Carnal Innocence

out.”
    “Tucker,” Caroline began the moment they were alone, but he shook his head and rose.
    “I’ve got some thinking to do.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was dry now, but he caught a whiff of her shampoo. Even so small a thing had his gut tightening. “Will you be all right? Want me to call Josie, or Susie, or someone?”
    “No, no, I’ll be fine.” But she wondered if he would. “Matthew’s a rigid sort of man, Tucker. That kind always sees the logic of placing blame.”
    “There’s blame enough. Listen, I need to get back. I don’t want Cy having to talk to him on his own.” His hands dug into his pockets again. “He’s just a kid.”
    “Go ahead.” It would be better, she thought, to be alone. To put off talking about what had happened between them that morning. “I’ll be fine, really.” She lifted their plates, thinking Useless was going to breakfast like a king.
    He put a hand on her shoulder as she turned to the sink. “I’m coming back.”
    “I know.” She waited until he was at the doorway before speaking again. “Tucker. Thanks for tellingMatthew I wasn’t helpless. When you’re used to people seeing you that way, it means a lot.”
    Her back was to him, her shoulders straight. He knew she was looking out to where the blood had dried on the grass.
    “We’re going to have to talk, you and me. About a lot of things.”
    When she didn’t answer, he left her alone.

c·h·a·p·t·e·r 20
    H is daddy was dead. Miss Della had told him. His daddy was dead. There would be no more snapping belts or merciless fists. No more shouts to a fever-eyed God to punish the sinners for their transgressions, their laziness, their filthy thoughts.
    Miss Della had sat him down in the bright kitchen and told him, and there had been kindness in her eyes.
    He was afraid, so afraid that there would be no end for him but hell. The fiery, screaming black pool of hell his father had often gleefully described. How could he expect forgiveness or a place at the Lord’s table when he harbored such an evil secret in his soul? The secret whispered through his brain with the devil’s rusty chuckle.
    His daddy was dead. And he was glad.
    When his tears had come, the tears Miss Della patiently waited out then wiped away, they weren’t tears of sorrow or grief. They were tears of relief. A river of joy and gratitude and hope.
    And it was that, Cy thought as he watered the kitchen garden, that which would consign him to hell for all eternity.
    He had been responsible for the death of his father. And he wasn’t sorry.
    Miss Della had told him he could stay at Sweetwater just as long as he wanted—Mr. Tucker had said so. He didn’t have to go home, he didn’t have to go back to that house of fear and hopelessness. He didn’t have to face Vernon, see his father in his brother’s eyes, feel his father’s wrath in his brother’s fists.
    By a single act of cowardice he had wiped out four years of waiting.
    His father was dead, and he was free.
    Cy hunkered down, the hose soaking grass until it gurgled in a puddle. Rubbing his knuckles in to his eyes, he wept in joy for his life, and in terror for his soul.
    “Cy.”
    The sound of his name had the boy jerking to his feet. It was only quick reflexes that had Burns nipping out of range of the garden hose. They stood facing each other a moment, the water squirting between them, a young boy with a puffy face and frightened eyes and a man who wanted to prove that Cy’s father had carved up women in his spare time.
    Burns tried his most ingratiating smile, which put Cy immediately on edge.
    “I’d like to talk with you for a few minutes.”
    “I’ve got to water these plants.”
    Burns glanced at the soaked greens. “You seem to have done that already.”
    “I’ve got other work.”
    Burns reached down to turn off the water himself. Authority was something he wore as habitually as his tie. “This won’t take long. Perhaps we could go inside.” Out of the blistering heat.
    “No, sir, I can’t track all over Miss Della’s clean floor.”
    Burns glanced down. Any trace of white on Cy’s sneakers had been obliterated with grass and dirt stains. “No, I suppose not. The terrace then, around the side.” Before Cy could protest, Burns took him by the arm and led him around the flower beds. “You enjoy working at Sweetwater?”
    “Yes sir. I wouldn’t want to lose my job ’cause I got caught sitting around talking.”
    Burns stepped onto