by Naomi Niles
I asked around and heard about a woman named Marie Luiton who lived at the edge of town and kept a few children along with her own son, Louis. One evening after we closed, I made my way to her place and found her rocking in a white chair on her porch, a child playing in a sandbox in the front yard.
“Are you Marie?” I called to the woman.
She smiled and motioned me forward. “You’re the young woman who works for Maudie,” she said without preamble.
“How did you know?”
She laughed in a very musical sound. “Everyone has heard of you, my dear. You are quite unique.” She had an accent that I suspected was French in origin, but not quite. “I’m Cajun,” she said before I even voiced my question. “And yes, I have the power.”
“The power?”
Rather than answer me directly she stood up. “Come, put your son down to play with Louis and I will get you a lemonade. Sit here in this chair and I will return in a moment.” She went inside and Kirk was already fascinated with what Louis was doing in the sandbox. I put him down into it and he picked up a shovel and the two were sizing one another up. “Here we are,” Marie handed me a tall glass of lemonade with a slice of lemon on its rim.
She took a seat on a porch swing facing me. “So, you come looking for a place to leave little Kirk while you work?” she asked.
“How did you know?”
“I’ve been expecting you.” She smiled and it was kind and knowing at the same time.
“I don’t understand …”
“I have the sight, as we call it. It is inherited from my mama and grandmamma, and many before them.”
I’d heard of such things in books, but had never met anyone who actually professed to really have it. “Tell me about that?” I invited.
“Not much to tell. Some people here call us sensitives and yet others call us witches. No, no … don’t take that in a negative way. We just have an extra sense that tells us things others may overlook. Sometimes I can pick up on the energy of the person near me, and yet other times it becomes a clairvoyant sight. Nothing to worry about and certainly not scary. It’s a gift and it can come in very handy at times,” she sipped her lemonade calmly and I felt nothing that suggested she was strange in the least. If anything, I sensed she was very comfortable in her own skin and awareness and that gave me a subtle feeling of security.
I nodded and sipped my own lemonade as we watched the boys playing together.
“I’m told there are a great many secrets in your life,” Marie began. She saw the look on my face and probably the way I tensed. “No, no … do not fear. You may keep whatever secrets you hold dear. I have no intention of prying into your life.”
She looked at me and I could see a sparkle in her eyes. It was a sparkle of deep intelligence and compassionate understanding. She looked from my face to where the boys are playing in the sandbox and then back before she said to me, have you considered how you will raise your child while living above a tiny café?”
“Yes, I’ve given that some thought, but it becomes too much to consider the distant future, so I take one day at a time.”
“Very wise,” she agreed, “but I have a suggestion for you, if I may?” she said.
“What’s that I asked?”
“You and I are very similar in many ways,” she said. “We are both young women with young children and no father or husband to stand by. Perhaps it would be to each of our mutual benefit to look out for one another? I would be your back up and you would be mine. In this way, we would both be stronger and have companionship but yet we could live our own lives. Would you consider such a thing?”
“I’ve never thought of anything like that.”
“Would you and your son be interested in living here with me and Louis?” she asked in a gentle voice.
“Do you have room?” I asked her, looking around the place.”
“Yes, I know from where you sit, it looks very small, but the building is very deep and I have four bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and the living room. I feel it is too large for Louis and myself alone, but should do quite nicely for four people. We would share a bit of the payment and you could call it your home, just as I do. I would watch your child for you while you were at work, and from time to time when I wish to go somewhere, you could watch my son for me. How would that sound to you?”
I had never given such an arrangement any consideration. Primarily because there was no one who offered me such a situation. I thought about it a few moments and it made total sense. The upstairs over a restaurant was too reminiscent of how Jill and I had grown up. It offered too many dangers in that space for a child and too many ways for the child to be ignored. Kirk had no one to play with.
This seemed to be the best arrangement possible for all of us concerned. “Yes, I would like very much to live here with you and Louis. Could you figure out the details and let me know and I’d especially like to know when we could move in?”
“Of course I could. It would be my pleasure to have you both with us. We could share the expenses, share the cooking and cleaning and the laundry, and it would be as if you had your own home. You could move in immediately. Do you have linens for beds? If you don’t, I have plenty.”
It was if my prayers had been answered. I would no longer be alone, but neither would I need to go to Blake, to Jill, or to anyone else and ask for help ever again. I was excited to get started and picked up Kirk and put him on my hip. I waved goodbye to Marie and called back to her, “Be back this evening with our things. We really don’t have that much. Thank you so much for the idea and for the welcome. I truly look forward to this.”
Kirk and I headed back to the restaurant; I was very excited to tell Maudie about what had happened. As I entered the building, I was shocked to see her feet were all that were visible from behind the counter. Setting Kirk down on the chair, I ran to see what had happened to Maudie. I could tell as soon as I looked at her, that she was dead. Tears began to pour down my cheeks and I went to the phone and called the sheriff’s office. I told him what happened and then took Kirk upstairs to put him down for a nap while I dealt with the authorities who were on their way.
There didn’t seem to be any doubt as to what had happened. The coroner was part of the group and as he and the sheriff looked over Maudie’s body, the sheriff said, “She had a good, long life and now she’s gone to her reward.”
As hard as I tried, I could not find a silver lining to what had happened. There lay the only person who had truly ever cared for me, unselfishly. She had given me and my son a life we would not have otherwise found. It then came to me that I no longer had a job, either. Obviously the café would be closed down. That put into jeopardy my plans with Marie. I had to trust that something would happen that would make everything the way it should be.
It was the day of the funeral when everything came together. Kirk and I dressed in somber clothing and walked with most of the people from town up the hill to the old cemetery behind the church that Maudie loved so well. We sang the hymns and we cried along with everyone else. The town had always known Maudie to be there and it came as a shock to realize that her boisterous voice and wisecracks would no longer be a part of our lives.
I let myself back into the café and prepared to go upstairs and pack our things. I really had no idea where we would go. Although I did have a bit of money saved, I did not have a job and therefore could not accept Marie’s offer.
As I started up the stairs, the café door opened and a man dressed in a dark suit came in.
“I’m sorry, we are closed,” I called him.
“I’m not here to eat,” he said. “I’m here to see you. You are Meli Christian, correct?”
“Yes, I am.” I wondered where he had come from as I had not seen him in the café before this.
“How can I help you?”
“It’s more about how I can help you, Ms. Christian. I am Matthew Stevens,” he said. “I represent Maudie’s estate. She asked me to come and
see you directly after the funeral. She knew that you would immediately begin packing to leave. There is no need for you to leave.”
“Why is that, Mr. Christian?” I asked. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“You are Maudie’s beneficiary.” He set a briefcase on the lunch counter and opened it slowly, withdrawing a manila folder. “She had no other family and has left everything to you.”
“To me? Why me?”
“She said you might ask me that. She told me to tell you that you were the closest thing she ever had to a daughter.”
“Surely, you cannot be serious. She was well loved in the community and many people have helped her over the years. Why would she have chosen me?”
“Again, because she loved you. The café is yours. There’s also the matter of $300,000 in a bank account and another $500,000 in a life insurance policy.”
“What? Wait a minute. Are you telling me that is all mine?”
“Yes indeed, I am. I have the paperwork here. All you need to do is to sign and date the documents and please be sure to consult an accountant about the inheritance taxes. Between the café and the monies, after everything is said and done, I’d say you’ll end up with just about a million dollars.”
I had to grab the counter because I felt my knees weaken. There had to be some mistake; some cruel joke. There was no way this was possible.
“Are you quite okay, Ms. Christian?”
“I just don’t know what to say. A moment ago I was headed upstairs to pack everything my son and I own into two cardboard boxes and leave with nowhere to go. Now you tell me I’m a millionaire?”
“It would seem so. Now, there’s just one more thing,” he said, pulling out an additional paper. “Maudie owned a house, well, more of a farm, really, in Baton Rouge. It’s quite a place. It will also belong to you, but you must sign a non-disclosure as to how you came to have it. Only a court order can nullify this non-disclosure.”
“Why doesn’t she want anyone to know?”
“Well, Maudie was a shrewd businesswoman. She made her money off this café and the crops from the farm. She realized that if the townspeople thought she was very wealthy, the café would suffer. Jealousy and all that sort of thing, of course. So, to protect you, she wants to make sure that no one here in town knows about the farm or how you came to get it. You can tell people you live there, if you want to, but not how you came to get it.”
“I see. Well, that’s understandable, but I still cannot believe that Maudie had all this. She dressed in old cotton housedresses and always looked like she was one step from the bread line.”
“Her strategy, completely,” he grinned at the clever old woman’s surprise. “She was a character, to be sure.”
I signed the paperwork and when he left, I locked the door and sat down to a table to look everything over and try to deal with the enormity of what had just happened.
I looked around the café, at the grill where she’d taught me to fry steaks that enticed people from fifty miles away. I remembered her leaning over the fryer and showing me how to coat the catfish and deep-fry it just long enough that it was cooked inside and the batter was completely brown and delicious. The walls were filled with pictures of her posing with all sorts of celebrities who had stopped by over the years; lured by the reviews of her cooking. Perhaps that was the greatest gift she had left me: the confidence to know I was not just a blog writer, but a woman, a mother, a chef, and someone who could take of herself and a young child. She had taught me independence. I knew I would never forget her round face and twinkling eyes or the sound of her voice as she made up stories about her childhood. She had, indeed, been a character.
I stepped behind the counter and made Kirk and I some dinner. We had catfish and hush puppies and lemonade from freshly squeezed lemons. For dessert, there was peanut butter pie. It was a meal, and a day, to be remembered.
Chapter 16
Blake
I was lonely. The tour group had left Dallas three weeks earlier and I’d been riding broncos for something to do and to keep a little income heading my way. I was no longer drinking, so much of the romance of the sport had dissipated for me. Now it felt like a job. There was no challenge, no reason to get up in the morning and no reason to swagger when I entered a crowd of people. I was just another cowboy.
We’d all gone over to a local bar after the event one Saturday night. Her name was Barbara and she came up to me at the bar as I sipped my Coke and said she had been there the day I’d gotten my legs crushed. Ordinarily, this wasn’t the sort of opening line that stimulated me, but like I say, I was lonely.
I asked her to take the stool next to mine and I bought her a couple of drinks. Turned out she’d been following me for some time and waiting for an opportunity to meet me face to face. Naturally this did quite a bit for my ego and I was content to let her lay it on.
We shot a few games of pool and I let her win, but it was close. She had a pretty good eye for that sort of thing and I had to play my best game to keep her attention.
Afterwards, I did what I’d always done best: I took her back to the motel with me and screwed her. My first reaction had been one of disgust; I’d not been with anyone since Silver left and this strange woman’s body bore no resemblance whatsoever to the woman I loved. Nevertheless, there was a case to be made that I might never see Silver again and I wasn’t in any hurry to be alone for the rest of my life.
Barbara’s reaction came closest to gratitude of anything I could pinpoint. It was very odd, almost as if she was a groupie but my fan following had dwindled considerably after I stopped riding bulls. She clung to me and followed the circuit, always popping up at the event or at the bar where I was afterwards. I never offered to pay her way or let her travel with me, yet she was always there. It began to get a bit spooky. Eventually, I didn’t want to sleep with her anymore, but she refused to leave me alone. No matter where I was, she popped up. Hell, I didn’t even know her last name. I stopped inviting her back to the room with me, but she didn’t seem the least deterred, even taking a room in the same motel and as close to mine as possible. I knew then what it was like to have a stalker.
The circuit’s next stop was Baton Rouge. I’d always like that area, lots of trees and old southern history. I was riding broncos that night and thought after the event I’d take in some of the local sights.
It was a hot night and it was an outdoor event. I had sweat stains almost down to my waist and the broncos were particularly ornery that night. I was to ride Chaos, an animal known for its bad temperament. I still stayed away from the bulls; it was as if I knew they held death for me.
I could smell the rain even before the storm made its appearance. The horses knew, too, and they were skittish and wanting to get back into their trailers where it would be dry and there’s be plenty of oats to eat. I was getting ready for my turn, watching as they brought Chaos in from the holding pens. His eyes were wide as a bolt of lightning raked across the sky. It took two handlers to hold him down.
I was a bit agitated by the storm myself for some unknown reason. It was as if I was being watched by a force unknown. Nevertheless, I pulled on my gloves and climbed up above the horse, ready to descend, but he was wild-eyed. This was uncharacteristic for him and I began to wonder whether he’d been injected with something to make him crazed. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d heard of something like that.
Thunder deafened the entire audience as the lightning struck in the center of the arena. Chaos leaped straight up in the air just as I was settling down upon him and had grabbed the leather. He was hell unleashed and the handlers couldn’t calm him. They hollered at me to get off him, to let him out and run himself calm but I shook my head. I’d lost so much face already over not riding the bulls, I couldn’t back down further. I shook my head vehemently and hollered, “Open it!” They looked at one another and shrugged; it was my call.
We exploded when the gate opened. I gripped the reins hard and held the
horn, my legs and all those newly re-generated muscles clamped as tightly as I could. I felt my body slam into sections, waist ahead and then behind my torso. I felt like a deck of shuffled cards.
Chaos was literally screaming as his eyes, crazed in fear, looked for a way to unseat me. A funnel of wind formed on the arena floor and circled toward us, picking up sand and pebbles and I could hear the crowd screaming as they pointed toward the phenomenon. I kept my seat until the wind hit us; literally picking Chaos up into the air and dropping us down into the ring. I was trapped beneath his flailing body as he screamed. They were trying to pull him off me, but his hooves thrashed blindly through the air in pain. Eventually they threw me a rope and I held on for dear life as they dragged me from beneath him while he rolled away momentarily. It was clear that both his legs were broken. I had nothing more to fear from him. They helped me to my feet and I staggered toward the chute gate. Another bolt of lightning slapped the arena and I looked upward as the funnel lifted and rain bit my face. There, in the flash of light, stood a woman in a white dress and with silvery, whipping hair, looking like the goddess of lightning herself. She was standing in the first row of the stands and her expression was of terror as she looked at me. There stood my Silver. I heard a snap behind me and turned to see they had shot Chaos and were trying to cover him with a tarp until they could get a vehicle in to lift him out of the arena. His screams were silent then and all that remained was the awed vacuum of spectators, standing in the driving rain.
I looked around again, and she was gone.
* * *
I searched the stands for her throughout the rest of the event. There was no sign and I began to wonder whether she’d been real. I knew she was, though. I’d felt her presence even before we’d left the chute. Eventually the event was over and the crowds filtered off to go home. I stood by the gates and watched every single person leave; she was not among them.