Earl Honey Read online

  “Sir, you haf perjured yourself. I di’nt fornicate vith no jackass. You’re a damn liar.”

  “I saw you with my own eyes. So did your boy.”

  “You lie!”

  “Then why were you chasing him through the cornfield with your ass hanging out of your britches?”

  Several men break into coughing fits. Hahn’s face flushes like a scalded tomato.

  Eyes never wavering from his pa, Earl chews one finger, remembering his narrow escape. He’d seen something he weren’t s’posed to see, somethin’ that made his skin crawl. He’d tried to back out of the barn without makin’ a noise. He failed. He decided to break for it when he realized Pa had heard his footstep, his head swiveling to pin him with a furious stare. He outran his pa that day – he could outrun just about anyone – but it only delayed the punishment. His pa was waitin’ with a fresh switch when Earl slipped into the house later. He never did tell his ma what that whipping was for and one look at her husband’s face had discouraged questions.

  Now he watches closely as Pa goes nose-to-nose with Mr. Stan. Earl continues to worry his finger, silently assessing the strength of the slender wood barrier separating the two men.

  “I’m gonna shoot you twixt the eyes.” Pa’s voice is low and mean.

  “Judge, did you hear that? Did you hear? Hahn threatened me.” Stanley Strickland gestures toward the packed room. “Y’all heard it.”

  “Kvatch! So ein misthaufen! You’re a lily-livered chicken shit!” shouts Pa, delivering a sharp kick to the witness stand.

  “We’ll take this outside and settle it once and for all,” Mr. Stan growls back, matching his volume. He rises to his feet with hands fisted.

  “I’ll vip you vere you stand,” Pa snarls. He lifts both arms and crouches into his favorite fighting stance, his right fist and right foot forward. As folks in the courtroom inch toward the edge of their seats, Earl sinks back into his, waiting for Pa to launch his left cross right hook.

  The judge motions to an officer by the wall, who reaches his pa in four strides, gripping the man’s shoulder like he means business. Feeling the ambush behind him, his pa swirls with an automatic jab to the officer’s midsection. The man expels a loud whoof then wraps strong arms around Pa.

  “That’s enough!” The judge gives Pa a stern look then faces the witness. “Mr. Strickland, sit down. Mr. Hahn, you’re supposed to cross-examine the witness, not hurl threats and accusations. I won’t have you making a mockery of this courtroom.”

  “I don’t know vat you mean,” his pa mutters sullenly, squirming in the officer’s embrace. His eyes are hot.

  “Can you control your temper?” the judge demands. “And I’ll thank you not to abuse county property. Not unless you’re prepared to make reparations.”

  After a minute, his pa shrugs off the guard and wipes a hand down his face. He drops his head, staring hard at the floor. Earl knows the man can be wily. He might be readying for another attack.

  The judge waits a beat to ensure order has been restored. When it seems as though further violence will not be forthcoming, he motions the officer back to his position beside the flag. “Now, Mr. Hahn, would you like to ask the witness questions regarding his testimony?”

  Pa wags his head. His movements appear slow and halting as though he’s making his way through mud. “Vat’s da use, Your Honor? I’m not a lawyer. Vat’s da use?”

  Noting the slumped shoulders, it occurs to Earl he’s never seen his pa like this, beat down and uncertain. If folks are to be believed, his pa is something called a moral. That’s another word he doesn’t know. What he does know is that it takes a lot to break a Hahn.

  His next thought is about heat and the misery of sitting still in such a place. The trial’s takin’ a long time. Sharp light coming through the near window is hard to bear. It will ease his listening if he rests his eyes, only for a second.

  He doesn’t stir until he feels a sharp elbow in the ribs. Struggling to come awake, he stares about with confusion. “Wh… what’s goin’ on?”

  “Take Lucy,” his ma says briskly. “Go outside. Wait for us.”

  Yawning, he wipes the grit from his eyes and stares bemusedly at the bank of windows. He can tell from the altered slant of sunbeam that a considerable amount of time has passed. That was a good nap, he thinks with satisfaction. He notices Lucy. She’s on her feet, watching him expectantly.

  “Where’re we going?” he mumbles.

  “Take your sister outside. The rest of us are going to speak with the judge.”

  As he processes the words, his brows draw together in a scowl. He doesn’t like the idea of her goin’ off without him. “I need to speak with the judge, too.”

  “Go on, now. Look after your sister like I asked. Take her hand.”

  Lower lip jutting, he opens his hand. Lucy slips hers into it.

  “If the judge wants to speak with you, I’ll come fetch you myself.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asks. “Why can’t I come?”

  She places rough hands on either side of his face and makes him look at her directly.

  “What do you ask me every night before you go to bed?”

  He doesn’t have to think about it. “Am I safe?” he whispers.

  “And since your pa’s been in the jailhouse, what’s my answer?”

  “Yes.” And it was true. He’d felt safe for the first time in his life. Safe from ugly words and harsh blows; safe from the need to be invisible.

  “You and Rose are going to get justice,” she says softly. “Ladies and children got rights now. It’s the law. It won’t make up for what he did. But it’s a start. Your pa’s going to get what he has coming.”

  “Like a present?”

  She nods. “Like a present for you and me and for your sisters.”

  “For Lucy, too?”

  “Most definitely for Lucy.” A look comes over her face that he recognizes. It signals a step back in time, a visible shift from the damp, Southern summer to another century and an old-world upbringing she’d never shaken. “Leviticus says, ‘none of you shall approach to any that is kin, to uncover their nakedness’.” She stares him hard in the eyes. “Do you understand?”

  He doesn’t but nods anyway.

  “‘Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself.’ It’s a perversion. Your pa is a perversion”.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Now, watch your sister. Mind yourself, hear?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She motions to his brothers and to Frieda and they head toward the front of the room, where the judge stands waiting with Rose. Earl glances down at his sister.

  “Come on then.”

  Three

  Sampson County is known for three things: flue-cured tobacco, grand champion hogs and epic heat and humidity. Even late in the day, the air glimmers with a veil of moisture. Earlier, Earl had craved a bit of breeze. Now that he’s outside the courthouse, he feels submerged in the air. He wants to peel his shirt and race for the river.

  Loitering in the shade of a brick side porch, he peeks at his sister. Tiny droplets bead on her forehead and above her lip.

  “I’m heat-struck,” she whispers.

  “Pooh. This is nothin’. Last summer was hotter.”

  “I’m gonna melt right here in a puddle of Lucy, you watch.”

  “Want me to fan you?”

  “Yeah.”

  He flaps his hands around her head till she shoos him off, giggling.

  “Come on.” Wrapping his large hand around Lucy’s delicate one, he steps down to the sidewalk. At the corner, three kids play a tagging game. He glances their way then tugs on his sister to follow him. He tries to figure the best place to wait for Ma and finally heads across Main Street to the five-and-dime. He doesn’t have a penny for candy but the two of the
m can take a slice of shade beneath the awning and maybe catch up on gossip.

  “Hi there, Mr. Purvis,” he says, stepping up to the storefront. Mr. Purvis has his head down, looking thoughtful as he walks home from the office. He’s a deacon at the church, and he’s kind to their ma. As the children approach, he lifts his head and gives them a smile that is reassuring in its sincerity.

  “Good afternoon, Earl. The trial still going on?”

  “No sir. But the judge needed to speak with Ma, so Lucy and I are to wait outside.”

  The man reaches into his waistcoat pocket and removes a coin. “Here, son. Why don’t you take your sister into the store and share a soda? It’ll cool you down in this heat.”

  “Golly. Thank you, Mr. Purvis.” He grins at his sister. They hardly ever get soda. Occasionally a lemon drop or a piece of peppermint. But a whole pop to themselves? This is cause for celebration.

  “The missus and I will be praying for your family.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Lucy’s on her toes with excitement, but he restrains her until Mr. Purvis walks away. He knows Ma wouldn’t want him to appear disrespectful. Still, he can’t hold back a soft whoop as he steps inside the dark interior of the store. There’s a photograph of an old war chief on the wall behind the cash register. The face looking out of the photo is fierce and sad and something else Earl can’t decipher. It troubles him. He looks away and straight into the eyes of the grocer.

  Mr. Wilkins glowers at them from behind the counter. Earl knows why. His pa has stolen from this store many times. The only reason Earl and Lucy are allowed through the front door is because of folks takin’ pity on his ma. He holds up the five-cent piece so the man can see he has money to pay. Then he and Lucy walk to the ice chest and remove a bottle from the freezer. The curve of the frosty glass fits his hand like it was crafted solely for this purpose.

  “Let me,” says Lucy.

  He hands over the bottle so she can use the steel opener to pop the top. Then he hands the coin to Mr. Wilkins, who deposits it into an ornate till.

  “Take it outside,” the man says shortly.

  The two return to the store’s front porch. Earl takes a swig from the bottle and smacks his lips before handing it to his sister. She takes a long drink then burps, smiling at the sound. Earl’s answering grin evaporates when he sees a trio of boys headed their way.

  He sends Lucy a glance that means ‘look out’, but she’s seen them too. She watches warily as they approach.

  “Hey, moron.”

  He doesn’t respond. Mr. Purvis might be a decent man but his son, James, is a hooligan. Everyone knows it but Mr. Purvis.

  “Whatcha got there, moron?”

  Earl tightens his lips. He knows it don’t matter what he does or what he says. These boys are gonna torment him for their own pleasure. He can take a hit if it comes, but his ma told him to look after his sister. He steals a quick glance at Lucy from the corner of his eye. She stands frozen, her hand clamped around the cold glass.

  “Here, give that to me,” snaps James.

  The Purvis boy steps toward Lucy. She sends Earl a quick look then hands over the bottle. He tips it up to take a sip then spews the soda out of his mouth, gagging dramatically. “I got Hahn skank!” Eyes gleeful, he turns the bottle upside down so the cola pours onto the dirt. “Say, Lucy – that’s your name, right?”

  She pushes a dark strand of hair out of her eyes but stays silent.

  “How old are you?”

  Maybe she decides they’ll lose interest if she delivers what they’re asking for because, after a moment, she replies. “Seven.”

  An unpleasant look enters his eye. “I bet your pa’s gonna come after you next, soon as he gets out of the State Pen. You’ll be ripe then. Three years and it’ll be your word against his. Maybe you can visit him for one of those… what are they called?… connubial visits.”

  Another boy snickers. “Shit. One of us’ll have her ’fore she’s ten, James.”

  The Purvis boy joins in the laughter and Earl feels a twinge in his gut, something ugly that sets him on edge.

  “If your pa hadn’t poisoned your sister’s belly, I bet he’d o’ never got caught.” Narrowing his eyes as he looks Lucy up and down, James tips his head thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s already been in your bloomers, eh? Or maybe your sisters keep him busy. Your sister Faith is a peach.” He shifts his attention to Earl. “Your pa likes donkeys and daughters. Does he bugger his sons, too?”

  There’s that word again. He’s pretty sure it’s something naughty. He’s unsure how to answer. He’s not sure he should answer. These boys are talkin’ nasty. And he knows why. He wishes he didn’t. He wishes he’d never seen his pa in the barn; that he’d never seen his pa with Rose. Earl always seemed to be in the wrong place. He’d been hidin’ in the rafters that day, afraid Orbry was gonna come after him for smilin’ when his brother smashed his thumb with the hammer. He should have stayed and taken the punch.

  He could never unsee what his pa done, but he hadn’t said nothin’. Not then. It was Rose who got up the gumption to visit the sheriff. Later, the sheriff asked Earl to tell, so he did. But not at first. Nibbling his lip, he casts another glance at his little sister. He doesn’t think his pa touched her like he did Rose.

  Her eyes are wide now, fixed on the taunting boys. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t run away on account of Lucy won’t be able to keep up. If James and his pals try to hurt her, he’ll have to do something.

  “You boys get on now before I pay a call on your parents.”

  At the sound of a deep voice, Earl spins to see who’s come up behind him. He’s never met the man, but everyone in town knows who he is. Mr. Edwards is Clinton’s Superintendent of Public Welfare. Rose works in his home as a housemaid. He’s the one who helped her after she run away from Pa.

  The tall man gives James Purvis and his friends a long, quiet look. Beside him, the county welfare officer points at the boys. “I’m taking names. Don’t think I won’t knock on your door, Master Purvis! Loitering, disrupting the peace, being a public nuisance. What else can I add to the list?” He holds a sharpened pencil poised over his writing tablet.

  The boys whirl on their heels and run off, hurling the empty soda bottle to the ground. Earl moves to fetch it, knowing he can turn it in at the store for a penny. Maybe he and Lucy can split a peppermint stick. He stops when Mr. Edwards pins him with a look.

  “I saw you two in the courtroom. You’re Rose’s family.”

  Lucy’s cheeks are pink from her encounter with the boys. She steps forward, tight fists on her hips. “That boy said it’d be my turn in three years. What happens when I turn ten?”

  “Those boys are misinformed,” the man says. “Don’t give it another thought.” Eyes that had been hard before now look kindly at the two children.

  “Tell me,” she insists.

  Mr. Edwards lifts his face to the sky and Earl has the impression he might be praying. After a long moment, he makes a grunt then turns his gaze on Lucy. “Until recently, ten was the age of consent in the state of North Carolina. It wasn’t a crime for a man to….” He clears his throat. “Well, for a man to be, ah…” He looks sideways at his companion and Lucy speaks up.

  “Earl and me, we live on a farm. And we know our pa. There’s nothing you can say we haven’t heard, and worse.”

  He blows out a long breath. “Fine. Then I’ll tell it to you straight. Until recently, if a man was intimate with a girl of ten and she brought a claim of sexual assault against him, he could say she granted him consent and it would be his word against hers in a court of law. Any younger, and it would be a crime. The law states that anyone below a minimum age is legally the victim since they’re too young to grant consent. Last year, women got the vote. Slowly but surely, they’re changing things. The age of consent in North Carolina was ten. Now, any s
exual relations with a minor younger than sixteen is a crime.”

  “Rose is fifteen,” she says. “So that’s why…”

  “Rose may be fifteen, but it doesn’t matter about her age, because it’s always a crime when it involves a father and daughter.”

  “Will our pa go to prison?” Earl asks.

  “The maximum penalty for incest in this state is fifteen years. Because he pled guilty, and considering the other charges against him, I suspect he’ll get at least that.”

  “How come you know so much?” his sister asks.

  “It’s my job,” he responds matter-of-factly. He leans forward until his face is inches away from the two children. Earl admires the gray hairs mixed among dark whiskers. “Now, I want to say something to both of you and I want you to listen and listen carefully, do you understand?”

  Without speaking, the pair nod their agreement.

  “Your pa is a son-of-a-bitch. The trashiest of poor white trash.”

  Lucy frowns, but she doesn’t look shocked. These are words they understand.

  “I know this is a hard thing to hear about your kin,” the man continues, “but I expect you know it’s true better than most. That doesn’t mean you have to follow in his footsteps. You have a choice. It may not feel like it now, but you do. There’s no disgrace in being poor. You can be poor and hold up your head in this town – in any town. You can choose a different way to be. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Earl doesn’t fully take the man’s meaning. But his words, his expression, even the tone of his voice – it stirs something inside him.

  “Your father came to this country to make a better life for himself. He squandered it. Don’t make the same mistake. Every day, life will give you opportunities to be better. Be better.”