of me knew that what I did was done in self-defense.

Then again, part of me was convinced that the reverend got what was coming to him.

I packed my suitcase into the trunk of the car.

I turned to the street and started running toward the crossroads.

Thunder rumbled menacingly above me, the churning black clouds so low it looked as though they were sinking under their own weight.

I could hear the chords of Lovesong’s electric guitar sailing through the air, loud and vibrant through the amplifier, before I caught sight of him. But as I drew closer, I heard more than just his instrument.

His playing was accompanied by the ching and tinkle of a pair of silver spoons.

Then I saw the two of them up ahead in the middle of the crossroads—Lovesong and Iggy—both of them playing their hearts out.

“Lovesong!” I tried to call to him, but I was so out of breath I could barely hear my own voice.

My feet began to trip over themselves, but I kept running—or stumbling toward him—as fast as I could.

“Lovesong!”

I saw him turn his head, hearing my voice over the guitar.

“Lovesong!”

He stopped playing and held out his hand to quiet Iggy.

“ Lovesong! ”

He put down his guitar. “Noah?” He started moving toward me, feeling his way till I literally fell into his arms. “Noah, are you all right? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came here. I know you told me not to, but I had to try one more—”

“Your father… it’s your father. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? What happened?”‘

“He attacked me. He tried to kill me, then he tried to kill Maybelle.”

“Oh my God. Did he hurt you? Are you all right?”

“I had to stop him, Lovesong. I had to. He was going to kill Maybelle. So I pushed him. I pushed him down the stairs. And now…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

So Lovesong said it for me. “And now he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so, so sorry.”

Lovesong shook his head, not a tear in his eyes. “I’m not. You were the one who said it, Noah. God… the Devil… neither one exists without men and women to do their bidding. The way that man treated me my whole life, that’s not God’s will. There’s poison in him. There’s a cruelty, a malice he inflicts on others, that’s made me question my whole life if we even serve the same Lord.”

With a clickety-clack of his spoons, Iggy came dancing over to us, that big knowing grin on his face. “Lord of the light, Lord of the dark. It’s time to come face to face with one of them.”

Lovesong’s brow creased. “What do you mean, Iggy?”

Iggy did a little shoe shuffle and danced in a circle as he said, “I means the Flim-Flam Man is finally comin’ for you.”

Fear wrapped its claws around my heart and the cannon fire of thunder shook the blackened skies. “What do you mean he’s coming? He’s coming now?”

Iggy answered with a point of his fingers, gesturing back down the road from which I came.

There in the distance, moving closer with each angry step, was a figure dressed in black, with a black wide-brimmed hat on his head…

A hat exactly like the reverend’s hat.

I gasped. “It can’t be.”

“It can’t be what?” Lovesong said. “Noah? Tell me what you see.”

“He sees the Flim-Flam Man,” Iggy chuckled. “Time for a showdown!”

Lovesong knelt and took Iggy by the shoulders. “Iggy. Who’s coming? Who is it?”

“I’s told you. That be the Flim-Flam Man.” Iggy suddenly spotted the harmonica that Lovesong had tucked into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Oooh, looky here at that pretty thing. I think I’s be doing some tradin’ of my own.”

Iggy swiftly lifted the harmonica out of the pocket, replacing it with his spoons.

He tooted a note on the harmonica and beamed. “Now that be somethin’ special. I think I be changin’ my name to Iggy Harmonica.”

Lovesong let go of Iggy’s shoulders and stood beside me, taking my hand in his. “Tell me what you see. Tell me who you see.”

As the figure in black approached, I shook my head in disbelief. “It can’t be him. He was dead. I saw him. This can’t be him.”

Iggy giggled. “Whoever said the Flim-Flam Man was a ‘he?’”

With that, the young boy started playing his harmonica and shoe-shuffling his way off the road before disappearing into the cotton fields.

Lightning streaked the sky, and for a moment my eyes started playing tricks on me.

Maybe I had a concussion from the accident, or I was hallucinating after the reverend tried to strangle me, but with the next flash of lightning I could have sworn the figure approaching us changed…

I could have sworn, for a split second, it morphed into a creature…

A creature that walked on the hind legs of a goat…

With horns on its head, so long and twisted they could almost hook the low-hanging storm clouds and tear them from the sky, sending a flood across the land, far and wide.

“Noah, please. Tell me what you see.”

There was another flash in the cloud-choked sky and the creature morphed back into the person in the hat.

“Someone’s coming,” I answered.

As the figure drew closer and closer, I saw the weapon in their hand.

It was an old pistol, polished wooden handle, shiny silver barrel.

“Oh God, they’ve got a gun. It’s the gun from your father’s study.” I pulled at Lovesong’s hand, tugging him behind me.

“What are you doing?”

“You can’t see. I’ll protect you. Just stay behind me.”

The dark entity grew nearer.

I gulped down my fear.

The figure was fifty paces away…

Forty…

Thirty.

I flinched as a crack of thunder shuddered the sky.

Then suddenly, at twenty paces, the figure stopped dead.

Slowly the wide-brimmed hat tilted upward.

Slowly I saw the grinning face of the person standing opposite us.

With a gasp I whispered, “You!”

There in her black clothes, dressed in her dead husband’s hat, the reverend’s wife let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Who were you expecting? The Devil?”

Lovesong heard her voice and stepped out from behind me. “Mother? Is that you? What are you doing here?”

“What do you think, you stupid boy? I’ve come to deliver you from evil.” She raised the pistol and aimed it straight at my chest. “Turn your back on temptation, Lafayette. Let your mother guide you back to the light. It’s time to take your rightful place at the pulpit of the Lord. Now that your father is dead, you and I shall lead the way.”

“You know that my father is dead?” Lovesong asked.

“Why of course. I stopped at the manor on my way here. All that fury and frantic shouting in his effort to prevent Mr. Van Owen from stealing you away from us, it was bound to lead to his downfall.”

“Maybelle,” I gasped. “You didn’t hurt—”

“Relax, Mr. Van Owen. If you knew anything about antique pistols, you’d know that they only carry one bullet at a time. This bullet was never meant for Maybelle. It was meant for you. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Just like I knew what I was doing when I killed that slut who gave birth to my son all those years ago… the same cunt shameless enough to let my husband rape her.”

“What the fuck?” I could feel the heat of rage that Lovesong instantly gave off. “What the fuck did you just say?”

The reverend’s wife laughed, genuinely amused. “Oh, my poor, deluded, imperfect child. What did you think happened to the little bitch? Did you honestly believe she sold her soul to the Devil, that he dragged her into the cotton fields, never to be seen again? How ridiculous of you. Mind you, you should be grateful we spun such a tale. As a little boy you worked so hard on your musical talents, just so you could make your eternally damned mother proud, just so her death was never in vain. Your musical prowess became something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. For that you have me to thank. Yes, it was your father who wrote the note that we pretended to find in your basket. But the story of her contract with the Devil, that was all my making. Of course, the simple truth is much less sensational. Harper and Hettie tried to flee, to take you away from us. I caught them here at the crossroads. I shot Harper, your mother, through the heart. Hettie fled into the fields. And you, my dear son, became mine forever, just as Jesus intended you to be. My only regret that day was losing the pistol I’d used to kill her. I must have dropped it somewhere in the bayou. It was part of a pair, as you know. The same pistols used in the duel over Clara Calloway at this very same crossroads, all those years ago. Such a shame to break up a set of antiques like that.”

Lovesong was panting with anger. “You… you’re a fucking monster.”

“Now, now. Language, dear.”

“You killed my mother! You killed my mother?”

“Yes, my darling,” she said matter-of-factly. “After which I dumped her body in the bayou for the alligators to feed on. And now I’m going to do the same to your irritating, interfering friend. It’s time to say goodbye, Mr. Van Owen.”

Before I could move, she cocked the hammer on the pistol.

She pulled the trigger.

Suddenly Lovesong shoved me out of the way…

And stepped directly into the path of the bullet.

It struck him straight in the chest.

I hit the ground, then turned to see Lovesong fall, landing flat on his back, limp and lifeless.

“No,” I gasped.

“Noooooo!” the reverend’s wife screamed.

She raced toward Lovesong’s motionless body, but I beat her to him, wrapping my arms around him as the tears of shock spilled from my eyes. “Lovesong! Lovesong!”

The boot of the reverend’s wife hit me hard, slamming into my broken ribs and sending me rolling across the dirt. I clutched at my side, groaning in pain, and when I looked up, the reverend’s wife was standing over me, her pistol pointed straight at me as tears of horror and hate streamed down her trembling face.

That’s when I saw something—someone—emerge from the cotton fields.

“What have you done?” the reverend’s wife shrieked at me. “You’ve killed my son! You’ve killed my only son! What in the Lord’s name have you done?”

I couldn’t run.

I couldn’t hide.

All I could do was glare at her and say, “The other pistol. You may have lost it in the bayou… but someone else found it.”

“Who?” she demanded in a guttural scream. “Who!”

“Me!” announced a voice as angry as thunder.

The reverend’s wife spun about, her gun raised, to see Hoodoo Hettie standing twenty paces behind her… the other pistol in her hand.

Caked in mud, her hair twisted in swamp moss and her clothes nothing but rags, Hettie was unrecognizable to the reverend’s wife who eyed her up and down then said, “Who in the Lord’s name are you?”

Hettie cackled. “Oh, you knows me. I was here the night you killed Harper. I saws what you did. I followed you into the bayou. And I found your gun.”

The reverend’s wife’s eyes narrowed. “Hettie? Is that you?”

“Oh, remember now. I used to cook for you. I used to serve you up supper. Well guess what… tonight I’s gonna serve you up for supper.” She clicked the hammer on her pistol. “My gators be hungry.”

With a squeeze of the trigger, Hettie fired a single shot…

Straight between the eyes of the reverend’s wife.

With a thud, the reverend’s wife dropped to her knees.

Her shoulders slumped.

Her arms went limp.

She dropped her pistol, and in a cloud of dust she fell face down on the crossroads, dead.

I scrambled over to Lovesong.

I sat his head in my lap, holding his cheeks, tears flowing as I whispered, “Don’t die, Lovesong. I can’t lose you. I can’t do this again. God, please don’t let him die.”

Just then, the clouds opened.

Rain began to fall, hard and heavy.

Hettie hurried over and dropped to her knees beside me, the downpour washing away the dirt on her face, so at least I could see the person beneath the mud.

I could see the kindness in her eyes.

She smiled, reached down to Lovesong’s shirt pocket, and pulled out the two silver spoons that Iggy had exchanged for the harmonica. They glistened in the rain, and suddenly I saw it—

There was the bullet, lodged in one of the spoons.

As the rain soaked us, Lovesong suddenly coughed.

His body jolted, and with a look of shock on his drenched face he sat upright and gasped for air.

The first words out of his mouth were, “Noah? Noah, where are you? Noah, whe—”

“I’m here, I’m here. I’m right here.”

I wrapped my arms around him.

I planted my lips on his.

And as the rain washed away our tears, we kissed.

Hettie stood, the spoons still in her hands, and said, “I think these belong to Iggy. I’s be sure to give ’em back… if I’s ever seen him again. Sumpin’ tells me his work here be done.”

Lovesong pulled out of our kiss. “Hettie? Hettie, is that you?”

“No sir, it ain’t me at all,” she giggled. “Hettie weren’t never here. Now’s if y’all excuse me, I’s havin’ some friends over tonight. Time I go and get supper ready for ’em.”

With that, Hettie took hold of the reverend’s wife by the ankles and slowly dragged her body into the cotton fields, heading in the direction of the bayou.

Lovesong’s fingers touched my face. “Are you okay? Noah, tell me you’re okay.”

With his hands on my cheek, I nodded. “Yes.”

“Is it over?”

I nodded again. “It’s all over, Lovesong. It’s all over.”

“Is it time to leave the crossroads?”

“Forever,” I said. “It’s time to leave. It’s time to begin again.”