Blood Roots Read online

  “You come here!” Yoly burst out, and Olivia could hear her trying to chase him, Yoly lumbering around the room and Skyler’s swift, nimble steps. “You ain’t so big, I can’t still take you over my knee—”

  “But you’re too big to catch me—”

  “You come over here now, you hear? I should give you a good hard paddlin’ on your backside!” Yoly was fussing now, trying to catch her breath. “But I won’t—you know why? ’Cause you’d probably like it!”

  Skyler started laughing then, and after a second, Yoly’s chuckle joined in. There was a brief scuffle and a distinct wallop, but as Yoly shrieked, Olivia realized it hadn’t been Skyler who’d gotten cornered.

  “Go on with you now. I gots work to do,” Yoly ordered, her grumpy tone returning. “Miss Rose’ll be wantin’ her dinner, and where on earth is that new girl—”

  “At the bayou, last time I looked.”

  “Bayou! What’s she doin’ down there?”

  “I don’t know … resting.”

  “Well, she ain’t got time to rest with all the work that needs doin’ around here,” Yoly grumbled. “Go find her and tell her to come eat.”

  As footsteps approached along the gallery, Olivia ran quickly in the opposite direction and hid behind another corner until Yoly and Skyler had gone downstairs. Reaching her room at last, she closed the door softly, then collapsed across the bed.

  Morning had crawled into midday, and the fog that had misted the air before had now given over to bare, sweltering heat. Olivia stretched her aching body and groaned. Her leg was hurting again, yet there were other more troubling matters on her mind. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a bearable position, and closed her eyes against the heavy damp. Mama’s room … where Mama looked out through the bars on the windows … like I looked out through the bars on mine.

  She could still hear Yoly and Skyler. Their strange words had touched her deeply, but she hadn’t really understood. Yoly knew Mama—Olivia had heard her say it—Yoly had known a Mama that Olivia never had—pretty and laughing and smiling like sunshine—Yoly had known her and Yoly had missed her, and Yoly still wondered about her—

  She’s dead, Yoly, but she was dead years and years before that, you can walk around and still be dead, you can stare and scream and hurt people and yourself and still, still be dead.

  She could still hear Yoly’s laugh in her mind, and she could still hear Skyler’s voice in her mind, and she could still feel the waters of the bayou sliding up over her body, and Skyler’s eyes, Skyler’s hands sliding over my body—

  Someone moaned softly, and with a shock, Olivia realized it was her. She stared at the wallpaper, and the faded green leaves looked like Skyler’s green eyes, and the heat pressed down on her, making her burn, like he had pressed down on her, making her burn, making her dream ominous dreams of strangers and whispered conversations, making her wake to find Jesse …

  Jesse.

  And thinking of Jesse made her calm again, calm and clear-headed and very, very peaceful … so peaceful that she began to plan just where and when and how she would kill Skyler, like she had promised him she would.

  14

  IT HAD BEEN LIKE this the last time.

  Olivia rolled languorously over on her back, stretching herself again like a cat stretches, long and slow and satisfied. And it had been like this the last time—just this way—starting out with that vague, hazy notion in her mind, and then taking her time to plan it all out.

  There was no need to hurry.

  Half the fun was in the planning … the anticipation.

  And it was always there—that sweet, secret knowing, that purpose of revenge—always there, deep, deep in her mind and in her heart, something to fall back on when she was afraid, something to give her confidence, like a night-light in the dark … something to give her strength and put her in control of her own destiny.

  No … she wouldn’t hurry this time either.

  Once it was done, there might be nothing to look forward to for a long while.

  She sighed and closed her eyes, long tongues of sticky heat licking over her body on the bed, making her toss restlessly and take off Jesse’s shirt and open up her blouse again to get cooler.

  Just like last time …

  He hadn’t played by the rules, that man of Mama’s, hadn’t listened to Mama’s instructions—“you can look at her, but you can’t touch”—and Olivia could remember it, could remember it so well, as if she were there again, as if it were happening all over again, those nightmare visions that never ended, never let her out of their cold-hot grasp—

  No, Mama, please don’t—please don’t—

  Now, Olivia, baby, you know that I know best … that Mama always knows best. Such a pretty girl, such a perfect, pretty girl—take off your dress, Olivia, let the man see how pretty you are …

  No, Mama, I don’t want to, please don’t make me—

  You know how, you’ve done it before—take off your dress, Olivia, take off your clothes, so he can see you … that’s right, that’s Mama’s girl—and isn’t she pretty—don’t cover your breasts, Olivia, let him see—that skin, those thighs of hers—don’t blush, Olivia, don’t turn away, let the man look—let the man want you, desire you, that’s right—take a look at her—take a good long look at her, but you can’t touch—no one can ever touch my pretty girl, she’s different—she’s being saved for someone—for something very special—and I know you want her, you want her so bad, but you can’t have her, you can’t ever have her, you can’t ever touch her or have her or hurt her or love her—

  “No, Mama,” Olivia whimpered, and tears rolled down her face, wetting the pillow beneath her cheek, and she caught her breath quickly, pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming—

  He had waited till Mama was upstairs. He had waited till Mama was passed out and couldn’t hear and wouldn’t know and wouldn’t come. Olivia had heard something behind her, just right behind her as she’d tried to make lunch, and that sudden hard shove as she’d fallen back across the table, dishes clattering around her bare feet, and his hand around her neck, covering up her mouth, her nose—“If you yell, I’ll hurt you bad—if you say one word to anybody, I’ll sneak through the house at night and kill you and your mama while you sleep—” And he’d been so strong, much too strong for Olivia, his sweaty hands ripping open her dress, grabbing her breasts, working their way up under her skirt and into her private places, and she had been so scared she couldn’t even scream, his body so huge and so heavy, pinning her, forcing her—

  She’d grabbed the mixing bowl and broken it over his head and then she’d run as he’d fallen onto the floor—run and run through the woods behind the house, hiding and crying and sobbing till late, late in the night when Mama had finally come looking for her.

  And then Olivia had started planning.

  She’d started planning exactly what she was going to do to him, every detail, and each time she thought about it, a wild exhilaration raced through her, drowning out everything else—all the fear and pain and humiliation. She thought about it for a long, long time, and she knew he would try it again, she knew he would, but not for a while, not till he thought Olivia would forget and let her guard down. She thought about it every hour of every day, seeing it over and over again in her mind so that when it finally did happen, it was like the ongoing saga of some wonderfully satisfying dream.

  She was actually disappointed that it had been over with so quickly.

  And afterward, she kept thinking how he wasn’t even smart enough to be clever or quiet or even original, coming up behind her just like before, only this time she was cutting flowers, outside cutting flowers on an ordinary summer day. And she heard him long before he was close to her, the plodding of his footsteps, the harsh wheeze of his breathing, moving toward her through the tall grass, walking boldly up behind her …

  There had been just that slight resistance when the shears had gone into his stomach.


  Just that sudden quivering all through his body, and the way his muscles had clenched, and the way his skin had tightened around the blades of the garden shears, as though it wouldn’t let her pull them out again.

  He had made this strange gargling sound as he’d fallen on top of her.

  He had looked at her in such a funny way that she had laughed out loud.

  And then she had lain there for the longest time, pulling out the shears, plunging them in again … pulling out the shears … plunging them in again … his body jiggling limply with each new blow, until she was wet and greasy with warm, thick blood.

  Olivia, Olivia, what have you done—

  He touched me, Mama—you told him not to, but he touched me and I was afraid—

  Oh, God, Olivia, oh God, what on earth have you done—

  I thought you’d be glad, Mama—I thought you’d be happy—

  I’m alone now, Olivia—I’m all alone again—you’re bad, do you hear?—such a bad, wicked girl—you’ll have to be punished—I’ll have to hide him where no one will ever find him, and then you’ll have to be punished for taking him away from me—

  But there’ll be others, Mama—there always are others—

  The blood, Olivia—the blood!—take those things off—take them off now—

  No, Mama, give me back my clothes—please—don’t hurt me—don’t hit me—I’ll be good—where are we going, where are you taking me—

  No one can hear you in the attic—no one can find you there—I’m the only one with a key, Olivia—now you stay in there till all that blood wears off your skin, till you think about what you did—bad wicked girl!—no clothes for you, Olivia, not even a rag to wipe off with—you just wait till that blood wears off you and I say you can leave—

  “Mama,” Olivia sobbed softly, “oh, Mama, I didn’t mean to be bad …”

  She’d sat there for days and nights, losing track of time, and during those long erratic intervals when food and water didn’t come, she’d let herself float and fade blissfully in and out of consciousness. After a while she hadn’t really minded being there at all, except when Mama stumbled up the stairs with some new spectator and shoved open the door and let him look at her. Then Olivia had to stand silently against the wall and pull her hair back so he could see, and Mama would taunt and tease and take him away again, Olivia’s cheeks and body burning in shame. It was a hot, hot summer that year, she remembered, and sometimes she’d stretched out on the splintery floorboards in a gentle pool of sunlight, and she’d run her hands curiously along the curves and mounds of her body, trying to figure out what the men saw when they stared at her. And sometimes she’d just lie there, drifting and thinking, recalling the exact feel of the garden shears as they’d sunk into the flab of her stepfather’s belly … how the flesh had ripped as she’d twisted them … how he’d writhed there on the ground trying to breathe …

  Writhing … trying to breathe … Skyler’s mouth … Skyler’s hands … exploring me …

  Olivia arched her back slowly, her mind in a whirl.

  The front of her blouse hung open, and she put a hand to one bare breast …

  It wasn’t like that—not the same at all—you liked it when Skyler touched you—you liked it—you didn’t want him to stop—

  “No!” Olivia sat up, a scream rising into her throat. “No! That’s not true! I didn’t like it and he shouldn’t have touched me—he should never have touched me—

  “Say, what you hollerin’ about?” Yoly’s voice boomed out without warning from the doorway, and Olivia turned with a gasp, jerking her blouse together. “Where you been anyway? And what you doin’ there in bed? It ain’t nighttime! How come you ain’t workin’?”

  Olivia raised her hands slowly to her face and held them there for several seconds. She took a deep breath. When she lowered her hands again, Yoly was standing at the foot of the bed, fists on hips, looking annoyed.

  “I’m sorry,” Olivia said calmly. “I went into the gardens earlier, and I got lost. I just got back a little while ago.”

  Yoly shook her head. “Miss Rose wants to see you. You’s late for dinner—and we don’t wait meals on nobody.”

  “I’m sorry,” Olivia mumbled again. She swung her feet to the floor and clutched her blouse over her chest. “I just didn’t realize—”

  “Mercy, child, what happened to you?” Yoly’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You look like you done fought with the devil himself.”

  Olivia ran a hand back through her hair. She hadn’t taken a look in the mirror since she’d been back, and she could only guess how awful the effect must be. “I fell in the water,” she said.

  “In the bayou?” Yoly seemed to be thinking a minute, then she muttered, “Resting, huh? Um-hmmm … now I sees how it is. Well, get off the bed—you trackin’ mud all over the place.”

  Olivia walked to the mantel and ruefully studied her reflection. Her hair was tangled, caked with dried slime and mud; her clothes were filthy and torn. There was mud on her face, and she wiped at it irritably.

  “Some folks got no respect for other folks’ belongin’s.” Yoly prodded her from behind. “Now hurry up. Miss Rose done already started to eat.”

  “I need something else to wear.” Olivia sighed.

  “Look at this, you’s hangin’ plumb out here—what happened to these buttons?” Yoly reached over and yanked on Olivia’s blouse, nearly lifting the girl off the ground.

  “I don’t know what happened to them. All I have is this,” Olivia took Jesse’s shirt from the bed and held it up. Yoly stared at it, then folded her broad arms across her chest.

  “And where’d you get that?”

  “From a gentleman,” Olivia said, refusing to meet Yoly’s eyes.

  “Then you must have met Jesse.” Yoly turned toward the door. “I ain’t found nothin’ for you to wear yet, so put that thing on and come down the way you are.”

  And face everyone like this. And face Skyler like this … Olivia’s cheeks burned, more from anger now than embarrassment, and she followed Yoly downstairs.

  Miss Rose and Skyler were talking when Olivia walked into the dining room. They stopped their conversation midsentence and stared at her. Helen shot a sidelong glance through her stringy hair as she toyed with the uneaten food on her plate. Mathilde angled herself back against the sideboard and raked Olivia with a cold, haughty sneer.

  “I’m sorry.” Olivia tried to ignore the others and met Miss Rose’s eyes instead. “I didn’t know I was supposed to be here.”

  “We’re all family, more or less. I like for all of us to eat together when we’re able to and”—Miss Rose leaned forward in her chair, squinting to get a better view of Olivia. “Good heavens, child, no one comes to this table looking like that!” She pulled back again, flabbergasted, and Olivia hastened to explain.

  “I don’t have any other clothes with me. And then I had an accident this morning—”

  “What kind of accident?” Miss Rose scrutinized her up and down in growing alarm.

  “I fell in the bayou.”

  They all kept staring. Skyler lifted his wine and took a long sip, but his eyes never moved from Olivia’s face. In spite of her determination to hold her own, she could feel her cheeks flaming. Skyler smiled behind the rim of his glass.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Miss Rose sighed. “Of course, I remember that you don’t have any clothes—Yoly—”

  “I’ll try to find her somethin’,” Yoly mumbled. “Don’t know where I’ll find somethin’ … but I’ll try and find somethin’.”

  “Well, there must be suitable clothing around here somewhere.” Miss Rose looked distressed.

  “Just until these are clean,” Olivia broke in helpfully. “If I could just borrow—”

  “I don’t know what around here’ll fit you,” Yoly threw in.

  “It doesn’t have to be a fashion statement, just find the poor thing something to wear.” Miss Rose sighed again. “She can’t be walking around sta
rk naked while her clothes get clean, can she?”

  Olivia felt the blush deepening across her face even before Skyler grinned. Mathilde slammed some plates onto a tray, bringing a moan from Miss Rose.

  “What’s gotten into everyone today, I’d like to know? Would it be too much to ask for a little harmony? A little peace and quiet? And Skyler, what are you looking at—wipe that smirk off your face.”

  It amazed Olivia how normal Skyler could look when he had to. He leaned back in his chair and looked positively bland.

  “Yes, you’re very late,” Miss Rose reminded Olivia now, gesturing her forward. “Dinner is always promptly at noon. But since you’ve already missed dinner today, Mathilde can get you something else to eat in the kitchen.”

  “Please don’t bother,” Olivia said, avoiding Mathilde’s lethal glare. “I’m really not that hungry. And I apologize again for being late.”

  “Sit down, child, before you fall down—there—yes, right across from Skyler. Goodness, you don’t look at all well.”

  Miss Rose surveyed her closely, but Olivia kept her head lowered, away from Skyler’s knowing eyes.

  “I can’t put you to work in the kitchen,” Miss Rose said, tapping her water goblet with one frail finger. “Mathilde’s much too temperamental, and I’m afraid it would only cause problems for you.”

  Olivia felt a surge of relief. She had no desire whatsoever to spend time in Mathilde’s company, and though she considered herself quite a good cook, the thought of working in one of those miserable little outbuildings didn’t appeal to her at all. That must mean she was going to help Yoly in the house. As she waited for Miss Rose’s verification, Olivia felt her spirits picking up.

  “We’ve all discussed the situation,” Miss Rose went on pleasantly, “and we’ve all agreed that you should work where you’re needed most.”

  Olivia nodded, glancing around at the shabby decor of the dining room. “I know everyone has their own way of doing things, Miss Rose, but I’ll learn fast and I’ll do—”

  “Whatever Skyler says,” Miss Rose broke in. “Whatever Skyler says, that’s what you’ll do.”