by Karen Strong
The woods twinkled and revealed Abner’s translucent form. He moved closer to the open grave and touched the red clay. A bright shimmer rose up, and rays of light swirled and bounced around him.
“Amazing grace.” Mr. Coolidge touched his Bible.
The light welcomed Abner, but he stayed where he was, enthralled like everyone else.
“What is he waiting for?” Ellis asked.
“I don’t know,” Jasper whispered back.
Taking the diary from Janie, I placed it at Abner’s feet. “It’s time for you to go home, Abner. Sophie is waiting for you.”
Abner turned to look at me, his face alight with pure joy. He slowly walked into the light, dissolving into the prism of radiance. And was gone.
Mrs. Whitney placed the lid on the box. “He’s finally at peace.”
I stared at Sophie’s diary on the ground. I picked it up and held the book close to me.
The branches of the black tree seemed to come alive and snapped to attention. Green leaves sprouted out, and the black bark turned a warm brown. The wind sighed through branches as the sun bathed the tree in light.
Heavy footsteps rushed through the woods. One of Mr. Coolidge’s sons appeared.
“Sir, we have a problem,” he said. “Folks are here wanting to know what’s going on. We’ve tried to hold them back, but there are too many.”
“The gravediggers snitched on us.” Janie frowned.
“It’s okay. We’ve done what we needed to do.” Mrs. Greene wiped the tears from her eyes. “Come, children.”
“What about Abner’s bones?” Janie asked.
“We will take care of them,” Mr. Coolidge said.
Ellis pulled Janie away from the grave, and we walked back toward the road. Word had traveled fast. Sunnie and Mrs. Loren were there. So were Mr. Hawkins and Ms. Bell the librarian. Even the women of the Deaconess Board strained to get a better look. Grown folks in aprons, hard hats, and uniforms. Mr. Coolidge’s sons were holding most of them back. In the front of the crowd, my parents struggled to get through.
“Uh-oh. How did they find out?” Janie asked.
“Mama’s going to kill us,” Ellis mumbled.
Daddy broke through the crowd with Mama. “What is going on? What are y’all doing here?”
“I took the children to your house for them to be safe!” Mama shouted at Mrs. Greene. “Not to come to Creek Church for some craziness!”
Mrs. Greene smiled at Mama. “Calm down, Delilah. The children are fine. No harm done.”
She moved toward us in the speed only mamas have.
Daddy held her back. “They do look all right.” He had lost some of the formality in his voice. “What were y’all doing back in the woods?”
“We had to help our blood kin,” Mrs. Greene said.
Mama smoothed out her wrinkled suit and whispered to Daddy. He let go of his grasp. She moved up the stone steps.
“Sarah, are you all right?” she asked me.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said.
She touched Janie’s arm. “Janie, how about you?”
“Mama, what about me?” my brother whined. “You didn’t ask me.”
“Ellis,” Mama sighed. “Are you okay?”
“I’m hungry.” He rubbed his stomach, and Jasper laughed.
Mrs. Greene patted Mama on her back. “Delilah, I can’t believe they let you out of the Fairfield County courthouse because of some nonsense on Linnard Run.”
“These are my children!” Mama cried.
“Okay, let’s go.” Daddy gathered us and snagged Jasper, who was about to join Mr. Coolidge’s sons. “You too.”
“Are we going somewhere to eat?” Ellis asked.
“No,” Mama and Daddy replied in unison.
“I will never understand your grandmother,” Mama mumbled as we got in the car.
I turned and looked out the car window. Mrs. Greene and Mrs. Whitney stood on the church steps. They both held Sophie’s box and peered into the crowd. All the years had melted away, and they were friends again. Mr. Coolidge came back through the woods. He held his Bible and kissed Mrs. Whitney on the cheek. Even from our distance, I could hear her laughter through the thick glass.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Home
After that day, Mrs. Whitney and Mrs. Greene helped other Warrenville families with their spiritual problems. Together they guided the town’s blood kin to release the haints so they could finally rest in peace. Mr. Coolidge took care of Abner’s bones, and everyone came together and raised money to buy a tombstone for the Greene burial plot in Evergreen Cemetery.
The townsfolk eventually held a memorial service for all the victims of Warrenville’s violent past. Pastor Munroe gave a eulogy, and Mrs. Whitney unveiled her plans for erecting a Wall of Remembrance in Marigold Park. Family members spoke the names of the spirits they had helped, and I stated Abner’s name into the wind. After so many years, he was finally with Sophie and the rest of our family. At the end of the service, the ladies of the Deaconess Board released white doves into the summer sky.
Aunt Gina finished filming her movie in Paris and returned to Warrenville with a suitcase filled with gifts for Janie, who squealed with delight. She had finally been reunited with her mama. Now they were planning to move to California, and Janie’s Hollywood dreams were coming true.
• • •
On Janie and Aunt Gina’s last night in Warrenville, Mrs. Greene hosted a celebration supper at her house. Janie and I sat next to Mrs. Whitney and Mr. Coolidge while we waited for Ellis to say the grace.
“Try not to go overboard,” Daddy said.
Ellis nodded and bowed his head. “Lord? Let this food nourish our bodies, minds, and hearts. Amen.”
“That’s the shortest prayer you’ve said all summer,” Janie laughed.
We piled up our plates, and only the sounds of happy murmurs and the clicking of forks filled the room. Afterward, Mrs. Greene served her county-famous red velvet cake. No doubt she had baked it especially for us.
“This cake is like a slice of home,” Aunt Gina said.
“Warrenville will always be your home,” Mrs. Greene said. “No matter how fancy and famous you get.”
As the celebration continued, a deep, joyful warmth spread through me. Mr. Coolidge fed Mrs. Whitney a forkful of cake. Mama nodded as she listened intently to Aunt Gina describe her trip to the Palace of Versailles. Mrs. Greene beamed as she gave Ellis another thick slice of her red velvet cake. Daddy caught my eye and grinned at me from across the table. I think he felt the same happiness too.
Janie touched my shoulder. “Do you want to help me pack up the rest of my stuff?”
• • •
I followed Janie upstairs to Aunt Gina’s room. All of her things had already been packed, so I was confused. She opened up her pink backpack and pulled out the silver hand that she had taken from the gift shop.
“Can you give this back to Mrs. Whitney? Tell her I’m sorry?”
I took the silver hand from her. “I already knew you had it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want you to know that I was snooping in your things,” I said. “So sorry about that. I was wrong.”
“I was wrong too. I don’t have the right to take things that don’t belong to me. I know that now,” she said with a shy smile.
I put the silver hand in my pocket. “I’m sure Mrs. Whitney will accept your apology now that you’re giving it back.”
Janie grinned. “Thanks.”
She opened up her suitcase and took out one of her Paris gifts, a heavy snow globe of delicate silver stars with a crescent moon in its center. I remembered gasping when Aunt Gina had given it to Janie.
“I want you to have this,” she said.
“Janie,” I whispered. “I can’t take this.”
She pushed it into my hands. “You don’t have a choice.”
Shaking the globe, I watched the stars float and settle like sn
owfall.
“I know how crazy you are about moons.” Janie smiled at me as she zipped up her suitcase. “I hope you have fun at the science symposium. Try not to be a nag and ask too many questions,” she said with a laugh.
Even though I was still technically on punishment, somehow Mrs. Greene had convinced my parents to let me go to the science symposium next month. I don’t know what she told them, but whatever it was, it had worked.
“You know I already have tons of questions, so I can’t promise anything,” I said, a lump suddenly forming in my throat. “I’m really going to miss you.”
“We’ll stay in touch,” Janie said. “We just have to convince Aunt Delilah to get you a phone.”
“It won’t be the same. I won’t have anyone here to talk to.”
“You have Jovita,” she said.
“I thought you didn’t like her,” I replied.
Janie shrugged. “I think you should give her another chance.”
I remembered how Jovita had hugged me tight during the memorial service at Marigold Park. She was truly sorry. If Mrs. Greene and Mrs. Whitney could rekindle their friendship, at least I could try with Jovita.
“What are you two doing in here?” Ellis appeared in the doorway with Jasper.
“I came over to say good-bye,” Jasper said.
“That’s nice.” Janie gave both of them a suitcase. “You can take these out to the car.”
We followed the boys downstairs and joined everyone on the porch. Daddy put the suitcases in the trunk for their trip to the Atlanta airport. Janie and Aunt Gina had to go back to Chicago so they could get all of their belongings. Then they would drive out west to California and start a new life.
Everyone hugged Janie and Aunt Gina. Mrs. Greene wiped away her tears. Mama smoothed out my cousin’s braids and told her to take care of her mama. Mrs. Whitney kissed Janie on the forehead and uttered a small blessing; then she gave her a necklace with a green stone.
Janie and I walked down the porch steps, our hands intertwined. The lump in my throat returned, and I blinked back tears.
“I’ll miss you, too.” Janie gave me one last hug. “You’ll have to come visit me in California.”
“Next summer,” I whispered in her ear. “You can show me all the mansions and movie stars.”
Ellis grumbled behind us. “We ain’t got time for all this emotional stuff. You gonna make her miss her flight.”
“Oh, I’ll miss you, Ellis.” Janie grabbed my brother, and he squirmed, trying to escape our clutches. We pulled him tighter into our hug and showered him with kisses.
Janie and Aunt Gina waved good-bye as Daddy drove them away. It was a bittersweet end to the summer, but I knew no matter how far we traveled in this universe, this place of shared roots would always be home.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Bringing a book into the world can be overwhelming but I was lucky to have many people help make this dream come true.
Forever grateful to Beth Phelan, the creator of #DVpit. Who knew my road to publication would begin with a tweet? Beth, I love how you put action behind your words and you should be so proud of the books that have been published because of your passion.
To my agent, Victoria Marini, I’m so thankful for your belief in me. From the beginning, you saw my potential and had the confidence that I was capable of revising this story into its best form. I appreciate all of your support.
Thank you to the Simon & Schuster BFYR team and everyone who helped turn my story into a real, physical book. To my acquiring editor, Mekisha Telfer, who was the first champion of my story and for my editor Krista Vitola, who led me down the path to a deeper story and helped give this story a stronger heartbeat.
One of the best things about my journey to publication is meeting the other writers who I’ve come to know and cherish. Hugs and kisses to my Team Marini crew: Dhonielle Clayton, Sona Charaipotra, Claire Legrand, Bethany C. Morrow, Hanna Alkaf, Margaret Owen, Anna Meriano, Elsie Chapman, Zoraida Córdova, and Ida Olson.
So much love to the writer friends who gave me support and advice: Roselle Lim, Meredith Ireland, Isabel Sterling, Jennifer Dugan, Nafiza Azad, Aminah Mae Safi, Patrice Caldwell, Samira Ahmed, Sandhya Menon, Gloria Chao, Karuna Riazi, Olugbenmisola Rhuday-Perkovich, Kelly Starling Lyons, Linda Williams Jackson, Lisa Moore Ramée, Natasha Diaz, Rebecca Barrow, Mark Oshiro, Kat Cho, Claribel Ortega, Kosoko Jackson, Justin A. Reynolds, S.A. Chakraborty, J. Zeynab Joukhadar, Laura Pohl, Ryan La Sala, Nicole Melleby, Nova Ren Suma, Julie C. Dao, Yamile Mendez, Nic Stone, Angie Thomas, Heather McCorkle, Julie Falatko, Tamara Ireland Stone, Justine Larbalestier, Karen M. McManus, Heidi Heilig, Janae Marks, Paula Chase, Vicky Alvear Shecter, Elisbeth Norton, and Phalia McCorckle-Kester.
For my first writing mentor, Carol Lee Lorenzo, who ignited the spark for this book with a writing exercise at the Callonwolde Arts Center.
To my mother, who taught me that anything is possible with focus and dedication. Your passion for public libraries and books were the reasons I fell in love with words. I hope that you’re proud of me.
To my father, who told me that being smart was an asset and not a liability. You led me into the fascinating world of science and technology. I miss you every day, but I know you’re still rooting for me and will always remain my biggest fan.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2018 Stephanie Ifendu
KAREN STRONG was born and raised in rural Georgia. She spent most of her childhood wandering the woods, meadows, and gardens on her grandmother’s land. She now lives in Atlanta. Just South of Home is her first novel. Learn more at karen-strong.com.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2019 by Karen Strong
Jacket illustrations copyright © 2019 by Geneva B.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Names: Strong, Karen, author.
Title: Just south of home / Karen Strong.
Description: First edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, [2019] | Summary: Twelve-year-old Sarah, her Chicago cousin Janie, brainy brother Ellis, and his best friend, Jasper, investigate a tragic event in their small Southern town’s history.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018030146 | ISBN 9781534419384 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781534419407 (ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Family life—Georgia—Fiction. | African Americans—Fiction. | Ghosts—Fiction. | Supernatural—Fiction. | Georgia—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S79642 Jus 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018030146
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Karen Strong, Just South of Home