It was after my grandfather and I went downstate that I began to have the nightmares, though. Perhaps I cried out during them, because one morning at breakfast Grandfather remarked quietly, “I hope you don’t feel guilty about reporting Miriam Winters, son. It
I nodded my head. “Yes, I know...”
My lack of conviction must have shown, for my grandfather became emphatic. “It’s time we laid this ghost away,” he said. “You and I are going to the state mental hospital to see Miriam Winters.”
Although I went reluctantly, the visit turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. Miriam was delighted to have company and chatted cheerfully. She had heard that the Bear was dead, which was sad, but then, she added philosophically, he was pretty old. She knew that if he became sick again she would have to put him to sleep permanently anyway.
My grandfather looked at me pointedly at this revelation. Surely I needed no more proof that we had done the right thing in reporting the Winters affair. From his standpoint the visit was a success, but in a way it backfired, for Miriam was a kindly, warmhearted woman. She said I made her think of her son Bobby, and she hoped I’d come to see her again. To my own amazement I found myself promising I would.
And I did, many times. Was it my way of assuaging the faint guilt I still felt over disrupting the Winters couple’s strangely compatible life together? I don’t know, but I do know that in chatting with her I gradually learned the full story of the events leading to Harry Winters’ imprisonment.
I went to my grandfather. “She shouldn’t be in a mental institution,” I complained. “She’s not really insane, except of course about the ‘Bear,’ and he probably caused that insanity, beating her and all...”
My grandfather stared at me and sighed. “That ghost is still not laid, hmmm?” He thought a moment. “The county home in Wilton Falls is a well-run place. I’ll see what I can do.”
Miriam was transferred to the county home three weeks later, and I felt more at peace than I had for a long time. I still went to see her, but less frequently, as it was a longer run up to Wilton Falls. Then I went away to college — later began working — got married — moved farther away. Visits became replaced by letters, letters by a Christmas card, and now...
I looked down at the letter in my hand. Now there would not even be any need for that. Miriam Winters had paid her debt to society, and presumably society was satisfied. I now knew that, for my part, could I but relive that long-ago summer day, this time I would stare into the almost-blind eyes of Harry Winters and go quietly on my way.
“I haven’t seen Lucinda Skaggs since a week ago Tuesday,” Lottie Estes mentioned to a friend in the teachers’ lounge. The fourth period bell precluded further analysis. Although it was of no botanical significance, the next morning it was discussed at the garden club meeting. It took several hours to reach the Emporium Hardware Store, but then the pace picked up and by mid-afternoon it was one of the topics at Suds of Fun Launderette next to the supermarket, in the supermarket proper, and even at the Dairee Dee-Lishus (although the teenagers moved on to more intriguing topics, such as blankets alongside Boone Creek and which minors had been caught in possession of what illegal substances).
Thus the tidbit — not a rumor, mind you — crept up the road, moving as slowly and clumsily as a three-legged dog on a frozen pond, until it reached Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill. This is hardly worthy of mention (nor was the fact that Lottie had not seen Lucinda Skaggs since a week ago Tuesday, but for some reason it was being mentioned a lot), since Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill was the ultimate depository of all gossip, trivial or boggling or outright scandalous, within the city limits of Maggody, Arkansas (pop. 755). Despite occasional attempted coups, it was acknowledged by almost everybody that the proprietress, Ruby Bee Hanks, was the guardian of the grapevine.
“So?” Estelle Oppers responded when she was presented with the tidbit. She took a pretzel from the basket on the bar, studied it for excessive salt, and popped it into her mouth.
“So I don’t know,” said Ruby Bee. “I was just repeating it, for pity’s sake.”
“Has Lucinda Skaggs disappeared, or has Lottie lost her bifocals?”
“All I know is that Lucinda hasn’t been seen in nearly two weeks now.” In retaliation for the skeptical reception, Ruby Bee pretended to polish the metal napkin holder while surreptitiously inching the pretzels out of Estelle’s reach. “Lottie said you can set your watch by Lucinda’s comings and goings. She’s real big on ‘early to bed, early to rise,’ and Lottie says not one morning goes by that Lucinda doesn’t snap on the kitchen light at six sharp, put out the garbage at six fifteen, and—”
