by Lynn Emery
A TIME TO LOVE
By
LYNN EMERY
Copyright 1999
All Rights Reserved
Visit me on the web at:
www.lynnemery.com
Connect with me on :
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LEmeryWriter
Facebook: www.facebook.com/lynn.emery.author
Chapter 1
Neva opened the door and entered Bill Hanson’s drugstore. She had always enjoyed coming in here as a little girl. Mr. Hanson was the fourth generation to own the business. His great-grandfather’s store had been more of the old fashion all purpose dry goods establishment over a hundred years ago. Yet here stood the original building. Old fashioned jars of candy sat on a counter and rows of spices on shelves filled walls. She breathed in the smell of old wood, lemon polish and cinnamon jelly beans. Neva smiled when she saw the four cane bottom chairs around the black wood burning stove. For a few moments, she expected to hear her grandfather boom “Howdo, Mr. Bill. Got somethin’ sweet for my baby gal?” Papa Dub always made her feel safe. But the voice she actually heard was female.
“Yeah, Neva Ross is back in town, child. Been livin’ in New Orleans with the rest of them hoodoo people. Tell me she was–” When another customer cleared her throat loudly, the woman broke off and faced Neva with a smile stretched across her plump face. “Mornin’, Neva. Welcome home.”
“Hello, Bessie. Hi Sharon, Lorita.” Neva nodded to Bessie’s companions.
She gazed at the three women intently for several seconds without speaking, scanning them as though her eyes were capable of seeing straight to the bone like an x-ray device. Neva wore a half-smile as she look at each in turn. She let the silence lengthen until they exchanged nervous glances.
“Heard you takin’ care of your grandmama. That’s nice,” Lorita said finally. She blinked from behind her eyeglasses.
“Yes,” Neva said, drawing out the word in a slow drawl. She continued looking at the women.
“Ahem, she’s got a nice little cottage. Didn’t your cousin Desiree keep it fixed up?” Bessie, always bold, was the first to recover.
“Yes... she did that,” was Neva’s only reply.
Just like Bessie to try and probe for gossip. Neva remembered this too, the claustrophobic nature of living in a small, rural community. After all these years, little had changed. Bessie was still the same. Solitude was essentially the same. Yet Neva was different. At least she hoped so. Seeing no more information was forthcoming, Bessie gave up. For now at least. “Hmm, well I got go take this medicine to Miz Olive down the way. Poor thing suffers so with her arthritis these days. Be seein’ ya around.”
“Me, too. Gotta get over to the nursing home for my shift.” Pam, wearing a white uniform typical of nursing assistants, bustled to the cashier to pay for her purchases leaving Lorita alone with Neva.
“I, uh, well....” Lorita seemed at a loss to come up with a reason to escape. “You look good.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
“Go on. With this hair and these thick glasses.” Lorita flushed with pleasure all the same as she touched her thick dark red hair pulled back in a twist.
“Jerry never had a problem with you. Y’all still together? He’s such a sweet man.” Neva always liked Lorita. Shy but with a kind heart, she was one of the few girls who had been friendly in grade school.
Lorita smiled prettily at the mention of her long time beau. “We’re getting married.”
“Humph.” Bessie had her back turned but still made her meaning clear.
“We got the date all set for right after Easter,” Lorita said in a defensive voice. “Talked to Reverend Lollis and everything.”
“He’s a good man and lucky to have you.” Neva meant what she said.
“Thank you,” Lorita said softly. She seemed about to say more when Bessie and Pam came back.
“Guess we’ll see you at church Sunday. Right, Neva?” Bessie shoved a gaudy flowered wallet back into her large purse.
Neva tilted her head to the side and smiled. Then she let the smile fade a bit. “Could be you’ll see me before then, Bessie.”
A look of alarm skittered across Bessie’s broad face as she took a step back. “Come on here, Lorita and Pam. Y’all supposed to drop me off.”
The three women went out of the drugstore and got into Pam’s late model Oldsmobile. Neva watched with a mixture of annoyance and amusement, with them and herself. Why did she feed into Bessie’s foolishness? Not home a full week and all ready she was breaking her vow to make her second life in Solitude different.
“Sure is nice to see you back.” Mr. Bill interrupted her thoughts with a cheerful greeting that was genuine.
“Hi, Mr. Bill. You look well.” Neva had always been fond of him.
Even forty years ago when race relations were distant at best in the parish, Papa Dub had considered Mr. Bill a friend. Mr. Bill always treated black folks with respect according to her grandfather. Even when it made him socially unpopular.
“Other than less hair and more waistline, I’m doing fine, thank you.” Mr. Bill grinned as he patted his wispy brown hair.
“How’s Miz Velma?” Neva thought of the dour faced wife that seemed the opposite of her husband.
“Baking up a storm, getting in the mood for the holidays. She loves treating the grandkids.” Mr. Hanson made Velma sound much more light-hearted than she was in truth.
“She makes some tasty cookies and pies,” Neva replied truthfully. Velma Hanson made chocolate chip and pecan oatmeal cookies that Neva loved as a child.
“Miss Carmel begged Velma to make a bunch of pies and pastries for the Fall Festival. It’s going to be great. West Feliciana Parish is getting to be a big tourist area these days.”
“So I notice.” Neva pointed outside where a shuttle van was depositing tourists. “But I’m just like everyone else. Starting with Halloween, this is my favorite time of the year.”
“Here you go.” Mr. Hanson handed her a plastic bag with the toiletries she’d picked up. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll have a treat for you.” He winked at her the same way he had when she was six years old.
“All right, Mr. Bill,” Neva laughed. She gave his had a squeeze then left.
Neva got into her Plymouth Neon and enjoyed the short drive from St. Francisville to Solitude seven miles away. Fall leaves of brown, gold and red swirled on the trees and drifted down to the ground. October brought cooler temperatures with low humidity, a rarity in South Louisiana. The smell of burning wood from fireplaces made Neva think of a happy childhood with her grandmother. Josephine Sterling, tall and proud, always said having a fireplace made a plain old stack of wood a real house. Since her mother had left when Neva was only a baby, her grandmother was the only mother she’d ever known. So she called her Mama Jo, never grandmama. Mama Jo always welcomed the first cool night because it meant she could light a fire. Now Neva had to be the strong one since Mama was so ill.
Neva turned off Highway 61 at the small green sign that announced Solitude was just ahead. Trees lined up close on either side, many still with green leaves mixed in with the fall colors. Neva rolled down the window to catch the cool breeze. How could she have stayed away so long? A tree lined two-lane road led to home, her only real home in truth. The white six room cottage with a big fireplace was located on Sterling land. Land that had been in their family since antebellum time.
“Hey, missy. You musta drove to New Orleans to pick up my things,” Mama Jo called out as Neva came in the front door. She sat in her favorite rocking chair in front of the fireplace.
Neva gave her a peck on the forehead before heading into the kitchen. “Nonsense,” Neva called back over her shoulder in a mild tone. She was used to Mama Jo’s way to spe
aking her mind. “You warm enough? I worried leaving you alone when that home health aide didn’t show up on time.”
“I can still take care of myself,” Mama Jo shot back. “I got my wrap and put another log on the fire.”
“You’re not supposed to be doing anything but rest. Don’t be hard-headed, Mama.” Neva marched back through the dining room to the living room. She put her hands on both hips.
“Musta forgot who you talkin’ to, missy,” Mama Jo muttered. “I wiped your nose and your bottom, don’t forget who’s who in this house.”
Neva brushed a stray tendril of her grandmother’s gray hair. “I know it’s hard not being able to do all the things you used to. But the doctor said–”
“Him! Always pokin’ folks in places he got no business.” Mama Jo patted her hair in place.
“You love Doctor Dixon. You giggle like a school girl when he’s talking to you.” Neva took off her jacket and put it in a hall closet just off the dining room.
“Don’t do no such thing!” Mama Jo jerked her on the front of her sweater.
“Do too.” Neva shook her head. They sounded like two eight year olds arguing. She went to the kitchen to unload the bags of groceries and other items she’d picked up. Mama Jo, using slow careful steps, followed her and sat down at the kitchen table.
“Here, I’ll fix you another cup of hot herbal tea.” Neva put water in a kettle.
“I want coffee.” Mama Jo scanned the kitchen with a critical eye. “Put that pitcher back on the top shelf.”
Neva suppressed a sigh. “You can’t have coffee, for the one hundredth time.” She moved the offending pitcher back to its proper place.
“Dadgum doctors don’t know what’s what. Good strong coffee don’t give nobody a stroke.” Mama Jo had always said breakfast was not complete without a cup of Louisiana dark roast with chicory.
“You are not going to get coffee, so get used to it.”
“At my age, ain’t much left to enjoy. Gonna die soon anyway, might as well have what I want.” Mama Jo was looking out the window to the woods that sloped down to a hollow.
Neva dropped the bag of fresh green beans she was about to put in the refrigerator. “Don’t say that,” she said in a hoarse voice.
“Come here, baby girl. Sit down.” Mama Jo tapped the chair next to her.
“I’m not to listen to talk about death.” Neva hung back. “No.”
“Now who’s being stubborn and childish? I didn’t raise you to be no wimp, girl. You got to face it. I’m near eighty years old and my health ain’t too good. We got to talk.” Mama Jo beckoned to her. “Don’t let me down. This here is too important.”
“Mama, I never thought of being in a world without you until....” Neva said in a voice close to a whisper.
“Dyin’ is part of livin’. Best I can do is make you strong so you can take care of yourself. Now I’m gonna put you in charge of the store but Desiree is gonna own part of it. Got my will made out.” Mama Jo pulled a long envelope out of the pocket of her sweater.
Neva opened it and read the legal document dated a little over a year before. It formalized Mama Jo’s wishes. “Desiree is still hopping mad.”
After Mama Jo’s light stroke, her two surviving children and six grandchildren had gathered to discuss the family businesses. None of Neva’s other four cousins wanted to be saddled with the Fish Shack. They all lived far away with busy lives of their own. Apparently Mama knew this, so she gave them property instead. Uncle Roy got the small auto shop as expected. He’d run the business for years after Papa Dub bought it from the widow of the man who had owned it. But she would leave Neva and Desiree The Fish Shack. Neva knew Mama Jo hoped that this would somehow mend the rift between them. It had the opposite effect. Desiree immediately began making plans to sell the store and the surrounding property to the Bellows family. She assumed Neva would agree since price offered was a good one. Neva said no, and the argument that resulted had been explosive.
“Desiree ain’t never satisfied if she ain’t gettin’ everything. Green hearted little rascal. Just like her snooty mama.”
“Getting the store straight will take a lot of work,” Neva murmured. Mama had made it clear that Desiree was to be a silent partner. Her cousin was not used to being silent, especially when it came to her own economic interests.
“You can do it. The question is, do you want to?” Mama Jo fixed her with a long look of scrutiny. “I ain’t gonna force it on you.”
Neva thought about how good it felt to be home. Her life in New Orleans had been okay. A much needed distance after Nathan’s death. But eventually she would have returned to Solitude. She’d known it in the back of her mind. Grandpapa Dub had faced much hardship as a black man starting a business back in the late thirties. She could not let him down.
“Yes, I do,” Neva said. She squeezed Mama Jo’s hand.
“Good. Don’t let nobody push you around. That goes for your cousin Desiree.” Mama Jo wagged a finger at her nose.
“Yes, ma’am.” Neva gave her a mock salute.
“Don’t get smart-alecky. Now see, that wasn’t so bad.” Mama Jo’s expression softened. “Your grandpapa and me always wanted to make sure you was taken care of. After your mama...” Even after twenty-five years, she could not refer to Neva’s mother without feeling pain.
“I know.” Neva put both arms around her. “And you did take care of me. You and Papa Dub were the best grandparents in the world.”
Mama Jo dabbed at her eyes with a blue handkerchief. “Go on now. I wasn’t perfect by a long ways but I tried.” She stared ahead.
Neva wondered at the sadness in her voice. “What is it, Mama?”
“Oh just an old woman thinkin’ ‘bout her past and what she coulda done different.” Mama Jo patted her hand and smiled. “Am I ever gonna get that cup of tea?”
“Coming right up, ma’am.” Neva smiled back. But she wanted to know the source of her distress. “What would you have done differently?”
“For one thing, not let Desiree take over the store,” Mama Jo said. She was back to her usual blunt, take charge tone.
“She did make some bad calls.”
“Run my business in the ground is what she did. Hiring that fool to work there. Probably one of shady boyfriends.”
Neva could not deny it. As always, somehow Mama knew anyway in spite of being ill. “Yes, I had to let him go first thing. Desiree threw a fit.”
“I set her straight when she called here whinin’ ‘bout it to me.” Mama Jo gave a short laugh. “Told her what was what in hot minute. She didn’t pull no stuff with me, you best believe.”
“Now that’s too much even for her!” Neva said with heat. “She ought to know better than to worry you with problems at the store.” Her cousin seldom considered anyone else when she wanted to get her way.
“I handled her. Told her to shut up cause with the way she was actin’, I might just decide you would get everything.” Mama Jo chuckled. “Shoulda heard her tryin’ to play up to me then.”
“Shame on you scaring her. You know how Desiree is about inheriting the family business, not to mention land.” Neva tried to put admonishment in her tone. Yet she was glad to see the old feisty Josephine.
“Just givin’ that rascal something to think on. Oughta make her leave you alone for a while.” Mama Jo sipped from her cup and made a face. “Colored water is what this is.”
“It’s apple cinnamon and good for you.” Neva gave her a tea cake to go with the tea. “And don’t count on Desiree backing off for long.”
“You can handle her.” Mama Jo gave a satisfied sigh as she munched on the cookie.
“Good you got Lainie helping you. Now she got sense.”
“I better call to let her know I need to stay here longer.” Neva dialed the phone.
“You go on and quit makin’ such a fuss. The agency called and said Tranice would be here any minute. Sounds like she drivin’ up now.” Mama Jo stood up and started for the back
door. She opened before the young woman was out of her car.
“Hey Miss Jo. You been behavin’?” Tranice bounced in with typical twenty-two year old enthusiasm.
“What I told you ‘bout talkin’ to me like I’m a child? I changed your mama’s diapers, smarty pants.” Mama Jo allowed Tranice to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Which means you’ve been bad,” Tranice said without a trace of hesitation.
“Not too.” Mama Jo had a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. She noticed that Neva was talking on the phone. “Let’s have some coffee in a bit,” she said low.
“No coffee,” Tranice said in a loud voice.
Neva put down the receiver. “I heard her trying to be sneaky.”
“Smart aleck young folks,” Mama Jo griped.
Tranice laughed. “Nice try, Miss Jo. Come on, it’s time for our favorite Perry Mason re-runs on television.”
Mama Jo and Tranice put a plate of tea cakes and two cups of herbal tea on a tray. They went into Mama Jo’s large bedroom to get settled in the two chairs in front of her television. Neva followed them after putting on her jacket again.
“I’ll call you later to see how it’s going. I should be home by six thirty at the latest,” Neva said.
“Okay, okay,” Mama Jo waved at her distractedly, her eyes on the screen.
“We’ll be fine. My husband is working a double shift, so I’d just as soon be over here as home by myself. Don’t worry.” Tranice gave her a thumbs up sign.
Neva headed straight for store to relieve Elaine, her best friend and cousin. Papa Dub and his brother, Luther, had opened the Fish Shack in nineteen forty-seven. They sold fresh caught from lakes and streams nearby. As tourism grew, they added fishing supplies such as bait, fishing reels and other items visiting sportsmen might need.
“Sorry I took so long, Lainie.” Neva took off her sweater and fanned herself.
“No problem. Kids not gonna be home from school for hours yet. Thank the Lord,” Lainie said with a chuckle.