Page 18 of Junie

Chapter Eighteen

Junie hides Grimm’s Fairy Tales underneath the floorboards of her cabin. Her dreams drift from glowing haunts to Caleb, leaning against the brick wall of the cookhouse, ready to take her into the darkness. Waking fells her in ways the woods can’t cure.

As soon as he is relieved of the burden of hosting, the master disappears from Lowndes County, taking Granddaddy with him. Auntie’s dinners regress from Virginia ham and meringues to rabbit stews and berry cobblers. Mrs. McQueen seethes in the absence of a wedding ring on her daughter’s finger. Violet hides in novels. Life returns to polishing never-used silverware, making unslept-in beds, and cleaning untouched railings.

In October, a little more than a month after the Taylors have gone, after serving another silent dinner to the mistress and Violet, Junie walks into the house to the faint sound of the piano. Memory floods her with the smell of grass and tobacco, the radiance of candlelight, the passion on Caleb’s face. What would life be like if he were here, looking at Junie that way again?

She finds Violet practicing for the first time since the Taylors’ departure. Junie glides toward the music. The tune changes, and Violet murmurs the words. Junie swallows her tears.

He is gone.

She makes up an excuse to leave the house and runs for the cabin, cracking open the floorboards to collect Grimm’s Fairy Tales. She hurries back to the main house, passing Violet on her way upstairs. She dusts the remnants of grass and dirt from the cotton fields off the cover and tucks it back into its spot on the shelf.

It feels wrong to leave it here, another bit of herself discarded in Violet’s room.

“Which book you lookin’ at?” Violet asks quietly from behind.

“Jesus, Violet, you’ve got a foot lighter than a kitchen mouse,” Junie says, turning to face her while pushing the book the rest of the way in.

“Well, which one is it?”

“ Grimm’s Fairy Tales, ” Junie says. “Sometimes it’s nice to remember when I believed in fairy tales.”

Violet smiles weakly.

“Things were simpler then, weren’t they?”

She takes the pins out of her hair, her pallid coloring like marble in the candlelight. Her red hair falls flat around her face. She doesn’t bother brushing it.

“You’re lookin’ pale, Violet. You want me to put the fire on?”

“That’s all right, I’m fine,” Violet says. “You ain’t obligated to stay if you got other things to do. I know Marilla or Muh might want to see after you.”

“Not much to do, with so many people gone,” Junie says. “I’ll stay awhile, if that’s all right.”

Violet meets her eyes in the mirror, a glisten of tears resting on the corners of her wide eyes.

“Suit yourself,” she says. “Go on and sit. You can read something if you like.”

Junie nods and peruses Violet’s shelves, settling for a Dickens novel. Violet picks her book up from the armoire. They both feign attention to their stories, but don’t make much progress.

“Violet, have you heard from Mr. Taylor?” Junie asks, giving up on Oliver Twist .

Violet reddens and lowers her face.

“I haven’t gotten any more letters from him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Silence lingers between them as a draft blows through the room.

“I suppose I ought to put a fire on,” Junie says. Violet doesn’t answer.

Junie shuffles to the fireplace, starting the flame with paper and kindling until it burns to life, sparks dancing against the bricks. The same sparks that floated and coalesced to form her sister’s spirit. She pushes the thought away with a sniff. As she bends forward to drop a log on the hearth, the locket necklace tumbles out of her pocket. It hits the hardwood floors with a loud thud.

Junie’s breath stops.

“I think something’s come out of your pocket,” Violet says.

Junie snatches the necklace into her hand.

“Oh, it’s just one of your combs. I found it on the ground earlier.”

“No, it’s not, Junie. I just saw it in the light,” Violet says. “What did you have in your pocket?”

Junie’s stomach falls like lead.

“It’s just something of mine, Violet. I didn’t take it from the house or anything…”

“Why won’t you show me?” Violet asks, tilting her head. Her eyes narrow the way her mother’s do when something is missing from the table settings.

There’s no way to avoid this, no good explanation she can give for what she has. Junie extends her hand and opens her fingers, revealing the necklace in her palm. Violet picks it up, looking at it.

“I’ve seen this before,” Violet says. “It ain’t mine or Mother’s or nothing, but I’ve seen it before.”

Junie is silent.

“Junie, ain’t this Minnie’s necklace? I remember this face on it. She used to hide it under her maid’s uniform, but I saw the chain poking out one day years ago so I said something. She made me swear on Mother’s and Daddy’s lives I’d never tell. I kept my promise, too, you know.”

“Can I have it back?” Junie says.

“Did she give it to you before…?”

“Can I please have it back?” Junie says.

“Wait a minute, Junie. I thought I saw Muh put this in that jar y’all used to mark the grave, with some of Minnie’s drawings and those flowers she liked.”

“You’re remembering wrong, Violet, now give me that back!”

Violet hands the necklace to Junie. Junie snatches it and shoves it into her pocket, turning away from Violet. She breathes heavily as the familiar lump forms in her throat.

“Junie, shoot, I’m sorry, I’m out of sorts tonight.”

“It’s fine, just—”

“You know how big my mouth can be…”

“It’s fine, Violet!” She keeps her back to her, as Violet’s footsteps get closer. Then she feels Violet’s arms wrap around her, squeezing her own closer to her body.

Junie gives in to Violet’s embrace as she cries. She is sick of the pounding in her head, sick of the persistent memories of a dead sister she can’t seem to shake, sick of sympathy and pity from people who can’t understand her. She hates her maid uniform. She hates herself for giving in to this simple hug, for breaking at the feeling of an embrace from someone she resents for upsetting her in the first place. She hates that Violet is right—the necklace is Minnie’s, stolen from her grave, and used to unlock her worst secrets. She wishes she could cast it into the fire, but knows that she’ll never let it go.

“You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I ain’t mean to put you in pain like that,” Violet whispers.

Junie silently nods, her chin bumping Violet’s shoulder. There isn’t anyone who’d understand how it hurts to see her friend attached to a monster. Bess would reprimand her for sticking her nose in white folks’ business. Muh would go into one of her rants about the spirits, and Granddaddy, for all his good intentions, would console her with empty aphorisms.

Junie’s heart stings with sharp realization. The only person she wants to talk to about the hurt is Minnie.

—

After violet dozes off, Junie slips back outside, starting toward her cabin by her lantern light. The forest’s leaves have thinned enough to reveal the full moon’s light reflecting off the river and through the web of bare branches and tree trunks.

The winds whip off the river and through the fields like a scythe. She wraps her knitted shawl tightly over her neck and face to stop the cold’s burn.

Junie had sworn off her sister a month ago, abandoning her soul the same way Minnie had set out to abandon her. She’d almost gone back the night after Caleb left, Pastor Daniels’s sermon still burning in her ears, but once her toes touched the leaf-thickened forest floor, her anger came bubbling back anew. She’d turned back, even as she saw the specks of gold beginning to materialize.

An eye for an eye, Junie thinks, slowing to a stop near her entrance into the woods.

But, had it been?

Another full moon has gone. Her sister is another moon cycle weaker, another cycle closer to oblivion.

She’s lost Caleb. She’s losing Violet. Why bear losing Minnie, too, in whatever form she takes?

Junie wanders into the barren woods, the air an even sharper cold. She sits on an exposed root that’s grown into the bank to look over the water. Touching her finger to the surface, she marvels at the water’s power to shape the world the way it wants, defying earthly barriers to carve its path through ruddy dirt and tangled forest. The locket weighs heavy in her pocket. What was this locket but a futile attempt to shape her own future, the way the freedom papers had been Minnie’s? Why had she reacted in anger that night, instead of trying to find out why Minnie’d done it in the first place?

“You’re back.”

Junie startles, turning to face the voice. Despite the passing moons, Minnie still glows, her soul fed by the completed task. Her teeth, once blackened, have softened to a dull white, while her eyes form irises and pupils like the ones she had in life.

“I…” Junie trails off. Her sister’s features glow through even clearer now, stirring Junie’s stomach and tightening her throat. She’d missed Minnie, even this version of her. She needed her. “I came back. I wanted…I wanted to know why you did it. Why you wanted to leave.”

The ghost’s lips curl into a soft smile.

Before Junie can stop her, Minnie grabs her, throwing her arms around her. Cold envelops her like water under a frozen lake, followed by a pain that threatens to rip her apart.

“Get off!” Junie musters through the agony. When she tries to push Minnie away, her hands go right through her.

The cold lifts, and Junie opens her eyes.

They are no longer alone in the woods. The forest is filled with people, each of them luminous with a light even stronger than Minnie’s. Between the living trunks stand glowing counterparts of ancient trees long since chopped or rotted, while the ground crawls with incandescent squirrels, chipmunks, and birds. It is like staring into the midday sun. Junie opens her eyes wider. She turns toward her sister, who extends her hand to touch Junie’s face. She speaks in the same voice Junie has heard her whole lifetime, made clear now by her transition.

“I was never going to leave you.”