Burning Crosses - Part 14 - Penance

I found the small metal basin in front of Jack's door when I went upstairs to prepare my first day of penance. There was a small note nestled inside it, simply reading instructions. Fill up the basin with lukewarm, soapy water, take one of the washcloths from the linen closet, and wash Mammy's, Jack's, and Cookie's feet. But not Ben's, since Jack considered him too much a sinner to be saved. Still, I wanted to have a word with Ben this morning anyway, so I planned on seeing him as soon as I finished up with those three.

I washed Mammy up first, just out of sheer logic. That way, she could get started on breakfast right away and it would be nearly finished by the time everyone was seated at the table. When Mammy left the room, I started on Jack. At first, when I'd entered the room, he'd already been awake, and he roared like a wounded bear.

I knelt beside my father, remembering what Ben had told me the night before about my father not changing his socks very often. I grimaced, looking down at his large feet with the yellowish toenails. It was extremely hard not to make a visible face of disgust upon seeing those toes!

"Hurry up and git this over with. I wanna git downstairs and have my morning coffee," he growled as he raised a foot toward me.

I wanted to get up and run from the room, never to look back on this stupid, white house with its dumb rules and penance! Alarms went off in my head, warning me to get out of this place before this madman snapped! Get out before you mess up and suffer the dreadful repercussions!

I ran the dripping washcloth gingerly up and down my father's feet, deigning to get in between the toes. It was too…wrong and disgusting…

And I'd forgotten all about praying.

His shadow fell over me as he leaned forward. "Pray."

"Huh?" I tipped my head backwards and saw his shadowed face hovering above me, casting a distorted reflection in the rippling water. His eyes narrowed to mere slits and his mouth pulled back in a visible sneer.

"I said, pray!" He raised a heavy fist.

I rolled my eyes back down to the basin. "I…ah…I don't know any prayers." I smiled, as if it might appease the anger he'd no doubt inflict upon me.

His face was tangled, his hair an awry mess atop that long, pasty head. "Ya didn't commit one to memory th'night before when I done tole ya that ya'd better pray when ya serve yer penance? Ya disobeyed me…and on yer second day already?" His words came out hoarse and strangled.

"Oh, for God's sake!" I burst out. "You're going to punish me just because I don't know a prayer? Of all the stupid things…"

My words were abruptly cut off when he jumped off the bed with a primitive roar tearing from his open mouth. The basin would have sloshed water all over the place had I not been holding one of the handles so tight. "No-good, shiftless…sinner!" he screamed, his hand diving toward me. It hooked into the collar of my shirt, jerking me off the ground. The basin smiled good-bye to me as my father threw me violently against the wall. I thought I could feel the entire house shake with the impact. Streams of pain shot every which way through my bloodstream. A strangled moan escaped my lips.

He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pressed me against the plaster wall, lifting me slightly. The heels of my chucks knocked against the wall. I inhaled the whiskey scent of his breath, struggling not to puke. His clenched teeth were bared like that of a dog. And there was a crazed look in his eyes that almost made me wet my pants. I'd never seen anything like it before!

"Idiot! Sinner! Blasphemous heathen!" His grip on my collar tightened. "I have a son, who I was done tole by his ma that he was a good, respectful boy! A worthy heir of my fortune! But what do I wind up with instead but a foul-mouthed, selfish, single-minded loser who does nothing but sin?"

"Look, I'm sorry. If it will make you happy, I'll spend an hour studying the Bible today. I promise." Why did I have to tremble when I spoke? If I could handle schoolyard bullies without a problem, surely I could defend myself against my own father? His grip was vise-like, telling me there was no way I would even think of going against him. No, I was a prisoner of his wrath, and to fight against him would be futile.

"I suggest ya git yer act together, Clayton Rune Steele, or yer gonna suffer th'consequences!"

What consequences?

I bit down on my lip and nodded, trying to fill my eyes with as much heartfelt sorrow as I could muster. He released his grip on my shirt and let me slide easily to the floor. But not before giving me another brutal shove, one that made me knock my skull against the wall, did he finally dismiss me. I picked up the basin and raced out of there, my head pounding.

Cookie wasn't much easier than Jack, but at least she didn't impose physical violence upon me. Perhaps the moron sensed I'd throw her up against the wall if she dared do so much as slap me. I managed to leave that lion's den without a scratch, and dumped the basin into the bathtub.

Despite Jack's bellowing rage that reverberated throughout the entire house, my cousin somehow managed to sleep through the whole thing. I found him to be just waking from an apparently deep slumber when I pushed through his bedroom door at exactly six. Frail light seeped through the filmy blue curtains hanging from his windows. Unlike the rest of the house, my cousin's bedroom was a colorful, but slightly disorganized room. Film posters were plastered to the walls, creating a colorful and interesting collage. He had more books than I did – some were put away neatly on the shelves while others were in stacks on his dresser, desk, or on the floor, most of them looking as if they were scripts or songbooks. And on its own table was a record player, with stacks and stacks of records beside it.

What didn't he have? I wondered as my gaze traveled to a huge figurine of Superman on his dresser, standing in front of a huge stack of music booklets. What a mess as well; I was surprised Jack wasn't on his case about cleaning it up.

"Good morning." Ben smiled at me as he sat up in his large, double-bed.

"Hey." I stepped into the room, being sure to shut the door tightly behind me. I couldn't help but gape at all his things, all the movie memorabilia, the records, and the books. I couldn't wait until Uncle Danny sent me the remainder of my belongings from Boston. A dull ache filled my stomach, reminding me of what I once knew and lost. Perhaps that's why I'd felt so empty the day Dad died, why I knew I didn't have much time for…for something!

"Did you sleep alright?" He continued smiling that white, perfect grin of his.

I shrugged. "Not bad, except for one thing." I stared pointedly at him.

His smiled faded. "Oh…what's that?"

I folded my arms tightly across my chest. "Ben, I heard you crying last night, right before I went to sleep. And it bothered me, mainly because, when I came in to check if you were all right, you were dead asleep already." I thrust my head forward slightly. "What's going on?" I narrowed my eyes.

Ben frowned and scratched his scalp. "That's the strangest thing, for I wasn't crying. I was so exhausted last night; I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow." He shrugged, then, as if it didn't matter. "Perhaps it was the wind?"

I shook my head slowly. "It wasn't the wind. I've heard wind up north in the worst blizzards, and you were crying last night, I could have sworn."

"Maybe it was a ghost. This plantation was built on the sweat and labor of slaves, you know," he suggested.

I paused for a moment, considering that notion. Unless a ghost had a voice that sounded exactly like Ben's, I didn't see how that was possible. I didn't want to make my cousin angry, so I pursed my lips and gazed elsewhere.

My gaze was caught immediately by a framed photograph of a girl of about nineteen or twenty propped up on the windowsill. It was a slick black and white photograph, telling me it had been taken quite recently. Blond ringlets hung down her delicate, smooth face; the remainder of her hair done up in a southern belle style. Sparkling, light eyes laughed at me, her crimson mouth pulled back in the most hesitant smile. She wore a blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a virgin pin on one side of her head.

My breath caught in my throat. There was a flicker of recognition inside of me, almost as if I'd seen her, or felt her before! I sidestepped Ben's boots on the way over there and lifted the picture from its perch. I narrowed my eyes and stared intently down at the photograph. The metal frame felt ice cold in my hands – so cold I wanted to drop it. But my eyes wanted to drink in more of this beautiful girl. The sprinkling of freckles dotted on the crests of her cheeks. The tightness of her thick curls. Her small chin. I felt a longing to stick my hand into that picture, take her by the hand, and tug her into my arms.

I heard Ben's ragged breath from the bed. "Rune…would you mind putting that down? That photograph is very precious to me."

I set it back on its perch. "Sure. Is that your mother?" I guessed, wondering if it was the woman who'd been brutally attacked, thus producing in my cousin's birth. Maybe she died – nobody had ever said.

He cleared his throat. Old hurt was smeared across his good-looking face. "That was my old girlfriend…Heidi."

"Oh, where is she now?"

"Gone," he said gravely. "She disappeared, oh…" He paused, his head tilted back as he frowned. "God, she disappeared about a year and a half ago. Everybody looked everywhere for her, but she was nowhere to be found, so I gave her up for dead. I'm guessing someone probably saw her walking along the road one night and grabbed her, but there's no evidence of that." He lowered his head and settled his gaze on me. My heart pounded like jungle drums as bile rose in the back of my throat. "I'm hoping I'll get over her soon, but sometimes, you just can't get over old loves. No matter how many women I might date yet in my life time, much less marry, I'll never forget my one and only true love, Heidi."

I winced. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Ben. I hope you find out what happens to her real soon," I said, glancing again at that photograph. Where have I seen her before? And why do I get such a pang of recognition whenever I so much as hear her name?

I ran a long, thin finger over Heidi's picture. A vision flickered somewhere in the back of my mind. Heidi's lovely face distorted in a scream…Ben's face set in raw determination, as if bent on hurting someone.

I blinked rapidly and found myself staring at my cousin's normal face as he picked at a thread on his comforter. I felt as though I were suffocating, as if two hands were wrapping themselves firmly around my windpipe. The worries I'd been haunted by earlier had ripened into a brand-new terror. Something that throttled me until I could scarcely draw in even the smallest breath.

He staggered out of bed, traipsing over to his dresser. "Yeah, well. It wasn't meant to be." He tugged open his dresser and plucked out a thin, white t-shirt from a mess of various other shirts. He glanced out the window, toward the sun where it was just beginning to climb the azure sky. "It's supposed to be a scorcher today," he muttered, tugging off his pajama shirt. "Good thing you aren't dressed in a long-sleeve shirt, like Jack very well might. He dresses in suits even on the hottest days. I swear, I'm stunned that man hasn't had an attack in the heat yet." He smirked as he balled up the pajama shirt and tossed it into the overflowing hamper. He looked as well-toned and muscular as some of my buddies did, except he wasn't bulky or monstrous-looking like the rest of them. Instead, he was as slender as I was.

"After I get done with these blasted chores, I plan on going off to the swimming hole with Larissa. Would you like to come with us?" Ben asked as he pulled on his shirt.

"No, thanks." No way! I would never set even a hair near the swimming hole!

"You sure?" My cousin hunted through his drawers for a pair of pants. I watched him pull out a pair of jeans and drop his own pajama bottoms to the carpet. I widened my eyes, stunned he could be so comfortable undressing in front of someone he'd just met. I averted my eyes elsewhere.

"Positive."

Ben pulled a leather belt through the loops and tightened it around his slender waist. "Well…if you change your mind, I'll probably still be in the barn when you return from that tour with…Algie." He didn't bother disguising his disgust.

"I might just want to explore this house further, just to get used to it," I suggested, hoping to God he wouldn't pester me about that swimming hole anymore. Ben was an okay guy – nothing against him really – but the swimming hole was a bad thing indeed.

"Good idea. The stairs leading to the attic is at the end of the hall near Jack and Kelly Sue's bedroom, if you want to go up there, and the basement steps are by Jack's study. But I recommend you don't go up into the attic."

"Why?"

"There's really nothing up there, that's why. It's just a few trunks full of smelly old clothes, antiques, and crappy old furniture."

"Is it dangerous?" I tilted my head slightly to the side.

He shook his head. "Not dangerous as much as it is smelly and dirty." He pulled on his dirty, leather boots, rolling the cuff of his jeans down over the top. Straightening up, he grinned, all his teeth exposed. "Let's go get some slop."

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