Carnal Innocence

blindingly bright after the dark.
    “Caroline!” Tucker pounded down the hall, grabbing her as she fell through the doorway. “You’re all right? Tell me you’re all right.” He dragged her close, and holding her there, stared at his sister.
    She had the knife in her hand, and in her eyes was a wildness that gripped him with horror. “Josie. In the name of God, Josie, what have you done?”
    The wildness faded as her eyes filled. “I couldn’t help it.” As tears spilled onto her cheeks, she turned and ran to the terrace.
    “Don’t let her go. Tucker, you can’t let her go.”
    He saw his brother hesitate at the top of the steps. “Take care of her,” he said to Dwayne, and pushed Caroline toward him before he raced after Josie.
    He called her name. Some of the revelers who wereheading home stopped at the shouts and looked up, with much the same curiosity and expectation with which they’d watched the fireworks. Tucker sped along the terrace, dragging open doors, switching on lights. When he tugged on the doors that led into their parents’ bedroom, he found them locked.
    “Josie.” After a few frantic yanks, he pounded on the door. “Josie, open up. I want you to let me in. You know I can break it down if I have to.”
    He laid his brow against the glass and tried to reason out what his mind simply couldn’t grasp. His sister was inside. And his sister was mad.
    He pounded again, cracking the glass and bloodying his fingers. “Open the goddamn door.” He heard a sound behind him and whirled. When he saw Burke come toward him, he shook his head. “Get away. Get the hell away. She’s my sister.”
    “Tuck, Cy didn’t tell me what this is all about, but—”
    “Just get the hell away!” On a scream of rage, Tucker threw his weight against the door. The tickle of breaking glass was lost under the blast of a single gunshot.
    “No!” Tucker went down to his knees. She was lying on the bed their parents had shared. Blood was spreading onto the white satin spread. “Oh, Josie, no.” Already grieving, he dragged himself up. Sitting on the bed, he gathered her into his arms and rocked.
    “I’m glad you came to see me.” Caroline poured coffee into two cups before she sat at her kitchen table across from Della. “I wanted to talk to you, but I thought it best to wait until after the funeral.”
    “The preacher said she was resting now.” Della pressed her lips together hard, then lifted her cup. “I hope he’s right. It’s the living that suffer, Caroline. It’s going to take some doing for Tucker and Dwayne to put this behind them. And the others, too. Happy and Junior, Arnette and Francie’s folks.”
    “And you.” Caroline reached out to take Della’s hand. “I know you loved her.”
    “I did.” Her voice was rough with the tears she blinked away. “Always will, no matter what she did. There was a sickness inside her. In the end she did the only thing she knew to cure it. If she’d have hurt you—” Her hand shook, then steadied. “I thank God she didn’t. Tucker wouldn’t have been able to get beyond it. I came here today to tell you that, and to say that I hope you won’t turn away from the brother because of the sister.”
    “Tucker and I will settle things ourselves. Della, I feel you have a right to know. Josie told me about her mother, about how she was conceived.”
    Under Caroline’s, Della’s hand convulsed. “She knew?”
    “Yes, she knew.”
    “But how—”
    “She found out from her mother, inadvertently. I know it must have been hard on you, and on Mrs. Longstreet, holding on to that secret.”
    “We thought it best. She came home that day, after he hurt her. Her dress was torn and dirty, and her face was pale as spring water. And her eyes, her eyes, Caroline, were like a sleepwalker’s, all dazed and dull. She went right on up and got in the tub. Kept changing the water and scrubbing and scrubbing till her skin was raw. I saw the bruises on her. I knew. I just knew. And because I knew where she’d gone, I knew who.”
    “You don’t have to talk about it,” Caroline said, but Della shook her head.
    “I wanted to go over and take a whip to him myself, but I couldn’t leave her. I held her while she sat in the water, and she cried and cried and cried. When she’d cried out, she said we weren’t to tell Mr. Beau, nor anybody else. She was afraid the two of them would kill each other, and I expect she was right. There was nothing I could