Thandy remembered the people who had helped her float, encouraged her to swim—Phillipa and Sloane. They were the people who had been there when she couldn’t be there for herself. They were the ones who had reminded her of her own beauty, who had told her nothing was impossible. They were faithful believers when she thought she had nothing left. Even when she felt like she was blowing away, they were there like anchors in a hurricane.
And then there was Jack. He didn’t even know the wind was blowing hard. Afraid he would cut and run, she had refused to let him see the imperfections; she’d hidden all the scars. The pain of the miscarriage had gone. Now Jack was here and so was the ache. She hadn’t really wanted a baby. Montana had been and still was enough. But even after she got a clean bill of health, her heart was mourning the loss.
He walked up behind her, placed his hands on her hands around her belly, and said, “I never knew what I wanted. But the day I saw you, I knew it was you. It had always been you.”
They watched each other, together, in the mirror. No high-powered jobs, no fancy homes, no swanky cars. Just naked.
She closed her eyes, shook her head, and said, “What do you want from me?”
He thought for a moment, then said, “I want you to come home.”
“What are you asking?”
“I’m asking for us.”
He turned her around, put his arms around her body, and wept against her. She had never heard him cry before. It felt like she was locked in the arms of a perfect stranger.
They spent the holidays together. Thandy got her first Christmas morning with Jack. And they were inseparable through the new year. On New Year’s Day, after he caught her looking at him one too many times during breakfast, he asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were still here.”
“I love you,” he said finally. “I don’t want to wake up another morning without you.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Yvetta had been working the lid of a mason jar when the call came. The vinegar-stewed tomatoes, pot roast, and stone-ground grits she was making for Fields would have to wait. Cump was dead. He’d gone to sleep still dressed in his overalls, watching the evening news, and never woke up.
“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered as she hung up the phone.
Yvetta took off her apron and placed the unopened jar on the windowsill over the sink. She shuffled into her bedroom and searched the closets for the tan suit she knew he would want to be buried in. She found it and pressed it out, running the steam iron along the seams until the slacks could stand up by themselves. Cump would have wanted it that way. She spent hours on the phone, poring through her address book, calling one relative after another. She called the number she had for Thandy in Chicago and was surprised when a man answered.
“I believe I must have the wrong number.”
“Mrs. Malone?”
“Jackson?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thandy isn’t here right now, but I can tell her you called.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Tell her it’s very important, would you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Her grandfather passed on last night.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“He’s in a better place now, Jackson.”
A short time later, the house was brimming with people, everybody she knew and some she didn’t. Grace held down the kitchen as various mourners brought food and a good word. Yvetta didn’t care for any of it, really. The sooner they were all gone, the better. She paced the kitchen and waited for the phone to ring.
A light blanket of snow was falling as if God were shaking cake flour through a metal sifter when they walked in. Yvonne was unbundling her daughters and pulling their little feet out of their yellow rubber boots.
“Sissy!”
“Hello, Yvonne,” Thandy said, looking away.
“Sweet Jesus,” Yvetta muttered when she heard her daughters’ voices. “Thank you, Lord Jesus, thank you.”
Yvetta sat down at the dining room table and stared at the lace doilies. Thandy walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.
“It’s good to have you home.”
“I’ve been gone too long.”
“Jackson, it’s good to see you, too,” Yvetta said politely. “Where’s my granddaughter?”
Montana stepped inside the front door.
“Lord, have mercy,” Yvetta said, wrapping her arms around Montana, who hugged her back as if she’d known her all of her life.
“Girl, give your big sister a hug,” Yvonne interrupted.
The women embraced long enough to feel like sisters again.
“I hear you got a fancy new job up in Chicago. You’re doing big things,” Yvonne said suspiciously. “Never would have known it the way you were catting around here.”
“That’s enough, Vonnie,” her mother said.
Thandy wanted to tell her sister that it was just a job and that she knew Vonnie had done some catting of her own; their parents just didn’t know about it.
“And Montana is so big! Girl, you look just like your father. I’m your aunt Vonnie. Look at you, all grown now . . .”
“I said that’s enough, Yvonne,” her mother said again.
Montana took off her coat and sat on the sofa. Grace saw after the guests and offered Montana something to drink. She declined politely.
Jack faded off into the kitchen and made small talk with Fields.
“How long y’all plan to be around here?” the older man asked.
“Just until after the memorial service,” Jack returned. “We’re heading back to Atlanta the next morning.”
“I always knew she had another daughter. Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“I’d say that’s the honest to God’s truth. What do you do down there in Atlanta?”
“I’m a surgeon, sir.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you know how to mend a broken heart.”
“I’m working on it,” Jack said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
After evening supper, most of the family took to the living room. As more people poured through the front door and into the small space, Montana put her coat back on and went outside. Jack followed.
“You know my mother better than anybody,” she said, walking toward the gate.
“I’d like to think so. But I think I run a distant second to you.”
“My mother is an expert in compartmentalizing things. She doesn’t even like it when her food runs together,” she joked. “It’s cold out here. You should get your coat.”
“I guess we’ve all got our secrets.” He shivered.
“Did she ever tell you anything about my father?”
“No. No, she didn’t. You never met him?”
“I don’t even know his name,” Montana said, leaning over the metal gatepost. “I figure he must be around here somewhere, or at least he used to be.”
“I’m sure she’s got her reasons.”
Thandy stepped out onto the porch and said, “None of them are good enough.”
“Mom, I . . .” Montana said, embarrassment rising in her cheeks.
“It’s all right, baby.”
Jack tipped his head and went back inside.
“I don’t know where to start,” Thandy said, advancing down the walkway.
“I just want to know, Mama.”
“Well, for starters his name is your name: Montana. He used to live a few blocks from here. His father owned a car wash in the middle of town. Miss Grace said they tore it down last fall and built a new Walgreens.”
“Did you love him?”
“With everything I had. And he loved me. You are the apple of his eye.”
“Then why isn’t he here?”
“He can’t be here, honey,” Thandy said. “I’m sure he would be if he could. But he can’t.”
“He isn’t dead, too, is he?”
“No, honey.” She took a deep breath. “Your father is in prison,” Thandy admitted. “He’s been in jail since you were almost three years old.”
After a moment of silence, Montana spoke in a whisper. “What did he do?”
“I’d like to tell you, but maybe he should.”
“He didn’t kill anybody, did he?”
“No. He’s not that kind of man.”
“What is he like?”
“He’s beautiful. Just like you. Everything about him is just beautiful. He was so cute, he could stop traffic. We got married when I was almost sixteen. I was already pregnant.” Thandy wondered how she could recite a lifetime on a wintry porch.
“Are you going to marry Dr. Jack?”
“I can’t say, honey. I do know that there have been days when all I ever wanted was to be married.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“The stars never lined up right. It’s complicated. But I owe you some answers. When this is all over, I promise we’ll talk and keep talking until you have all of your answers.”
They went back inside. Thandy motioned her mother into the bedroom. Montana trailed behind her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
What is it, baby?” Yvetta said as she clicked on the light.
“Montana needs to see the box.”
“What box?”
“You know what box I’m talking about,” Thandy said, tossing up a suspicious eyebrow.
Yvetta went into her closet and dug under a pile of blankets. She pulled the box from the closet and placed it on the bed.
“This stuff has been in there for ages,” Yvetta said. “I guess it’s time for us to take a look. Funny thing is, I never could find it before. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“Indeed,” Thandy whispered.
Yvetta opened the cardboard flaps and pulled out a pile of letters. Thandy’s law school graduation invitation was one of the unopened envelopes. There were pictures of Simon when he was a boy and others of the girls going to church on Easter Sunday. There were several pictures of Montana when she was a baby, all clearly marked with her age and weight.
“I don’t care what nobody says. This baby looks just like you, Thandy. If them ain’t Cump’s eyes . . .”
She kept digging until she found a large brown envelope. She handed it to Thandy, who opened it. Inside was a stack of photos. Some were of Thandy by herself and others with Monty.
“That’s him,” Thandy said.
Montana stared at the Polaroids a long time. Yvetta and Thandy looked at her, waiting for something.
“Can I keep this one?”
“Sure you can,” her grandmother said. “You can take anything you want.”
“I just want this picture and that one,” she said, pointing to a picture of Yvetta and Thandy.
“You can have them, baby,” Yvetta said.
“Mom, can we go see him?”
“I don’t know,” Thandy replied. She got up from the bed.
“Why not?”
“Your father never wanted you to see him in prison. He made me promise.”
Yvetta lowered her eyebrows and said, “Take that child right on up there to see her father.” She gave Thandy a stern but loving look.
“I’ll call and get clearance. We’ll have to put our names on the list and your father will have to say it’s okay. He can be very stubborn.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Yvetta said.
“Mama, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I tried to run that boy away from here.” Yvetta smiled. “But he wouldn’t go. He was just as stubborn as my Simon.”
Thandy had never heard her mother compare Monty—or anyone—to Simon. She couldn’t believe her ears. “And I’ll tell you something else,” Yvetta continued. “That man out there loves you.”
Montana chimed in. “Grandma, he came all the way to Chicago in a snowstorm. Mama was gonna kick him out on his ass. I mean, his behind.”
“Honey, are you going back to Atlanta with Jackson? Isn’t he . . . ?
“No, Mama, he isn’t.”
“You’re not going to give up your job, are you?”
“After the funeral, we’re going home. I’ll commute for a while and see how things work out.”
“You know, I ain’t nothing about all that flying.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Two days later, the Malone family gathered in silence around the casket. Henry Tecumseh Cole was laid to rest in the churchyard, next to his precious Myrtle and his older brother, Harry. The breeze rustled the treetops and loosened the soft thin sheet of snow from the limbs. Townsfolk and other relations came over the hill, their shoes snapping the icy white grass. A line of black limos glistened in the winter sun. The funeral home director readied the stands of floral arrangements with large pastel ribbons and placed them around the casket.
Yvonne and her husband rode in the second funeral car. Grace and Fields came together in her Cadillac. All of Cump’s surviving children and their children made the trip from as far away as California. But mostly Yvetta felt alone. She had been his sole caregiver for more years than she wanted to remember. He hadn’t been in any pain, the nursing home administrator told her. And she was glad for it.
His sight had diminished to mere shadows over recent days. But in his mind’s eye lay a perfect vision of the granddaughter he had cajoled with butterscotch candies. He never forgot Thandy’s playful smile, her mischievous nature, and how much she loved the snow.
Each January, Cump would gather some fresh snow from the yard, make a large round ball, and store it in the deep freezer. By March, when winter was gone, Thandy would wait next to the large white box while he dug inside for the foil-wrapped ball of ice. Every year, he saved a bit of January for her. She was his January girl.
The snow was coming down hard now, so thick, Yvetta could barely see her cousin Caledonia, who had come all the way from Texas to be there. The white roses and lilies were beautiful, Yvetta thought. As the pastor started the eulogy, Thandy took her mother’s hand and squeezed it. Yvetta tilted her head and laid it on her shoulder.
For the first time since the call came from Shady Oaks, Yvetta wept. When the service ended, the two women walked to the first funeral car, escorted by the preacher. Montana walked a few paces behind. Jack was holding her hand. The stream of cars made its way through the streets and onto Delmar.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
You’ve been in jail? You’re kidding, right?”
“I swear to God,” Thandy said, crossing her heart. “Hope to die.”
He opened his arms and she kicked off her shoes and got into bed with him. “You can’t go dying on me now, sweetness. We’ve got a big fairy tale to live.”
They were still dressed in their funeral clothes. Jack listened intently as Thandy told her story.
“I’ve got my very own personal superhero.”
“Who knew?” She laughed.
“You chased him out of the house with a knife?”
“Sure did. He should have shut up and fixed my pipes.”
Jack stretched his body across the hotel bed. “I’ll fix your pipes.”
Thandy pulled herself closer and lay on his chest.
“You actually snuck back into that house to look for that money?”
“Of course I did.”
“You say that like people violate crime scenes every day.”
“My house was not a crime scene.”
“The marshalls had it padlocked, didn’t they?”
“Yup.”
“And it had been seized by the court, right?”
“Yup.”
“So you just broke in?”
“Yup.”
“Who taught you how to pick a lock?”
“My grandfather.”
“Jesus Christ. And then—let me get this straight—you gave all the money to your husband’s lawyer.”
“It w
as his money.”
“You are the most honest cat burglar I know.”
“I’m the only cat burglar you know.”
She could hear their laughs echo in his chest.
“You’re right about that.” He closed his eyes and asked, “Do you remember the day we met?”
“You mean the day you started stalking me?”
“I resent that. I am not a stalker.”
“I don’t remember inviting you to Chicago. I never told you where I lived.”
“A man has his sources. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“I owe Sloane a good ass kicking.”
“You can’t just go punch the governor of Georgia.”
“Watch me!”
They laughed until they couldn’t breathe. Jack thought his chest was going to explode.
“Are you sure this is what you really want?” she asked, collecting her wind. “You want to spend the rest of your life with a convict?”
“Absolutely, jailbird.” He chuckled. “Just don’t make me stay in another Motel 6.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The Honorable Judge P. Maulpin Arrington entered the crowded courtroom. He took his place at the head of his kingdom. He scanned the docket and ordered the bailiff to call the first case. The Gabrielles and their hired guns stepped forward. Etienne stood with Finlayson on the left, Jack with Parham on the right. Etienne and Jack examined each other from five feet, the closest they had been in months. He was surprised at her zeal. He hadn’t expected her fight.
Even though the proceedings were just a formality, Jack was sweating under his fine-tailored suit. Not too cheap, not too overwhelming—just as Parham had prescribed. Etienne, on the other hand, was dressed in a four-button, cobalt-blue St. John and black slingback heels. He couldn’t help but stare. She was the woman he had once pledged his life to, forsaking all others. Now she just wanted to give him a good ass whipping that even money couldn’t buy.
Jack checked his watch. The judge was taking his time. The filing was straightforward. No claim that the soon-to-be-former Mrs. Gabrielle would have to fend for herself in a soup kitchen.
The January Girl Page 17