She paused on the lovely picture before reading inside.
Ralph,
I don’t expect you to understand. You have suffered through it, too, and not only from your son but your wife. I wonder if you have ever known peace, and while you may not believe me, I think you are deserving of it. I think I am, too.
I am not asking forgiveness but I am asking that you take care of my girls since neither Terry nor I can right now. I would give anything to change this wretched reality, for all of us. That is my deepest wish. But I am like a dandelion puff parachuting on a fast wind. My home is neither here nor there, and I can’t pull my children along any longer. You are their best hope, for now.
You will give them what I – what we – cannot. I have no home or job. He has no life. Although we have never agreed on much, we can agree on this. They love you. I know you love them and will give them what they need and deserve. Don’t give up on us.
Maggie
“We took so much for granted, Mr. Parker. After we moved in with him, we didn’t have to worry about food on the table or clothes for school. I didn’t realize how much he gave us on top of his love,” Nelle said sadly.
“He didn’t want you to fret about those things, Nelle. You and your sisters were too young for all that worry. Your grandfather provided for you gladly with no expectation of return. Your presence in his life was repayment enough. You should know that about him.”
Nelle nodded her head and smiled weakly. “Still. I feel like we were the takers.”
“No, no, no. You gave him things that have no price. Ralph’s life was solitary and lonely before you all came along. His friendship with Elmer was important to him but you girls were the comfort in his old age. It made up for a lot of loss and pain in his earlier years. He never had it easy, but didn’t complain,” Mr. Parker said kindly.
“Why the hate letter?” Nelle asked. “It was about us, wasn’t it?”
Mr. Parker took off his glasses and leaned forward placing his elbows on his desk hopelessly cluttered with papers and legal files. The disturbing letter she had brought in to show him laid open in front him. He sat still in a long silence looking directly into Nelle’s worried eyes.
“It wasn’t only that, Nelle. Not by any stretch. He took on powerful people in this town, a long time ago, and wouldn’t back down. It didn’t make him many friends, except for Pete’s grandfather Elmer. He fought the paper mill for what it did to people and to the river. And some people who were sick from both those things didn’t like what he was doing. They were afraid of losing jobs. Afraid to make waves or fight back. He never was. It cost him.”
“Everyone wanted to play dominoes with him, though. Weren’t they his friends?” Nelle asked.
Mr. Parker chuckled. “Everyone wanted to BEAT him at dominoes. That’s different. Even when the mill started to clean things up and government people came in to monitor the river he didn’t get the credit he deserved. The community center never would have happened without him. When you found that old jar artifact, it gave him the missing piece, and the timing was right. State officials had to stop the development because of what you found. Imagine how proud he was because of you. He didn’t crow about his effort, but a lot of us knew. Everyone at the newspaper knew. He was relentless there, insisting they cover the story. Telling them to do their jobs. In the end, it exposed our history, good and bad. But it finally brought people together, reluctantly. Some grudges lingered. Still do.”
Nelle sat quietly, taking in his words, his story formulating a new picture of her grandfather. Unyielding. Determined. Influential. Different from the gentle, affectionate old man she knew; these qualities of unyielding persistence percolated just beneath the warm and kind demeanor he showed to his family and were also ingrained in the essence of his big heart. She imagined that the strength he needed to face his difficult life came from somewhere other than his sensitive nature, but was equally essential to his survival.
“He saw something special in you, Nelle. That’s why he called us,” Mr. Parker said.
Nelle looked at him quizzically. “Called you?”
“About the school work program. Didn’t you know?”
“You mean he told you to give me the job? With all those other girls applying, too?”
Mr. Parker shook his head forcefully. “No! Of course not! You got it on your own. You were my choice, hands down. He simply wanted us to know that Nelle Lyons was his granddaughter. His exceptional granddaughter. I’m glad he did. He was right.”
Nelle took a deep breath. She had no idea, and wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. Her winning that competition didn’t make her any friends either. However, the reality of how it all changed her life was undeniable. She was indebted to Mr. Parker for giving her the opportunity. And to her grandfather, who set it all in motion.
Ripples. Throw a stone in a lake and see the ripples. It’s the ripples that carry you to the other shore. She remembered them sitting together on the back steps and hearing his words of encouragement to try, to always try and let the effort carry you. Their long ago conversation came back fully and she felt him beside her once again.
Her attention shifted back to Mr. Parker as she watched him lift a thick file off his desk.
“I got this from our files this morning, Nelle. He worked with Mr. Hightower years ago on his will and the deed to the house and then made amendments a few years back when your father took sick. I have copies of everything here in front of me.”
Nelle took the file and flipped briefly through the stack of papers. Much of it looked like the same documents that had been stored in his desk drawer. She had not bothered to digest details before now. It had seemed too final an exercise when the hurt of his loss was still so deep.
Mr. Parker noted her expressionless face. “He took care of you and your sisters. He foresaw the possibility that your father may not be well enough to manage and prepared for that eventuality. The amendments are there. He appointed Mr. Hightower Executor of his estate, given your ages and your father’s incapacity, but his instructions are clear. The house is paid for and belongs to you and your sisters equally, along with all the contents, his possessions, and assets, which include a small savings account and life insurance policy that is enough to give the three of you some modest financial help for a little while. Not a fortune, but it offers a little security.”
Nelle nodded solemnly. She was not so much surprised by what he had done as she was overwhelmed by his forethought and generosity.
“I found this, too,” she said, handing the blue envelope to Mr. Parker. “It’s from Momma. Did he show it to you before? Did you know about this?”
Mr. Parker put his glasses back on, pushed back in his chair, and read the card slowly. He cleared his throat self-consciously as his eyes began to tear and sat up straighter to get hold of himself.
He looked at Nelle squarely. “This isn’t why he did it, Nelle. And, no, I have never seen this and I doubt Mr. Hightower has either. It’s so personal. Meant for Ralph’s eyes only. But I can tell you that he had put his estate in order long before this was written. And what it shows is how much they both loved you girls. That is the biggest thing they had in common and was the most important thing to both of them. They put your security and future above all else. Independently and together.”
“I just wish I could have done more for them. That I could have made things better for the two of them somehow,” Nelle said.
“You did. By being there. There is nothing to repay. Just to honor,” Mr. Parker replied.
“Thank you,” she responded quietly. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Parker.”
“Now go on and get on with it,” he said in a fatherly manner, standing up, signaling the end of their meeting. “I want you to know, Nelle, that I have clients who have far more but aren’t nearly as rich. Remember that.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
Nelle left his office feeling a curious mixture of relief and sadness, gratitude and tra
nquility. There was no one to envy, no lack to fill, no outsider loneliness to quell. She just wanted to see Pete.
As she turned onto the back road, dust billowed from the one lane parched dirt path that led to Papaw’s trailer where Pete now lived alone. She slowed down to a crawl to keep the powder fine dirt from kicking up the dust that was covering the car and blowing in the windows. The lack of rain and withering heat had scorched the hardiest of plants and animals. Small farms suffered with wilted vegetation and stunted crops and animals stood motionless with drooped heads in the roasting heat.
Finally nearing his place, she could see heat waves radiating in a shimmying mirage from the top of the white aluminum trailer, blurring the treetops with undulating waves of green.
He must be suffocating in there. How does he stand it, she thought, turning off the ignition and shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight as she stepped out of the car.
Mingo grazed in the shade of an oak tree. Hot Shot was drinking from the trough with his loyal goat companion Mr. Bill at his side. He raised his head and gave her a loud welcoming whinny, slopping water on his tolerant buddy’s head.
“Hey guys!” Nelle called out enthusiastically. “Where’s…”
Her words halted with the sudden rush of cold water on her face that choked and stunned her. She jerked backward dazed and blinded by the forceful deluge. The water stopped instantly. She stood dazed, soaked, and cold.
Pete laughed and shouted, running toward her with the hose still in his hand. “You needed that! You know you did!”
“Not like that,” she said, annoyed, rubbing her eyes and shaking the water off her arms.
Pete dropped the hose and took her wet face in his hands. His chest was bare. His tee shirt hung loosely tucked into the backside of his waistband. His thick black hair was dripping wet and his copper body glistened with beads of water.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to cool you off,” he said apologetically, wiping water from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Come here.”
He kissed her softly. She responded aggressively, to his and to her own surprise. Nelle circled his wet body with a close embrace. He pulled her tighter into his chest, running his hands down her back, caressing her bottom. Their passion flared, matching the hot August heat.
The hose on the ground was still running full force, pooling cool water around their feet. Nelle was the first to begin pushing away. Pete parted slowly, hesitantly. His panting was not from the summer sun, and he would have taken her there.
“I can’t stand being away from you, Nelle, I want us to …” he stopped abruptly, looking over Nelle’s shoulder.
Nelle turned around. The dust cloud obscured the car, but she heard the engine. “Who’s that?”
The vehicle reduced speed, dust settling enough to reveal the black and white car with blue and red siren lights perched on top.
Nelle and Pete stepped a few feet away from each other as the police car stopped.
Police Chief Beau Boudreaux stepped out and slammed his door. “Hey. Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said grinning at his young friends.
Nelle blushed. Pete smiled back at him.
“Good way to cool down on this damn hot day,” the chief said, pointing at the hose.
Pete picked the hose off the ground and flicked the nozzle toward him, splashing him playfully. “Hey, Beau. Didn’t expect to see you out here today. We in some kind of trouble?”
“Looks like it to me,” Chief Boudreaux responded, winking at Pete, holding his hands up to Pete to ward off another water assault.
“That’s enough,” Nelle said, turning toward the trailer. “Let’s go in. I’ll make some sweet tea.”
“There’s a jug already made,” Pete said. “Papaw’s sun tea.”
The chief smiled at him warmly, knowing how fresh his wound was from the recent loss of his grandfather. Elmer Everheart, “Papaw” to all, was especially beloved by the Cajun community. He had been like an uncle to him, mainly during his young, wilder days and Pete looked up to Beau like an older brother. He had been part of the family long before he became Chief Boudreaux.
“That’s just what I need right now,” Chief Boudreaux replied, “I just wish he could be here, too.”
Pete shook his head and looked down. “Me too, Beau.”
Even with two fans circulating the air, the afternoon heat proved unbearable inside the small trailer. Nelle suggested they sit outside under the awning where the shade offered some relief from the intense sunshine. Worn towels draped over the old orange chairs helped to keep the heat off the hot metal. Papaw’s wooden bench sat half in the shade.
Pete and Beau took the chairs under the awning while Nelle went inside to pour the tea from the big plastic jug. There were no ice cubes, but it was cold enough from sitting in the refrigerator all day. Papaw’s recipe included plenty of sugar and sprigs of mint. She was pleased to see the mint leaves steeping in the brew and recalled how Papaw insisted mint was the secret key ingredient to his delicious drink.
“Here you go, Beau,” Nelle said handing him a tall glass of cool tea, then turning to Pete to give him his. “Sorry no ice,” she said, shooting Pete a frown.
Pete shrugged. “Can’t think of everything,” he said, taking the glass, eagerly gulping the refreshing tea.
Nelle went back inside to get her glass, and thought she heard the chief say “New Orleans” as she stepped back out of the screen door to join them.
“What was that again?” she asked. “What did you say about New Orleans, Chief?”
“Yeah, I was just telling, Pete. Elmer had old Indian pieces, knew a lot about them. That old vessel you found that got everybody worked up over developing the riverfront, brought in them state people, then got stolen from the community center, well I got a call yesterday,” he said, stopping to take a long drink.
“And, and,” Nelle prompted him impatiently, watching the condensation drip from his glass as he guzzled half the contents in one insatiable glug.
Mr. Parker had been the first one to tell her about the theft that had occurred weeks ago. It was a personal gut punch to her, since the valuable artifact had been her discovery and was a source of great pride. The Lyons family had finally contributed something good. Up until this moment, Chief Boudreaux hadn’t uncovered a single lead.
“Ahhhh,” the chief responded, wiping his wet chin with the back of his hand. “Pawn shop in the French Quarter. Owner said they got an Indian vase that come in for selling, not pawning. Didn’t notice until yesterday when he was rearranging some shelves that the bottom had a sticker on it that said O.V. Nature Preserve. He had heard about it from the newspapers. Knew Ouachita Valley. He got suspicious and figured it might be stolen property. He wasn’t there when the sellers came in. His helper told him it was a couple, older guy with a girl. The girl claimed it belonged to her great grandmother and was inherited down the family line. She didn’t like it much and was selling off family pieces she didn’t want. His clerk gave them $75 for it. Seems they weren’t too happy, but took it and left.”
Nelle’s jaw dropped.
“Now you know I ain’t superstitious or nothing like that,” Chief Boudreaux said, squinting his eyes and looking off toward the fenced pasture, but I ain’t sold much on coincidence neither, being in this business.” He took the last long gulp of sweet tea and handed his empty glass to Nelle.
Nelle got up and went inside to refill his glass, still digesting his news about the recovered vessel from the pawnshop in New Orleans. An extraordinary sequence of events, she thought. She realized that the vessel might have languished there forever, or could have been scooped up by a savvy collector with a good eye. Remarkably, a shopkeeper’s interest and well informed awareness had changed everything.
She walked out again briskly, spilling the tea over the lip of the glass, her thoughts racing. “Oh, sorry, Chief,” she said handing him the wet glass. “He’s holding it right? You told him to hold it didn’t you?”
>
“Yeah. Of course I did. He took it off the shelf yesterday. He won’t ship it though. Says it’s too fragile and he don’t want to be responsible since it’s valuable.”
“Oh, good,” Nelle said, relieved.
Pete leaned forward enthusiastically. “Look. We can make it in four hours if we take the police car. Nobody’s gonna stop a cop car from driving fast. Right Chief?”
Chief Boudreaux smiled. “Better not even try.”
“You think it’s more than coincidence that it showed up there?” Pete asked. “You think the shop’s in on it somehow, Beau?”
“No, no, now I didn’t say that. I’m not ruling nothing out just yet though. But it’s the three’s that keep coming back to me. Remember how I told you, Reverend Dunn, and Miss Ruby. The jar stolen, the church theft, the sick horses. It’s playing out now. You’ll see. I’m telling you. It’s the threes leading up to something.”
Nelle and Pete exchanged a skeptical look.
“I saw that, Pete,” Beau responded disapprovingly. “Your Papaw would back me. You know he would.”
Pete nodded. “Yep. He would. I’ll give you that.”
Nelle stayed silent, but her thought was clear. Cajun folklore.
Beau turned his gaze right on her. “I heard you, Nelle.”
Nelle’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say a thing,” she said defensively, putting her hands up. “Sorry. I’m coming, too. You couldn’t keep me away.”
“Thing is,” Beau said, “it don’t have to be always bad. Goes both ways. Three bad. Three good. Mon Dieu! Three of us leave tomorrow. Early.”
Nelle barely slept. Her head was whirling with notions and theories about “the threes”. Her zipping thoughts took her from guessing who might be the third one to die, given that Pete and her grandfathers were gone, to the Holy Trinity, to the delicate leaves of the shamrock plant that signified faith, hope, and love, to the Three Musketeers and The Three Stooges. Beau, she decided, had filled her head with nonsense. Finally, in the predawn darkness, she threw the covers off her body and got up with many more questions than possible answers. She chuckled at the absurdity of it all.
The Road to Home Page 9