Miss Janie’s Girls

by Brown, Carolyn

  “You three were like my own children. Noah, because this was the only stable place he knew, what with his family being transferred from here to Kalamazoo every couple of years. And you girls, y’all were my redemption. Kayla just hasn’t gotten roots yet like y’all have. Now, let’s go to the back porch,” Miss Janie said.

  Teresa wasn’t sure just how deep her roots went, but she would do what she could, especially for one of Miss Janie’s lucid moments. Besides, neither of them would ever realize their dream of a senior citizens place if the other one left Birthright. “I promise, but you aren’t leaving us anytime soon.”

  “I ask for forgiveness for all my sins every time I close my eyes, just in case.” Miss Janie smiled. “We hear in church that God is merciful, so maybe He will let me into heaven. I hope so, because I sure want to see Aunt Ruthie again.”

  “Who else do you want to see in heaven?” Teresa asked.

  “If I get there, I want to see my girls,” she answered, “and ask them to forgive me for giving them away. But I hope they put my mama and daddy in a different section than me.”

  Teresa had not given much thought to eternity or who might be in heaven, but she understood Miss Janie’s statement very well. If her mother, Angel, made it to heaven, Teresa wouldn’t want to be in the same area as she was, either.

  When they reached the porch, Miss Janie took one look at Sam and began to cry. “Oh, Sam, I miss Delia so much. Her funeral today was beautiful. We did good picking out that pink casket for her. She always loved pink so much.”

  Sam patted her hand. “Yes, she did. We’ll both miss her.”

  Teresa noticed that Sam’s Adam’s apple bobbed several times after he answered Miss Janie. She hadn’t thought about how hard it must be on Sam to see his dear old friend like this, or to have such memories of Delia brought up so often. When Miss Janie said something like that about the casket, it had to cause him pain.

  Kayla brought out a tray with cups and the full coffeepot on it, poured for all four of them, and then sat down on the swing beside Miss Janie. “I stirred the beans while I was in the kitchen.”

  “Appreciate that.” Teresa nodded.

  A lovely breeze stirred the leaves of the pecan tree beside the house and brought the aroma of roses and honeysuckle with it across the porch.

  “This was always my favorite place the five years I was here. I’d bring a book and a blanket out here in the winter and read for hours.” Teresa inhaled deeply. “Every time I caught a whiff of roses after I left, it reminded me of this spot right here.” She didn’t say that she often remembered stolen kisses when she smelled the roses and honeysuckle.

  “Honeysuckle does the same for me,” Noah said. “When I was a little boy, I begged my parents to let me sleep out here, but they never would. A couple of times since I’ve been back, I have, though.”

  “Was it as much fun as you thought it would be?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he chuckled. “Even with a blow-up mattress and my own pillow, I figured out that I like central air-conditioning too much for this.”

  “Guess we outgrow our childhood fantasies, don’t we?” She took a sip of her coffee.

  “Yep, we sure do,” Kayla agreed.

  Miss Janie took two sips of her coffee and nodded off. Yet when a buzzard screeched overhead, she jerked her head up. “I’m ready to go take a nap now. Mama says that sleeping in the day is bad, but me and Aunt Ruthie like our little naps.”

  Teresa rolled her back through the kitchen and into her bedroom. Before she helped her out of the wheelchair, she fluffed up her pillow and made sure the sheets were smoothed, falling into the regular rhythm of the nursing home. She wondered how her former patients were doing and if any of them had passed on since she left.

  “You’re a good nurse,” Miss Janie bragged on her.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Teresa would far rather have been told that she was a good daughter than a good nurse, but that wouldn’t be the truth.

  When she went back through the kitchen, she checked on the pot of beans and ham cooking on the top of the stove and the enchilada casserole that was ready for the oven. The clock said it was still two hours until noon, so she put half a dozen cookies on a plate and carried them out to the porch.

  “Thought y’all might want a little something to go with your coffee. Where’s Sam? He was here a few minutes ago.”

  “He went home, but said he’d be back after a while for some of those beans,” Noah answered as he picked up a cookie from the plate and dipped the edge in his coffee. “We were talking about the future. What do you plan to do after . . . ?” He stammered over the words. “After Miss Janie isn’t with us anymore? Do you and Kayla really think you might put in a place for the old folks to go have lunch and play games?”

  “That’s just a pipe dream. We’d need money for something like that. I haven’t made any plans,” she said.

  “I’ll try to find some houses to clean. I bet I can make a living just working for the folks from here to Sulphur Springs. To give the community a place is a pipe dream, like Teresa said, but maybe if we work hard and save our money, we can do that sometime in the future,” Kayla added.

  “Would it make a difference to either of you if you started drawing a monthly check from the trust fund that Miss Janie set up for both of you?” he asked. “Maybe later this week, we’ll ask Sam to come over for a little while, and we’ll all three go to the bank and get y’all set up. What we need in this area is someone to do elderly babysitting, or like Kayla said, clean houses, or maybe even start a little business if there was a building available. In the big cities you can find folks who can do that, but—”

  “Trust fund?” Teresa butted in.

  “When Miss Janie’s folks died, the money they had went to her and my granddad. Aunt Ruthie owned the oil rights to most of the county, so she had a healthy income from that. From what I can see, Miss Janie never touched that money and lived on what she made working at the school. Long story short is that the three of us—you, me, and Kayla—are inheriting a lot, but in trust. We’ll get a certain amount each month, but we won’t be able to touch the principal. She wanted to be certain that we wouldn’t get old and have nothing—Miss Janie’s words, not mine,” he explained. “You don’t have to get a job. You can pretty much do whatever you want. Go back to school to get your degree or even take a year or two to decide.” He paused. “Or start that business y’all have been talking about. Give it all some serious thought, though. Don’t jump into something and then decide you don’t want to do it. That would break Sam’s and all the rest of the folks’ hearts.”

  “Are you serious?” Kayla gasped. “I thought the inheritance was getting to be here with her a few months or weeks.”

  “I’m very serious. Of course, until she’s gone, you will earn a paycheck each week like I promised,” he told them.

  Teresa could hardly take in what he’d said. Part of her was happy; the other was angry. “We don’t deserve this, Noah.”

  “Doesn’t matter if any of us deserves it. It’s what she wants done, and truth be told, I think she’d like for you to work together and give back to the community,” Noah answered.

  Teresa began to pace up and down the screened-in porch. “That’s a small price to pay for not coming back to see her, and it’s something we’d both enjoy, so we wouldn’t get any stars in our crowns for doing it.”

  “We all have to shoulder that load about not coming around often enough. I didn’t do my duty there, either, but we’re here now, and she needs us more right now than she ever did before,” Noah said. He sure couldn’t throw stones—not with his past. “Give it some thought,” he continued. “According to her will, this house is mine, but it’s never to be sold because she wants you girls to always have a home to come back to. You’ve got time to talk about your idea and figure things out—at least I hope you do.” He picked up another cookie and went back inside the house. He opened Miss Janie’s door just a crack and found he
r wide awake, sitting up in the bed and staring out the window. He pulled the rocking chair over closer to her and sat down.

  “Did you have a good nap?” he asked.

  “No. I only slept a few minutes, and I dreamed that y’all were at my funeral. I feel like I’m dying a little more every day. I stay in a state of confusion. Noah, I don’t have much time left,” she sighed. “Pretty soon my mind is going to be gone completely, and I’ll always live somewhere in the past.”

  “Something you want me to do?” he asked.

  “No. Everything has been signed over to you, and I’ve told you how I want things done. You can make the decisions. While I’m clear, though, I want to say thank you again,” she said. “I know this isn’t easy for any of you, but I want to die at home.”

  “And you will,” he said.

  “I think that dream was an omen for me to talk to you about my funeral. I want it to be graveside only, with only close friends and family. Did I already tell you that?”

  He took her frail hand in his. “No, ma’am, but if that’s what you want, I’ll take care of it.”

  “I don’t want a preacher to go on and on. I want each of you kids to have a little word. No church songs, but you can play that song ‘Angel.’ It tells my story in music. I wasn’t in a dark hotel room, but I was in a stark maternity ward, and when it was time for me to give birth, no one was there with me. The song talks of glorious sadness. That’s the way I felt when they took my precious babies away from me, and the way I feel now about leaving y’all.”

  Noah had cried several times since the morning that he’d hit rock bottom and staggered into his first AA meeting, but the hot tears that rolled down his unshaven cheeks that morning had come straight from his soul. “I’ll write it all down so I don’t forget anything. You want to talk to the girls while you’re . . . ?” He paused. “Well, you know.”

  She began to hum the tune to the song she’d mentioned. “I spent years and years waiting for a second chance, like the song says, and God gave it to me with Kayla and Teresa. I should’ve insisted that they stay with me, but what was there for them in an old ghost town with a few scattered houses? Lord, I missed them. Now, get on out of here. I want to be alone and think about how lucky I am while I’ve got my right mind. Please know that I love you, Kayla, and Teresa like you were my own.”

  “I love you, too,” Noah whispered as he left her side.

  He went straight to his office, found the song on his phone, and cried through all three times he listened to it. He’d thought he’d had a rough path to walk, but it was nothing compared to what she’d endured.

  He wondered how things would have been different if Miss Janie had been born twenty or thirty years later. Would she have kept her twins, or would she have realized that at sixteen, she’d have a tough time raising them as a single mother?

  “Whatever, it would have been her choice,” he said out loud.

  Give back to the community to honor her kept running through his mind.

  His phone rang and startled him. “Hi, Daniel,” he answered. “What’s going on?”

  “I was checkin’ in to see if you changed your mind,” Daniel said. “We’ve got a case in your neighborhood that we could use some help with. It’s not a tough one. Client says his wife is cheating on him. If you could do one last case for us, I’d appreciate it so much. I’ll send you her picture and the file.”

  “Promise you won’t ask me again?” he said.

  “Cross my heart,” Daniel said.

  “Okay, then, shoot me the stuff,” Noah said. “I’ll probably have it wrapped up in a week.”

  “Comin’ your way as we speak,” Daniel said. “And thank you. Send me the bill when you’re done.”

  “You know I will,” he said, glad for work that would take his mind off Miss Janie’s mind getting worse and worse.

  The picture of a pretty blonde-haired woman came up on his computer almost instantly, and then an attached file with all the information Daniel had on her. Priscilla Wilson Carlton was probably at the top of Santa’s naughty list from what he read even in the preliminary report. His brow wrinkled as he tried to remember where he’d heard that name.

  “No!” he gasped when he finally remembered. Prissy Wilson was the girl who’d given Teresa and Kayla fits in high school. It had to be the same woman. Born in Sulphur Springs in 1992. Married five years ago, and from the copy of the newspaper article, it had been the wedding of the county that year.

  He was bound by confidentiality not to say a word about this to Teresa, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy the case more than any other one he’d ever had. He rubbed his hands together and began to make phone calls.

  Chapter Twelve

  One day blended into another, and Teresa could hardly believe that she’d been in Birthright almost three weeks. She stopped ironing Miss Janie’s little floral dusters long enough to snap her fingers. “Just like that, time has flown by. I’m not ready for Miss Janie to be gone,” she muttered.

  “Hey, would you mind if I bring my shirt in here and iron it?” Noah interrupted her thoughts.

  She whipped around, iron in hand like a weapon, to find him standing in the open doorway. “What did you say?”

  “I wondered if it would be all right for me to iron my shirt in here,” he answered. “It would save me having to tote that board and the iron into my room. I’ve got to do some research this afternoon, but I’ll be back home by bedtime. That looks like a lethal weapon there with steam coming out of it.”

  “Sorry.” She set the iron back in the holder. “I’ll take care of your shirt. Bring it on in.”

  “For real? That’s so sweet.” He disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a long-sleeved, pale-blue shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. “I usually have my things done at the laundry, but . . .” He raised a shoulder in a shrug.

  “But there’s no dry cleaners in Birthright, and Arlene Patterson passed away at least ten years ago.” Teresa stretched the shirt out on the ironing board.

  “Everyone in the community misses Arlene?” Noah sat down in the rocking chair at the foot of the bed.

  “Miss Janie loved to cook and clean, but she hated to iron, so she sent her things over there until she brought me home with her and found out I liked to do that job.”

  “My mama hated anything to do with housework. She always, always had a job somewhere on base, usually in a civilian secretarial position. So she had a housekeeper who did everything from cooking and cleaning to the laundry and ironing, and served as my nanny at the same time.”

  “What’s your very favorite memory of your family?” Teresa asked.

  He rocked back and forth for several minutes before he answered. “Sunday afternoons. That was what Mama called family day. We’d go to chapel and hear Daddy deliver the sermon and—”

  She butted in before he could finish the sentence. “Your dad was an alcoholic and a preacher? How did that happen?”

  “My dad, General Adam Jackson, always said he was a social drinker,” Noah answered. “He got the best of both worlds—his love of liquor from my granddad Luther and his love of preaching from his granddad, Arnold. The General served as base chaplain when he was needed, but that didn’t keep him from having his Jameson every evening.”

  “Sounds like one of those oxymorons they talked about when we were in school,” she said.

  “Kind of does, doesn’t it? Or maybe a little bit hypocritical,” he chuckled. “After chapel, we’d go out to eat, and afterward we would go exploring. That meant driving around whatever country or state we were stationed in for a couple of hours. Then we’d go home, have pizza and popcorn, and watch a movie on television together. Sometimes that was the only time I’d see my folks. They left for work before I got up and some days didn’t get home until I was in bed. How about you? Got any good memories?”

  She finished the last of the shirt and hung it on the doorknob. Then she crawled up in the middle of her bed and crossed
her legs. “Mama took me to school when I started kindergarten and enrolled me. She got all dressed up and looked like the other mothers, and she’d gotten me a cute little dress with flowers on it.” She remembered the pink ribbon in her memory box and almost smiled.

  “Didn’t she do that every year?” he asked.

  “Yes, she did, but the rest of the years after that first one were not good. I found out later that she was trying to impress the elementary principal. He’d spent a few nights at the trailer, and she thought maybe he would marry her. She even told me to call him Daddy, but none of the other kids did, so I was afraid to,” she answered.

  “How did you ever turn out to be the person you are today? You had more reason to be an alcoholic than I did,” he whispered.

  “Your grandfather was a preacher, at least some of the time,” she answered.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Noah asked.

  “He was respected even if he drank,” she replied. “My mama was trailer trash. They both drank too much. He was respectable and loved you enough to provide for you. My mama’s liquor wasn’t as expensive as his, but it was more important than me or what I needed.”

  “Think you’ll ever forgive her?” Noah asked.

  “Already did,” Teresa said. “I wish she would have signed the papers so Miss Janie could have adopted me. The Social Services folks tracked her down, but she wouldn’t sign unless she got money for doing it. When they told her there wouldn’t be any payment for letting Miss Janie adopt me, she told them to go to hell and take me with them.”

  “They told you that?” Noah asked.

  “No, they told me that she didn’t feel right about it, but I eavesdropped when they talked to Miss Janie. They told Mama that it was illegal to sell a child, and her reply was ‘No money, no kid. You can go to hell and take that brat I birthed with you.’ I wasn’t alone, though. When they found Kayla’s mother, she pretty much said the same thing.”