I Am Moore (All That & Moore Book 1)

by Celeste Granger

Once again, Mary regarded the box fondly. “My mother, Iola, gave me this box when she saw Wesley took a shine to me.”

  “Took a shine,” Felicity echoed back.

  “Yes, took a shine,” Mary Elizabeth repeated. “That meant he liked me.”

  “When my mother gave me this box, she told me her own story of love, and when her mother gave this precious treasure chest to her. I am the fifth woman in my family to be in possession of the box, and I’m mighty proud to have it.”

  “What’s it for, grand,” Ivory asked.

  “I’m getting to that part,” Mary Elizabeth chuckled. “You see, it all ties together; Wesley working with my father, and my mom passing this box down to me.”

  Ivory would just have to be satisfied with that answer. Her great-grandmother would tell her truth in her own way.

  “Now, I have laid the foundation about Wesley’s approach with my father, I would be remiss not to give you the other side of what happened. My mother sat me down in the kitchen one day, while the men were outside tending to men’s business. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to talk, but I could tell by the look on her face that it was serious. After she sat me down, my mother left the room and returned with this box. It was wrapped in a weathered piece of cloth; turning yellow in some spots, from age and wear. I learned later that some of that staining was from tears. Anyway, momma sat down next to me at the table and unwrapped the box. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen; simple in its construction, nothing fancy. Even the coloring of the box was plain but rich at the same time. Make sense?”

  Several of the women responded with a yes.

  “The dark veins in the chest are like the veins that pump lifeblood through our bodies. The box is simple because it’s not the part that’s the most important. That stuff is on the outside. That’s what my mother said to me before she opened it. Iola made a point of saying that more than once to make sure I got the lesson. You see, Wesley wasn’t much of a looker, by many a woman’s standards. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, or muscle-bound. And in those days, dark-skinned men were treated much like dark-skinned women; not a first choice because people don’t readily see beauty in darkness. Momma didn’t want me to be sidetracked or dissuaded by the way he looked, and she demonstrated that to me when talking about the box. ‘I see you cuttin’ your eyes at him when you don’t think anyone is lookin,’ my mother said in her low, southern drawl. ‘But I see him lookin’ at you, too. What I hope you paying attention to is that he don’t mind getting his hands dirty to prove his worth. If a man don’t work, he don’t eat.’”

  There was around of amens, and a few hallelujah’s as the Moore women agreed with the ancestral truth.

  “’While you looking, daughter,’ that’s what she called me, daughter. She said, ‘while you’re lookin’ daughter, don’t miss lookin’ at his heart.’”

  Without thinking about it, Emery’s hand moved to cover her heart. Thoughts of Evan, placing his hand there, asking what her heart wanted, flooded her mind.

  “That did something to me because it truly changed my perspective. See, it’s easy to get caught up with the pretty things, the handsome ones, the ones that look good enough to eat on the outside. But on the inside, they are empty and cold. My momma didn’t want that for me. She wanted what she had; a solid, stable and loving relationship with one man.”

  “Whew, Big Mama, you steppin’ on all kinds of toes with that one.” Felicity teased.

  “Sho’ll is,” Kennedy chimed in.

  “The truth can be a bitter pill,” Mary Elizabeth added. “But it’s necessary,” she concluded. “I’ll come back to that later. But for now, I need to share with you what Iola shared with me. After a few anxious moments of eyeing the box while my momma was talking, she finally opened it to let me see what was inside. I don’t know what I expected to see. Like you, Emery, I was curious. I had imagined all kinds of wonderful things; jewelry, diamonds, I didn’t know exactly what but to be in such a special box, the contents had to be extra special, right?”

  “I would think so,” Emery agreed.

  “So, you can imagine my reaction when my mother opened the box. I was all wide-eyed like a kid at Christmas waiting for the present I asked the man in the red suit for.”

  As Mary Elizabeth spoke, she slowly opened the lid on the alabaster box. Around the room, the Moore women too looked like the kid at Christmas, expecting something remarkable.

  “My disappointment was much like some of yawls will be when you see with your eyes what’s inside.”

  Mary Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the inside of the small trunk. Carefully, she lifted out its contents. Handing the box to her daughter, Margaret, who was nearby, Elizabeth held the contents tightly in her hands. The girls peered and craned their necks trying to see, but she wasn’t quite ready to reveal everything to them.

  “My mother opened the box like I did, and reached in, pulling out a stack of tattered pieces of paper in a stack, much like the stack I have in my hand.”

  Some in the room eased back. Their expectation for something flashy and spectacular partially quelled. Emery didn’t though. She knew there was more to Bib Mama’s story and Emery listened intently.

  “She saw my face as I see yours, but that didn’t stop her from telling me what I needed to know.” That correction drew some of the girls back into the conversation.

  “What she shared first was the oldest piece of paper. It was folded down small and the corners, well, they’d long been gone. The paper had been folded for so long that the creases were as pronounced as the lines in the alabaster. My momma took her time unfolding that piece of paper. I’m sure had she not, it would have fallen to pieces.”

  Mary Elizabeth sat the stack in her lap after turning it over, so the oldest piece of paper was on top. Like her mother, Elizabeth took her time, gently unfolding the old piece of paper. When she finally had it opened, Elizabeth pulled her reading glasses down from off her head and sat them on the edge of her nose.

  “This was a letter to my mother’s great-grandmother, written to her by the man she married. Just as important as the words written on this old scrap of parchment is the time it was written in. A lot of us never learned to read or write back when we were slaves and the first generations out of slavery. The written word was elusive, and it was kept from us because our oppressors knew of the power of words committed to writing. They knew if we could read and write, we could resist and thrive.”

  Adjusting her glasses once more, Mary Elizabeth read from the fading words. Some words were no longer readable, but there was one passage still discernable.

  “My dearest heart, I want you to know my love for you will never end.

  I don’t have much, but everything I have belongs to you.

  I will love you, fight for you, and protect you with every fiber of the man I am.”

  There were audible sighs and a few aahs that escaped the lips of the women in great grandma’s kitchen. Mary Elizabeth lovingly folded the letter and then held it in her hand, placing that hand over her heart. Every time she went back in time to historical love with the women in her family, she felt such a keen sense of connectedness. It grounded her to life, love, and the reality that even in the most challenging times, love prevails. There was a resonation there for Emery as well; more than mere thoughts of Emery, but about the profoundness of the truest kind of love. That was something she hadn’t considered since her mother’s revelation.

  “Such beautiful words,” Emery replied, wiping the first tear from her eye.

  “They are beautiful indeed,” Mary Elizabeth agreed. “Can you imagine how she must have felt to know that this man risked life and limb to pass this message to her?”

  “That is truly amazing,” Kennedy agreed.

  “Yeah, but where them men at today?” Aubrey chimed.

  “I ain’t found him yet!” Felicity agreed. There were a few amens and some head nods in response to that comment as well.

  “That’s the problem,” Ma
ry Elizabeth interjected. Her granddaughters thought Big Mama agreed with them on the scarcity of good men until she spoke again, but Margaret and Felicia knew differently.

  “You ain’t supposed to be the one looking.”

  Her statement was direct and clear, and with it, the attention of all the women was once again regained.

  “What do you mean, Big Mama?” Ivory asked, genuinely intrigued.

  Mary Elizabeth smiled at her youngest great-granddaughter.

  “It is not for the woman to seek the man, beloveds. Even the Bible gives clear instruction in this area. He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing. The Bible didn’t say, she that findeth, it said he that findeth.”

  Margaret and Felicia shared a knowing look. They learned this lesson a long time ago and was glad it was being shared once again. There was a pained prick to Felicia’s heart as she thought about her husband; the situation they endured so early in their young relationship and how Cecil stuck by her all this time, even through the most recent trial that threatened to tear her family apart.

  “Your role in this thing is to prepare yourself for the man God has divinely created just for you. That’s it. You aren’t supposed to be chasing behind no man, ‘cause if you have to chase him, he is not the one God sent. Does that make sense?”

  Mary Elizabeth paused briefly and looked in the face of each one of her descendants before continuing. She could see the conviction in some, but that wasn’t Mary Elizabeth’s goal. What she wanted for them was understanding.

  “Each one of these love letters, every single one, was sent from him to her. Not the other way around. Each one talks about how he pursued her. Not the other way around. Every man that wrote to our female ancestors sought the woman God chose for them. Understand?”

  There was so much passion in Mary Elizabeth’s voice that they had no choice but to understand. Self-examination could be seen on Emery’s face as she contemplated her last relationship in the face of what Big Mama said and her current one. But she was not the only one. Each of the Moore girls had a moment of reckoning, thinking about their current loves and the loves they thought they had lost. It was a wake-up call for Daphne, especially, who realized, even before now, that her three-year relationship with Stephon was going nowhere. Maybe now she knew why.

  “Let me read one more letter to you. To bring this all home, okay? You all know your grandfather so reading his letter to me will bring what I am saying out of the past and into the present. Now, ya’ll know full well that grandpa doesn’t have a whole lot to say about nothing. But listen to what he had to say.”

  Papa Wesley was the consummate definition of the strong silent type. Mary Elizabeth turned the pile of letters over one more time, took the one off the top, and then handed the letters to Margaret. Mary waited until her daughter put the letters back in the alabaster box before she unfolded the one she held most dear.

  The room was reverently quiet as Mary Elizabeth started to read.

  “My precious Mary, I am not going to be long, but I want to be clear. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that my prayers were answered. You are everything God promised to me, and in you, I have found the echo of my heartbeat and the mate to my soul. I promise to not only love you but take care of you to the best of my ability. If my ability were to fail, I know the Master will lend me his strength to carry on, to make sure there is nothing your heart desires that I cannot provide. I want you for my wife. I promise to give my level best every day to let you know that you made the right decision in saying yes. Our love has no top and no bottom. It is forever and always, bigger than God’s sky and His ocean below.”

  As Mary Elizabeth read from her letter, she got choked up, and she had to pause. The love she felt in those words brought Mary to tears, and they did every time she read them. But she was not the only one impacted by Wesley’s words. Emery, Kennedy, and the rest of the Moore daughters were all wiping tears from their cheeks. Margaret and Felicia were smiling, on the verge of tears as well.

  “I want that kind of love for each of you,” Mary Elizabeth said after a few moments. “You deserve it, understand?”

  Handing the letter to Margaret, Mary Elizabeth took her time getting up from her seat.

  “I am so grateful that Wesley sought me out. When he came, I saw what was intended for my life. It has not always been easy, and there were struggles. But we never struggled with how we felt for each other. And because we got to know each other first, and I mean mentally – he told me his intentions, and we talked about it. I got to see his faith in action before I said I do. He proved his desire to provide by the way he worked on my behalf. Wesley sought counsel on how to pursue me and then, in how to take care of me. I was never his burden, beloveds, because he understood what making me his wife meant. I want that for each and every one of you.”

  Mary Elizabeth grabbed Emery by the hand and then without words, guided each of the women in her kitchen to take the hand of the one standing next to her. They formed a circle around Big Mama’s kitchen island; three generations of women connected by birth.

  “Real love is not just possible my beautiful great-granddaughters, it is out there for each of you. Prepare for him. Get yourselves together. Focus on being the best possible you that you can be, because, it is only when you are ready, that the man meant for you will come. I know it’s not easy because there will be men who approach you who seem right for you. Don’t rush! Don’t give of yourselves before finding out who he is and who sent him. Preserve that which is most sacred for the right one, understand? Your grandmother found real love, and so did your mother.”

  Both Margaret and Felicia nodded in agreement.

  “That kind of love is waiting for all of you. I want you to be able to add your letters to the treasure box, too.”

  The Moore women shared the rest of the afternoon together. After dinner was over, Emery stole a moment to text Evan.

  I need to see you.

  “Mmhmm,” Aubrey chided. When Emery looked up from her phone, Aubrey was leaning against the dining room wall. “Who is he?”

  “Aubrey, you are so off base,” Emery deflected. “It’s nothing.”

  “Well that nothing sure got you smiling from ear to ear.”

  Emery refused to give into her sister’s taunts. Walking past Aubrey, Emery bumped her hip against her sister’s. Aubrey laughed. That was Emery’s way of saying I love you and Aubrey accepted it wholeheartedly. When Emery’s phone buzzed, she swiped the phone and read the message. Evan wanted to see her, too.

  “Leaving so soon,” Felicia said seeing Emery gathering her purse.

  “I am,” Emery replied off-handed as she made her way to GG and Grandma Margaret. She gave each one of her grands a hug and kiss on the cheek with a promise to see them soon. There smiles followed her as Emery moved to where most of her sisters were, politely avoiding her mother. Mary Elizabeth saw the slight but decided not to say anything. She would talk with her granddaughter Felicia about that later. She felt an uneasiness intuitively. Mary Elizabeth wouldn’t let it fester. Felicia didn’t want to make it obvious, chasing behind Emery. She needed to give Emery space to feel what she needed to feel. That wasn’t easy as Felicia desired to problem-solve with her daughters. This time, though, she was a part of the problem; a big part. Felicia would let it go, for now. Emery didn’t give her much choice. Turning, Felicia felt piercing eyes on her. It was her grandmother. Felicia met Mary Elizabeth’s look and then dropped her eyes. There would be a conversation. Felicia was sure of that.

  “Taking off, sister,” Kennedy said as Emery approached her.

  “Yeah,” Emery replied as she hugged Kennedy.

  “Tell Evan I said hi,” Kennedy whispered in Emery’s ear.

  “I will not,” Emery scoffed with a smile.

  Emery said bye to the rest of the Moore clan. And as she had done with her elders, she promised to talk to them all soon. There was someplace she needed to be.

  Chapter Nine

&nbs
p; “I am so glad to see you.”

  She walked into Evan’s open arms. Emery needed this as much if not more than he did. Emery held Evan tightly, settling her head against his corded neck.

  “You wanna talk about it,” he asked.

  “I don’t want to talk,” Emery moaned against his skin. A thrill moved through Evan.

  “Are you sure about that,” Evan asked. He learned Emery over the time they’d been together. Evan knew enough to know when she wasn’t talking because it was hard to talk. Emery lifted her head and looked into Evan’s eyes. She knew he knew. She appreciated it.

  “I got some stuff I need to work out, if that’s okay with you,” Emery replied.

  It was fine with Evan. He was willing to be there for Emery in whatever way she needed. She’d grown to trust him and trust her truest feelings with him. His eyes melted her heart as he looked into her upturned face. On her tiptoes, Emery met his full lips with hers. As Evan reciprocated with an impassioned parting of her lips, everything that bogged Emery down began to fade away. She ravaged his mouth, pressing her lips firmly against his and sucking on Evan’s tongue. Emery kicked off her shoes as she clenched her hands behind Evan’s neck. His muscular arms held her close and she felt a sensual press deep in her loins. Easing her grip, Emery’s hands traced Evan’s neck and down his chest. She felt his strong pecs through the white tee shirt he wore. Evan’s eyes followed Emery’s hands as she gripped the bottom of his shirt and moved it up, exposing his sculpted abs.

  Emery couldn’t resist running her hands across the hardness that made up Evan’s six-pack. Her touch radiated through him, awakening his sensual senses. Reaching down, Evan lifted his shirt overhead. Emery’s hands followed and then her lips, to the base of his neck where his heartbeat could be felt and then down the center of his chest. Her hands found their way to his waist and she hung her thumb in the top of his jeans. There was a pressing there; one Emery’s eyes didn’t want to avoid. His swollen member pushed the hilt of his zipper.