My baby boys were born at nine O five tonight. They are striking lads. Honey Bee is worried about their long hair, and says their strength could be stolen. He frets that a baby born with a full head of hair may be weakly because all the might has been spent on the hair. My own granny used to say a babe born with long hair is born looking old and will surely have a short life. But Joetta insists they are fit and strong. We are blessed!
Honey Bee says his sons look just like him. Joetta thinks so too. She proclaimed them the handsomest baby boys in the county, surely the most handsomest babies she has ever delivered, and the only twins she’s ever seen.
Before Joetta left, she showed me how to nurse. She said there’s nothing finer than mother’s milk to keep the sickness away from my babes, and claimed her two-and three-year-old boys were still nursing, and nary an illness has struck either one.
My milk was thick and flowing, and my strong boys were greedy and quickly rooted and filled themselves before falling fast asleep.
We named our precious sons Paxton and Preston.
Paxton Beauregard Butler and Preston Lee Butler!
Thank you, Dear Lord, for my precious, darling angels.
1931, April 22
Joetta’s house burned down not two hours ago. She has lost everything dear to her. There is nothing left. The Good Lord called her beloved Ebenezer and their three boys to His home.
I’m positive it is my fault, though Honey Bee begs different. He says he insisted on Joetta’s help and pleaded with her to come for the birthing, paying her handsomely for her services. But the fire broke out while she was delivering my babies. How could it not be my doing? I took her from her home, her sweet babies, her gentle husband, to tend to me.
Dear Merciful God, please keep Ebenezer and his baby angels in Your heavenly arms and protect them until Joetta can once again hold them.
Forgive me, Father, forgive my sins and weakness.
1931, April 26
Joetta has been staying with us until her kin can call for her. Yesterday, she made pillows for my darlings’ cradle. Together we embroidered a circle of sweet cherubs onto the pillowslips’ hem. Joetta helps me with the babies, and my little angels seem to brighten her mood.
Honey Bee says she’s helping too much. He worries about her spending every second with them. Lately, Joetta doesn’t want me or Honey Bee holding them much, and is bothered when I must nurse them. She insists too much coddling will make them weak, and too much nursing will make them needy.
Today, in the dark morning hours I caught her in the nursery offering her breast to Paxton. We argued, and I accused her of trying to steal my sons.
Joetta fled, crying. I tried to go after her and apologize, but she disappeared onto Ebenezer Road.
Forgive me, Heavenly Father, for my anger and jealousy.
1931, April 29
My heart is broken. My precious sons, Paxton and Preston, are dead. Gone! Murdered in their sleep. My husband is surely lost to me as well.
Honey Bee caught Joetta in the nursery clutching the pillow. But it was too late to save my sweet angels from that madwoman’s hands.
Joetta has vanished. And I fear for my beloved husband.
I watched him take a rope from the barn, and now he has gone looking for her. Honey Bee has surely locked arms with the Devil himself!
O’ Merciful Father, forgive him. Save me. Save us all.
1936, June 15
After a most frightful delivery, my beautiful babies were born yesterday. Patsy Jean came first at 11:36, and eight minutes later, the doctor cut out her bald-headed twin, Flannery Bee.
Doctor Stinnett said I will heal quickly and that our precious girls are fit as a fiddle. But my darling husband was beside himself, and argued with him about Patsy’s well-being. Then Honey Bee left abruptly.
A short spell later Honey Bee returned with a razor, and shaved off Patsy’s thick crop of long hair, every single strand. Doctor Stinnett called for the law and had my dear husband removed from the hospital.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, for our sweet, darling girls. O’ Merciful God, look upon Patsy with Your watchful eye and shield her from evil. Protect us always, protect us all.
The pages darkened. Flannery rose slowly into Captain Green’s broad shadow.
“Mrs. Hamilton,” he said, a surprise in his smile, “it’s good to see you again.”
From behind, an outside door opened, and footsteps drew near. A hand landed on Flannery’s shoulder. She turned and met kind eyes.
At forty-two, JoLynn looked a little older than her years, burdened with the old ways and knowing eyes.
Captain Green looked questioningly at the women.
Quietly, JoLynn slipped her hand into Flannery’s and squeezed once. Twice. Then again, an approval in the woman’s supportive grip.
Finding strength, Flannery pressed back and handed Captain Green the diary and the tin with the pearls and the bullet—the Butler family’s first lick by the Devil himself, and her family’s first heartaches and the later ones—all the sins of her and JoLynn’s families.