However, Joel had faith in the Wilbanks firm, not only for its legal muscle, but also for its political finesse. He could tell Stella was alarmed by the thought of losing their land. She had already been consumed with the horror of losing her father. She had no idea what would happen to her mother. And now this — the possibility of losing everything. At one point her eyes watered and she fought back tears. Joel managed to soothe things somewhat by explaining that any potential lawsuit could always be settled on favorable terms. Besides, they had far more urgent matters. Their father would be put on trial in two weeks. And, pursuant to his commands, his children would not be allowed anywhere near the courthouse.
When they finished lunch, they moved to a private cabin and closed the door. They were in Mississippi now, stopping at towns like Corinth and Ripley. Stella nodded off and slept for an hour.
They were going home because their father had finally summoned them. By letter, he had outlined the parameters of their Christmas visit: home on December 22, no more than three nights in the house, stay away from downtown, don’t even think about going to church, limit contact with friends, do not discuss family business with anyone, spend time with Florry, and he would arrange some private time with them, but not much.
Florry had written too, as always, and promised some plans of her own, with a big surprise in the works. She was waiting at the station in Clanton when they arrived at dusk. In the spirit of the season, she was garbed in a bright green dress that flowed around her much like a tent designed to conceal her girth. It fell in ripples to her ankles and shimmered in the dim platform lights. On her head was a red fedora that only a circus clown would contemplate, and around her neck was an assemblage of gaudy trinkets that rattled when she moved. When she saw Stella she bellowed and burst forward, practically tackling her with a bear hug. Joel glanced around during the assault, and by the time Florry grabbed him her eyes were moist. Stella was crying. The three embraced as other passengers hurried by.
The kids were home. The family was sinking. They clutched each other for support. What in God’s name had Pete done to them?
Joel carried the luggage as the women walked arm in arm, both talking excitedly at the same time. They crawled into the rear seat of Florry’s 1939 Lincoln, still talking, with Florry breaking long enough to tell Joel he was driving. And that was fine with him. He’d ridden with his aunt enough to know the dangers. He punched the gas and they sped away from Clanton, exceeding every posted limit.
As they roared down Highway 18, with no traffic in sight, Florry informed them that they would be staying with her in the pink cottage and not in their home. The pink cottage was covered with Christmas decorations, warmed by a roaring fire, and smelled of Marietta’s cooking. Their home was practically deserted, cold and dark and without spirit and not a sign of the season anywhere, and besides Nineva was depressed and did nothing but mope around the house talking to herself and crying, at least according to Marietta.
When Joel turned in to their drive, the talking stopped as they approached the only home he and Stella had ever known. It was indeed dark, lifeless, as if the people who had lived there were all dead and the place had been abandoned. He stopped the car with its lights shining in the front windows. He turned off the ignition and for a moment nothing was said.
“Let’s not go in,” Florry mumbled.
Joel said, “One year ago, we were all there, all together for Christmas. Dad was home from the war. Mom was happy and beautiful and buzzing around the house, so excited to have her family together. Remember the dinner we had on Christmas Eve?”
Stella said softly, “Yes, the house was packed with guests, including Dexter and Jackie Bell.”
“What the hell has happened to us?”
Because there was no answer, no one tried to offer one. Pete’s truck was parked next to the house and next to it was the family sedan, a Pontiac bought before the war. The vehicles were where they were supposed to be, as if those who owned them were inside the house and tucking in for the night, as if all was well around the Banning home.
Florry said, “Okay, enough of this. We’ll not spend our time wallowing in misery. Start the car and let’s go. Marietta has a pot of chili on the stove and she’s baking a caramel fudge pie.”
Joel backed away from the house and followed a gravel road that swung wide around the barns and sheds of the Banning compound. They passed the small white house where Nineva and Amos had lived for decades. A light was on, and Mack, Pete’s dog, watched them from the front porch.
“How’s Nineva?” Stella asked.
“Cranky as always,” Florry said. Her feuds with Pete’s housekeeper had been settled years earlier when both women decided to simply ignore each other. “Actually, she’s worried, same as everybody else. No one knows what’s in the future.”
“Who’s not worried?” Stella mumbled aloud.
They were moving slowly along a dark stretch of road with endless fields around them. Joel suddenly stopped and turned off the ignition and the lights. Without turning around, he said, “Okay, Aunt Florry, here we are in the middle of nowhere with no one to eavesdrop on our conversation. Just the three of us, alone and together for the first time. You always know more than anyone else, so let’s have it. Why did Pete kill Dexter Bell? There must be a good reason and you know it.”
She didn’t respond for a long time, and the longer she waited the more Stella and Joel anticipated her words. Finally, she would reveal the great mystery and make sense of the insanity. Instead, she said, “As God is my witness, I don’t know. I just don’t know, and I’m not sure we’ll ever understand it. Your father is perfectly capable of taking his secrets to his grave.”
“Was Dad angry with Dexter, any kind of disagreement or feud over a church matter?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Did they have business dealings of any kind? I know it’s a ridiculous question but stick with me, okay? I’m trying to eliminate possible conflicts.”
Florry said, “Dexter was a preacher. I’m not aware of any business dealings.”
“So that brings us to the obvious, doesn’t it? Our mother was the only connection between Dad and Dexter Bell. I remember those first days when we thought he was dead. The house was crawling with people, so many people that I had to get out and go for long walks around the farm. And I remember Dexter came over a lot to sit with Mom. They would pray and read the Bible and sometimes I sat with them. It was horrible and we were all in shock, but I remember Dexter as being calm and reassuring. Don’t you, Stella?”
“Oh, yes, he was wonderful. He was there all the time. His wife came with him occasionally, but she was never that comforting. After the initial shock of it all, the crowds thinned out and we sort of got back into our routines.”
Florry said, “The country was at war. Men were dying everywhere. We managed to move on, still hopeful, still praying a lot, but we got about our business. Goodness, we had to keep living.”
“The question is how long did Dexter hang around, Florry?” Joel asked. “That’s what I want to know.”
“I have no idea, Joel, and I’m not sure I appreciate your tone. It’s accusatory and I’ve done nothing wrong, nor am I hiding anything.”
“We just want answers,” he said.
“And maybe there are none. Life is full of mysteries and we’re not guaranteed the answers. I was never suspicious of anything between Dexter Bell and your mother. In fact, the mere suggestion is shocking to me. I’ve never heard a peep from Marietta or Nineva or anyone for that matter, not the slightest hint that things were going on.” There was a long pause as Florry caught her breath.