Alex Cross’s Trial by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson [Patterson, James]
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780316072625
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2010-08-30T00:39:00+00:00

Chapter 72

“YOU JUST PLAIN don’t need me no more.” Aunt Henry said it straight out as she dabbed at the wounds on my back with one of her secret potions.

“Fact is, Mist’ Corbett, you hardly even got any scabs left on you,” she said. “These is all healed up real good.”

I twisted around on my chair to pull on my shirt, wincing from the pain.

“Now don’t you be foolin’ with me,” Aunt Henry said. “You walkin’ good with no crutch.”

I knew she was right. Aside from the occasional shock of pain in my neck, or in my knees, I was feeling almost human again. I had no further need for Aunt Henry’s fussing and babying, which I had come to enjoy.

And it was time for me to go back to Eudora.

Frankly, I felt a bit reluctant to leave. There was something good about life as it happened in this modest little house. Certainly, the opportunity to see Moody every day was something I had enjoyed. But as much as that, I had enjoyed getting to know Abraham. With everything going against him—the death of his grandson, the increasing fear in the colored community, the lifetime of bigotry he had endured—Abraham was a man at peace with himself.

Just the night before, on a warm rainy evening when the mosquitoes were at their droning worst, we sat on a bench underneath the overhang of the porch.

We were working our way through a basket of hot corn muffins Moody had just brought out of the oven. I smiled up at her. She ignored me and turned back inside.

“Sometimes a man can sense something,” Abraham said. “Something small that can blossom up into trouble.”

“You mean, because we haven’t heard from Roosevelt?” I asked. “I don’t understand that at all. I almost got hanged for him.”

“This got nothing to do with the president,” he said, gazing off into the darkness. “I’m talking about another kind of business. Right here in my house.”

I swallowed the rest of the muffin and wiped my mouth, inelegantly, on the back of my hand. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had been hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Nothing has happened, Abraham,” I said softly. “Nothing is going to happen.”

He didn’t look at me.

“I love that girl just about as much as I ever loved anybody,” he said. “Including her mama. And including even my dear departed wife. As for you—well, I done took you into my house, hadn’t I? That ought to show you, I hold you in high regard. You a fine man, Ben, but this just can’t be. It can’t be. Moody and you? That is impossible.”

“I understand that, Abraham. I don’t think you ought to worry. Maybe you hadn’t noticed, but Moody hasn’t spoken a kind word to me since the day we met.”

He put his hand on my shoulder.

“And maybe you hadn’t noticed,” he said, “but that’s exactly how you can tell when a woman is in love with you.”

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