The Woods at Barlow Bend by Jodie Cain Smith

if we release Mr. Andrews today, that all his buddies over in Crenshaw will help him disappear into the night. We owe it to Addie Andrews and to her babies that this does not happen.”
    “I tend to agree with you, Frank,” said Judge Bedsole and then turned to Daddy and said, “Mr. Andrews, bail is denied. You are hereby remanded to Kilby State Prison until your trial, which we’ll set after preliminary.”
    The judge shuffled through some papers on his desk for a minute. “Preliminary hearing is set for December 3. And we’ll call that lunch, boys. Dismissed.”
    Judge Bedsole banged his gavel once more before exiting the courtroom. The deputy walked over to Daddy and led him toward the door near the front of the courtroom. My heart sank as Daddy looked at me over his shoulder.
    “Hattie, Sweetie, we’ll figure this out,” then he disappeared through the door.
    I sat there feeling confused and foolish. The litany of everything I didn’t know raced through my head. How could I think $46.25 would be enough to save him when $5000 wasn’t enough? When would I see him again? How would I get from Grove Hill to Montgomery? Why didn’t I let Momma teach me how to drive? Why was I always too scared to try? When would Daddy’s trial be? What’s a preliminary hearing? And why, on God’s green Earth, does Mr. Poole think Daddy killed Momma?
    “What am I going to do?”
    My voice sounded so small and frail amidst the chaos of the courtroom. I couldn’t stop the tears that time. They fell from my cheeks and splashed on the purse that I was still clutching tightly to my chest.
    “Well,” Mittie responded, “You’ll come home with me.” She squeezed my hand again. This time, I didn’t let go until we reached the hotel.

 
     
    Chapter 10
    September 1934
    Grove Hill, Alabama
    After leaving the courthouse, Aunt Mittie and I entered the hotel through the alley behind Main Street. Actually, Aunt Mittie led me around the hotel and through the alley to the staff entrance.
    Bef ore opening the door, she gently held my hand in hers, “The best place for you is with me. I know I’m not your Momma, but she was part of me.”
    I mumbled a faint agreement, still wounded from failing at the courthouse.
    “Go on upstairs and start packing…just your clothes and valuables. We have everything else you would need in Luverne.”
    “Yes, Ma’am. And what about…?”
    “Don’t worry with them. I’ll tell ‘em what’s happened. Go on now.”
    I know I should have been panicked by the thoughts of Daddy going to jail, having to face a murder trial, and us moving again after barely being settled into the hotel, but for the first time in months, I actually felt like I could breathe. Aunt Mittie was not my mother, but she would help me.
    Truth be known, Daddy was always busy with the hotel and had little time left in the day to care for us. He still disappeared at night now and then, with no explanation of where he was running off to or what he was doing. Sometimes, I heard him come back in through the staff entrance long after everyone else, including me, should have been sound asleep, and he didn’t even try to creep around. He would come barreling through the door, gulp water directly from the kitchen tap, and then saunter up the stairs. To my knowledge, he never saw my candle burning in the dining room, or me crouched near the front counter, peering into the kitchen. I might as well have been a ghost as much as he noticed me hiding in the shadows with my finger marking my place in my latest novel from the Bookmobile. Maybe, Aunt Mittie would pay more attention.
    *****
    Luverne, Alabama, lies three counties over from Grove Hill in Crenshaw County. A lot of our people lived there, so I was pretty familiar with it. Momma grew up in Searight at the south end of the county. Papa Lowman, Momma’s daddy, still lived there with his two youngest daughters. Momma’s mother passed away a few years before all of this happened, and was