Chapter Twenty Four
Timothy was in his bedroom lying on the bed, watching old reruns of Three’s Company on his crappy little TV when there was a single knock at his door before it opened partially; Eddie stuck his head in, let his buddy know that he was installing the new locks now, and could use some help. Timothy was eager to help, shut the TV off, slipped into some sneakers and followed him into the hall.
There were plastic bags on the kitchen counter with new knobs and additional locks, the kind that slide over the door jamb and catch, to prevent an entry if the deadbolt is somehow compromised. There were three new door knobs. The house needed only two. Timothy stepped into the living room where his grandparents were sitting on the couch, his grandpa watching a black and white movie, his grandma knitting a blanket, perpetuating stereotypes. He asked why there were three knobs, suspecting why but wanting to confirm it.
“I figured it would be nice putting a new one on the barn door,” Phillip said, “to keep Eddie safe.”
Having heard this from the kitchen, Eddie entered the living room to say, “That’s thoughtful of you, Phillip. That you’d consider my safety no less than your family’s. I’m touched.”
“Your sweet to say,” Phyllis said, never losing focus of her knitting.
Timothy and Eddie began at the front door. It took twenty minutes as neither knew what they were doing. When they did the back door it took only ten minutes. They mounted the sliding locks on both doors. They took the bag and tools and headed toward the barn. Now that they were distant enough from inquisitive ears, Timothy said, “You left your statue thingy on my trunk earlier.”
“Did I? That’s right, I guess I did.” He looked to the open garage door and the Camry therein. There was no idol on the car. “Where’d you put it?”
“On your dresser.” Tentatively he said, “Eddie… I… I carried it to the barn.”
“I guess you did. Buddy, I’m sorry you had to do that. I can guess as to what happened.”
“Can you? W-what is that th-thing?”
They were at the barn door now. He pulled a Marlboro from his soft-pack and sparked it up, left it in his mouth as he began taking the screws out the backside of the assembly. “I found it in Nebraska. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it was from an old Indian tribe, from a witch doctor or something. What did you see?”
“See? Well… what did you see with it? Outside, b-between the barn and g-garage, over there.” He pointed.
Eddie grinned. “Since you pinpointed the location, I can guess what you saw. A hanged man.”
“Yes. Scared the b-bejesus out of me.”
“Me too, when I first saw it. You know what I think? I think that when you hold the thing, you can see into the past. At some point I think that black man was hanged on this property. There’s a boy, too, also black.” Eddie refrained from admitting that it wasn’t he who saw him, but instead his company from earlier, Michael. “Hanged like the other.”
“Yes. I s-saw him, too.”
“Creepy, huh?”
Watching Eddie take the old knob off, Timothy drew in a slow deep breath through his nose, let it out slowly through his mouth, which calmed his nerves. It was something he often did when he wanted to avoid stuttering, and it worked more times than not. “The man nearest the garage, his name was Jonah Sotheby, or Big Jonah is what people called him.”
Eddie paused installation of the knob, took a drag from his smoke, pulled it out of his mouth looking at Timothy with a single brow raised. “No shit?”
Timothy nodded. “My grandma told me the story. The people who lived here a long time ago raised pigs and grew avocados. The trees burnt down in the ‘40’s. The people here had black people living in the barn. That was before there was an apartment loft; they lived like animals down below, used the stalls as rooms. They weren’t slaves, being that slavery was illegal, but they might as well been slaves. Treated horribly. This was in the late ‘30’s. It was called The Hunsacker Farm. Dwayne Hunsacker was the owner. He was the one who treated the help like slaves, paid them next to nothing. There were two families who lived in the barn, both were black. They ran the farm entirely. Back then I think the property was a lot bigger. Of the two families, one was the Sotheby’s and the other the Goodall’s; Phyllis’ father was Jonah Sotheby.”
“Damn, man,” Eddie said. “Your grandma’s dad was hanged on this farm? That’s who it was we saw?”
“Yeah, it probably was. The Goodall’s had decided that enough was enough, and they told Dwayne Hunsacker that they were quitting, going to look for work elsewhere.”
Eddie discarded the screwdriver, screw, and bracket, leaned against the door-jamb smoking his cigarette, gave Timothy his full attention.
“The 1930’s was a horrible time to find work, the great depression and all. Back then it would be easy to replace workers with new ones, since there were so many people unemployed. So you’d think Dwayne wouldn’t mind the Goodall’s leaving. But he did. It had to do in part with how little he was paying them. I’m sure many people would have worked for next to nothing during the great depression, but Dwayne paid even less than that… like almost literally nothing, or nothing but lodging and food. Plus he was a control freak, and losing his workers meant losing control, and to a lesser degree, them besting Dwayne. So Dwayne didn’t want them to leave the farm; he had a good thing going with the next-to-free labor and hard work. He said that if they left he’d spread rumors, and even call the cops on them, say that Thomas Goodall was fucking his pigs, caught him doing it. That would be a serious crime, mostly because Thomas was black. The Goodall’s didn’t heed the warning, moved out anyway. I don’t know if Dwayne ever called the cops or not, or spread rumors.
“The Hunsacker Farm was down to just the Sotheby’s, and there was more work than a husband, wife, and five kids could handle. The Sotheby’s were forced to pick up the slack around the farm. Worked eighteen hour days, or more. Working that hard for that many hours, something had to give. And it did: Big Jonah fell off a ladder and broke his leg. Because of it he couldn’t work. Dwayne threatened him, said to either put a cast on the leg and work like that or find work elsewhere. It was an empty threat. Big Jonah called him on it, said his family would take their chances elsewhere. Dwayne repeated the same threats as he did with the Goodall’s, said he’d accuse him of fucking his pigs and stealing avocados. Big Jonah wasn’t intimidated or dissuaded: he said they were leaving the next day, and would appreciate his final pay then.”
“Phyllis was one of the five kids? How old was she? What you’re saying is her account of what happened?”
“She was eleven years old then. For being so young, her account of what happened is pretty detailed, huh?”
“Yeah. Go on.” Eddie stomped out his smoke and leaned harder against the door jamb, cocked one leg back against it.
“I’m sure I’m missing some things, but I have most of it committed to memory. A terrible thing to remember, but sometimes you have to remember the bad things or it’s as if they never happened.
“Dwayne Hunsacker caught Big Jonah and his son Otis stealing avocados late that night, to take with them on their journey to find work elsewhere. Dwayne caught Big Jonah in the act (according to what Dwayne would tell people), and blind-sided him, swung a bat at his h-head, knocked him out. Otis was picking avocados from a ladder. Like his pa, he never saw or heard Dwayne coming. He jumped off the ladder with the intent of running to the barn to warn his family and get help for his pa. Dwayne snatched him up before he could, and beat him senseless. With the help of Dwayne’s son Freddy, they strung him up on an avocado tree branch, hanged him dead with Big Jonah watching in horror, busted leg and split-open head preventing him from doing much of anything. He couldn’t have been picking avocados, you know? Not with a busted leg. Who could say what Jonah was doing out there when Dwayne caught him; maybe overseeing his son Otis pick some avocados.
“Big Jonah was next. Strung up and hanged dead. He was of no use to Dway
ne with a bad leg, and Otis was just unfortunate enough to be the youngest of the Sotheby’ boys, too small for hard labor. It wasn’t until early next morning when Big Jonah and Otis were discovered hanging from trees. It was Phyllis who discovered them. I can’t imagine the horror, anguish, and anger my grandma must have suffered.
“That left Big Jonah’s wife and four remaining kids to work—two boys, two girls, and widow Sotheby. Dwayne threatened their lives, said that if they told anyone what happened to the dead niggers they’d all hang for it. Well they kept the secret. Dwayne died of a heart attack shortly after. If he hadn’t I’m not sure the secret would have been kept. I bet Phyllis would have told the cops eventually, especially once the civil rights movement built up steam. At eleven she was too young to get involved, and probably too scared. It’s crazy to think that people can be so scared and intimidated that they’d let an act of murder, two acts of murder go without telling anyone. Times are different now, thank God. But that’s who we both saw hanging on those trees. They weren’t olive trees but avocado trees. It was Big Jonah and Otis Sotheby, may God rest their souls.”
Eddie picked up his tools and got to swapping out the door knobs. “Crazy, man. Yeah, shit was fucked up back then.”
Timothy stood there watching his friend work, pensive and locked up with indecision. What finally changed his mind was considering what a good friend Eddie was to him, and how friends should never lie to one another.
“Eddie…?” Timothy said.
“Yeah,” Eddie said, his attention still on the task at hand. He was now turning screws into the bracket.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you just now.”
It piqued Eddie’s interest, who once again abandoned the door knob. “What do you mean lied to me just now. That story was bullshit?”
“No. It happened just the way I said, except for one part. Actually it wasn’t a lie, but an omission of what else happened. But Grandma made me promise never to tell anyone. So I’m breaking that promise now.”
“I won’t tell anyone, I swear. What happened?”
Timothy glanced over at the house before delving into what he had omitted. In a lower tone he said, “Dwayne Hunsacker’s heart attack was… well it wasn’t an accident.”
A grin stole over Eddie. “Ahhh. I like this story, Timothy.”
“You have no idea how mad Grandma would be at me if she knew I’m telling you this.”
“I bet. Nobody wants their secret of murder getting out. It was murder, wasn’t it?”
Timothy see-sawed his hand in a gesture of yes and no. “The Sotheby’s weren’t going to do anything about the deaths of Jonah and Otis. Grieve, yes, but they had no plans of doing anything to Dwayne. Phyllis and her sister Mary who was thirteen at the time are the only Sotheby’s who know or knew what really happened in regards to the heart attack.”
“Jesus,” Eddie said in awe, “your grandma killed a man at eleven years old?”
“No she did not. There used to be a church close by—walking distance from here—that blacks went to. It was a time of segregation, so churches were white and black, and this was a black church. Church was the Sotheby’s only break from work, aside from sleeping. The four Sotheby kids had no friends other than each other, with the exception of the few they made on Sundays. Phyllis befriended a little girl named Charlotte. They were as close as two could be considering they only saw each other for a couple hours once a week.
“It was almost a month after the tragedy on the farm when Phyllis made Charlotte promise to keep a secret, and that secret was the hanging of her pa and brother. Charlotte couldn’t believe Dwayne was going to get away with what he did, said it wasn’t right, that something had to be done. Phyllis asked what she proposed doing. Charlotte said she’d think of something. Involving the police, who hated blacks probably as much or more than anyone, was out of the question.
“They parted ways that Sunday, my grandma Phyllis and Charlotte. It was the last time Grandma would see Charlotte at that church for blacks. The last time she saw her, period. But she was seen one last time, and it wasn’t at church but on the Stoddard farm. I’m sorry, the Hunsacker farm. It wasn’t the Stoddard farm till much later.
“As I said, Phyllis had one sister, Mary, who is no longer with us. Mary was the one who discovered Dwayne dead of a heart attack, found him coincidentally not far from where Big Jonah was hanged. She told her mother, who told the surviving Hunsacker’s that Dwayne lay dead out in the avocado grove. His son Freddy suspected the Sotheby’s had something to do with it, being that he knew the truth about the hangings—heck, he helped hang them—figured it was an act of revenge. But nothing came of it. After that, the Sotheby’s moved off the farm, and the history of the Sotheby’s-Hunsacker’s came to a bitter end.”
“I don’t see where you left anything out,” Eddie said.
“I’m getting to it.”
“Bro, you haven’t stuttered that whole time. What’s your secret?”
“I know,” Timothy said with a grin. “I don’t always stutter, you know that. Anyway, Mary told Phyllis what really happened, a secret that they vowed to take to the grave with them. As evidenced by me telling you this story, the secret wasn’t taken to the grave with my grandma. Oh well, huh? We’re only as perfect as God allows us to be.”
“Amen.”
“Mary was dishonest to everyone other than Phyllis in how she described her discovery of Dwayne. She was sitting on a step of the Hunsacker porch that afternoon, shining a couple pairs of boots that Dwayne and Freddy would leave outside the front door when they wanted the nigger girls (is how he called them) to polish them. Mary sat there shining them up when Dwayne came out the front door, uttered an insult at the thirteen-year-old-girl before strolling by. Mary thought he was going to the henhouse, being what direction he was headed in. Sometimes he’d go take a hen and kill it for his wife to clean and prepare for supper. Up ahead in the avocado grove Mary spotted a girl who came out from behind a tree, just a few yards in front of Dwayne, stopping him. Mary recognized her even from the distance of fifty yards or so; it was Charlotte, her sister’s friend from church. Dwayne was startled by her sudden presence, cursed at her. Mary set the boots down and stood up, watched the interaction between the two. Being that Dwayne had no scruples against hanging children, she worried for Charlotte’s fate. She began walking in that direction, figuring if there were witnesses that he might not do anything severe. Instead of running from him, Charlotte closed the little gap between them until she was right at his feet, staring coldly up at him. Dwayne shouted obscenities at her, saying she damn near gave him a heart attack, and what she was doing was trespassing anyway, and get the hell off his property before he shot her. Mary was nearly running in that direction at this point.”
Timothy looked to the olive grove, “Then something happened. Mary stopped running, froze in place, horrified and dumbstruck. It was impossible what she was seeing, yet she saw it clear as day. Mary would swear up and down to Phyllis that it happened, that she wasn’t making it up, not even exaggerating. Grandma believed her. She wouldn’t have lied about something like this. And as Grandma says, the eyes tell the truth even as the mouth lies.
“Standing before Dwayne, absorbing red-faced anger and insults, Charlotte…”
“Yes…? Charlotte…?”
Timothy grimaced at the image in his head. “She opened her mouth wide, too wide, like impossibly wide, as if her jaw had unhinged, and screamed. There was no sound, it was a silent scream. None that Mary could hear, anyway. She knew it was a scream by the cords of her neck popping out, and chest heaving. Her mouth continued expanding somehow wider, lips warping and stretching, and… it sounds silly saying this, but I swear it’s the truth, Eddie. Her teeth were long and pointy like a wolf’s, bulging eyes with no centers glowing white, radiating white, and her hair… Grandma likened it to the hair of Medusa, how it turned into snakes. Charlotte’s weren’t snakes, but the locks floated off her shoulders and slit
hered up all around her head. Her face was the embodiment of evil and terror. Mary saw this and began to scream, shut herself up by clamping both hands over her mouth. Charlotte looked like something belonging in hell. Dwayne suffered a heart attack right then and there, died. Charlotte spied Mary watching her. Her features returned to normal by degrees. Once she was as Charlotte should be, she smiled at Mary, turned and walked into the avocado grove and that was the last she was seen.”
“Fucking A,” Eddie said impressively. “That’s insane, man.”
“I know.”
“I know Phyllis would never lie about anything, let alone something like this. So it happened. It really did happen.”
“I know it did.”
“Freaky. If I saw a negro girl pull some shit like that, I’d probably be less fond of black people,” Eddie said and chuckled. “More like scared of them.”
“Remember what I said, don’t mention this to my grandparents. To anyone.”
“You can trust me, brutha.”
Once again Eddie got back to installing the knob.
“What else does that idol do?” Timothy asked. “Anything?”
“No,” Eddie lied. “Just that. Let’s you see things from the past, I guess. I wished it showed me Charlotte scaring that dude to death.”
“Why do you keep it?”
“I like how it looks. I haven’t looked into seeing what a museum would pay me for it, but I bet it’s worth something. It’s old, real old. An artifact of sorts. I just may do that sometime.” He’d never do that, ever.
“Yeah probably. I’m glad we’re putting this new d-door knob on the door. I worry that Trent will come after you.”
“Eh, if he does he does. I know how to fight, should it come to that.”
“He looks like he d-does, too. Pretty strong. And smart.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
“Hey,” Timothy said, frowning at the garage, “I just noticed the Buick isn’t here. Where is it?”
“I let my friend borrow it. Michael, you met him earlier.”
“Eddie, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It’s not your car to lend. It was lent to you.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. Won’t happen again, I swear it.”
“Okay. Come have dinner with us later. Grandma is making rack of lamb, it’s the best.”
“Will do.”
The new knob was installed. It came with two keys. Eddie kept one and gave the other to Timothy, said to give it to his grandparents. Eddie was going to take a shower and maybe squeeze in an afternoon nap before dinner, would see Timothy then.