by Lynn Emery
“There are paths that cover the actual trenches. The outlines are still there. If you’re up for a walk that is,” Neva said.
“Sounds great.” Chandler smiled.
Birds were singing and the breeze made leaves rustle softly. It was hard to imagine that this peaceful place was once the scene of a bloody fight. Such horror was far from Chandler’s mind as he walked beside Neva. For the next forty minutes, they were just a couple taking a stroll on a lovely fall day and getting to know each other. Chandler felt a strange pull to get closer to this intriguing woman.
“You know, I feel connected to this place in a strange way. My ancestor died over a hundred years ago fighting for freedom.” Chandler gazed around him in wonder. Could he be standing on the spot where Joshua Macklin fell?
“I wonder where they’re buried?” Neva said in a quiet tone.
An odd tingle spread across Chandler’s shoulders. Once again, she seemed to tap into his thoughts. “It would be fantastic to find his grave.”
They continued their walk in silence for a few minutes. Seeing a small deer made them both grin with delight like two children making a wondrous discovery. By the time they got back to the parking lot, they were joking about childhood camping experiences.
“So even a big city kid got to rough it in the wilderness,” Neva said.
“Sure. Got several Boy Scout badges, too.” Chandler shrugged. “Of course they were mostly for making those dinky little wallets and stuff.”
He felt a charge when Neva put her hand on his arm. She laughed out loud, a musical sound that came from deep in her throat. The ride back to town was just as pleasant. Chandler did not want the day to end just yet. All too soon, they were back in front of the antique shop where they’d left Neva’s car. Sunlight slanted across Main Street with one side of the buildings in shade.
“Four o’clock. Time for dinner in a couple of hours.” Chandler shifted from one foot to the other as they stood between their cars. “There’s a great seafood place on Lake Rosemond. Would you like to go? With me, I mean.” Is that idiot talking me? Good Lord!
“I have to get home.” Neva looked apologetic.
“Oh, okay. Maybe another time.”
“Sure. Give me a call.” Neva smiled up at him. “Bye now.”
Chandler opened the car door for her. When she was inside behind the wheel, he leaned down. “I really enjoyed today. I hope we can get together again.” He looked for a sign that her invitation to call was not just a polite gesture.
“Friday night?” Neva said.
“What? I mean, yeah.” Chandler blinked at his good fortune.
“It’ll have to be rather late since the store doesn’t close until six. I have to take care of the receipts, check stock, that sort of thing. Takes another hour or so.” Neva’s brow furrowed.
“No problem,” Chandler said sweeping away a minor detail in the face of seeing her again.
As she drove away, he waved to her one last time. Chandler congratulated himself. He was well out of the routine of his former life. Six years ago he would have scoffed if anyone had told him he’d be so spontaneous. Without hesitating, he’d forgotten his plans for the day and taken off to explore. Amazing. He smiled to himself at the memory of Neva standing among the green and red foliage, brushing back her hair.
“Making this move looks better every day.”
Chapter 3
“Mama Jo should have left it all to me,” Desiree whined. She paced the floor of her parent’s large den. “Now Neva is back acting like Miss Queen Bee. Who does she think she is?”
“Calm down, you got half the store. And I got twenty-five acres of prime property.” James, Desiree’s father, took a drink from the glass of whiskey he held. “Neva was so smug when we met with Mama Jo’s lawyer last month. I wanted to slap her silly.” Desiree spat like an angry wild cat.
“Mama did all right by all of us.” James spoke in a dry voice. “Be grateful you got that much.”
“Naturally you’re willing to settle for all right,” Shirley said. Contempt laced her voice.
“I’m not going to scheme on my own brother and dead sister’s child. Rose–”
“Oh please, I’m sick of hearing about Saint Rose the pure of heart. If she was so perfect, why did she run off and leave the girl?” Shirley made a sour face.
“Rose did not ‘run off’. She went to Houston to get a good job,” James said through clenched teeth. “And that’s enough about my sister.”
“Of course, let’s not dare criticize Rose. Everyone catered to Rose all her life and she paid you back by traipsing off without a backward glance.”
“Tell the truth, Shirley.”
“Like you know anything,” Shirley retorted. She arranged the folds of her caftan.
“You’re jealous of anybody you even think has more than you.” James wore an unpleasant smile. “Rose was beautiful, talented and people loved her. Yolanda comes from a wealthy family. It just eats you up doesn’t it?”
“Ridiculous,” Shirley snapped. “Rose had everyone fooled. As for your brother’s wife, she’s a pig farmer’s daughter.” Still it was clear he’d struck a nerve.
“Keep trying, Shirl. Maybe someday you’ll kill that green-eyed monster.” James looked away from her. Shirley struck the sofa cushion with her fist. “I’m tired of Mama looking down on us, throwing us crumbs.”
“Mama has been better to both us than we had a right to expect.” James stared down into his drink. “I was dumb enough to listen to you before. But I’m not going to turn on my family again.”
“You never did have the guts to stand up to Mama Jo. You put just as much time at the auto shop as Roy.”
“Hell, I only worked there part-time while I was in college. Roy poured his heart into that place.” James waved away her objections. “Stop harping on that.”
“That’s you up and down. Willing to take crumbs. Roy and his uppity wife have forty acres of land. They’re making money hand over fist from lumber.”
“Will you shut up! You’ve been complaining for the last thirty years.” James gave a grunt of disgust.
“And you haven’t kept one of those sugary promises you made while we were dating. Always letting Roy and Yolanda get the best of everything,” Shirley shot back.
“I’ve been working for twenty-five years. I make a decent salary at the paper mill. We’ve got more money than we need.” James finished the last of the whiskey and put down his glass with a thump.
“Unbelievable. You just don’t have the drive I thought you had when we got married.” Shirley shook her head.
James stood up. “Never satisfied.” He walked out without another word.
“That’s it. Walk out. Who is she this month, James?” Shirley yelled at his retreating back.
“What about me?” Desiree seemed to have totally ignored her parents exchange, so wrapped up in her own grievances. “I’ve got to put up with Neva gloating. The Bellows want that land so bad, they’re willing to pay a load of cash for it.”
Shirley still stared after her husband. “We’ll think of something,” she mumbled.
“But what?” Desiree demanded. “Mama, I could lose big here.” She sat down hard next to her mother on the leather sofa.
“I won’t let that happen. Even if I have to step over your daddy to do it.” Shirley wore a baleful expression.
“We can’t force her to sell.” Desiree pouted. “I’d like to wring her neck.”
“We’ll make it impossible for her not to.”
Desiree glanced at her mother. Seeing the look of determination on Shirley’s face, she sat up straight. “But how are we going to do that?”
“Yes, Miss Artsy Cutie Pie will come down to earth with a bang,” Shirley said with malicious grin.
The prospect of making life hard for Neva wiped the frown from Desiree’s face. “Mama, I can tell you have a plan. And knowing you, I’m going to like it.” She snickered.
“Good to see you perked up,�
�� Mama Jo said after watching Neva for a long time.
“I’m the same as always.” Neva stopped humming as she stirred a pot of red beans simmering in the slow cooker. She pulled out the package of corn meal to make corn bread.
“Uh-huh. That young man sure got you buzzin’ like a honey bee. He’s good-lookin’, too. Put me in the mind of your granddaddy fifty years ago.”
“Go on.” Neva turned away to hid her smile of pleasure.
“Uh-huh, just what I thought. He’s somethin’ special to you.”
“One date does not mean we’re a couple,” Neva said, trying to sound matter of fact.
“Two dates. Had lunch and went walkin’ down at Port Hudson, too.” Mama Jo had a slight teasing lilt to her voice.
“We only just met. So don’t jump to conclusions.”
Despite her protests to Mama Jo, Neva got a flash of heat remembering the tall, dark man with the soulful ebony eyes. Chandler and Mama Jo had liked each other immediately upon meeting. He’d come to the house Friday to pick Neva up. Mama Jo was usually circumspect when bestowing approval on new acquaintances. She was downright suspicious when it came to men interested in her beloved granddaughter. Yet she seemed to take to Chandler the moment he walked through the door. Neva did not wonder. Who could help but be taken by such a strong presence? Chandler Macklin was stunning and wonderfully unconscious of it. He even seemed to have a charming awkwardness at times. The rest of the evening, dinner and a jazz performance in Baton Rouge, had been the most enjoyable time she’d had for years.
“From that look on your face, I ain’t got to jump,” Mama Jo said. “You gone on him.”
“We’re friendly and that’s all we’re going to be. I’ve got my hands full.” Neva pushed back the fuzzy feelings. She had to keep her head on straight these days.
“You ain’t foolin’ me, Neva Nanette.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talkin’ ‘bout you tryin’ to be somebody you ain’t for the past three months. All serious and business-like. Humph.” Mama Jo sat at the kitchen table shelling peas that would be placed in the deep freezer.
“Good thing I have been with the mess Desiree made of the store,” Neva said over her shoulder.
“What about your drawin’ and thinkin’ up pretty earrings and such?” Mama stopped working and sighed. “Maybe I shoulda let James take over.”
“Stop worrying for no reason. I like running the store.”
“You sure? I don’t wanna be a selfish old woman forcin’ it on you.”
“You don’t have a selfish bone your body, sweetie.” Neva winked at her.
“Everybody got some selfishness. It ain’t a bad thing once in a while to put yourself first.” Mama Jo gazed at her. “I don’t want you to suffer and work yourself into the ground. Your granddaddy and me made a promise to your mama.”
Neva wiped her hands dry on a dish cloth and sat next to her. “Get those worry lines out of your face.” She caressed Mama Jo’s cheek. “Besides, I’m not some fragile piece of china that might break with the least bit of pressure. I’m tough, like you.”
“No, not like me thank goodness.” Mama Jo took her hand and held it. “Like Rose. She was something else, your mama. Lively, always laughing. I wondered how a child of mine could be so different from me.”
“All I can remember is a song she used to sing to me.”
Neva closed her eyes tight. Sometimes when she sat very still out in the woods, she could hear a fine soprano singing. Her mother’s voice came through so clear. A precious memory that kept Rose alive in her heart.
Mama Jo smiled sadly. “Yes, she’d sing All The Pretty Little Horses and you’d just drift off to sleep. But you bounced like a rubber ball when she sang Loop De Loo.”
“I wish I could remember more about her,” Neva whispered.
“You were only three when she...” Mama Jo shook her head slowly. “I swore to make sure you were happy.”
“You and Papa Dub were perfect grandparents. Now the least I can do is keep your legacy going strong.” Neva got up to check on the chicken baking in the oven.
“If you’re sure,” Mama Jo sighed.
“I’m sure.” Neva closed the oven. There was a loud knock on the front door. “I’ll bet that’s Uncle James.”
“Yeah, takin’ a break from Shirley,” Mama Jo quipped.
“Shame,” Neva said as she went out of the kitchen. She crossed through the dining room and went down the hall. A tall male figure was visible through the lacy curtain that covered the glass pane set in the front door. When she opened it, a distinguished white man with iron gray hair beamed at her. He looked to be in his mid-fifties. Despite his attempt to be hearty, Neva took a step back. There was a faint, acrid smell that always meant trouble. Neva blinked at him and then the disturbing presentiment scattered.
“Afternoon. Why you were just a girl last time I saw you. It must have been over ten years ago. How’ve you been?” He spoke with an old southern family drawl. The kind that said he did not have to rush, others would wait for him to finish.
Neva tried to snatch a name out of the air. He seemed familiar, a little at least. “Just fine and you?”
“Fine, thank you. Now don’t tell me you don’t recognize me, Mr. Hollis?” He moved his head just a bit, but enough to give the impression that he’d given a courtly bow.
“Oh yes, yes of course.”
Hollis Claiborne was a member of the famous Feliciana Claibornes. They had intermarried with the Bellows and Mouton families until all three had a lock on some of the most valuable real estate in four parishes. Hollis Claiborne was one in a long line of family lawyers. Older black folks called him slippery Lawyer Clairborne behind his back.
“I heard about your grandmother’s illness.” Mr. Hollis let his gaze flickered over her shoulder into the house for a second before coming back to her. “Is she up to visitors?”
“Well, if it ain’t Lawyer Claiborne,” Mama Jo said. She stood in the archway leading from the hall to the large living room.
Neva wondered how she’d moved so fast. “Come in, please,” she said opening the door wider to let him pass. She looked at her grandmother. What was that odd expression on Mama’s face?
“How do, Miss Jo. You feeling much better I hope?” Hollis took off the expensive suede hat he wore as he walked toward her.
“Fit and strong, thank you.” Mama Jo lifted her chin and stared at him steadily.
“Glad to hear it, glad to hear it.”
They stood facing each other for a few moments. Mama Jo with her head high, Lawyer Claiborne smiling down at her with studied good humor.
“Guess you want somethin’, come on in and sit.” Mama Jo turned to lead him into the living room. “Bring us some coffee and a plate of them cookies we made yesterday, Neva.”
Neva stood in mild shock at the way Mama Jo all but insulted the man without batting an eye. Lawyer Claiborne, indeed all the Claibornes both male and female, were powerful people. Even those who criticized them did so at a distance, a far distance. His great great grandfather had been a governor of Louisiana. With that one exception, the family chose to exercise power unseen. Neva loaded the painted wooden serving tray with Mama Jo’s good china reserved for company. With a deep red rose patter, the cups perched on saucers of the same pattern. Neva placed butter pecan cookies on a matching plate. She moved fast then slowed her pace before entering the living room again. Neva did not want to miss one word.
“Yes, my dear wife has had a home health aide for the last year or so. Weak heart, you know.” Hollis sat with his legs crossed at the knee. He acted as though he was a frequent, welcome visitor.
Good, they’re still exchanging small talk. Neva put the tray down on the heavy polished oak table that was the center of the main seating arrangement of the room. Mama Jo sat in one of the stuffed chairs since it was easier for her than getting up from the sofa with its big cushion seat. Hollis was on the sofa. Neva sa
t in the chair next to her.
“Hmm,” Mama Jo said deep in her throat. “Miz Claiborne down sick these days, eh?”
“Emeline has always been delicate.” Lawyer Claiborne spoke with a trace of pride as though his wife’s frailty was a sign of good breeding.
“Humph,” Mama Jo grunted and looked out the window. “She’s outlived most.”
“Sugar and cream, sir?” Neva spoke up quickly hoping to head off a more blunt comment.
“Thank you.” Hollis gazed into Neva’s eyes for a few moments. “I understand you’re running the Fish Shack for Miss Jo.”
“Yes, it’s been a busy time getting things settled down there and all,” Neva said.
“A young woman needs recreation, too. Don’t work yourself so hard now. Take time to relax.” Lawyer Claiborne sipped from his cup.
Neva watched him steadily. “Won’t have much time for that with the store doing so well.” Was there something else in his tone?
“You need help then. I could recommend a good man to help you manage.” Hollis was the picture of a solicitous man.
“No, my cousin and I are doing quite well thank you.” Neva thought of the manager Desiree had hired. “I think the family can take care of things better.”
“Yes, family holding on to what ours.” Mama Jo turned to stare at Lawyer Claiborne.
“Yes, well... that sounds just fine.” Hollis put down his cup. He dabbed his lips with a paper napkin. ”Your husband was a hard working man, smart, too. He knew when to capitalize on what he’d built.”
“Dubhan Sterling did his daddy and granddaddy proud by keepin’ their land, all of it,” Mama Jo said with a razor sharp edge to her voice.
Lawyer Claiborne appeared not to notice as he smiled at them both genially. “That he did.” He stood up. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Miss Jo. I’ll be getting along now.”
He kept up a stream of pointless chatter as he followed Neva to the front door. Neva nodded a few times absently, her mind occupied more with what was unspoken during his short time there.