by Jane Gill
Secretly, she was worried that the deed she was looking for might be in the envelope she’d left in the back of her father’s dresser drawer. It made sense that if he kept all the photos she sent over the years in that envelope, perhaps there were important papers in there as well. She kicked herself for letting her anger get the best of her when she left the envelope behind. Now, surely she needed to go back down and look, but she dared not discuss it with Zach who’d want to know why she’d left the envelope behind in the first place. She remembered all too well the cutout of a child’s Sears and Roebuck dress that fell out of that very envelope.
Twilight set in quickly. Zach was scraping off the grill, and Lu, wrapped in a sweater, sat nearby enjoying the evening air.
“Can I say something?” Zach asked.
“Sure, what?” Lu responded.
“Susan really wants to go to Florida with you,” he began. Lu turned toward him. “And, there’s something I want to say before you go and make up your mind. So just let me say this, okay?” he continued. “I think it would be good for the two of you to go together. She’s not a little girl anymore. She might be a big help, and if nothing else, she’d be supportive,” he said.
Lu bit her lower lip. “Oh, I don’t know. The simple truth is, I just want to get it over with, and I’m afraid Susan would make a mission out of it or something.”
“Yeah, I can see why you’d think that,” Zach said. “But, on the other hand, you didn’t get to spend time with your mother. Maybe it would be good if you made an exception—just this once.”
“Oh?” Lu’s initial reaction to his remark was slightly defensive, but then his suggestion made sense. “Let me sleep on it, all right? It would only be a couple of days, and she’d have to know it’s not a sightseeing tour.” She rose, stepped up behind her husband and ran her hands lightly over his shoulders.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just a little lower on the right. Ahhhh.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Susan and Lu boarded the jet, Susan chatted incessantly. Lu realized Zach’s suggestion to take her along was a good one, and she was glad she’d reconsidered. She even suggested the two of them make a stop at Eatonville, which appeared to be just a short drive from the Orlando airport.
Once they picked up the rental car, they quickly hit the highway. Lu found herself actually looking forward to the visit to Eatonville, the home of Susan’s hero, Zora Neale Hurston. They had driven only a few blocks off the interstate when it became obvious they were lost.
Susan studied the printout in her hand. “Well, that’s what it says,” she explained, “but sometimes these computer mapping programs can be off a little. Let’s turn around and go back down that other street.”
“Okay,” Lu said, trying to keep her tension at bay. “But the exit said ‘Historic Eatonville’. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. This isn’t a town, it’s like a neighborhood. Isn’t Eatonville supposed to be a town? We went down the same street twice and turned around once already.” Lu spotted a white city truck parked on a side street. The workman was trimming the tall grass near a ditch. She pulled the car over and asked if he knew where Eatonville was. Sure enough, it was back down the same street, only a couple of blocks, but in the opposite direction.
Yes, he told them, the Zora Hurston Museum was there too.
Susan was delighted. “Oh, good. I was getting nervous.”
Again, they drove too far and had to turn around, but they were in much better spirits.
“It really doesn’t look like Eatonville is much of a town any more, does it?”
“No, it looks like the same thing that’s happening in Bunnell has already happened here. I guess it used to be a town, but it looks like the newer communities around it developed so quickly that it got left behind,” Lu commented. “After all, it can’t compete with the golf courses and condos. That’s what happens in Florida, a LOT. Originally, towns grew up around the farms and roads. But then the newer towns squeezed them out. There’re road signs all over Florida in the middle of nowhere that give the name of a town, and then you find out that it only used to be a town. Now, there’s nothing there but a gas station convenience store.”
Lu parked the car in front of the museum, a small cinderblock building, and they went inside. They were welcomed by a volunteer who gave them information about Zora and the annual Zora Festival of the Arts. They looked over an exhibit of handmade antique African textiles, and Susan bought one of Zora’s books that she hadn’t read in high school.
“Mom,” she said, opening the pamphlet of the Eatonville walking tour. “Can we just go down the street and stop at this St. Lawrence church?”
“Honey,” Lu protested.
“No, look,” she urged, holding out the pamphlet. “It says here ‘stop number four’ is one of the oldest African-American churches around Orlando. There are one-of-a-kind paintings in there from 1936. It’s right down the street. Can we just go see the murals? I promise I’ll be really quick.”
“Okay, okay,” Lu said. “But that means we won’t have time to go over to the old cemetery to see where Zora is buried.”
“Zora’s not buried there, Mom!” Susan exclaimed, opening her car door. “Zora’s buried over on the other side of Florida somewhere. I remember that from when I researched my paper.”
Lu put the car in gear and drove the three blocks to the church where she pulled into the small parking lot. “It’s probably closed,” she said.
“Well, maybe, but let me go ask that lady who’s just going to her car.” Susan was out of the car and approaching the woman before Lu could stop her.
Lu parked the car and walked toward Susan who was already engaged in excited conversation with the woman.
“Mom,” Susan said. “This is Sister Shauna. She’s going to let us in to see the paintings!”
Lu shook her hand and introduced herself while attempting to apologize for troubling her.
“Oh, it’s no trouble,” she said. “No trouble at all.”
Lu was quiet as she drove I-4 toward the coast. It was beginning to trouble her that the development of Florida had obviously escalated rapidly since she left for college.
“Mom, what you were saying before about towns not being there anymore. Why wouldn’t they still be towns?” asked Susan.
“I was just thinking about that, actually,” Lu said. “And, I’m not sure why that happens. One thing is, like I was telling your dad, the development of Florida is very new.
“Here,” Lu said. “I’m going to take the next exit, and we’ll shortcut over through DeLand. I bet that’s not changed much since I was a kid.”
“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Susan said, pulling out the Mapquest printout.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Lu said. “Remember, I grew up around here!”
After a few miles Lu sighed. “This road is slower than I remembered. I’m getting worried about being late for our meeting with Dwight.”
They were stopped at a stoplight in front of a large stone building. “Mom, that’s Stetson University?” Susan asked.
“Yeah, that’s where my father wanted me to go.” Lu twinged inside remembering the argument they had. He accused her of not even bothering with DeLand, or any Florida schools. And he was right. She was so desperate to get up north that she refused to apply to any school south of the Mason-Dixon line. “When I did leave for college, I left on the train right out of here, though. The train didn’t stop in Bunnell for passengers unless you had a ticket in advance. I could’ve done that, I suppose, but for whatever reason, I didn’t. So, my father brought me over here, and I left.”
“You went all the way to Philly on the train?” Susan asked. “All by yourself?”
“Sure did,” Lu answered. “My father drove me over in the truck. I remember it was sweltering hot but pouring rain so we couldn’t open the windows of the truck without getting soaked. We didn’t have air conditioning, of course, so it was almost unbearable when it rained
. If it hadn’t been raining, we could’ve put all my stuff in the back of the pickup, but instead it took up the whole back cab. Miss Pearl was going to come with us, but with the rain and all, there wasn’t any room. It still makes me sad to think of her not being able to come.”
“Weren’t you scared?” Susan asked.
“Sure,” Lu said. “But I guess I was more scared of not going than I was of going.” Leaving home wasn’t really something Lu wanted to go on discussing, so she went back to their earlier conversation.
“To get back to what we were talking about with Florida towns disappearing, over near Bunnell there used to be the town of Neoga, and other towns. Well, settlements probably. Espanola, Korona, and so on, but when the new highways were built, or when the railroad came in, people probably just settled closer to the railroad. Except what we saw over around Orlando is different somehow.”
“Yeah,” Susan commented. “It seems almost like the history of Florida and the people of Florida don’t matter. All that matters is the newest theme park or the biggest golf course. That I don’t understand. I mean, in Maryland, every community has some kind of historic site, some sign that says ‘on this spot’, and people seem to have respect for that. I did see signs in Eatonville pointing out a Black Heritage Trail, but mostly, I haven’t noticed a lot of other historical signs,” Susan said. “It doesn’t seem right somehow.”
“No, Susan, it doesn’t,” Lu agreed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
They turned onto Route 100 in Bunnell. As Lu drove the car over the crest of the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway Bridge, Susan gasped at the sight of the Atlantic Ocean that briefly came into view.
“It’s so beautiful!” she said.
“You said that when we saw it last time.” Lu chuckled. “It sure is!” She drove past the Holiday Inn where they would stay that night.
“We’re running late,” she explained, turning onto A-1-A. “We can check into the hotel after we meet Dwight.”
“It doesn’t look like the big developers have moved in here yet,” Susan commented. “That’s a relief.” A few small restaurants, some converted from gas stations, and a few mom-and-pop motels dotted the western side of the highway while the Atlantic Ocean caressed the narrow strip of sandy beach on the east.
Lu found Dwight’s office without any trouble. It was modest in size but tastefully decorated. The receptionist stood to greet them and Dwight came out almost immediately. He took Lu’s hand in both of his for a moment, then shook Susan’s hand in greeting. As Dwight led Lu into his office, Susan busied herself looking at the Clyde Butcher photographs that lined the walls of the reception area.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Dwight said, motioning for Lu to take a seat in a winged-back chair. He politely sat in the opposite winged-back. It made her feel more comfortable than if he chosen to sit behind his desk.
“I have the paperwork ready for you to sign, but let’s talk a little bit about the property,” he began. “I doubt you found a deed, because our preliminary search has come up empty. Most likely the property was just handed down. This is common in a good many rural areas of the country, especially years ago, when the folks were reluctant to ‘go to the law’, as they say, and, of course, before our society became so litigious. What I’m going to suggest is that we order what’s called an abstract of title. The Flagler County Abstract Company is right in Bunnell, been there over eighty years,” he said. “They do good work. We’ll ask them to conduct a detailed search of the public records all the way back to your Great-granddaddy Elijah Stovall if necessary.”
“But, why do we need all that? I don’t understand that part,” Lu said.
“Well, in a nutshell, let me just say that Florida probate is pretty simple,” Dwight continued as he crossed his legs. “The court has specific guidelines and timetables so everything proceeds in an orderly and predictable manner. When there’s real estate involved we need to be certain of its ownership. Then we can order an appraisal of everything your father owned, including the land. As an accountant I’m sure you understand that we need to put a value on his truck, tractor, household goods, and the real estate. Of course, we have to notify any and all known and unknown creditors, too.”
“Daddy didn’t owe anyone any money. I’m sure of that,” Lu said.
“I understand, but the court will insist that we publish a notice in the newspaper so any unknown creditors will have an opportunity to come forward,” he said. “Creditors will then have ninety days in which to file any claim they might have against the estate. Generally, the court does not permit you to pursue any sale of the real estate until that ninety days has passed anyway. This is done to ensure that there is no one out there who can claim any interest in your father’s land. It really protects you and Martin.”
“I thought you said that the property passed to me and Martin as a matter of law.”
“Well, it does and it doesn’t,” he offered. “In more modern real-estate transactions, where there is a recorded deed, for example, we only have to go back to that earlier transaction. In your case, while the rights to the property would pass to you and Martin as direct lineal descendants of your father’s, we don’t know if there are any other descendants of your great-grandfather who might have an interest, however small, in that property.”
Lu wrinkled her brow but nodded that she understood. “I can’t tell you much. I don’t think we had any relatives we didn’t know about, but then I really don’t know. My father may have had a brother that died as a baby. Somehow, I seem to remember my grandmother saying something about it once, but it was so long ago, I really don’t know. Are you going to send Martin a letter explaining all this? Maybe he knows for sure. I have to confess we’ve had a couple of arguments about how this is going to be handled,” she said.
“Is he opposed to selling the farm?” Dwight asked as he sat up straighter. “It’s important that everyone is on the same page here.”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Lu explained. “I think he wants to be included in any big steps.”
“Certainly,” he answered. “We’ll send him a copy of everything. He’ll be included all along the way. If he has any questions, I’ll encourage him to call me. Will that help?”
Lu was relieved at Dwight’s offer. Maybe now the pressure would be off of her. “Yes, absolutely,” she responded.
“By the way, does Martin know anything about the deed, or about Miss Pearl’s five acres?” he asked. “That would help.”
“Unfortunately, he’s as in the dark as I am on that,” Lu said. “But he’s going to send you a copy of the paperwork Daddy had with the farmer he was leasing some of the acreage to.”
“Good, good,” Dwight said, making a note on a legal pad. “As far as the estate goes, Lu,” he continued. “There are legal guidelines for all this, so it will all work out. It will make more sense as we go along, but if you or Martin don’t understand something, I want you to speak up. Don’t go losing sleep over it, okay?”
“Oh, sure,” Lu reassured him. “So, what happens first?”
“It will take a couple of weeks to get the abstract on the land, but we’ll get the estate opened right away,” he responded. “Just remember, after you’re appointed by the court to handle the estate end of things, there’s that three-month creditors period. Once that passes, with the abstract in hand, and an appraisal establishing the fair market value of the land, we can bring an action in court to quiet the title to the property.”
“Quiet?” Lu asked.
“Yes. You, as the court appointed personal representative of your father’s estate, and you and Martin as heirs, under the law should be entitled to marketable title to the property.” Dwight leaned back in his chair again. “But without any record of a deed, we have to take a couple of extra steps. Essentially, what the term quiet title means is—well, let me use a pneumonic device we learned in law school. The word is OCEAN— that is that your father had Open possessory use of the land
; he used it Continuously and Exclusively, meaning he kept trespassers and squatters from using it. His possession and use of the land was Adverse to all others, and finally, his ownership was Notorious, meaning simply that everyone knew that land belonged to him. O-C-E-A-N. Pretty simple, huh?”
Lu smiled indicating she was following him.
He continued, “We’ll support that by showing that he paid the taxes, that your grandfather before him paid the taxes, and your great-grandfather paid the taxes. This provides evidence to defeat any challenges or claims to ownership by anyone other than you and Martin. The court will then issue an order which will officially give you and Martin the right to do as you please with the land, and no one can ever oppose it. Does that make sense?” He leaned forward again.
“Well, yes, I guess,” Lu stuttered, not sure she really did understand. “But, we still have the problem of Miss Pearl’s five acres.”
“I haven’t forgotten about that. But let’s wait on the abstract first. In the meantime, are you going to ask Miss Pearl about that while you’re here?”
“Oh, yes,” Lu said eagerly. “That’s part of why I came. I plan on seeing her tomorrow, in fact. Just please, please think of something we can do to be sure she doesn’t lose her home. Martin and I both want that, even if it means we get less ourselves. You know, once she’s gone, Jerome won’t have any place to go. He just wouldn’t fit in anywhere except out there. It’s all he’s ever known.”
“I understand, and you have my word that we’ll come up with a plan that suits the situation.” He rose and took his place behind his desk. “That may take some creativity on my part, so let’s not worry about that today. We’re just going to take one step at a time, here. Do you trust me to handle this for you?”
She nodded.
“Good, then let’s get your signature on some of these papers and start things rolling.” He opened a folder and spread the papers out on his desk. “We’ll get this out of the way, and then you can follow me over to the house. Faith will have dinner waiting for us, and we can talk about old times.”