Chapter Twenty-Six #2
I’m about to press for more information, my curiosity still piqued about the two of them, but Hannah ends up cutting in with a question. One that chills me to the bone.
“What’s a nigger?”
I still, my fork clattering to my plate.
Justice tenses next to me, a thick silence descending over the table.
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Hannah, where did you hear that word?”
“Someone said it at the dance last night about Papa Thatcher. They said niggers are supposed to dance with their own kind,” she says it so casually; having no idea the amount of venom and hate that word holds.
“Who?” Justice questions, his voice thick with anger.
“I don’t know his name. He was wearing a red hat and white T-shirt.”
“Billy Ray,” Knox spits. “He’s always been a racist piece of shit.”
Hannah looks around the table, her face falling. “It’s not a nice name, is it?”
I shake my head. “No, honey. It’s not.”
“Why would he say that about Papa?”
I think of a way to explain it to her, in a way she can understand, but how can anyone understand that kind of hate? Especially a child.
“Come here, Hannah J.,” Thatcher calls her over, not looking nearly as upset as the rest of us. He brings her up on his lap, her arm curling around his neck as she peers up at him. “Some people can be ugly in this world, but you know what?”
“What?”
“They don’t matter,” he says, tapping her chest. “Miss Gwen and I had a great time last night, so did my family, and we’re all that matters.”
“I don’t understand why he was upset about it though. Why does he care if you dance with Miss Gwen?”
“Because our skin color is different,” he explains, being completely blunt, “and well, he don’t like mine.”
Hannah frowns, confusion masking her sweet face. “Why not? What does that matter?”
“It doesn’t,” I say firmly. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you. What that man said last night was mean and it was wrong.”
She looks back up at Thatcher, her bottom lip quivering with emotion. “I’m sorry someone said something mean about you.”
“Don’t be sorry for me, child. It’s his problem, not mine.
I got all the love I need right here. Just look at my boys”—he points to Justice and his brothers—“they don’t have my skin color but they are still my sons.
” His voice is strong and sure, filled with so much love. “Just like you are my granddaughter.”
Hannah rests her small hand on the side of his face. “I think your skin is beautiful and I’m glad you’re my papa.”
Her sweet words have me close to breaking out into a blubbering mess.
“Oh, Hannah J.,” Thatcher says, emotion strong in his voice but his smile big. “That’s because your heart is beautiful, and you want to know what is stronger than hate?”
“What?” she asks, sniffling.
“Love. Love is blind and knows no color,” he says, his wisdom filling all of our hearts. “We are family and nothing will ever change that.”
Hannah wraps her arms around his neck, turning her face into his shoulder. “I love you, Papa.”
“And I love you, Hannah J.”
Despite the tears rolling down my face, I smile, proud of my daughter for turning something so hateful into something so beautiful.
*
Hours later, we all sit out on the porch, enjoying the beautiful summer afternoon. Justice and his brothers sit amongst each other disassembling guns and rebuilding for better performance, or so they explained.
Thatcher plays his harmonica, his eyes shielded with black sunglasses, foot tapping and body rocking to the soulful melody that pours from him. Hannah wears matching sunglasses, a wooden spoon raised to her mouth as she sings to his tune. “I got the blues!”
“That’s right! Sing it, girl,” Thatcher tells her. “Tell us how blue you are.”
“I got the very sad blues.”
Braxten and I chuckle while Knox and Justice wear a smirk. Even though she struggles with the lyrics, she doesn’t let that stop her and follows Thatcher’s lead. I look around at the group of us, a warm feeling weaving into my heart that I’ve never felt before. A sense of rightness.
I now realize why Justice wants us all here together, because there is no greater feeling than this. Than being surrounded by people you love and who love you in return. Something I never had until now.
“Papa, how come you’re missing fingers?” Hannah asks when there is a break between songs.
We all pause, our attention shifting to Thatcher.
I’ve often wondered the same thing, along with the various scars I’ve witnessed from time to time, whether it’s a subtle shift of his shirt or his mangled hand.
One weekend when he stayed with the two of us, I walked by his room as he was getting dressed and it was then I saw the rest of them.
The scars on his hand and arms are nothing compared to the ones that mar his torso.
Thatcher tackles the question with a flippant answer. “Oh, you know, just an unfortunate circumstance.”
“What happened?” she questions further.
When he remains silent, Braxten cuts in, “Good luck, kid. We’ve been asking that same question for years.”
I frown, surprised to find out that not even the boys know.
“Some things are better left unknown,” he says, leaving the conversation at that.
Any more talk comes to an end when an expensive black car drives down the long gravel road, approaching the house.
The vehicle has Justice pushing to his feet. “Dad, take Hannah inside.”
Thatcher does so and quickly, scooping Hannah into his arms and walking into the house before I can even speak a word.
“Justice, who is it?” I ask, wondering who has him so on edge.
“You should go inside, too.” The look he gives me has my pulse skipping nervously.
I remain exactly where I am, my eyes darting back to the car as it comes to a stop. When the blonde woman steps out, my heart plummets straight to my stomach.
My mother.
By her upturned nose and pinched expression I can tell nothing has changed, not that I expected it to.
Although I’ve been waiting for this visit, I still find myself unprepared, my nerves pinning me to the swing where I sit.
Justice starts down the stairs, his brothers following as they block her view of me. “You’re not welcome here,” he says. “Leave now.”
“Not until I speak with her.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Today is not the day to mess with me, Mr. Creed.”
Braxten snorts at the threat.
I finally snap into myself and stand, saving them from her wrath. “It’s fine, Justice.” My feet start forward, forcing me down the steps.
“You don’t have to see her, Ryanne.”
I place my hand on his shoulder, sliding in-between him and Knox. “It’s okay,” I assure him before turning to face her. “What do you want, Mother?”
She whips her designer sunglasses off, her eyes filled with fury. “How dare you,” she sneers. “How dare you show your face here after all these years.”
“I have every right to be here.”
“The hell you do!”
“This is my family,” I tell her, feeling confident as I make that statement with the men I have surrounding me.
She flicks a disgusted glance at them all. “Family? Is that what you call it nowadays. Do you even know which one the father is?”
“Watch it, lady.” Justice steps forward but I place my hand on his chest, refusing to let him fight this for me. This is my battle and I’m going to end it once and for all.
“I know exactly whose it is and so do you. I’m sure you and father have always known.”
I have no doubt they know exactly where I’ve been this whole time, too. There is no way they wouldn’t with their resources. They just didn’t care because I was far enough away not to taint their precious reputation.
“Hannah and I are back and you’re just going to have to deal with it,” I say, proud of myself for how steady my voice is. “Winchester is a big town. We’ll stay out of your way and you stay out of ours.”
Her expression twists with anger as she points a finger in my face. “You listen to me, you little bitch, it’s one thing for you to run off but I will not let you come back here to hide out on this nigger’s land with that bastard child.”
I flinch, the insult fueling rage to spark within me. Justice reaches for her but I’m quicker. With a closed fist I strike out, connecting with the side of her face.
Her head snaps to the side, the loud pop echoing through the air as shock registers on her face.
“Don’t you ever speak about my daughter or Thatcher that way!” Tears form in my eyes, the comment hurting me as much as it enrages me. “You are never to come near me or my family again,” I scream, the words trailing off into a choked sob.
Justice turns me around, pulling me against him. “Get her out of here, now!”
Braxten’s already moving for her, grabbing her arm.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” My mother sputters furiously. “Get your hands off me right this instant.”
He makes no move to oblige, continuing to drag her to her car where Knox stands holding the door open for him.
“Leave, Ryanne!” she yells, struggling against Braxten’s hold. “Do you hear me? You leave now or else—”
Whatever she says next is cut off when Braxten pushes her into her car and slams the door in her face, leaving her with no other choice but to drive away.
“God I hate her,” I whisper, watching the tail end of her car disappear. “I hate her so much.”
Justice tilts my face up to his, anger prominent in his dark eyes. “Forget her. She doesn’t matter, she never has. You, me, and Hannah, we’re all that matters.”
He’s right and I know it, but for some reason, even after all these years, she still gets to me, hurts me so deeply.
“That was a nice right hook,” Braxten comments, walking back over to us with Knox in tow.
“Thanks for getting rid of her,” I say with a sniffle.
“I would have done it sooner but I was praying you were gonna hit her since we can’t.”
A sad smile cracks my lips. “I’m sorry for what she said,” I whisper to them all.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Justice says, his expression soft as his fingers brush my cheek.