Everyone knew about the first annual school pageant; it had been very well advertised around Maycomb County. Burris, the second-to-youngest of the Ewell clan, sneered at the idea of dressing up in stupid costumes and parading around the stage, but Mayella thought it was a cute idea, if a waste of time and materials. None of the Ewell children were invited to be part of it. Mayella privately decided it was because the lady running the pageant didn't want 'dirty' children representing the county.
The kids did trick-or-treat, however. The rule in the Ewell house was that they couldn't be away from the property after dark, as they had chores to do (the kids never did them, but Bob liked to know where his children were—it was easier to control them that way). A few minutes before dark, therefore, the house was full of children squabbling over the contents of rough bags. There wasn't much to argue over, not from Mayella's perspective. Mostly, it was things like apples, rocks that were interesting colors and shapes, a couple pieces of candy, and a bar of soap. The oldest Ewell girl smiled when she saw that in every bag. Well, maybe her siblings would take the hint from that, if nothing else. She doubted it, though.
Her arm had healed quickly, according to the doctor when she slipped over in the middle of October. Six weeks were more than enough, and he removed the splint with care and told her to keep it in the sun and rub it often to remove the pallor. She'd done that, and now her arm looked almost normal again.
At last, annoyed with the noise, Bob chased everyone to bed. Mayella didn't go just yet; she was sitting by the window, mending her littlest sister's dress carefully. As she worked, she watched her papa through her curtain of hair. She could smell alcohol around him and in the bottle he carried; it gave her a headache every time. It surprised her that he was drinking now, though. He usually waited until sometime after dark or when he was away from the house. The effects of his drunkenness, of course, came home with him, but not the bottle. She marked that down as 'weird', but didn't let it bother her too much. As long as he stayed on the side of the room with the stove, she was fine.
Bob took another deep swallow as he rocked back and forth on the back legs of his chair. All was well in his little kingdom, at the moment. His kids were in bed, Mayella was back under his control, and the beer he'd bought from his Sarum friends was particularly good. After draining the rest of the bottle in silence, he got up and adjusted his pants. "Think I'll go out," he announced to the room in general and Mayella in particular.
That brought Mayella's head up and her eyebrows together. He'd already drunk what he had; he had no reason to go out and drink in the swamp, like he usually did. A quiet suspicion filled her as she saw him pick up the knife he'd found and carefully honed over the weeks. She didn't voice any of her thoughts. Instead, she said, "All right," and bent back over her mending.
Watching her work for a moment, Bob's lips curled up in a derisive smile. That was the way he liked his women: silent and submissive. It'd taken all of her life, but he'd gotten Mayella to the right level of submissiveness. He'd almost lost her to the whole Robinson mess. That had been a mess that took a severe beating and a death to solve, but she was firmly back under his thumb, all thoughts of escape banished. Nodding happily, he walked slightly unsteadily out of the door.
Her heart in her throat, Mayella waited until she couldn't hear the gravel under his boots anymore. Once she was sure he was safely away, she rolled her mending up carefully and put it away. Taking a couple slow, deep breaths, the young woman slipped around the small house carefully, checking that the children were fast asleep. Once she was satisfied that they wouldn't be awake until morning, she left the house, closing the door behind her, and ran down the road as fast as she could.
The pageant. The Finch children would be at the pageant. Mayella had no idea how long the pageant was supposed to go, but she knew that somewhere along the way, her boozed-up papa would kill the children. She couldn't let that happen.
She couldn't put her finger on quite why she couldn't allow that as she ran silently through the quiet town. Maybe it was because they were children, and young children at that; she'd seen them at the trial just before the jury came back in. Maybe it was the protective instinct that kept her between her siblings and her papa. But she was pretty sure it was for the simple reason that they were Atticus Finch's children. That required more thought than she wanted to put into it, and she didn't have time for deep thought anyway.
She reached the school and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. The pageant was still going on; she could hear music from inside. 'Good,' she thought, resting her head against the wall for a moment. It was still warm from the sun, and she closed her eyes to soak up the heat.
She seemed to have arrived at the right time; a few moments after she arrived, she heard laughter from inside and children calling farewells as the door opened to allow small parties of children out. Lurking in the shadows, Mayella watched for the young Finch children, hoping she hadn't forgotten what they looked like. It had been several months, after all.
She sighed with relief when she recognized the Finch boy walking out of the school beside…a walking ham? Mayella frowned over that until she saw that the small legs holding the ham upright had to belong to a young girl, and a young, high voice talked to the Finch boy from inside it. Well, she had to assume that the Finch boy would only be accompanying the Finch girl. She couldn't remember their names, but that was them for sure. They called farewell to their friends before starting into the night. Mayella followed them, sniffing the air quietly. It smelled like a storm was coming in fast.
The children were happily immune from the pressure of the incoming storm; they talked quietly about the pageant and the girl's missing shoes. The boy called the girl 'Scout', and Mayella remembered that the boy's name was Jem a moment before Scout called his name in the dark.
Then Mayella heard it. Footsteps, made slightly unsteady from too much alcohol. Her heart, which had calmed down while she listened to the children's quiet conversation, jumped into her throat again. She'd been right. She had hoped, while following the children on silent feet, that she had misjudged her papa; hoped that he wouldn't take this threat against Atticus Finch out on innocent children. It didn't surprise her that her hopes had been useless, though.
Moments later, Jem paused and looked around. It was hard to see him in the darkness, but Mayella was close enough to see that he was worried as he hushed Scout and listened carefully.
Bob Ewell must have also seen that the children stopped. He did the same. That was something Mayella hated about her papa; he wasn't a clumsy drunk. He was actually better when he was drunk, at least in the area of inflicting pain, than he was sober. Right at the moment, he was smart enough to stop moving when the children did so they would think it was their imagination.
Jem Finch was a smart young man, however; something he must have gotten from his father. When Scout tried to ask him if he was just trying to scare her, he hushed her up and looked around before making her keep going. Mayella and the unseen Bob Ewell took up the pursuit again.
It was a few moments before Bob made his move; for some reason, he waited until the children were underneath the huge tree behind the Radley house. As he got closer and louder, Jem ordered Scout to run as he half-turned and doubled his fists to protect his little sister. The girl attempted to do so, but tripped and fell.
Bob Ewell didn't waste a second. Knife in his hand, he dove for the fallen girl, grabbing her and slashing at the costume. Jem shouted and attacked Bob, both fists swinging. Mayella heard her father shout in pain and he turned on the boy, grabbing his arm in a gesture that was familiar to the young woman. Jem cried out as bones snapped in his arm, and Mayella bit her fist as her arm throbbed in silent sympathy.
She felt she should do something. That was why she was here, right? But the old terror of her father, fostered by years of abuse, kept her feet rooted to the ground and her knees trembling. If she shouted, Bob would know she was there and hurt her. But he'd just hurt Jem; the boy was now on the ground, not moving. He had to be unconscious, and no wonder.
Scout screamed for help at the top of her lungs, filling the dark with the sound of pure terror. Mayella had only heard that sound from another's throat once before, when Bob turned on Burris in a drunken rage because the boy was crying over a stubbed toe. Her knees stopped shaking as she moved forward quickly. She could see the knife in her father's upraised hand; he was going to cut Jem's throat like a pig's. Thinking fast, the young woman grabbed a rock and flung it at Bob Ewell as hard as she could. The dark threw off her aim, but she heard the definite sound of rock meeting flesh and a cry of pain from her father.
He whirled, knife in hand, and stared out into the darkness. Scout was still screaming, only stopping for sobbing breaths when she had to. Just as Bob moved forward to find the person who had just attacked him, another shape emerged from the shadows and picked the small man up bodily.
The knife flashed out of Bob's hand as he flailed, trying to get free from the big, solid hands. But no matter how much he squirmed and kicked and punched, the unseen attacker kept a firm grip. Raising a big hand, the newcomer hit Bob hard across the head. The little man was tough, but it must have been like being hit with a sack of lead; he slumped, unconscious. Grunting in relief, the newcomer dropped Bob with as much regard as one would drop a sack of potatoes and went over to Jem. In the minimal light, anyone could see the boy's face was as pale as a ghost's as he lay helplessly on the ground. Shaking his head, the man picked Jem up carefully and began carrying him away. As far as he was concerned, the job was done. The children were safe.
Mayella disagreed. As long as Bob Ewell was alive, those children were in trouble, along with every Ewell child, including her. When the knife had gone flying, she'd followed it, scrambling in the dirt to find it. As the newcomer walked away, Jem's limp body in his arms, she found the knife and wrapped her hands around the handle as she crawled back to where her father lay unconscious.
She stared down at him. Lying there like that, he looked so small, and she found herself thinking, 'I've been afraid of someone smaller than me for this long?' Swallowing hard, she changed her grip on the knife as she put a hand on his chest to figure out the best place. He stirred and moaned under her touch, and she shuddered as she quickly pulled away. For some reason, a phrase Miss Stephanie Crawford had muttered during the trial came back to her: "He makes me sick just looking at him."
"You don't know the half of it, missus," Mayella muttered as she took a deep breath. Now that it actually came down to the act of killing him, she didn't know if she could do it. Just then, she heard someone shouting Scout's name. No time, no time! Gripping the knife hard in both hands, she slammed it up to the hilt under Bob's ribs and twisted it as hard as she could. Blood spurted out, soaking her entire front and hands in the sticky stuff, but she was sure he was dead. "That's for me 'n' Tom Robinson," she whispered, releasing the knife.
The owner of the shouting voice got closer rapidly, and Mayella recognized it as Atticus Finch. The unknown helper must have made it back to the Finch house in one piece. Thank God. She moved back into the shadows as fast as she could as Scout worked her way free from the costume and threw herself into Atticus's arms.
It was over, then. Bob Ewell was dead, and the Finch children were safe. Mayella looked down at herself as Atticus guided the sobbing girl back to their house. She was soaked in blood; it would never come out properly. Oh well; it was worth it.
Or was it? Her head came up sharply as she realized something; no one had seen her. They would think that the man who saved the children had been the one to kill Bob Ewell. The law'd kill him for protecting them! Shaking her head violently, Mayella almost collapsed into angry tears. No, no, no! She couldn't let someone else die because of her. Never again!
Inhaling rapidly and biting her lip until it bled, Mayella followed the father and daughter. As she took a place in the shadows close by, she heard Atticus tell the Negro housekeeper to call Heck Tate, that someone had been after the children. When she went inside, the lawyer took a few steps toward the Radley house and took his glasses off. His expression, clearly visible to the hiding young woman, was enough to chill her to the bone. She had never seen such raw hurt and fury on anyone's face before, and she had never dreamed he could feel such deep emotions. He was usually so laid-back…she jumped as he let out a strangled cry of rage and clenched his fist. Evidently deciding that he should leave revenge to the law, he punched his knee hard before turning and striding rapidly into the house.
Time passed very, very slowly, but Mayella stayed in her place silently. Heck Tate would come eventually; he was friends with Atticus. If it looked like the unknown rescuer was going to get the blame, she'd come out and confess. The thought of actually telling the truth to the law—especially the truth she had to tell—turned her knees to water and her stomach into a whirling mess. But she had to do this. Tom had already died for her lies; she wouldn't let this other man die because of her silence.
By the time Heck finally showed up, Mayella had nearly dozed off. His shouts for Atticus woke her in short order, however. A moment later, the lawyer exited his house and said, "Come on in, Heck. Did you find anything?" He turned to look back at his house as he said with quiet incredulity, "I cannot conceive of anyone who'd do this."
The sheriff hesitated before grabbing Atticus's arm and pulling him down into the front yard. "Let's stay outside," he urged in his gentle drawl.
Atticus's eyebrows drew together as he followed his friend down into the yard. "What is it?" he asked. He turned slightly, unintentionally blocking Mayella's view with his back.
She moved sideways just in time to see Heck's expression as he said, "Bob Ewell's lyin' on the ground yonder with a kitchen knife stuck up under his ribs. He's dead, Mr. Finch."
A stunned silence descended on the small group. Scout, sitting up on the porch swing, leaned forward and gulped audibly as Atticus stared at Heck. Mayella heard the front door click closed as the big man who'd rescued the children slipped out and stood on the porch. At last, Atticus asked, in a tone that indicated he was numb, "Dead? Are you sure?"
"Good and dead," was Heck's prompt response. "He won't hurt these children again." In the shadows, Mayella allowed a brief smile to curve her mouth slightly. Good.
Atticus tried to break in, but only got out the first word: "But—"
The sheriff's hands closed tightly around the flashlight he held as he said angrily, "That mean-as-hell, low-down skunk with enough liquor in him to make him brave enough to kill children!"
Mayella breathed in relief, closing her eyes. There were no tears shed over the death of a bad man, she decided. She peeked from behind her eyelashes as Atticus said, "I thought he'd got it out of his system the day he spat at me. And if he hadn't, I thought I was the one he'd come after."
'Ha,' Mayella thought, shifting slightly in the underbrush. A twig snapped under her, and she froze, but Heck was already talking again: "Now you know better." He turned to the girl on the porch swing and leaned against the railing. "He broke Jem's arm," he said, phrasing the statement as a question, "and he grabbed you." Scout nodded, her brown eyes big in her pale face. "Then what happened?"
The girl cleared her throat a couple times, apparently still in shock. "Someone came out—to help. Someone—"
"Who was it?" Heck prompted gently, trying to gentle the shocked girl along.
Scout turned to look at the big man, standing in the corner of the porch. Now Mayella could see her face clearly in the moonlight, and she could see a flash of joy when the girl saw the man who'd saved her and her brother. "Well, there he is, Mr. Tate. He'll tell you his name."
Mayella looked at the man, squinting to see if she knew him. Somehow, the face was familiar; she'd seen him on her night roams through the town. In fact, unless she was mistaken, he had been the one who helped her home after a particularly bad night. Scout stared at him for a moment before a flash of recognition and realization crossed her small face. She got up and walked to him. "Hey—Boo," she said softly.
That was all Mayella needed to hear. She knew now that Boo Radley wasn't going to be blamed for her father's death, and she was uncomfortably aware that his blood had dried on her. Moving carefully, she slipped away from the Finch house and into the dark night.
The hearse had already reached her father by the time she got close. She noted that, nodded, and made a detour around the site. He was dead, the children were safe, and no one was going to suffer for it. A good night, all told.
'Oh yeah?' her mind asked, obviously frightened to death about the future without a father, even a bad one. 'And what are you going to do now?'
She shrugged, pushing that mental voice away. She'd deal with the lack of a father the same way she dealt with a bad father: take each day as it came and lie as good as possible.
"And how did that work for you?" Atticus asked mildly. Actually, he was impressed by the young woman's reported ability to keep her family together.
Mayella smiled, the first ghost of amusement she'd shown in a while. "When they came 'round to try and take the young'uns away, I showed 'em I can handle the kids. So they stayed with me. The welfare check was changed to my name. I made the kids stay 'n school longer'n their one day for the truant man; Burris made it t' the next grade. I got a job, 'n so did John."
That news had reached Atticus' ears via the rumor mill in town; John had found a job working for one of the farmers, and Mayella hauled boxes at the general store (first under very careful observation, then with a little more trust as the store manager realized there was something good there, even in a Ewell). "So now I suppose we reach the end of your story?" he asked.
"Yeah," the young woman said, combing her long hair behind her ears absently. "I bin savin' my wages for months, waiting for th' right time, y'see? And now's it. The kids'll stay with John; he's old enough to keep 'em, all legal and right. So I can go."
"You can be free," Atticus said with a smile.
She met his eyes, wary hazel meeting warm brown, and slowly an answering smile spread over her face, lighting her eyes. Atticus realized she was quite lovely, when she relaxed enough to smile, and he knew she'd be all right, wherever she went. "Yeah," she agreed. "I can be free." She stood up, and Atticus stood as well, pushing his chair back from his desk. "I got a ticket on th' next train out," she said, touching the pocket of her dress. "And I even got me a spare dress. Nothin' fancy, but it'll do."
"Where will you go?" Atticus asked, coming around his desk to lean against its front. She shied back a little, but not as badly as he expected.
"Montgomery, for now," she replied, taking a careful step backwards to maintain a safe distance between her and the taller man. Though she'd been free of her father's beating hands for months, the habits of years were still strong. Besides, if her father, who had been about her height, could damage her so badly, what could this taller man do to her if he wanted? "After that, dunno. I got enough money for a little schoolin', maybe enough to learn typin' or somethin' useful in a city." She laughed a little uneasily. The thought of going somewhere so big scared her out of her mind, but that wasn't new; she'd lived in fear all her life. And maybe she could stand being terrified if it led her to something better.
"When does your train leave?" Atticus asked.
She glanced at the clock in the corner and winced a little. "Half hour," she said, backing toward the door. "I should go…I din't mean to talk s'damned long."
Atticus got his jacket from the coat rack and put it on. "Will you allow me to accompany you to the station, Miss Mayella?" he asked. When her eyes darkened and she started to protest the title again, he lifted a hand to pause her mid-snap. "You're making a break with everything you've ever known, young lady. 'Miss' is a title of respect and politeness; you'll have to get used to it in the city. And as I respect the step you're making, I would like to see you off to your new life."
She considered that for a long moment, watching him with the wary eyes of a frightened doe. At last, she breathed out a sigh and nodded a little. "Reckon it can't hurt nothin'," she said.
It might even help, Atticus thought but did not say. After all, she may want to return someday; if the townsfolk saw him, a fairly respected member of the community, seeing her off and encouraging her along her new path, they may be more willing to allow her to come back and make a try at making the Ewell name a little more respected. Instead of speaking, he crossed to the door and opened it for her. "After you, madam," he said with a little bow.
She blushed a little, not quite sure how to take the 'madam', but passed through the open door without an argument. Outside the little office, she picked up her small travel case—something obviously scavenged from the dump and repaired as best as she could—and followed Atticus out onto the street.
They walked in cautious silence to the train depot, where the train rested while discharging passengers and taking on water, coal, and new passengers. The town was reviving a little, Atticus was glad to see. Maybe the hard times were coming closer to being done.
Once on the platform, Mayella took out her ticket and looked at it as if she'd never seen the paper before in her life. "Well," she said at last, looking at Atticus. "Thanks for the comp'ny down here."
"My pleasure," Atticus said, smiling down at the slight woman. He offered her his right hand. She peered at it for a moment before shyly taking it in her right hand and shaking politely. "I wish you all the best, Miss Mayella," he said, gently squeezing her hand in his. "Truly."
"Thanks," Mayella said, meeting his eyes with a shy smile and releasing his hand after a moment. "Means a lot to me." The train whistled impatiently, wanting to be off, and she jumped a little. "Guess I need to go." She hesitated a brief moment, then surprised herself and Atticus: she took one quick step forward and hugged the older man hard for a second. Then she released him, picked up her travel case, and darted onto the train.
Atticus watched as she walked down the line of seats and picked one looking out onto the station's platform. He wondered what had possessed her to willingly touch a man, especially after what her father had put her through, and he hoped for a second that it meant she could move past Bob Ewell and find a new life.
Mayella looked out the window and saw Atticus still standing there. She knew why she'd hugged him, though she was still surprised at herself. Without him defending Tom so rightly and standing against Bob, she might have never found the courage to end her father's life. Without his kids as a reason to drive that knife home, she might have wound up catching pregnant with her father's kid and staying in the same miserable existence for the rest of her life.
She'd wanted Tom's love, because he was the only one to show her any affection that didn't feel wrong. Now Atticus' approval warmed her heart. 'I only wanted love,' she thought. 'Maybe I'll find it now.' She lifted a hand and waved to Atticus as the train began pulling out of the station.
Atticus waved back, his thoughts unconsciously following the same line as hers: maybe now she could find love and make a life outside of Maycomb and the shadow of her father. Maybe when she came back, she wouldn't be a Ewell anymore. And that would be right. 'She only ever wanted what every human wants,' he thought. 'To be special to someone. To be loved for herself, not for what she could do. Maybe she can be free to find it now.'
Atticus Finch smiled from the bottom of his heart as he watched the train out of sight and silently wished the young woman onboard well. "Good luck, Miss Mayella," he murmured as he turned to leave the depot. "God go with you."