by Mary Campisi
She had a point, not that he cared to admit it, but Tula Rae made sense in a roundabout way and he guessed they shared some similarities, a truth he absolutely did not want to admit. “People come to us with problems and we been walking this earth a long time, long enough to think we should have the answers.”
“But we don’t, do we? Not possible or we’d be sitting up there on the right and left hand of the Almighty.” She pointed to the blue sky, swirled a hand in the air like a magic wand. “All’s we can do is listen and try to reason our way through it. No more, no less, and not without a hunk of prayers.”
He didn’t like to think his answers were a crap shoot; the idea made his stomach jump like he’d eaten too many hot peppers. The town depended on him for answers, some even called him a visionary and a philosopher. Hah, he didn’t know about that, but he did like the title “Godfather of Magdalena.” That name would get tossed in a compost heap and buried with the worms if people thought they couldn’t depend on him for answers.
“Angelo? What’s the matter?” Tula Rae squinted at him, her dark eyes zeroing in on his. “You look like you just ate a bad enchilada.” Those dang eyes turned to slits, then opened wide. “Can’t stand it, can you? Got to have answers for everyone and everything.” She slapped a hand across a bony knee and shook her head so hard her braid flip-flopped over a shoulder. “Lucy said you were a proud one, said you had to steer the ship, even if you never been near water before.”
“Lucy said that?” It was Pop’s turn to squint. That didn’t sound like believing in your partner to do right by you and the community. No indeed. That sounded like no faith and less respect. Maybe Lucy hadn’t believed he’d always do right by her and Anthony. Maybe in her final days she hadn’t believed in him at all. That thought plunged to his gut, churned it like a rototiller and spit out chunks of worry and regret. Had Lucy lost faith in him somewhere along the way and slipped to the other world with that sadness in her heart? Disappointment drenching her soul? Oh, dear Lord, he hoped not. But how would he ever know?
“Stop that, Angelo. Stop that right now.” Tula Rae’s words sliced him like a filet knife. “I can see what you’re thinking as clear as if I had a peek straight into that noggin of yours. Lucy always knew you didn’t have all the answers. Knew too there was times you didn’t have any answers. You think she cared?” She crossed her arms over her belly, challenged him to an answer.
“Guess I’ll never know, will I?” He was not going to out and out admit he’d failed his wife. No man would admit that to a big mouth like Tula Ra so she could remind him of it every five breaths.
She let out a cackle and gave him a big grin. “Having a nice pity party there, aren’t we? Lucy loved you, you old fool, and she couldn’t see nothing past that love. Period. So you didn’t have answers to the world’s questions? So you didn’t develop a cure for people’s misfortunes? So what? Lucy didn’t care, not one bit as long as you were by her side.”
Pop eyed her, tried to tell if she were full of fact or fiction. “You giving it to me straight or dumping a line on me?”
“It’s as straight up as a whiskey neat.” Another cackle, a sigh. “And I could sure use one of those right about now.”
“I got some tucked away in the closet. It’s a mite old, but I think it’ll do.” His stomach settled, the ache in his chest disappeared. Was the air lighter? The sun brighter? Yes, he believed so. A smile inched across his lips and he knew the reason: Tula Rae’s words. The woman wouldn’t sugar coat or lie to him, not in fifty years. Lucy hadn’t been disappointed in him, hadn’t lost faith in his abilities. None of that. His Lucy had loved him with all one hundred and thirty-six pounds of her. Knowing that deep in his gut made the doubts he’d carried since he first read her letters to Tula Rae vanish faster than a plate of pizzelles at one of Lily’s birthday parties.
The cackle snapped him from his peaceful meanderings. “Now that you’ve gone all gooey-eyed and soft as a melted caramel, I can tell you believe me. Good Lord, can we put the theatrics and the emotions on the shelf for a bit so we can talk about the real issue: what’s the latest on Stephanie Richmond? Did your guy report back yet? I got a feeling there’s a lot of sneaky business going on in that woman’s life and in her head and if your Cash doesn’t put out the antennae and pay attention, he’s gonna get roped in and the rope’s gonna be around his neck.”
“I hear you. Something’s not right, but I can’t put my finger on it.” He rubbed his chin, added, “Yet. How about we compare notes and strategies inside? With the whiskey I got hidden?”
“I’m liking the sound of that. I been missing my morning whiskey.” She glanced around the garden, fingered a tomato leaf. “I only got one last question for you.”
The woman never had one last question about anything. Pop fiddled with his baseball cap and said, “Go ahead.”
“We been standing in this garden yakking about this and that, and nowhere can I find a single collard, mustard green, or cabbage. Why on earth not?”
That, he could answer. “You’ll have to take that up with my gardening partner, seeing as she’s the one who picked out the vegetables.” He checked his watch, nodded. “She’ll be here soon, so we best get our whiskey before she comes. Don’t like the idea of downing a shot in front of her and answering the what and why of the act. How can you explain such a thing? Besides, you’ll be busy trying to convince Lily to make a ‘Southern’ garden and she’ll have all the answers as to why we don’t and why we won’t.” Yes siree, he’d put Lily up against anybody, even a talker like Tula Rae.
“We’ll see about that, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t add it to next year’s garden list. You mark my words, before I leave town you’ll have collards, mustard greens, and cabbage on your supper table or my name isn’t Tula Rae.”
Pop hid a smile. Oh, but he couldn’t wait to witness this meeting. “Count on it. Now let’s go see about that whiskey.”
They had time for two shots before Lily arrived with a loaf of banana-nut bread and a tray of manicotti. “This here’s some good manicotti,” Tula Rae said, forking another piece onto her plate. “De-lic-ious.”
Lily giggled and Pop shook his head. “Most people heat the stuff up before they eat it.” He eyed the gouged-out section of manicotti, mumbled, “And wait to be invited.”
She ignored him, licked her lips. “Good eatin’, Lily. Tell your mama this is the best I’ve tasted since 1994.” Pop rolled his eyes, thought about grabbing a fork and digging in, too, but he held back. Manicotti was meant to be eaten straight from the oven, the cheese bubbling and the sauce hot.
“Pop says you help him with his garden,” Tula Rae said, eyeing the tray of manicotti like she might jump in for another taste. “Says you pick out the plants, help weed and water. That true?”
Oh, he knew exactly where this was going. She was going to try and guilt Lily into planting those dang collards and the like next season, maybe even this season since they were cold crops. If the woman had her way, Lily would jump on the collard band wagon. Not going to happen. Not mustard greens either. Miriam said the child still made a face at escarole and Swiss chard. Pop snatched a slice of Miriam Desantro’s banana-nut bread and handed it to Lily. “Why don’t you tell her what we’ve been planting these past few years? The seeds you like and the plants, too.”
A big smile spread over Lily’s face, reached her eyes, made them sparkle. “Pop and I make a list,” she said, her voice hitching with excitement. “One side is for what comes in a seed packet and the other is for what we want to get at the garden place.” She laid her slice of banana-nut bread on a napkin, lifted a hand, and began counting, “Seed packets are zucchini, cucumbers, peppers, beans, Swiss chard.” A pause, a scratch of her chin, and then, “Basil, parsley, oregano.” A giggle, followed by another. “I’m running out of fingers.”
“That’s because we got a lot growing in our garden, don’t we?” Pop said in a gentle voice. His granddaughter didn’t have the inclination
or the know-how to work in the soil, nor did she have the patience to wait for the plants to emerge and grow. But Lily did. Lily Desantro could sit on a blanket next to the garden and marvel at the tiny changes that occurred in the span from late afternoon to the next morning.
“We have lots and lots of veggies.” She nodded, spread her arms wide. “And we share, too, don’t we, Pop?”
“We sure do, Lily girl. We surely do.” He’d thought a time or two about downsizing his plot and going in for more of the container type of gardening like city folks—or those who didn’t want to bend and stoop and dig deep in the dirt—but he couldn’t disappoint Lily. She looked forward to their gardening rituals, from the seed and plant selection to mixing the soil and compost with the shovel Nate got her last summer. Pop bought her a new pair of gloves for this season’s work, pink and green, and Lily thought she was something else when she wore them. They even came with a matching sunhat. There was no way he was cutting out Lily’s excitement by chopping his garden in half. And besides, he could squawk all he wanted but when it came down to it, he’d miss the rituals, too.
“Ever hear of collards?”
Pop shot a warning look at Tula Rae. “Lily’s not big on greens she never heard of before.”
“What’s a collard?”
The dang woman worked up a smile and when she spoke, you’d have thought she was a master storyteller giving a performance in a grand hall. “Collards make a body strong.” She smacked her lips together, let out a laugh. “I been growing and fixing them since I was a girl in South Carolina. How can you not know about collards?” Tsk-tsk. “Greens and fatback, mixed up just right with a few other concoctions and you got yourself some kind of meal. Salty and sassy, that’s what I call them.”
“Pop? Why didn’t we grow collards?”
“No room.”
Tula Rae lambasted him with a look that said see if you can get out of this next one. “No room for salty and sassy?”
“I want to see what that tastes like.”
“Lily girl, you know what salty tastes like, and you know what too much salt tastes like, too. Remember the time you put too much salt on the popcorn?”
She made a face. “Uh-huh. But I don’t know what sassy tastes like.” Lily turned to Tula Rae. “Do you think we can get some at the grocery store?”
“I imagine we can.”
Lily clapped her hands together. “I can’t wait to taste sassy. Salty and sassy,” she repeated. “I wonder if Mason ever tasted collards.”
Mason? Pop forgot all about the collard war he and Tula Rae were waging. “Do you mean Mason Richmond?”
“Yup. Mason.” Her voice turned sweeter than a sticky bun. “He’s gonna look just like Cash when he grows up.”
The whole dang town knew Lily had a crush on Cash. It annoyed Nate, but Cash took it all in stride, spent extra time with Lily and once or twice made her brownies and brought her a bouquet of daisies. The boy had charm branded in his name and right now the only one who wasn’t schmoozed by him was his wife.
“I’m glad he’s gonna look like Cash because he’s very cute, and also because Mason says his mother’s boyfriends always kind of look like Cash. Isn’t that weird?”
Weird? Sure was. Unless there was a reason…
“You been spending time with the boy?” This from Tula Rae, whose expression had gone still like she was measuring the words against the intent.
“Uh-huh. I met him in the woods behind Nate’s workshop.” Her lips curved into a wide smile. “I shared my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with him. He says when he and his mom move here, they’re gonna have a yard and a pool. He says he doesn’t like where they are now. It’s an apartment,” she explained. “I told him about Uncle Harry’s house and Mason said it would be cool to live in a place that had tons of bathrooms, because you could use one for each day of the week.” She giggled, bit into the banana-nut bread, chewed. “Did you know when the sun shines on his hair, he gets the same gold streaks Cash does?”
“You don’t say?” This from Tula Rae, who kept her voice soft. “So, his mom’s coming, too?”
Lily’s brows pinched together. “She has to come. Where else would she go?”
“Guess nowhere but with Mason.” Tula Rae snuck a look at Pop as if to say, Somebody’s got a story that’s as stinky as limburger cheese and we’re gonna find out who.
Was Mason telling a tall tale, maybe wishing his mama would walk by his side for years to come, or had she led him to believe she’d be right beside him on this very earth? Or, was it something else altogether? Pop swiped a hand across his forehead, met Tula Rae’s gaze. What he saw in those dark eyes were the same questions pinging his brain right now: What if Stephanie wasn’t dying? What if she hadn’t come to Magdalena to introduce Mason to the father and mother who’d raise him once she was gone? What if the only person Stephanie wanted gone was Tess so she could step in as Mrs. Daniel Casherdon? The possibilities made Pop dizzy and he had to pull out a chair and sit down.
Tula Rae reached out and patted his hand. “Don’t you worry none about this, Angelo. I think Lily’s been real helpful.” She nodded, winked. “So helpful, she’s earned herself a big bowl of collards.”
12
Tess lay on the bed, eyes closed, Henry’s light snores filling the room. There was something comforting about the rhythm of those snores, a sign that she was not the only one in this house, not the only one in this family. Henry had always been Cash’s dog, spent his days in the workshop with him, his nights curled on his dog bed, waiting for a sign from his master. He’d wandered around these past two days, back and forth to the workshop, searching for Cash and looking at Tess as though to say, Where is he? Is he coming home soon?
When her cell phone rang, she reached for it in the semidarkness, hoping it was Cash. “Hello.”
“Hi, Tess. It’s Stephanie.” Pause. “I just wanted to call and let you know everything is going well…really well.”
“Oh. Good.” The woman had called to tell her that?
“You’re very lucky.” Sigh. “It’s been so nice spending time reminiscing, talking about how things used to be…how they could have been…”
Cash was reminiscing? With Stephanie? That was hard to believe. “Is he there?”
“I’m sorry, of course you want to talk to him. Hold on a sec. Oh, I think he’s in the shower. Do you want me to call him? I don’t mind.”
I’ll bet you don’t. “No, just have him call me.” Click. Tess tossed the phone on the bed and blurted out a string of curses that began and ended with Stephanie Richmond in mind. Cash was taking a shower at the woman’s house? He hadn’t mentioned anything about that when they spoke on the phone yesterday or today. She’d assumed he was staying in a hotel, but what if he weren’t? Was Stephanie trying to create tension and issues for Cash and Tess? With the exception of one or two random insinuations about how Cash had been head-over-heels for her, the woman had been relatively quiet. Hadn’t she even come to the house to insist Tess work things out with Cash? So, why would she say such things to Tess now, even if they were true? Especially if they were true? People didn’t do that unless they had an agenda, and with comments like that, it wasn’t a good one. How would any of this help Mason if the couple he was supposed to live with couldn’t stop fighting long enough to be a couple? Wouldn’t Stephanie care? Any mother would…unless she had an agenda that wasn’t about the child. Something was wrong and damn it, Tess was going to find out what it was.
She rolled out of bed and snatched her phone, determined to start her own investigation of Stephanie Richmond. Before she could dial Christine’s number, her stomach lurched and waves of nausea suffocated her, forced her to the bathroom where she threw up. When she finished, she sank to the floor, leaned back against the side of the vanity, and prayed her stomach would settle. When had she last eaten? Lunch? A grilled cheese and iced tea? Tess swiped her forehead, closed her eyes, and sipped in tiny breaths. Oh, Cash, I wish you were here. Come h
ome. Please just come home. The wetness on her cheek startled her, and she blinked her eyes open. “Henry?” He licked her cheek again, his tongue scratchy, his breath a mix of salmon and sardines. “Henry. Stop.” She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t leave. Instead he whimpered and nuzzled against her chest, ending up half-sitting, half-lying in her lap. “Good boy,” she whispered, stroking his ears. “Good boy.” Minutes later, she was sick again. Weakness and exhaustion overcame her as she leaned against the vanity and closed her eyes…
“Tess? Tess, wake up.”
She inched her eyes open, blinked. There was no mistaking the woman in black with the heavy eyeliner, perpetual scowl, and hoop earrings. What was Ramona Casherdon doing in Tess’s bathroom? “Ramona?”
Cash’s aunt knelt beside her, shooed Henry away, and placed a hand over Tess’s forehead. “You’re ill.”
Yes, she was, and falling asleep on the bathroom floor with a dog half on top of her and a stomach that didn’t know if it wanted to eat or throw up, a dry mouth that tasted like corn chips, and a kink in her neck made her feel worse. “I got sick and must have fallen asleep.”
Those eyes narrowed, accentuating her eye liner. “You fell asleep right here on the floor?” She gave Tess one of her signature scowls. “Did you throw up once or more than that?”
“Twice, I think.” Tess dragged a hand over her face, squinted up at Ramona. “Can you help me up? I need to brush my teeth.” A toothpaste and toothbrush sounded like a great idea right now.
Ramona thrust an arm around her and helped her stand. “When is that nephew of mine coming home?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“Foolish boy,” she muttered under her breath.
That was the last comment she made about her nephew as she busied herself helping Tess get cleaned up. Ramona’s touch was gentle, compassionate even, and that surprised Tess because the woman came across as a no-nonsense person who did not show emotion or interest unless it had to do with her nephew. Why was she being so nice, acting as though she cared? The woman had never quite forgiven Tess for hurting Cash. It didn’t matter that she’d brought her husband years of happiness and real joy, that she loved him more than any breathing creature walking the earth. Once you got on Ramona Casherdon’s black list, you didn’t get off.