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"There's nothing for him to get angry about, but I'd like to know the truth."

"Maybe it's none of our business, Christie. Maybe we shouldn't stir up old memories," Gavin warned.

"It's too late, I'm afraid. I feel something every time I wander through the house. Spirits have already been stirred."

"Oh boy. All right," he said. "When are you going to ask Luther these questions?"

"Right now," I said. Gavin closed his book and sighed.

"Daddy always says curiosity killed the cat."

"I'm not a cat, Gavin. I'm part of the world here at The Meadows. Maybe not through direct bloodline, but still, it's what I've inherited. It's my fate," I said boldly. Gavin nodded, still smiling at me. "Laugh if you want, but I want to know the past that haunts this house and this family."

"Okay, okay," he said and got up. "Let's see what Luther will tell us."

Charlotte told us Luther was out in the barn changing the oil in the pickup truck. It was a very warm night with a sky full of stars. So far away from busy highways and the sounds of traffic and people, we could hear how noisy nature was. Usually, the sounds people made distracted or drowned out the peepers and crickets, the hoot owls and raccoons. To both Gavin and myself, it sounded as if every night creature in the wild had an opinion about something or other. Ahead of us, the glow of Luther's lanterns lit up the barn. We could see him crouched over his truck engine.

"Hello Luther," I called as we approached. I didn't want to startle him, but he looked up surprised. "Can we talk to you?" He wiped his hands and nodded.

"Homer go home?" he asked, looking beyond us.

"No. He's inside with Jefferson. But that's what we wanted to ask you about, Luther," I said quickly.

"Oh? Ask about what?"

"Homer. Who is he really, Luther?" I blurted quickly. Luther's eyes narrowed.

"What'dya mean, who is he? He's Homer Douglas, the neighbor's boy. I told you that before," he said.

"Charlotte took me to the nursery," I began, "and told me the story of her baby."

"Oh that. Charlotte pretends a lot," he said, looking at his engine again. "She always has. It was her way of escaping a hard, cold life."

"She doesn't have a hard, cold life now," I said. "Why is she still pretending?" Luther ,didn't respond.

"Then she didn't really have a baby?" I pursued. "And the baby didn't have a birthmark that looks like a hoof on the back of his neck?" Luther opened a can of oil and began pouring it into the engine as if we weren't there. "We don't want to make any trouble. I just wanted to know the truth about this family. It's my family, too," I added.

"Your ma, she was a Cutler, but she hadn't no Booth blood in her from what I understood to be the truth," Luther muttered.

"But we inherited the Booths and their history too. Like it or not," I said.

"It's best you don't know about this family," Luther said, pausing. "They was hard, cruel folk who married some religion with some superstition to come up with their mean ideas and ways. Charlotte, she was blessed with a softness and had sunshine in her face always. Them Booths, especially her father and that Emily, couldn't tolerate it and made her practically a prisoner in her own home. They worked her like a slave and never treated her like kinfolk.

"After Mrs. Booth passed on, there was nothin' left to bring any kindness in that house. Why, they even whipped her from time to time. Emily did it just because she took to thinking there was a devilish spirit in Charlotte making her smile. She tried to whip the smile out of her, but Charlotte . ." He shook his head. "She didn't understand such cruelty and never gave in to it. You couldn't harden her heart. She forgave everyone everything all the time, even Emily." He spat and fixed his gaze on a memory as he continued.

"She'd come out to me after a beating and I'd comfort her and she would tell me Emily couldn't help it. The devil was in her making her do it . . . stuff like that. I was planning on sending her to the devil myself only . . ."

"Only what?"

"That's how the devil gets you. He makes you commit a sin. Anyways . . . Charlotte and I . . . we got so we comforted each other. After my parents passed on, we was both alone. Especially at night. You understand?"

Gavin and I exchanged knowing glances. "Yes, we do."

"She got pregnant and as soon as Emily found out, she declared it was the devil's work and the baby would be an evil child. No one outside of the old man and Emily, and me, of course, knew that Charlotte was in a childbearing way. No one in town much saw her.

"I remember the night she gave birth," he said, looking up at the old plantation house. "I remember her screaming. Emily was happy about that. She did everything she could to make things harder."

"They kept her in the Bad Room?"