THIRTEEN FOR DINNER

Thirty

THIRTY

            Lunar refuses to ride in the lumber wagon so with the aid of his brothers he’s walking back home. I feel that darn lump in my throat swelling bigger by the minute. I know Lunar doesn’t have a home to go to, no comfortable bed to lay in and heal from his undeserved beating. He will more than likely just find a soft patch of clover somewhere and rest until he’s ordered back to work, which will be as soon as he’s able to stand without teetering over.

            “Can we slip him in through the carriage house and in a secret room?” I break the long forlorn silence.

            Emily smiles softly and nods, “It’s what I was thinking too. Jeb,” she says, “Let’s take Lunar to safe room for now.”

            “It’s broad daylight Miss Emily, you know that.” Jeb’s apprehensions are reasonable seeing he was forced to stand by and watch his brother get beat to a pulp and could do nothing to help him.

            “Don’t you worry about anything Jeb,” Emily consoles him. She looks at me with a certain determination carved on her face. I smile back and my heart warms. I really like Miss Emily Faulkner. My lump gets bigger.

            Since Mike is the only one who came through the fight unscathed, he volunteers to scout ahead and give us the all clear, in order to sneak Lunar in through the carriage house. James Faulkner was in town earlier and none of us are sure if he decided to head home after the public accusations against his family. If so, then he could very well be in the carriage house about now.       We take our rest just past a line of trees that border the drive way leading up to the carriage house. The blanket of grey moss hangs thick giving us excellent cover. Within a few minutes Mike whistles giving us the all clear. We dart from behind the foliage and into the carriage house. Jeb and the boys hand Lunar over to Quillan and Mike and the five of us take to the passageway.

            Lunar doesn’t look very good but at least he’s coherent and resting comfortably on the feather bed. Emily sits beside him, cleaning him up and dabbing ointment on his wounds. I can tell she’s worried and who wouldn’t be, she can’t even send for a doctor. I however might fit the bill. I’ve sat around the apartment the past few months waiting for momma to show up and watched enough Grey’s Anatomy, in that time ,to perform surgery if need be. I walk over to the bed and take his pulse. It’s super slow but that’s normal seeing he is in optimum shape. His breathing is steady, that’s good. I check his eyes to see if his pupils react to light, they do.

            “Who’s the president?” I ask him hoping slaves are privy to such information otherwise my test question is worthless.

            “James Buchanan,” He mumbles.

            “Good,” I say. “What day is it?”

            “Saturday…why you asking me questions you should already know? Did they hit you in the head too?”

            We all laugh despite the tragedy we’ve faced. Even Lunar snickers a little before he grimaces in pain.

            “He’s fine,” I assure Emily who’s smiling at me through her tears.

            “Emily!” James Faulkner’s voice booms throughout the mansion, bonging louder than the old grandfather clock.”

            Emily’s smile fades, and I watch her eyes widen in fear. The bookcase door slides open and Pearl appears in a panic. “Miss Emily, your daddy done be lookin’ everywhere for you. You better go to him before he comes snoopin’ up here on the third floor!”

            Emily pales even more than she already is, “Oh dear God Avery,” she says looking at me. “What am I to do?”

            Great, we’re a week away from bedlam, all hell is breaking loose, and she is asking me, off-the-cuff, what to do. I feel trapped and the room seems to be closing in like a noose around my own neck. I’m terrified. What if I say the wrong thing and give her bad advice? What if Lunar hangs, Emily commits suicide and Quillan never gets his life all because I couldn’t come up with an idea? But then again, why beat myself up? This was Quillan’s little operation and he admittedly came here without a plan, so why should I stress? I look over at him and he is staring at me as if my words will be the life breathed into his soul. I swallow hard, gasping for air myself.  I know why I care; I care because I love the people in this room. They’re not unfeeling characters of an eerie legend or lifeless portraits in my black history books; they’re not babies that never made it. They’re my friends and they have impacted my life, changing me for the better. I close my eyes to think and when I do I can see my mother. I feel her presence as if she’s standing right next to me in this room.

            “Avery,” I hear her sweet voice, “Honey just tell the truth, it’s the one thing that will set everyone free.” I swipe the tear that has fallen from my cheek. Opening my eyes I look at Emily straight on. “It’s your Judgment Day Emily, time to tell the truth.”

            She nods, “I’m scared Avery.”

            I brush away another tear, “Me too Emily. But remember, there is no fear in love.”

            “I hope daddy loves me enough.”

            “Oh I think he does,” I reassure her, At least I hope he does. My daddy disappointed me, but I am not going to think that way right now.

            “Will you come with me? She asks me?

            “Of course I will,” I say.