take them to services didn’t ride the bus—just the ones whose parents had partied hard the night before. Kayla was one of those children who never had matching clothes or hair that was combed. She was one who hadn’t had a bath the night before or brushed her teeth that morning and had contributed to the smell in the bus. Her mother didn’t make her younger siblings go to church, but then they belonged to Kayla’s stepdad, so they were white—not half-black like Kayla.
She’d gone to church all of three times. After that, she would hide behind the house, then sneak off to the woods for two hours until she heard the vehicle delivering the kids back to the neighborhood. Then she would go back into the house, get out the hot dogs or maybe open a can of soup, feed the other three kids, and try to clean up the mess from the night before. They usually ate in front of the television or on the porch, because her stepdad got really mad if they woke him and her mother before they were ready to get out of bed.
The memories of Billy Joe Green’s thick belt coming down on her back and butt made her shiver even after fifteen years. She shook her head, trying to erase the picture of his eyebrows drawn down and his mouth set in a tight line as he jerked his belt from the loops in his jeans, but it was burned into her brain.
She’d found a little peace when she went to church after she’d left Denver, but not enough to give up her morning that day. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she whispered as she poured a cup of coffee and carried it to her recliner.
In spite of Miss Janie’s help and raising, Kayla had taken up with a man who was just like her worthless stepfather. Billy Joe Green and Denver both always had an excuse for quitting their jobs, and they attacked every problem with violence. Like mother, like daughter. That’s what she’d heard whispered by her schoolteachers, and even her classmates, and she’d proven them right up to a point. Eighteen months ago, Denver had lashed out at her for the last time, blaming her for him losing his job. She’d walked out that evening with nothing but the clothes on her back and the hundred dollars she’d saved from her tips working as a waitress.
“Kayla! Come down here!” Mrs. Witherspoon yelled from the bottom of the stairs leading up to Kayla’s one-room apartment. The woman wasn’t easy to work for, but Kayla’s job as housekeeper came with a free garage apartment, which beat living in a box under a bridge, and the old girl was happy to pay in cash.
Kayla pulled a pair of shorts on and let her nightshirt hang free. “Yes, ma’am,” she called out as she started down the stairs, only to find Mrs. Witherspoon and a policeman waiting.
Mrs. Witherspoon shook her finger at Kayla. “What have you done? If you’ve been in trouble with the law, then I’ll fire you on the spot.”
Kayla rubbed her sweaty hands on the back of her shorts, but she couldn’t stop her heart from racing. Denver had found her; she was sure of it. He had told her that he’d kill her before he would see her with another man.
“She’s not in trouble,” the policeman said. “I just need to talk to her for a minute or two.”
“Well? Get on with it.” Mrs. Witherspoon crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve got to get to church, and if Kayla is in trouble, I need to know before I leave. She might steal me blind.”
“She’s not in trouble,” the policeman stated again. “A private investigator came to my office yesterday. He said there’s some family looking for you over in northeast Texas, down south of Paris. He left this letter for me to deliver to you. I wouldn’t have known where to bring it, but I’m friends with this lady’s”—he pointed at Mrs. Witherspoon—“this lady’s grandson, and he spoke about you cleaning her house. I recognized the name.” He handed her the letter. “Hope it’s not bad news.”
“Well, if that’s all it is, I’m going to church. I’ll see you in the morning, Kayla, bright and early. You need to polish the silver coffee service. I have my club meeting tomorrow evening, and I expect things to be ready.” Mrs. Witherspoon turned and marched back toward