A Time To Love

by Lynn Emery

  “Chandler, let’s talk.”

  He cleared his throat then took another sip of tea before answering. “That’s what we’ve been doing all evening.”

  “Not about what’s on your mind,” Neva persisted.

  “You don’t want to hear about conceited engineers and demanding customers,” Chandler said in light tone. He wore a half-smile but did not look her in the eye.

  “No I don’t.” Neva placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face to her. “I want to hear what’s really got you down.”

  “Just juggling a lot right now.” Chandler lifted a shoulder. You don’t need my problems dumped on you right now. Not after what happened at the store.”

  “Minor repairs were made fast and you can’t tell anything happened.” Neva gazed at him steadily. “But that’s not the point. No matter what, I’m never too busy when it comes to you. Especially if you have a problem.”

  “It’s not a problem, not really. Well it is, but it’s not a new problem. I mean...” Chandler shook his head. They sat in silence for several seconds.

  “Is Tariq okay?”

  “I keep forgetting you’re psychic,” Chandler teased.

  “Oh, it’s like that. Excuse me, I didn’t realize there was a line I couldn’t cross.” She sat back against the sofa and farther away from him.

  “Come on now.” Chandler reached for her but she remained rigid.

  “I thought we were closer than just two people dating,” Neva said. She sensed the hurt that radiated from him like a wave.

  “You know we are, baby,” Chandler said in a soft voice.

  “Then tell me what’s going on.”

  “All right, yeah it’s Tariq. Poor kid just feels so insecure.”

  “It hasn’t been that long since you and Alise were divorced. And you’re doing everything you can to stay in touch with him,” Neva said.

  “Am I?” He rubbed his eyes. “It doesn’t help that I moved so far away.”

  A chill went down her shoulders to her arms. “Maybe he could visit again soon. You said his school let him take lesson plans on long vacations since he’s so advanced. He could come down for Mardi Gras.”

  Chandler wore a sad smile that lasted only a second. “Mardi Gras isn’t a holiday in Detroit.”

  “Then Easter.” Neva was not encouraged by the grim set to his mouth. Now that she’d insisted, she found she didn’t want to hear what was to come next.

  “It’s more than spending time with me, Neva.” Chandler seemed to struggle with how to go on. “Alise has been hinting she wants us to try again. I’m sure Tariq knows that.”

  Here it was at last. Alise wanted him back. Neva sat quiet, her heart beating hard. “And?”

  Chandler sat very still for a long time as though considering all the questions she had not asked. “Neva, what we have is so wonderful. When I’m holding you, it’s like nothing else in the world matters. But Tariq....”

  “I know, he needs you.” Neva stared at him. “I want to hear the whole truth. Are you considering going back to Detroit– No, I really mean are you going back to try and make your marriage work?”

  “Of course not. It’s just– I don’t want to come off like a hard case with Tariq. And Alise isn’t exaggerating how upset he’s been for the last month or so.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He’s lost interest in sports and he’s neglecting his science project. He loves science. I may have to go to Detroit.”

  “I meant about not being a hard case. Are you telling me you’re going to play house with Alise for Tariq’s sake?”

  “Of course not!” Chandler’s mouth hung open for a few moments but no sound came out.

  “Then what? Where does this leave me? Us?”

  “Nothing’s changed,” Chandler said in a soft voice. He embraced her. “I’m being stretched in two directions. But not to Alise. Please try to understand.”

  Neva savored the solid warmth of being cushioned in his strong arms. She wanted to believe, to trust. Being near him made her know how much she’d come to need his love. “Yes. I know this is hard for you.”

  “Thanks, baby.” Chandler kissed her lips. Then sat back against the sofa with a thoughtful expression. “The last project at work will end probably this week.”

  “I wish I could help.” Neva knew that at this time, she might be the last person Tariq wanted to see.

  I have three weeks of vacation coming. I could take it all with the overtime I’ve put in.” Chandler nodded to himself.

  Neva gazed at the intent look on his face. He was distant again, focused on a part of his life she could not fully share. Maybe a part she would never be able to share. Another thought occurred to her.

  “Chandler, where would you stay?”

  “I guess...” Chandler shifted on the cushion. “I, uh– It’s a big house. Huge actually. Five bedrooms.” He glanced at Neva. “But, uh, I guess staying with my aunt Sarah would be better since my parents live pretty far from my, I mean the house.”

  “Right.”

  Neva did not like the sound in his voice. There was an uncertain ring to it, as though he was not sure of his new life anymore. She tried not to think of how much time Alise would have with Chandler. Attractive, sexy and determined, she might be hard to resist. The two halves would become whole in the form of their love for Tariq and concern for his well being. Neva pulled Chandler close.

  “How soon will you leave?” Neva said.

  “Next week. Alise thinks the sooner the better. But then I decided the time was right,” he added quickly.

  “I see.” Neva pulled away from him. Alise seemed to be in control.

  “Say, we’ll do something special when I get back. What about going to the African Market Gallery in Natchez. The new exhibit of baskets and sculptures will be there.”

  “Maybe. The store is pretty much taking up a lot of my time. Warm weather starts early down here you know.” Neva folded her hands in her lap. The intimacy of a few moments ago was gone. Chased away by Chandler’s ties to a life miles away.

  “Remember you promised not to become a workaholic like me,” Chandler said with a strained laugh. “I’ll be back before you know it and we’ll go horseback riding. How about?”

  Neva stood up. “Sure. I’ll get us more tea. This has gotten cold.”

  After only another thirty minutes, Chandler declared he had to get to sleep early. Clearly his thoughts were not with Neva. She accepted his kiss goodnight and watched the taillights of his car fade off into the chill late January night. Only a month ago they’d been so happy. Somehow Neva felt as though she’d said more than just goodnight to him. Maybe this was the beginning of goodbye.

  ***

  Highway 24 wound around and through the gently sloping terrain. After working all week, she’d taken this Sunday afternoon off to visit her great Aunt Florrie and interview her about family history.

  Neva did not notice the flashing scenery of bare trees, their grayish barks almost blended into the overcast day. Nor did they see the occasional solitary wood frame house set back from the road. Even in late winter, there was still greenery here. Snatches of sun and blue sky peeked out from the clouds as winds pushed them about. It was a pretty day, but Neva did not see it. Not even her love for the beautiful Tunica Hills could distract her.

  Another week, he said. He’s all ready been gone six days. Chandler had sounded optimistic that Tariq would soon be over his bad spell. So why was he staying longer? Neva had listened for some clue or sign in his voice, anything to reassure her. Nothing. The result was an unease that was now growing into a lump of anxiety that seemed stuck in her chest. Maybe he did not want to break the bad news to her on the phone. Chandler had made a huge change in his life after the divorce. There are times when making a new life is nothing more than running away. Something Neva knew all too well. Could he have realized moving away from his family had been too drastic? Was he really still in love with Alise? Neva shook her head to clear ou
t the gloom that such thoughts brought.

  "There is nothing you can do, so stop inventing reasons to be upset," she muttered to herself. "Chandler said he’s coming back so let it go."

  Neva breathed in the cool air savoring the feel of it. Methodically she switched from negative thoughts, to memories of being in the woods with Chandler. By the time she turned on the Old Post Highway leading to tiny community of Wakefield, she was feeling much better.

  She slowed the car to accommodate the potholes that dotted the narrow back road. Trees and shrubs crowded close on either side. In another few weeks their leaves would form a shaded canopy overhead. Neva peered at the weathered mailboxes set along the way.

  At the fifth one was the name Tom Sterling, Aunt Florrie’s son now dead. Aunt Florrie had outlived most of her children. Now Tom’s wife took care of her as dutifully as if Aunt Florrie were her own mother. A large dog, a mixture of collie and something else, trotted from the porch to bark a warning. Cousin Coreen appeared at the storm door and broke into a wide smile when she saw it was Neva. She was a short round woman with a pretty smile. Though she had to be at least sixty-five, she looked younger.

  "Hush up that noise, Scoot," Cousin Coreen called out to the dog. Scoot immediately began to wag his tail in a friendly greeting.

  Neva got out of her car carrying the camcorder and walked across thick grass. "Hey, Cuz!"

  "Child, you look some good." Cousin Coreen stood at the edge of the open porch. "Lord, you’re Rose up and down." She gave Neva a mother-earth hug.

  "You’re looking mighty fine yourself." Neva gave her a firm kiss on her nut brown face. "Where’s Major?" She glanced around waiting to hear the gruff bark from the big German Shepherd.

  "Out chasing around them woods. Bad as a lotta men I know, ain’t got sense enough to realize he’s too old for that." Cousin Coreen let out bawdy laugh at her own joke.

  "Where’d you get this pretty boy?" Neva scratched behind Scoot’s ear and sealed their friendship.

  "Ethan found him along the road and brought him here," Coreen said.

  "How are my rough cousins?" Neva grinned at the thought of Coreen’s six sons and three daughters. A noisy bunch who enjoyed quarreling with each other, but were fiercely loyal when it came to family.

  "Honey, don’t get me started. Sadie Mae and Norma ain’t speaking to each other." Cousin Coreen led the way into the house. They entered a large living room with floral sofas and bric-a-brac covering the surface of every table.

  "Not again!" Neva laughed. "Those two are always at it."

  "Yep. Sadie Mae made a crack about Norma’s cooking last Christmas. I told ‘em to stay away cause me and Mama Florrie too old for all that mess."

  "Then you won’t get to see them very often." Neva gazed around at the family photos old and new.

  “What are you doing with that thing?” Cousin Coreen pointed to the video camera.

  “Oops, I forgot to mention it. I’m going to record Aunt Florrie for future generations. You think she’ll mind? It’s pretty small and I can set it up so she’ll hardly notice.”

  “Mind? Child, she’s going to love it.” Cousin Coreen waved away Neva’s concern.

  “Great.”

  "Mama Florrie just waking up from a nap. She takes at least three a day you know," Cousin Coreen said low. "I’ll go get her. Mama, guess who’s here." Her voice trailed off as she went down the hall.

  Neva could hear her voice muffled by several intervening walls explaining to Aunt Florrie that Dub’s grandbaby had come to see her. Neva walked around the room and took time to really examine the pictures. Faded sepia toned photographs showed men and women dressed up especially to stare into a glass lens. A few appeared to have been taken at the turn of the century or earlier.

  "Here she is," Cousin Coreen announced.

  She pushed a shiny wheel chair carrying her mother-in-law. Aunt Florrie was a the color of aged cherry wood. Her body was thin and seemed light enough to blow away at the least bit of breeze. But her brown-black eyes were bright.

  "You know who this is, Mama Florrie?"

  "Course I know." Aunt Florrie spoke in a high voice that wavered only slightly. "Ain’t that one of Dub’s children? Sho nuff it is," she answered her own question in a sassy tone.

  "Humph, what’s her name then?" Cousin Coreen winked at Neva then came around to sit on a chair.

  "What ya askin’ me for? Y’all young people supposed to know everything." Aunt Florrie cackled with glee at her joke.

  "It’s Neva, Aunt Florrie. I’m–"

  "Rose is your mama. Give this old Model-T a push and she gets a-goin’." Aunt Florrie chuckled low again.

  "Mama Florrie still got pepper. Sometimes a bit too much." Cousin Coreen lifted an eyebrow as though she was talking about a naughty toddler.

  "Even Tom said you was bossy," Aunt Florrie shot back. "Guess we learned to put up with each other, eh?"

  "Guess you’re right." Cousin Coreen glanced at Neva. "But her memory ain’t too good. I know you want to hear old stories but...." She shrugged. "Some days Mama can’t keep names straight," she said low.

  "Quit mumblin’. You know I can’t hear good on my right side." Aunt Florrie shifted to the turn her head so she could hear. "Coreen talkin’ ‘bout me, ain’t she?"

  "Now Mama," Coreen began in an indulgent tone.

  "Yeah, you just told on yourself." Aunt Florrie waved a hand to dismiss her. "I’m deaf and forgetful, not crazy.”

  For the next few minutes, they exchanged family gossip with Aunt Florrie mostly listening to Cousin Coreen and Neva talk. The three women settled into an easy flow that moved back and forth. Neva satisfied their curiosity about her life in New Orleans and since she’d returned to Solitude.

  "I’m trying to find out about our ancestors, your great-grandfather and his mother even." Neva sat back against the fat cushions with dark red and pale yellow flowers.

  “What you gonna do with that contraption?” Aunt Florrie nodded to camera.

  “Make you a film star,” Neva quipped. “I want to have a tape of you for the Sterling-Jessup family archives I’m putting together.”

  “Jo’s family was the Jessups.” Aunt Florrie nodded to herself more than to the two women. A wide grin spit her weathered face as she patted her hair. “I’m ready, sugar.”

  “Neva, Mama can’t remember all that. We might as well get us some dinner now because–”

  "Hush, I’m thinkin’.” Aunt Florrie’s voice rang with authority.

  “Okay, hold it let me get the camera going.” Neva hurriedly checked the settings. She did not want to distract Aunt Florrie and possibly derail her fragile recall. “There.” The camcorder was aimed at Aunt Florrie but could be swung around the room.

  “Let me see, my granddaddy was called Son cause he was the only boy for a long time....”

  She settled back in her chair. Her thin arms resting on cushioned armrests covered with decorative doilies made by one of her grandchildren or great grandchildren no doubt. Aunt Florrie rambled quite a bit. But at times when she referred to people in the photographs, Neva would swing the camera around to get them on tape. Aunt Florrie talked for twenty minutes. Some of what she said seemed confused as she mixed up dates and places. Much as Neva enjoyed the tales, she suspected little of what Aunt Florrie remembered was accurate or could be confirmed by records.

  Cousin Coreen went to the kitchen for a time then came back with a glasses and a pitcher of her special pink lemonade. Neva was amused to see Cousin Coreen use any excuse to get on camera. Aunt Florrie would allow her only a few words before cutting her off. Soon Aunt Florrie had taken them back to the end of the Civil War.

  “They said Lilly went crazy. Never was right in the head after her fifth baby died.” Aunt Florrie leaned forward. “But the half wasn’t never told,” she said in a low voice.

  “About what?” Neva had chill bumps on her forearms at the timbre of her voice.

  “Them babies. He sold ‘em one by one.” A
unt Florrie nodded slowly. “Terrible days.”

  Neva wanted to go on, to hear more about Lilly. Yet she could see plainly that Aunt Florrie was tired. The sustained effort of calling up long ago memories of tales she’d heard as a young girl had taken a toll.

  “Time for you to rest. You’ve talked yourself out.” Cousin Coreen stood up. “Let’s have supper.”

  “Sure.” Neva pushed down her eagerness to go on and turned the camera off. She would come back as soon as possible. “Thank you, Aunt Florrie. You gave me a lot of information.”

  “Ain’t gonna find it in no history book,” Aunt Florrie’s voice was faint and gravelly. With Cousin Coreen’s help, she took a small sip of pink lemonade.

  “Old Mama Lilly–” Her effort to keep speaking ended in a dry cough.

  “That’s enough for now, Mama.” Cousin Coreen rubbed her across the shoulders. “Neva’s coming back. You can tell some more then.”

  Aunt Florrie took two deep breaths. “That boy was born again.”

  “Somebody got baptized?” Cousin Coreen looked at Neva. She shook her head.

  Neva nodded. “Get some rest, Auntie Flo.” she kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Aunt Florrie opened her mouth, but Cousin Coreen spoke first. “We’ll be right here, won’t we Mama?” She laughed. “Ladies of leisure.”

  “My age, I might not be here. Listen.” Aunt Florrie grabbed Neva’s wrist.

  “Now didn’t I tell you to rest?” Cousin Coreen put both hands on her hips. Her stern look was lost on Aunt Florrie.

  “I don’t want to tire you out.” Neva put her hand over the bony fingers that held on with surprising force.

  Aunt Florrie ignored both of them. “That old devil took Lilly’s baby. His baby. Give it to the mistress to replace the dead one,” She mumbled in a weak voice.

  Cousin Coreen’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just hear....”

  Neva was too stunned to answer for several moments. She stared at Aunt Florrie. The elderly woman’s eyes were closed, her chest rose and fell slightly. She was sound asleep. She got a flash of hushed voices at family gatherings. A certainty took hold that this was no tall tale.