DarkHeart of Hampton House

by Joy Redmond

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll make some,” she said, so flustered she could barely remember which way to turn.

  Lance watched her quickly squeeze lemons, pour the juice into a pitcher, add water and sugar, and stir until the sugar blended. She scurried across the floor, placed the tall glass in front of him, pulled a chair, sat beside him, and gazed upon his handsome face like a love-sick puppy.

  “While you eat, I’ll tell you all about things,” she said, rubbing her hands together in her lap.

  Lance remembered how she used to twirl her hair, and sometimes she chewed on the ends when she was nervous. A habit that used to get her hand swatted when ole Ruby was close.

  “Miss Hampton never stopped talking about you, and she always dabbed her eyes when your name was mentioned. You broke her heart when you left, and she never stopped hoping you’d come back—”

  Lance banged his fist on the table. “Jesus! Can you be quiet for a few minutes?”

  Bonnie flinched, dropped her head, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Lance reached for her hand. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’ve got a headache, and too much is coming at me at once.” He tickled her under the chin. “Come on, smile,” he tenderly coaxed, as if she were a baby and he wanted her to smile big for the camera.

  Bonnie Sue raised her head, smiled, and patted Lance’s hand.

  “How old are you, sweetie?” he asked, looking over the rim of his glass as he drained it.

  “I’ll be eighteen the first day of June. Just a little over a week. I’m sorry I talk so much.”

  He smiled and sweetly answered, “You go ahead and talk. I’m sorry I acted testy. I’m okay now.”

  Bonnie Sue eyed Lance for a few minutes. “I was just going tell you that some real-estate people have begged Miss Hampton to sell Hampton House, and she said they was willing to pay her about twenty times what the house cost to build. But she said she weren’t interested in selling, just yet. Of course that was before she had the stroke. I don’t know what she’s going do now.”

  “Money always talks. She’ll sell. And if real-estate wants to pay a big price for it, you can bet your sweet ass it’s for something besides being a well-kept, old house. They have big plans to develop something on the land and they figure it’s a gold mine.”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about no big developers. They just offered her a lot of money. But Miss Hampton won’t sell Father’s house. You know that.”

  “No, probably not. Everything that belonged to precious Father is sacred. And she’ll donate the house and all her money to the church. I know she has a shit-pot full. The state paid her handsomely and the church was very generous, plus she got a good income from the farm land. She’s got a bunch stashed, you can bet your sweet ass on that.”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about no money. She left me some money to keep the bills paid while she’s laid up. She gave me her new car too. She signed it right over to me before she had her stroke, kinda like she knew it was gonna strike.”

  Lance dropped his fork in midair. “Get outta here! Ole Ruby gave you her car?”

  “She sure did. It’s a gold Chevy Impala. Do you want to see it? It’s in the old shed. I keep it there so it’ll stay clean. I wash and wax it once a week, just like Miss Hampton told me to,” she continued, her sparkling baby-blue eyes twinkling. Lance wondered if she was seeking praise for being a good little girl.

  He pushed back his plate, rubbed his over-stuffed stomach, and said, “That was the best meal I’ve had since—well since I left here. I forgot how good a home-cooked meal made with fresh vegetables tasted. You’re an excellent cook, sweetie-pie,” he said, smiling, looking into Bonnie Sue’s baby-blues.

  “Uh, Lance, I don’t want to upset you by talking so much, but—well, I think I need to tell you something else.” She cleared her throat as if waiting for permission.

  “Go ahead. You’re going to anyway. You never run dry, do you?” he said in a voice that sounded half teasing, half serious.

  She twisted her skirt hem. “Well, about two days after you took off, a woman come here looking for you. She said she was your mama. Well, Miss Hampton told her you was gone, then told her to get her trashy ass off the property.”

  “My mama came looking for me?” he asked, and for a second his face lit up like a small child hearing his mommy was coming back after a long absence. He wiped his hand over his face, ran his hand through his hair, and blew a breath as if he had been holding his lungs full until they were ready to burst. “Well, did she say who she was—I mean a name?”

  “Yeah, I think she said she was Kitty Mae Jackson. I’m pretty sure that was the name. She was a right pretty woman.”

  Lance stood, ran his hands through his hair and turned in circles. “Sweetie, do you have a phonebook? I need to make a phone call and I don’t want to be interrupted until I’m finished with business,” he said in a firm tone, like a father warning a child.

  “The phonebook is on the end table by the phone. The phone’s still in the same place. And I sure won’t bother ya. Take your time. I’ll clean up the kitchen,” she said, picking up his plate and glass, and doing an Edith Bunker shuffle to the kitchen sink.

  Lance shook his head, thinking she was a pure ding-bat. He went into the living room and sat down on the couch. The same couch he was forbidden to sit on when he was a child. He noticed the plastic was gone. He didn’t bother to remove his shoes as he put his feet on the coffee table, the biggest no-no Ruby Hampton had concerning the precious furniture that Father had bought.

  He spied a book that looked like a picture album. “Strange. She never displayed any pictures when I was here. But I kinda remember her carrying around a camera when I was little.”

  He picked up the album and thumbed through it. All the pictures were of children whom he figured were all the orphans who had come in and out of Hampton House. He chuckled when he saw one of him pulling his red wagon full of hickory nuts. He had pulled a lot of them. He turned the last page and a loose picture fell into his lap. He picked it up. It was a lone man. He studied the hard, mean eyes. “Oh, precious Father,” he said, tossing the picture back into the album and slamming it closed. “I hate that bastard as much as I hate ole Ruby.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lance opened the phonebook to the J’s. Thirteen Jacksons. His hands trembled as he began to dial. He called five Jacksons, but nobody knew a Kitty Mae. He dialed the sixth number. A male answered.

  “Yes, I’m trying to locate a Kitty Mae Jackson. Do you know her?”

  “Yeah, I know a Kitty Mae, and her sister Lucy. They’s my cousins. Far as I know, they still live in these here parts. Do ya want I should look up the number for ya?” the man asked, slurring his words.

  “No thanks, I can find it,” he said, and dropped the receiver. Does the half-wit inbreed think I don’t have sense enough to use a phonebook? Lance’s throat felt parched, and his hands continued to tremble. Finally, he found a listing for an L. Jackson. Before dialing, he yelled, “Bonnie Sue, bring me a glass of ice water. I’m as dry as the Gobi.”

  Bonnie Sue quickly appeared in the living room with a tall glass of ice water. “Did—? Never mind,” she said. “I’ve got to stop running my mouth like a zip-damn fool,” she mumbled.

  Lance drank half of the glass, then dialed the number. He continued to swig as the phone rang four times.

  “Al-low,” a woman said in a high-pitched voice.

  Lance’s voice was dead serious as he asked, “Whom am I speaking with?”

  “Who do ya want?”

  “Are you Lucy Jackson?” he asked, as if he were a detective on a big case.

  “Yeah, I’m Lucy. What ya want?” she answered.

  “I’m trying to locate a Kitty Mae Jackson. Do you know her?” he asked in a stern, commanding voice.

  “Well, yeah, Kitty Mae is my sister. Can I ask who’s a callin’?” Lucy asked as if she were screening calls from bill collectors, and to let the jerk on the other end of the
line know that he wasn’t going to bully her with his high and mighty demands.

  Lance’s voice was as cold as the ice water he was drinking. “My name is Lance Alvie Jackson. I—” He stopped talking when he heard Lucy gasp with a slight choke, as if she had swallowed her false teeth.

  “Kitty Mae!” Lucy screamed.

  Lance held the phone away from his ear.

  Lucy yelled louder, “Kitty Mae! Kitty Mae! Get your old butt in here. Hurry up. It’s your boy on the phone.”

  Lance started to drop the receiver when he heard another high-pitched voice. “Lance? Is this my boy?” Kitty Mae sounded like a pig caught in barbwire.

  Lance’s voice was cold and condescending. “You tell me. Am I your boy?”

  Kitty Mae lowered her voice to a normal pitch. “I have a boy named Lance Alvie Jackson. He was born April first, 1949. I took him to Hampton House Orphanage when he was two weeks old—”

  Lance rudely interrupted and yelled, “That’s enough! I’m the little bastard you didn’t think was worth keeping.” He rubbed his temples, his head feeling as if it was going to explode.

  Kitty Mae began sobbing and talking at the same time. “Oh Lordy, son. You was worth everything to me. I’ve prayed for this day for twenty-six years. I want to see you real bad. I wouldn’t blame you if you said no, but you don’t understand—”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand. I think you owe me some answers,” he said sharply as thoughts ran through his mind. Why was he still having this conversation? Why didn’t he just drop the receiver? His palms began to itch.

  Kitty May spoke softly and said, “Yes, son, I owe ya a lot of answers. I’ll tell ya the whole sorry story. But I wanna tell ya in person. The phone ain’t no way to discuss this. I beg ya to come see me. Let me see ya just one more time. Then if you don’t want nothin’ more to do with me—”

  “Where do you live?” Lance asked, not wanting to continue the conversation on the phone.

  Kitty Mae managed to stop the quiver in her voice and said, “I live at three-twenty-five, Plum Street. Do you know where it is?”

  “I can find it,” he answered, and dropped the receiver.

  Lance paced the floor, wiping sweat from his face. He yelled for another glass of ice water, which Bonnie Sue brought promptly and didn’t ask questions.

  Lance continued to pace as he washed down two Valium. He thought about borrowing ole Ruby’s car and making a run to the liquor store, but decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. Yet.

  He paced faster as he pictured Kitty Mae’s face, trying to match it with the high-pitched voice. A dozen faces flashed before his eyes. He didn’t like the looks of any of them. He paced faster, ran his hands through his hair, and swallowed two more Valium.

  A few minutes later, he caught his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. He smiled at himself. Evil danced in his eyes. You’re going meet me, Kitty Mae. But you might be sorry. He rubbed his itching palms up and down his jeans.

  ***

  Kitty Mae realized she was talking into a dead phone after she asked, “Would ya come see me?”

  She dropped the receiver into the cradle. “Ah, thank ya, God. Ya finally answered my prayers. My boy found me and my heart tells me he’s gonna come see me.”

  “Was that your boy, sister? Ya really think he’s gonna come?”

  “Well, he didn’t make no promises, but I’m gonna pray all night that he’ll show up. And I think I’ll go to bed now and get to prayin’.”

  “I sure hope ya don’t expect too much, sister. I always told ya he was the spawn of the devil.”

  “Yeah, you always have,” Kitty Mae answered sharply. “And I’m tired of hearing it. He’s my son. My own flesh and bone and I love him as much today as I did the day he was born. So I’ll thank ya to keep your thoughts to ya’self.”

  Lucy wiped her eyes and left the room.

  Kitty Mae was glad she was alone. She sat in the rocker, closed her eyes and her mind traveled back to the day she had made the trip to Hampton House.

  ***

  Sixteen-year-old Kitty Mae walked up the dirt lane carrying a picnic basket. Several times she paused and stared at the large house that loomed before her. Beauty surrounded her, but she could see nothing but a haze that hung around her like a dark cloak. She wiped her eyes on the back of one hand. She wiped her nose on her bare shoulder.

  She finally made it to the front yard. She stood in front of the house, wondering if she had the strength to make it up the three steps to the front porch. Her feet felt like lead as she slowly made her way up. She placed the picnic basket on the porch of Hampton House Orphanage. She gently pulled back the blue blanket and stared into the tiny face of her son, his eyes closed in deep sleep. She kissed him on the forehead. “Bye, my sweet baby. I love ya. I’ll be back to get ya. Someday.”

  She rushed down the steps, stumbled, regained her balance, and ran like the wind. She stopped midway down the lane, and hid behind a hickory tree. She peered around the tree, watching, chewing her nails that were already stubs. She tapped her right foot as if she were keeping time to music. Ten minutes passed. Her heart beat faster and faster. “Come on, somebody. Come on,” she prayed.

  The front door opened. She sucked in a deep breath. She held her hand over her mouth, sucking air through her nostrils as if she were about to suffocate. “Life’s breath is being sucked from me,” she mumbled through her tears.

  She stayed behind the tree until Ruby Hampton picked up the picnic basket and took it inside the large house. “Please take good care of him.” Kitty Mae ran all the way to the main highway, then she threw her body on the ground, beat her fists and cursed the man who had impregnated her. “May you rot in hell!”

  ***

  Kitty Mae opened her eyes, wiped her fresh tears, hoping that heartbreaking day would be wiped from her mind once she saw her son again. She decided to go to bed. She had a lot of prayin’ to do.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lance’s emotions were on a rollercoaster as he recalled the many years he had waited and hoped that his mother would come back for him. A lot of parents or grandparents came to reclaim some of the children, and each time a child was reunited with a relative, he was sure his own kin would come for him. “Eighteen years and nobody came,” he said, smacking his head with his fist.

  His guts felt as if they were tying in knots. He needed cocaine, but he had none. He pulled a bag of marijuana and rolling papers from his jeans, then rolled and lit a joint. He took deep tokes, feeling his throat and lungs burn. He enjoyed the sting almost as much as eating hot chili peppers.

  Bonnie Sue came into the living room, wrinkled her nose, deeply sighed, and said, “Miss Hampton don’t like no smoking in her house.”

  Lance pinched the joint and said, “Well, the old bat isn’t here so it doesn’t matter. And she stopped telling me what I could and couldn’t do a long time ago!” He rubbed his temples. “I need a long soak. I’m going upstairs—”

  Before he had finished his sentence, Bonnie Sue hurried up the stairs ahead of him, talking over her shoulder, “I’ll draw your bath and put in some lavender bath salts. It’ll relax your muscles and make you sleep better.”

  Lance shook his head. “Jesus! She’s more annoying than a housefly!” He picked up his cases, stroked the briefcase as if it were a baby kitten, saying, “Thousands!”

  He headed upstairs, remembering the day he ran down those stairs on his way to freedom, as far away from Hampton House as he could get, and he was never coming back. “And here I am,” he mumbled.

  He reached the landing, stood for a few minutes, and looked down the hallway. It didn’t seem as long as it did when he was a child. He walked toward his old bedroom, his guts knotting tighter. He stood in the doorway, dropped his suitcase, briefcase, and leaned his right arm against the doorway. “Well, kiss my homesick ass! Same furniture. Same bedspread. The comic books that Jimmy left me are still stacked in the corner.” He walked across the floor, “Wel
l, I’ll be damned! There’s Teddy, still sitting beside the bed.” He shook his head. “It’s like the room was frozen in time.”

  “Miss Hampton—”

  Lance jumped as if a snake had coiled around his leg.

  Bonnie Sue said, “I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was near.”

  “Damn girl! Do you always have to be under me? I swear you’re worse than a swarm of gnats around a dog’s butt.” The shock in Bonnie Sue’s eyes and the way she sucked in a deep breath as if she were about to faint, struck him funny. He laughed as she continued to stare, her mouth agape. “If I need you, I’ll whistle. I’ll put my lips together and—”

  “Yeah, I know how to whistle too,” she said, protruding her bottom lip in a childish pout. She turned and quickly headed downstairs.

  Lance was still laughing as he walked down the hall and entered the bathroom. Bonnie Sue had opened the window over the commode, and the cool mountain breeze blew through the room. He took a deep breath. “Good old mountain air,” he said.

  He felt the bathwater. Tepid. Perfect. The lavender smell was refreshing. He quickly shed his clothes, feeling so dirty. Before he stepped into the tub, he took the roach from his jeans pocket and lit it. Then he lie back in the water and took deep tokes, “Good old Maryjane,” he said, feeling mellow and horny. He smiled. Sweet Bonnie Sue is right downstairs. So eager to please and such an easy target.

  He got an erection as he pictured her naked body: skin smooth as silk, long legs, small, perky breasts and blonde pubic hair. He pinched the joint, dropped it to the floor, then reached for the bar of soap and lathered his body. Then he turned on the water and splashed it over his body. He couldn’t stand soap residue on him.

  He stepped from the tub and picked up the towel on the rim of the sink. The terrycloth towel was coarse, which meant it had been hung outside and dried in the sun. It felt good on his skin. The smell of sun-dried towels and sheets were a smell he would never forget. He vigorously toweled himself until his flesh stung. The coarseness was stimulating, making him hornier.