by Bobby Akart
Fortunately, Mrs. Chandler never really wanted to engage Beth in conversation. It wasn’t that the two clashed with one another, as long as Beth bit her tongue. It was that they had nothing in common except her son.
Beth always apologized for Tony’s nonappearance at get-togethers like these. Before she could begin to spout out the lame excuses, Mrs. Chandler took care of that for her.
My son is a very important man. People trust him with their life savings.
His hard work pays for all the nice things your family enjoys.
We retirees need smart men like my Tony to shepherd us through these difficult times.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Beth always agreed with her mother-in-law because it was easier that way. She could never have an honest conversation with her about the state of their marriage and how her son wasn’t necessarily the golden boy Mrs. Chandler made him out to be when it came to his family.
The only saving grace that kept the two women from coming to verbal blows was that Tony’s mother never advised Beth on how to raise Anthony or how to manage her pregnancy.
Never. Not once.
Beth clearly saw that as the exception to the commonly accepted rule. Heck, there were whole books on her Kindle device advising expectant mothers how to deflect the unwelcome advice of others. For some reason that Beth could only explain as pure apathy and indifference, she was one of the few daughters-in-law on the planet to dodge the unsolicited advice and instructions of her mother-in-law.
The day passed, and after countless glances at her watch as well as the digital clock on the oven, Beth announced it was time for her to get on the road. She had a stop to make as she drove up the highway, and she planned on arriving at her sister’s home about the time the rest of the family returned there as well.
Mrs. Chandler had baked an apple pie and wrapped it in foil for the trip. She helped load up Beth’s crossover and provided Anthony a couple of cookies in the back seat for the road. Beth double-checked the five-point restraint to ensure it was locked, provided her son a kiss on the forehead, and shared an obligatory hug with Tony’s mother. With a steady rain continuing to pelt the southern half of Mississippi, Beth was happily on the road.
“Okay, Anthony. Next, we’ll have a quick pit stop in Rosedale. I’ve been craving Miss Barbara’s hot tamales. You probably don’t remember this, but when I was pregnant with you, I used to be a great wife and came to visit your grandma. Really, I wanted an excuse to pick up a Tupperware container full of Miss Barbara’s tamales.”
Beth glanced in the rearview mirror. Anthony didn’t seem to care that she was talking to him. He’d become fascinated with the shape and texture of the sugar cookies. It was if he was analyzing them to determine which one was bigger or contained more icing. Maybe he was counting the number of sprinkles embedded in the icing? Beth never really knew what was on her son’s mind. His unresponsiveness didn’t bother her as long as he was happy.
Seeing that Anthony wasn’t in a very talkative mood, Beth turned on the radio and listened to SiriusXM Channel 10, pop hits of the 2000s. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as one song after another played commercial-free.
She was in a good headspace that afternoon as she rocked along Highway 1, which ran parallel to the river. There was only an occasional car headed southbound, and the rain had lessened compared to when she woke up. She enjoyed spending time with Emily and Tate, both of whom were model kids that she’d love for her children to grow up like. She tried not to admit it—too often, anyway—but she truly envied her sister’s life. Everything about it. Jack was a hero and an incredible man. The kids were perfect. Their home was perfect. Jill’s life could’ve been the model for any young girl growing up.
As Beth continued toward Rosedale, mindlessly daydreaming of what could’ve been, she failed to notice the water rising on the west side of the two-lane highway. The fields were flooded, and as she passed through the small community of Scott near Arkansas City, it was apparent that the river had expanded well beyond its normal boundaries. What Beth didn’t know was that water was rising rapidly throughout the lower Mississippi River Basin.
The thirty-minute drive had flown by, and she was full of excitement when she eased into the parking lot at the White Front Café. The nondescript white clapboard front would’ve caused most unknowing tourists to keep driving by in search of golden arches or some guy holding a red-and-white bucket of chicken.
The sign next to the single door read White Front Café, Joe’s HOT TAMALE Place. That’s what brought ’em in the door. Tamales. It was the Mississippi Blues Trail Marker sitting to the side of the parking area in the grass that provided the historic nature of the business. Joe Pope, the oldest of ten children, had founded the restaurant in the seventies, and it had been a family business and part of Mississippi history ever since.
It was Friday afternoon, so Beth wasn’t surprised that several cars were in the small parking lot to pick up dinner. When she and Anthony entered, the patrons were abuzz with chatter as they watched the four o’clock news on a Jackson news station. The rainfall and flooding dominated the programming.
Beth shrugged it off. She knew it had been raining and the water was threatening Baton Rouge. There wasn’t anything she could do about it except wish it would stop. She was only a couple of hours away from Memphis.
She handed Miss Barbara the large Tupperware container over the counter. With a big grin, she said with a laugh, “Fill it up, please. I’m eating for thirty.” Beth stepped back away from the glass counter so Miss Barbara could see her belly.
“You sure are, young lady. You know Joe’s hot tamales gonna bring that baby right out of there kickin’ and screamin’.”
“I don’t know, Miss Barbara. They might, but it’s still a little early. I’ll be driving back through town a week from now. I’ll bring two Tupperware containers. I’ll freeze them and eat one every morning with my prenatal vitamins. Then we’ll see how she kicks and screams.”
“A baby girl.” Miss Barbara beamed. She looked down at Anthony. “Does this young man like hot tamales, too?”
“He did when I was carrying him,” replied Beth with a laugh.
She reached down and pulled her son close to her hip. He was a good boy. Beth was certain he took in everything he observed. He studied his surroundings. Watched people interact. With an intense curiosity, he analyzed anything mechanical. And then he catalogued it in his brain somewhere for future reference. When he was ready, he’d share the incredible power of his brain with the world. For now, he was in the learning stage.
While Miss Barbara prepared the tamales, Beth wandered back toward the television. Suddenly, the door was forced open, swinging hard against the wall. The Bolivar County sheriff and one of his deputies lumbered in, bringing the rain with them.
“Hey, Walter,” said one of the men focused on the television. “This rain’s playin’ hell on all our fields. The news says—”
“Jimbo,” the burly sheriff interrupted, “here’s all the news you need to know. We’re evacuating the county.”
Jimbo and the other patrons who’d glued their eyes to the television turned around to give Sheriff Walter Baldwin their undivided attention.
“Whadya mean, Sheriff?” asked one of the women.
He tipped his cap to Beth and slid past her to the counter. “Miss Barbara, I need you to listen up, too.”
She finished stuffing the hot tamales into Beth’s Tupperware and handed them past the sheriff.
He began to explain, “Folks, we’re under mandatory evacuation from the governor. It started with the levee breach in Natchez. Here in Bolivar County, we’ve got levee breaches from Eutaw all the way up to Beulah. What’s worse, and ain’t nobody explained it to me, but there seems to be some kind of springs or something that’s addin’ to the groundwater between here and Highway 278.”
“Groundwater?” asked Jimbo. “You mean floodin’?”
“Both,” replied the sheriff. “
Here’s what I’m sayin’. The river has blown past all the Corps of Engineers levees to the south. To our east, the waters in the fields are risin’, and not just ’cause of the doggone downpours. I mean lakes are showing up out of nowhere.”
“Come on, Sheriff,” said Jimbo. “I’ve never heard of such.”
“Believe it. We just came across Highway 8 from Cleveland. It’s pert near underwater.”
The group started to talk excitedly among themselves, so Beth used it as an opportunity to get some advice.
“Sheriff, I’m going to Memphis. I planned on driving up to Tunica and then cutting over to I-55. Is that way okay?”
“It is for now, ma’am,” he replied politely. “I’d suggest you be on your way.”
Beth nodded her appreciation and then waved goodbye to Miss Barbara, whose face revealed her concern. Her small building was no match for the encroaching Mississippi River.
Chapter Ten
Friday, December 21
Cordova, Tennessee
Jill waited impatiently on Sanga Road in front of Cordova Middle School, where Emily was finishing up her final day of the semester. Ordinarily, she’d ride her bike around the lake to get to school. It had been raining on and off all day, so that wasn’t an option. Besides, today they had to scoot across Cordova to pick up Tate from MUS and then head downtown. There, Emily would join the other kids from Cordova Presbyterian for their one and only rehearsal in the Halloran Centre before Sunday’s event. Apparently, several other mothers had the same idea, or they were picking up their kids to leave town for Christmas.
She checked her watch. 3:25. Plenty of time, she reminded herself, so she took a deep breath and exhaled. A few cars moved forward, so Jill inched along behind them. This morning, Emily had been awake at the crack of dawn. Jill had gotten up to make coffee and found her daughter dancing through the living room. Periodically, she’d stop to practice her lines before continuing to dance. Jill had watched from around the corner of the dining room wall. There was little doubt her daughter was ready, assuming nothing happened to panic her.
It took several more minutes for her to wheel her truck in front of two sets of double doors leading inside the school. Emily was waiting somewhat impatiently near the flagpole. Both of her arms were full of books and her first semester science project.
She’d created a model of the sun emitting a solar flare toward a much smaller Earth. The papier-mâché project had taken a week to build with the help of Jack. Jill had never seen the beautiful aurora created by a solar flare hitting Earth. She wondered if a really strong solar flare might bring the hues of blue and green as far south as Tennessee someday. That would be cool, she thought to herself.
She jumped out of the truck and opened the rear hatch. Emily carefully set down her solar-flare project and meticulously spread her books around so they wouldn’t topple over and damage the project. The two hugged and kissed one another before Emily slid into the back seat. Once Jill was settled in, she looked at her daughter in the rearview mirror.
“I won’t bite, you know. You can ride up here with me before we pick up Tate.”
Emily had already unzipped her pink and white duffle bag she’d bought for herself at Victoria’s Secret last spring. “That’s okay, Mom. I want to go ahead and change so I’ll be ready when we get there. Are we on time?”
Jill glanced at the LED clock on the dashboard. “Close enough. You change and get comfortable. No worries, okay?”
Emily gave her a thumbs-up and began to arrange her outfit. She wrestled out of her jeans and shirt, periodically glancing through the side windows to confirm there were no Peeping Toms around.
Jill motored down Germantown Parkway and then zigzagged her way through Poplar Estates to avoid the retail shopping congestion in Germantown. She imagined Kroger, Hobby Lobby, and the stores on Farmington Boulevard were nutso that day.
She pulled into the circular drive at MUS with ease. Unlike Emily’s middle school, most of the students had cars or carpooled with older kids. Now that Tate was fifteen, he had his Learner Permit, but that didn’t allow him to drive alone. He had plenty of friends on the varsity football team to hitch a ride with every day. He’d be able to drive soon enough, a guaranteed added stress for his mother.
Jill drove past all the other cars in the parking lot and made her way to the back of the school between the soccer field and the football stadium that rivaled the size of most small colleges. Emily finished changing clothes and set her duffle bag in the rear storage compartment near her other things. She turned to lean through the seats so she could see through the rain-soaked windshield.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know, Em. He said the offense skill players would be running padless drills on Rogers Field.” She searched the soccer fields for any signs of activity.
“There’s nobody here. What if he went home with someone else?”
Jill and Emily both had their heads turned toward the empty soccer field and the concession stand next to the parking lot. They never saw Tate sneak up on them from behind. He flung the door open.
“Boo!”
Emily shrieked. “You asshole!”
“Young lady! Watch your language!”
Tate was laughing as he looked inside at the startled Atwood women.
“Well, he is!”
Jill regained her composure and scowled at her son. “I can’t argue with that. Get in, mister.”
“Hey, how about letting me drive?”
“Hey, how about no chance in you know where?”
“Come on, Mom. I need the practice,” he whined.
Jill wasn’t having any of it. “Not today, Tate. We’re a little behind, and it’s Friday afternoon before a holiday. It’ll be a nightmare.”
Tate rolled his eyes and jumped into the front seat. After he buckled his seat, he turned to Emily. “Hey, squirt. Are you ready?”
“Don’t call me squirt,” Emily complained, and then she added, “Mr. Tardy Farty.”
“Oooh, you got me there, Em. Okay, I’m late, but I didn’t need to go with y’all. I could’ve hitched a ride home with Britney, you know.”
Emily immediately mocked her brother. “Oooh, riding with an older woman. Shame on you, mister varsity football player.”
“Shut up, Emily. You don’t even know what that means.”
Jill shot him a glance. “Young man, you’d better not know what an older woman means either.”
“Mom, it’s just Britney. She sixteen. Big whoop.”
“Sweet sixteen,” Emily crowed. “Going on seventeen. She’s way advanced for her age, Mom.”
Emily was kicking his ass, and Tate was getting mad.
“Mom, just let me out. I’ll walk or catch an Uber or something.”
“Maybe Britney will come back for you unless she found a man her own age.”
“That’s it!” Tate unbuckled his seatbelt and swirled around to grab at his sister. She leaned against the door and began kicking at his hands.
Jill had to intervene. The drive into the city was going to be stressful enough without the kids at each other. Plus, she wanted Emily to be in the best frame of mind possible to rehearse.
“Enough, you two! Apologize to each other.”
Tate spun around and buckled his seatbelt. Emily sat in the middle of the back seat with her arms folded. Neither said a word.
“Out loud, please,” Jill ordered.
“Sorry, squirt.”
“I’m sorry, too, ah—”
“Emily Atwood! Don’t you dare let that word out of your mouth.”
Tate started laughing. He stretched his arm over the seat to offer his fist to his sister. She bumped it in return as they smiled at one another. Tate would lay down his life for Emily, and she’d do the same for him. Despite their sibling scraps, at the end of the day, they were very close-knit.
Jill drove east along I-240 across South Memphis. She took I-55 into the city along the riverfront before finding South Main S
treet, which led directly into downtown. It was 4:10. Emily wasn’t supposed to be there until 4:30, so there was time if traffic would cooperate.
“Um, Mom, I don’t wanna be late.”
“I know, honey. There’s a big parking garage next to the Halloran. We’ll be okay.”
Jill wasn’t sure. She looked around the downtown area. The last time she saw traffic this busy, both vehicular and pedestrian, was New Year’s Eve several years ago.
“Okay, let’s see what we can do,” she said as she turned into the Memphis Light, Gas and Water parking garage across the street from the utility’s main office and immediately adjacent to the Halloran Centre for Performing Arts & Education.
It was 4:20. Plenty of time.
Chapter Eleven
Friday, December 21
Downtown Memphis, Tennessee
“Mom, I’m gonna be late,” Emily whined. Jill glanced at the clock. It was approaching 4:30. She’d driven to the top of the four-story parking garage, and every space was full. She’d already begun to make her way to the ground level.
“Okay. Okay,” she began as she gave the kids their instructions. “Tate, I’m gonna have to find a space somewhere else. Can you take Emily inside so she can meet up with the director?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jill whipped the truck out of the garage and in front of an oncoming delivery van. The man laid on the horn and further expressed his displeasure with the one-finger salute.
“Yeah, Yeah. Sorry.” Jill ran through the yellow light as she turned back onto Main Street, leaving the delivery van stuck at the red. That earned her another blast of his horn. She pulled to a stop across the entrance from the Halloran Centre. “Okay, kids. Be careful crossing the street.”
“We’re gonna be jaywalking, Mom,” said Emily.
Jill rocked her head back and forth. Her daughter was such a rule follower and a snitch at this age. She’d grow out of it eventually.