I unscrewed the cap and tossed back a healthy swallow.
It burned going down. Then I started to feel a warm glow in my stomach. Courage by mouth.
I searched, prodded, and flipped through the items on his desk then noticed that the light was blinking on the answering machine.
I punched the button and heard Grant’s voice on the line.
“We need to talk.” He paused.
“Be here tomorrow, or I’ll come get you.” Then he hung up.
That warmth in my stomach settled much lower and I longed for his touch on my body. That sort of made up my mind for sure to go back to Boggy Bayou.
We did need to talk.
You can’t just make love to someone, and then forget them. Okay, he made love to me, And I honestly think I deserve to do the same to him. Turnabout is fair play. And I couldn’t wait to get him in some neat wrestling holds. I grinned. The thought was making me hot!
I opened the middle drawer and on the side was an address book. I pulled it out and opened it up. Flipping each page I scanned the names, looking for something. What I don’t know. But it seemed important that I do that.
When I turned the next page, the name jumped out at me.
Aunt Sally.
She came to my mother’s funeral. Though, she didn’t talk to me. She gave me a grim nod, as though it was my fault my mother died in a car accident, then left as soon as the services were over.
Aunt Sally.
My finger punched in her phone number.
The phone rang and she picked it up on the third ring.
“Hello.” It sounded like she stood next to me.
I cringed, then answered. “Aunt Sally. It’s me. Sara.”
There was a long pause on the phone, I thought for a moment that she hung up on me. But then she said. “I never expected you to call me.”
I never thought I would call her either, but there I was, hanging onto the phone receiver for all it was worth, not knowing what to say. Then I plunged ahead.
“Why did my mother adopt me?”
I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Slow wheels. It took her forever to answer.
“We need to talk.”
Geez, I’ve heard this line before.
“So talk.” I answered her back.
“Not now. Later.”
“I’m only in town until tomorrow, then I leave.”
Again, another long pause. “Then is it okay if I come tomorrow morning, about nine?”
“Yes. I’ll be waiting for you.”
The phone clicked in my ear. Tomorrow morning. I decided to bake.
I needed bait.
* * *
I was up early, anxious to be on my way.
I finished packing a few things. Most of my belongings were still in boxes from when I moved it after my mother died. It seemed stupid to keep an apartment when I had a house to completely go through. So, I loaded up my car but left some space for the fridge items. I found an ice chest in the garage that would carry everything.
I decided it would be best to wait until after the mail delivery. I could send the post office a card so further mail would come directly to me. I paid the few bills that had come in during the past week. All the busy work, didn’t make the time move any faster.
I started to get antsy at ten minutes after nine.
Thinking it best to keep busy, I started on the boxes that were still in the hallway.
I decided that I would just as soon pull everything out, check the contents, and start making stacks.
Keep. Donate. Throw away.
I knew the keep pile would be the smallest.
The first box I opened, stopped me short.
High School yearbooks.
Why hadn’t I thought of this before. Certainly there were yearbooks at the High School in Boggy Bayou, or at the library, and I’m sure that Naomi, Bitsy and Joanna all had them.
I pulled up the one with the oldest date and brought it to the kitchen.
Fixing a cup of coffee, I sat down at the kitchen table.
Slowly, I studied each page.
This was Edna’s book, and there were quite a few inscriptions inside.
To Edna,
Wasn’t our Senior Year the greatest! Good Luck in college. You know I don’t intend to go. It’s party time for me!
Naomi
I smiled. Poor Naomi. It’s hard to imagine that she ever had major goals in life. She just lived from one moment to the next.
There were pictures of the teachers. A few with signatures below them.
Social clubs. Future Homemakers of America. The Chicken of Tomorrow beauty queen.
I stopped when I saw the Homecoming Queen and King.
It was Maudie and Dad.
So they had dated.
I wondered if perhaps Dad really was my father? I know he loved me. Would he have insisted on raising me? Would Edna allow it? I know that she enjoyed the lifestyle he provided her. I also knew that she wouldn’t want to lose the prestige of being his wife. Is that why she was always a little cold toward me? She was raising another woman’s child with her husband?
The doorbell stopped my train of thought, and it’s a good thing, because I was becoming depressed.
It’s about time. It was a quarter to ten.
Aunt Sally was standing there on the stoop, ready to ring again when I opened the door.
“Sorry, I’m late.” She headed inside like a troop commander.
“I made coffee.”
“Good. I need it.” She stalked back toward the kitchen, and I followed dutifully in her wake. Old habits are hard to avoid. She always intimidated me, even though she was a head shorter.
She shrugged off her jacket and made herself at home, pouring a cup of coffee for herself, then sitting down at the table. She glanced over at the yearbook and grimaced at the photo before her. She reached over and closed the book.
“So, what do you want to know?” She took a slurp of her coffee and grabbed a cookie.
“Why did my parents adopt me so late in life?” I asked.
“Edna always wanted a baby.” Her look was directed my way. “She got you.”
Well, that didn’t exactly sound like Sally thought I was a prize.
“How?”
She studied her fingernails.
“From what I understand, it was a private adoption.”
“But why so late in life? I would have thought that they would have gone that route much earlier.”
“Ralph brought it up. Edna finally gave up having a baby of her own years before, then Ralph told her he knew of a baby that was coming up for adoption.”
Uh-oh, this was starting to get complicated.
Aunt Sally examined her fingernails again.
“He insisted.”
My stomach felt like lead.
She threw a glance my way. “Edna did whatever Ralph wanted. She didn’t want to lose him.”
That made me angry. “Daddy wouldn’t have left her for no apparent reason.”
She looked at me again. “Edna thought so.”
Edna would.
I kept quiet for a moment, then had to ask.
“When did Edna find out I was Maudie’s child?”
I didn’t think that I could have surprised her. But her mouth fell open and she gasped.
“You’re Maudie Cooper’s daughter?” Her voice was squeaky.
“Yes. You didn’t know?”
She shook her head as if disbelief.
“Who told you that?” She asked.
“Her attorney. He notified me last week.”
She put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands.
“I never knew,” she said.
“I didn’t know either, until this past week,” I said.
“So, you found out.” Sally said.
“Found out what?” I asked.
“Why you were adopted.”
That confused me. “I don’t understand. What are you
saying?”
She opened the yearbook, thumbing through the pages until she came to the one she saw before.
“That explains it all.”
I looked down at the photo.
“This picture was taken twenty-one years before I was born. How can it possibly prove anything?”
She took a drink of coffee and sighed.
“Maudie and Ralph were a big item in high school. Hell, even I had a crush on Ralph, though I was two years younger. He was ‘hot stuff’ then.”
I refilled my coffee cup and sat across the table from her. “And?”
“That spring, Maudie dumped Ralph big time.”
I waited. “And?”
It was like pulling teeth out of a hen.
She shrugged. “And Edna caught Ralph.”
I sat there looking stupid, and feeling pretty stupid too. She made it sound like Edna caught a fish.
I shook my head. “So.”
Sally took another drink of coffee. She reached over for a cookie and grabbed one, then took a bite of it.
“Ralph never got over Maudie. Not then, not years later.”
Ouch. That must have hurt Edna. She always liked all the attention on her.
“So, what does that prove?”
Sally stared at me. “They never told you any of this?”
That was it!
“No. That’s why I’m asking. I never knew I was adopted until a week ago. It’s a complete surprise to me.”
She had the ability to look surprised. “Oh, I always thought you knew.”
“I don’t know a damn thing.”
Sally stood and brought her coffee cup to the sink and laid it inside. She sighed.
“It’s a long story.”
I shook my head. It seemed as though all good stories are long. “Please tell me the truth. I have a right to know.”
Sally sat again. She sat huddled in her chair, as though she wanted to protect herself.
“They always exchanged Christmas cards. Edna, to show Maudie that she still held the prize. Maudie, because, she was a really nice person. Edna always enclosed a letter, you know, one of those Christmas letters, ‘I got a new car, a new dining room set, a new diamond ring.’ I hated to receive them. But Ralph did well by Edna. She had a right to brag.”
Sally didn’t look too happy about Edna’s bragging rights.
“Maudie’s letters were always about Boggy Bayou. I always enjoyed reading them. I enjoyed living there.” She looked down at her fingernails.
“Maudie was always nice. I never quite understood it. I’d write her every so often. She always wrote back.”
Sally sighed again.
“You must be Ralph’s kid. Though I never heard of him cheating.”
“That’s all you know?” I asked.
“That’s all I want to know.” She stood. “What else?”
I looked at her through teary eyes. “That’s more than enough.”
* * *
February 7, 1985
I’ve had enough.
They took my baby and ran.
I never believed that Ralph would have done that to me.
My baby girl.
I drove up to their house and waited outside for them to go to church. Just so that I could get a glimpse of her.
Then I noticed that the house was empty.
There wasn’t even a FOR SALE sign in the yard.
What happened?
I panicked.
I went to the neighbor’s and asked.
She looked at me, then threatened to call the police.
They moved because of a stalker.
Me.
Ralph knew I just wanted to see my baby.
Edna.
She was jealous.
She always was jealous.
Ralph married her, yet, she was jealous. It had to have been her decision. I know in my heart that Ralph wouldn’t have been so cruel to me. I was allowed to visit with my daughter at least once a month. Edna made such a scene each month it was becoming a disaster. But I couldn’t keep away. I was so looking to holding Sara, kissing her, being next to her for an hour or so.
And now she’s gone.
What am I going to do?
I have nothing now.
Nothing at all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I stopped at Aunt Weez’s house to deliver her cookies.
A nurse answered the door.
“Is Aunt Weez okay?”
She smiled and answered. “Yes, I’m the home health nurse. I was just leaving, would you like to come in?”
I entered. There was a black teenager watching television, he waved. “You must be Maudie’s daughter.”
Ah. Fame in a small town.
“Yes, I brought Aunt Weez some cookies.”
He jumped up and came over to me.
“The lemon ones?”
He was licking his lips and I doubted in that instant if Aunt Weez would even see one of these cookies.
“Yes. Can I talk to her.”
He looked at the plate of cookies, longingly. Then sighed.
“Yes, ma’am. She’s in her bedroom, it’s the last door on the right, down the hall.”
I gave him a smile and followed his directions.
The door was open. Aunt Weez was lying in bed. Her rosary in her hand. She spied me and gave a huge smile.
“Ah, girl. You brought me some cookies, I see.”
I couldn’t help but smile. She seemed so pleased.
“Yes. I try to keep my word. Would you like me to put them in the kitchen for you?”
That stopped her bead-turning hand. “No. That boy out there would gobble them up in no time. Just place them over here by me.”
I did as she bid. Moving several bottles of medicine over to the side.
“That boy be my grandson, three or four times down the road. I forget how many ‘greats’ he is. I always have someone over here watching over me.”
She patted the side of the bed, so I sat.
“Bad thing is, if I got me something good to eats, those young kids swallow it down so fast, you can barely see what someone brung you.”
She reached her hand up and stroked my hair.
“I wants to remember where I saw that hair before. But the memory don’t come.”
“Was it on a man or a woman?” My father perhaps, or just someone she knew.
“Oh it was a woman for sure. I remember touching it. I wouldn’t be touching some white man’s head.” She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s funny, I’ll have to remember that one...touching a white man’s head. Now be a good girl and hand me one of those cookies, I want to see how good they are.”
* * *
I could hear Grant come up the back stairs. If the sound was any indication, he was angry.
I slid the biscuits into the oven and closed the door.
Checking the pots on the stove, I turned them off. Everything was cooked, except the biscuits.
I turned to see Grant and stopped what I was doing.
He was in a rage.
And he wouldn’t look at me.
Something was seriously wrong.
He stopped in front of the refrigerator and opened the door and took out a beer. He fixed his gaze in my direction and I stepped backwards. He was furious.
He stalked into his room and slammed the door.
Well, that explains a lot.
The doorbell from the front of the store was buzzing, so I trotted down the stairs.
Lenny and Margie were there.
I hurried down and unlocked the door. Lenny immediately bounded up the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Margie.
“I haven’t a clue. Grant came over and closed himself in the office with Lenny, and the first thing I knew he left in a rage. Did he tell you something?”
“Not a thing.”
We heard yelling upstairs, took one look at each other and started the climb pronto.
Just as
our heads cleared the top of the floor, Lenny slapped Grant across the face.
The anger in the room was a living force. Grant glared at his father, then turned on his heel and went into the bedroom, slamming the door.
Lenny looked down at his hand as if it were a foreign object. He turned sadly and walked our way.
“Lenny?”
“Don’t ask.” He glanced at me. A noncommittal glance, as though he couldn’t see me or didn’t want to see me. I don’t know. But somehow deep inside, I felt that Lenny slapped Grant because of me. I felt ashamed.
Lenny grabbed Margie by the hand and led her down the stairs, protesting. “Lenny, what about Grant? What happened?”
“Later,” he said.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and let themselves out. I hurried down after them and locked up. I watched them get into their car. Margie was pleading. Lenny was close-mouthed.
What in God’s name happened?
I slowly went up the stairs, hesitant to even begin sorting out the details of the evening.
I tapped on Grant’s door. There was no answer.
I picked up his beer from the counter and poured it down the sink.
Taking a few aspirins, I poured some water in a glass and downed them. For some reason I had a headache. Go figure.
I walked over to his door and rapped.
“Grant. What’s wrong?”
Nothing.
I knocked a little harder.
“Grant, talk to me.”
He opened the door so fast, I almost fell over.
“Please, get out of my way.”
I moved back. “What’s wrong.”
He started to walk away, then I noticed a small duffle bag in his hand. I pulled at his arm.
“Grant?”
He stopped, turned and placed his bag on the floor. “You might be my sister.”
“What!”
He ruffed his hand through his hair. “Just that. I think my dad might be your father.”
“Where did you come up with a crazy notion like that?”
“From Angie Rabalais, the choir leader down at Maudie’s church. Apparently Dad was unfaithful to my mother throughout their marriage. Angie couldn’t wait to tell me all the details.”
“So, where are you going?”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
He grabbed both of my arms and pulled me closer. “If you don’t know, telling you why won’t matter.”
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