She looked down and smiled. “Bones, you know I have never been out to your home before? It is just lovely. I’m so glad your daddy invited us. I need to get out of that office a little more often.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m glad y’all came, too.”
Mama walked over and said, “Evelyn, it is so nice to see you. Come have a seat in the shade.”
“Thank you, Lori, but it looks like you could use a few more hands. You know I’m pretty good at husking corn.”
“That would be great. Come on over.”
Next, a green pickup truck came nosing up the road. Uncle Bob Cat was in the driver’s seat, and Uncle Tom was beside him. Sitting in the back was a jumble of brightly dressed women and kids. The Cat clan had arrived. They looked like a bunch of happy, colorful ants crawling out over the back of the truck.
I ran to meet them. We all hugged each other. The women began carrying bags of food over to the table where Mama and Miss Melba were. I said to the kids, “Y’all come here and meet my best friend, Little Man. He’s over by the fire pit. Then we can all go out back and meet Pearl and Harry.”
Just as we were about to head out back, Jimmy Cat turned and pointed. “Looky there, what’s that?” Coming up our driveway real slow was Sheriff LeRoy with his red lights flashing! He drove up and parked out front, opened the car door, and unfolded his huge body. He stood by the car, set his Stetson squarely on his head, and looked in our direction. Then he waved one of his long arms in the air, motioning us kids to come over. Everyone rushed to be first.
Sheriff LeRoy said, “Howdy, Miss Bones, Little Man. And who are all these fine-looking folks?”
I answered, “These are my cousins from the Everglades. They’re from Nolay’s family, the Cat clan.”
“Well, I swear, it is a pleasure to meet everyone.” He turned toward his car. “Would y’all like to see what all is inside a real po-lease car?”
I sure wanted to know what was inside that car, because I remembered plain as day what Little Man had told me about the time he rode with the sheriff out in the swamps to retrieve that Yankee man’s leg.
For the next half hour, everyone hooted and hollered as the sheriff showed us his handcuffs, keys, billy club, and even how his police radio worked. He took his .357 Magnum out of its holster and let everyone rub their hands across the slick, shiny barrel. He reached inside the car and brought out a sawed-off shotgun that had been hanging on the backseat. With both hands he cradled it as gentle as a baby and held it out for us to admire. Sheriff LeRoy cocked his head and looked straight at us. “Now, this is something I would use only in an emergency. If one ever did occur. And I can guarantee that if I had someone sittin’ in the backseat, this little puppy would be ridin’ in the front seat with me.” This brought a burst of laughter from everyone.
I looked over and smiled at Little Man. He sure had been right about that car—Sherriff LeRoy was prepared for just about anything that could possibly happen.
We had just finished exploring the sheriff’s car and were ready to start a furious game of tag when I looked down our road and saw the biggest surprise of the day driving toward us.
There was the Champion, its top down and Nolay behind the steering wheel. Sitting next to him was Miss Eunice. Nolay drove in and parked next to Ironhead’s truck. I went over to the car. Nolay flashed one of his dazzling smiles. “I thought Miss Eunice might want to come over and meet Pearl sooner than later.”
“Yes, sir. I think that was a fine idea, too.”
I looked at Miss Eunice. Her old brown shawl covered her head. Her body was so bent she could hardly see over the dashboard. “Howdy, Miss Eunice.”
Miss Eunice looked at me, her cloudy eyes searching for my face. She smiled and said, “Why, chile, this is about the grandest surprise I have had in many a year. I could hardly believe my ears when your daddy showed up and tolt me to get dressed up ’cause he was takin’ me to a cookout.”
“Yes, ma’am. I know what you mean. My daddy is full of surprises.”
“And look at me riding in this here fancy car. Why, I feel like pure royalty.”
Nolay opened the car door and got out. He walked over to Miss Eunice and opened her door. “Come on, Miss Eunice. Me and Bones is going to take you to get acquainted with Pearl and some of her friends.”
Me and Nolay walked over to Pearl with Miss Eunice between us. I reached down and scratched Pearl behind her ears and said, “Miss Eunice, I would like you to meet Pearl.”
Miss Eunice leaned in close, and Pearl, as if to show off how smart she was, stuck her snout under one of Miss Eunice’s hands and let out a little snort. Miss Eunice giggled like a schoolgirl and started patting Pearl’s snout. “Why, chile, that is about one of the sweetest animals I ever did meet.”
“Thank you, Miss Eunice. She’s quite the show-off, but she sure is special to me.”
Miss Eunice squinted her cloudy eyes in my direction. “Now, next time you come to visit with me, I hope my special girl is around so you can meet her, too.”
“You still have a special pet?”
“She actually ain’t a pet, but she comes visitin’ and I give what food I can. She comes out to that ol’ shed at the side of my house. You might of heard of ’er, she’s pert near a legend in these parts. She’s an ol’ black bear called Sandy Claws.”
Miss Eunice’s words nearly knocked me to the ground. Sandy Claws! That was what I had heard and smelled in that little shed! So, I wasn’t so wrong after all, Soap Sally really had been there. I stood there, stunned speechless.
Nolay winked at me over Miss Eunice’s head and said, “What do ya think, Bones, am I right or am I right? I said life ain’t always the way it appears to be. Sometimes it can be puzzlin’. You got to take the time to fit all them little pieces together so you can see the whole picture.”
“Yes, sir, I sure will remember that. And from now on I intend to do my po-lease work before making up my mind on something.”
This started Nolay laughing, which got me to laughing too.
I could not wait to find Little Man and spill this bucket of beans to him! That question mark would sure enough be sittin’ in the middle of his forehead.
I said, “Miss Eunice, I do hope I get to meet her. I bet she is just a pure wonder.”
I stood there with Nolay, Miss Eunice, and Pearl, looking out over our yard. There were cars and trucks and friends and family strewn all over. Smoke curled up from the fire pit and the warm smell of roasting oysters and fresh corn on the cob floated in the air. It was just about the prettiest sight I ever did see.
And to top it all off, I knew there was an angel looking down on us, with a full smile spread across his face.
A bejeweled finger of land curved gracefully out into the majestic blue-green Atlantic Ocean. A flat, slender finger of land, young and untamed, still in the fragile process of growth. That was Florida, back in the late 1940s and 1950s. This novel was written as a tribute to that time and to the people that lived it.
Precious Bones is purely fiction, though some of the characters and events are loosely based on a mixture of childhood memories. I am fortunate to have spent my childhood in the small East Coast community of Micco, Florida. Growing up there, surrounded by swamps, forests, and characters galore, was a fascinating experience. We lived in a time that was measured not by hours and minutes but by the events that made up a day.
A swamp is indeed a womb of the world, forever changing, hosting a myriad of plants, animals, reptiles, and birds. The changes of the seasons are announced by vivid colors and the noisy commotion of returning visitors. When a family of whooping cranes flew over our house in Micco and filled the stillness with their mournful cries, and the sky darkened with flocks of squawking, squabbling ducks, we knew the swamps would soon be wrapped in winter’s dry jacket of brownness. When nights filled with the bellows of bull gators and the trees with a chorus of chirping birds, summers silvery rains would begin to pain the swamps a fusion of green and gold.
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Our quaint community revolved around the Last Chance General Store and Gas Station. It served as our supermarket, post office, and gossip center. Besides Fisher’s gas station, it was the only store within twenty-five miles in either direction on the two-lane highway U.S. 1.
The legend of Soap Sally ran deep and strong throughout the South. Parents were known to use it to keep unruly children in line. There were even occasions when an adult would actually dress up as a witch, fake nose and all, and scare the bee-dickens out of us kids. Without electricity and televisions, our entertainment was created mostly in our imaginations.
Of course, this story never would have been told without the memories created by my friends, who I actually thought of as family. The McLains: Nathan, Melba, Pat, Laverne, and Irvine; the Browns; the Tumblins—there were so many it would be impossible to name them all.
Sadly, the United States in the 1950s was still deeply mired in bigotry. Public places were strictly segregated. Until the Black Power movement in the late 1960s, African Americans were known as “colored people.” Segregation was legally ended when the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed and became law, but there would sstill be decades of struggle to change people’s hearts and minds.
Writing this story was a lot of work, but it brought me much joy. I hope it pays justice and honor to a time and place that no longer exist.
It takes a lot of faith and teamwork to make a dream come true, and that is exactly what happened with this novel. I have so much to be thankful for and so many people to thank.
It all began with my wonderful agent, Catherine Drayton of Inkwell Management. Thank you for believing in this story and finding the exact team to understand and move it forward.
My amazing editor, Michelle Poploff, and her assistant, Rebecca Short, had the vision and patience to help me weave a small story into the tapestry it has now become. You ladies are great detectives, and a lot of fun to work with, too.
My writing coach and mentor, Barbara Rogan, took me under her wing and guided me through this incredible journey. Thank you for your steadfast encouragement and guidance.
My friends and family have touched my life and left indelible fingerprints. Without all those good, bad, and unforgettable memories, this story never would have come to life. Thank you.
Last but most important, I want to thank my husband, Stuart, for his enduring confidence in my talent and for instilling in me the belief that failure is not an option! Thank you for being in my life.
Mika Ashley-Hollinger was born and spent her childhood on the east coast of Florida. Precious Bones is her debut novel; she wrote it in tribute to a way of life that has all but disappeared. Mika lives with her husband and an assortment of endangered birds and wild chickens on a protected wetland in Hawai’i.
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