“Thank God. Thank God you alright,” I said. She looked at me with an unreadable expression, her eyelids puffy with exhaustion.
“Sir. Officer—” I read the police officer’s badge. “Officer Hatch, this young lady has obviously been through an ordeal. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get her cleaned up.”
“And who are you exactly?”
“I’m her nurse.”
I said it as if I’d uttered the word doctor. And I must have sounded authoritative, because they began to stir. I suspected I’d given them the perfect excuse to wrap it up. Mace walked to the door. The men shook hands. Mrs. Williams promised everyone pies as soon as she could get back in the kitchen, her voice tired but sincere. The detective handed Mace a piece of paper with a phone number on it. He lingered the longest, asking if there was anything else he could do. I understood the man. It was difficult to accept that everything was over, that you’d done the job you set out to do.
I led Erica to the bathroom. “I’ll run you some water, alright?”
I sat on the side of the tub. Erica closed the toilet lid and sat down.
“Somebody bring me a clean towel!”
Erica pointed to the one hanging on the back of the door. I thought it might be the dirty one she had used before she disappeared. It occurred to me that she might not realize how many days she had been gone. Four days, baby, I wanted to tell her, but I remained silent.
While the water ran I went to go see about India. She was at the dining table eating a bowl of cereal, Mace next to her, one hand resting absently on the carton of milk.
“So she was just at the old house all this time?”
“That’s what she say.”
“How did y’all miss her?”
“That was one of the first places we looked. But she hated that place. I never thought she would go back there.”
“Did they examine her? She’s not hurt at all?”
“No, she said she was by herself the whole time. I think she was just scared and cold.”
“She made a fire and nobody saw it?”
He shrugged and propped his elbow on the table. “She stole from Mr. Adair house. Once he find out, I reckon I’ll owe him. That’s the kind of man he is.”
At one time, I might have judged her theft. Poverty did not warrant disobedience to God, our pastor had warned on more than one occasion. But I was glad she had done what she had to survive.
I went to check the bath. Erica had already gotten in the tub and was lying back with her eyes closed. I turned off the water and took the pitcher from the shelf. I dipped it and poured water over Erica’s hair, raking my fingers through it.
“Why, Erica?”
I knew I should wait until she had a chance to rest up, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to know. There was nothing else to say until I had the answer to that question. “Was it because of the court case?” I hated myself for asking this question, but it was honest. I had known all along that if something happened to this girl, it would all be on me.
“I just don’t want to live in Montgomery no more.”
“Where do you want to live?”
“I don’t know. But I done told my grandmama I don’t want to live here and she just say, Girl, you crazy.” She closed her eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was to avoid getting water in them or just because she didn’t want to look at me. I pushed her chin to tilt her head back.
“We won the case. Did they tell you?”
“I want to go back to that beach.”
“You heard me? We won.”
“The only place I know how to get to was the Adair place. When I took a look and seen the house was empty, just the way we left it, even one of the old dogs what used to come around for scraps still hobbling around, I took up there.”
The bar of soap had dried and stuck to the porcelain holder. She pried it off and dropped it in the water, turning it over and over in her hand until the water clouded.
“Erica, you scared us all. The whole city was searching for you. It was even in the news—”
“The news.” She splashed the water as she sat up. “I’m sick and tired of them news people. I’m sick and tired of kids talking about me and my family like we got some kind of disease.”
I touched her shoulder, but she was slippery and I couldn’t make solid contact with her.
“I’m sick and tired. I’m sick and tired.” Her words came out in a rush. “No husband. No life. No babies. I ain’t never going to be happy.”
“Let’s just finish up your bath so you can get some rest.”
She rubbed the bar of soap over her face and blinked rapidly.
“Erica, are you alright? Were you hurt?”
I took the towel off the hook behind the door and handed her the corner of it. She wiped her eyes.
“Come on. Let’s get out.”
I helped dry her as if she were a baby, and pulled a gown over her head. India was already in the bed. I kissed both of them on their cheeks before turning off the ceiling light.
“You sure you not hurting anywhere?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Alright, y’all get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Do I got to go to school tomorrow?” Erica asked.
I paused. “I reckon not. Let’s talk in the morning. I think my daddy might stop by and examine you. That alright with you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In the living room, Mace had spread a blanket over the sofa. His face was haggard and lined. He did not look at me when he said, “I’ll get you a pillow.”
I sat on the sofa, waiting for the pillow. Then I closed my eyes and did not remember opening them again until morning.
FORTY-SEVEN
Rockford
2016
The face of the house is flat and unremarkable, and I comprehend with a sudden and intense pain that they are still poor. There was never a large monetary settlement, never a large payout from the government to right the wrong inflicted upon those girls and that family. Mace has been dead some twenty years, Mrs. Williams gone ten. Their deaths don’t sit right with me, most likely because I was never able to make my peace. At least, it feels that way.
The morning after my meeting with Mrs. Seager’s daughter, I’d driven out to Dixie Court. Alicia had said the apartments were scheduled for demolition and I wanted to get a last look at them. At first they appeared abandoned. Windows boarded, grass knee-high. But as I drove through I realized there were still some families inhabiting the complex. It was grim to know families were living next door to empty units, critters taking up residence alongside children. The Williamses’ apartment was one of the boarded-up ones. Someone had spray-painted something illegible in red across the boards. The stairs were dark, but I could see India bounding down them, the memory fresh.
Now, in front of their new home, I understand a little better this stretch of time that has passed. I tentatively touch the doorbell, understanding with full certainty that this is more than a door. It is a portal. I hear a faint chime and the yap of a dog. And there is Erica, unmistakably Erica. She smiles at me through the iron door as she unlocks it with a key. It all happens so fast I am barely able to think. I bite the inside of my cheek.