by Kimbra Swain
At that moment, I decided that I would do like Mrs. Sharolyn had done for me all of those years ago. She made me a part of her family. I decided that Winnie would be my family.
My father turned his back on me. I hadn’t seen my brother in ages. I had no family until I met Sharolyn. Now Winnie was family.
Making my way to the kitchen, I opened the fridge to find three baby bottles sitting in the door filled with a white substance. One of them had a sticky note on it.
Grace, Winnie is old enough to drink whole milk. These bottles are for her. I’m sure you will need them. - Jerry
“That old coot,” I exclaimed quietly.
I took the bottle out, pressing it against her lips. Her big, brown eyes shot open, as the nipple slipped into her mouth. She sucked hard on it, pulling the milk out quickly.
“Easy there, little one. Your Uncle Jerry left you three bottles. No need to drink them all at once,” I smiled. Her eyes twinkled when I talked to her.
We found ourselves back in the recliner. I watched her finish off the bottle, then I sat her up to burp. She did it with no prompting. Then giggled. I figured she had to be almost one. Most babies don’t drink milk until then. However, she was small in my opinion. I hoped to the goddess that her mother hadn’t done drugs while she was pregnant, but Winnie seemed perfectly normal despite being tiny.
She smiled at me as she sat in my lap. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. Tomorrow I’d go into town and buy a few things for her to play with here at the house. I had a feeling that she would be here a lot in the coming year.
It wasn’t long before Bethany reappeared at the door. She looked frazzled.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fine. How was she?” she asked.
“She’s an angel,” I replied.
“Thank you, Grace,” she said, taking Winnie from my arms.
“Anytime. She is welcome to come over anytime,” I said without hesitation.
As they walked back across the street, Winnie lifted a little hand and squeezed her fingers in and out to wave good-bye. It was the sweetest little thing.
Sweet enough for me to stay put for a little while.
17
GRACE
I woke up the next morning hungry, but not in the mood to cook. The perfect situation to ride down to the diner and grab some food. Jeremiah had said I should meet the owners. I looked forward to it. Since Sharolyn, I hadn’t really met my neighbors. Maybe that was what I was missing. Something to keep me in one place.
However, that thought scared the shit out of me. Making ties. I thought back to the big, brown-eyed baby in my arms last night. I had already made ties there without knowing it. That child needed someone to look after her since her mother seemed to be lacking in that area.
The drive to the diner didn’t take long. It was just down the street from the trailer park. In fact as I drove, it appeared that everything in this little town was just down the street. I passed a grocery inside a small strip mall. A sign pointed past it which said city hall and community center. Just in the distance I could see the elementary school.
Pulling into the lot in front of the diner, I smiled at the small place. It was straight out of a different era. The Grove Diner sat just in front of the grocery, but along the roadside. It’s shiny silver walls with a touch of neon beckoned me to come in and try it’s greasy offerings.
When I stepped inside the door, the few patrons who sat along the single service bar stopped talking and stared. I looked down at my cut off jeans and tank top. I didn’t feel out of place, but I supposed I caught their attention because I was new.
“Come on in, honey,” the white-haired woman behind the bar said inviting me in.
I took a seat on the opposite end from the other people. The waitress wore a baby blue dress with a starched white collar and cuffs on the short sleeves. Her name tag proclaimed her name in a simple script, Betty. She offered me a menu, and I took it with a smile. There was something about this woman that I immediately liked. Her smile was genuine.
Behind her, an African-American man moved around in the kitchen. I could see him cooking through a small service window. He looked over his shoulder at me for a moment, and a large smile crossed his face. He nodded at me, and I returned the gesture.
“Luther, are you flirting with this pretty woman already? I swear I’m going to have to lock his philandering eye up!” Betty exclaimed.
“I believe it was just a friendly greeting,” I said in his defense.
“Whatever. Luther loves the ladies. You watch out or he will be after you,” Betty said. “What can I get for you?”
“Um,” I said, looking over the menu. “I’m new, so what do you suggest?”
“It’s all good, honey. Why don’t you start with some gravy biscuits,” she said.
“Sounds perfect, and coffee please,” I requested.
“Coming right up,” she said. She turned and placed an order slip on the carousel hanging at the window, then yelled, “Biscuit and gravy for your new girlfriend!”
“Betty,” Luther growled from he back. “Woman, I can hear you without all that yelling.”
“I wouldn’t know it by the way you tune me out at home,” she protested.
I laughed at their flirty exchange. For a couple of older folks, they seemed to enjoy themselves and each other. She turned and winked at me before grabbing a coffee pot to refill cups on the other end of the counter.
After refilling the other customers, she brought me a fresh cup.
“Cream or sugar?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” I said.
“You like it stout?” she asked with a questioning tone instead of a statement.
“Um, yes,” I said.
She leaned across the counter, and said, “I like a stiff drink from time to time, too.” She turned around with her elbows on the counter, to watch Luther place my biscuits in the window.
He grinned at her, smacked the bell at the window, and yelled, “Order up!”
“Luther! No need for all that yelling,” she scolded.
“You go ahead and show out for the new lady, Betty,” he laughed.
“I think I will,” she said, placing the biscuits in front of me. They looked fantastic. “So, you are new here.”
“I am. I have a trailer in the park down the road,” I said.
“Lord have mercy! You just moved in across the street from Cletus and Tater. Bless your heart. Those two are a mess,” she said.
“I’ve noticed, but the baby is sweet,” I said.
“Winnie? You met little Winnie?” she asked.
I took a bite of the biscuit, and it melted in my mouth. I groaned with approval. Luther caught the noise from behind the window, then smiled with satisfaction.
“My goodness, you’re goin’ to drive the men crazy here,” Betty said. “What’s your name?”
“Grace. Grace Ann Bryant,” I replied.
“Welcome to Shady Grove, Grace Ann Bryant. Happy to have you here. It will be nice to share the good-lookin’ men in this town. I’ve got too many as it is,” she laughed.
She made me giggle with her outlandish statements. “I’m not really in the market.”
“You will be, and when you get ready, you just ask me. I’ll point out the good ones,” she said.
“I appreciate that, but it will probably be a while before I consider such a thing,” I offered.
“Got your heart broke?” she asked.
“No. Just disappointed,” I admitted.
“That’s rough. You’ll be ready sooner or later,” she smiled. “But you can’t have Luther. He’s mine.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.
“Oh, you can dream. I’ll allow that much, but he goes home with me,” she smirked.
I laughed again. I wasn’t sure I’d found anyone else funnier in all my days. I liked Betty. Maybe, just maybe, having a friend wasn’t a bad thing.
***
Curiosity
got the best of me after a couple of days, and I decided to check out the Hot Tin Roof Bar.
I wasn’t going there to ensnare a man, so I wore jeans and a nice top. Nothing fancy. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail to emphasize the fact that I was there just for a drink.
Instead of driving the truck, I decided to walk down to the bar. Cletus and Tater were sitting on their front porch drinking beer.
“Evenin’ Grace,” Tater called out to me.
“Evenin’, Boys,” I said.
“Men. We are men, Grace,” Cletus said. Tater slapped him across the head.
“You can call me whatever you want, Grace,” Tater said. I laughed.
I could hear them arguing with each other halfway down the block. The sun was sinking in the west, but the heat remained. The Katydids sang a loud song as the stars began to twinkle. The diner had a couple of customers, but it was almost closing time for Betty and Luther.
Once I made it to the bar, I took a deep breath filled with courage and walked through the door.
An old jukebox played country music from the corner of the room. There were close to twenty people in the bar. Only a couple sat at the bar itself. Some sat at tables while the center of attraction seemed to be the pool table.
I made eye-contact with the bartender, and his jaw dropped open. He had been wiping out a glass with a white towel, but he froze in place when he saw me. I turned around to see if he was staring at someone behind me, or if I had caused this reaction. No one was behind me.
He realized he had stopped his chore, then quickly returned to it as I approached the worn wooden surface of the bar.
“What will it be?” he asked without looking up at me.
“Whiskey on the rocks,” I replied.
“Coming right up,” he said as I took a seat at the bar. He had my full attention, because something effected him when I walked into the bar.
“Thank you, Sir,” I said with a smile as he sat the drink in front of me.
“Would you like to start a tab?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “Are you Nestor?”
“I am,” he answered.
“I’m Grace. I just moved to town,” I offered. Most bartenders were chatty. I got the impression that Nestor was the sit back and listen kind of guy.
He nodded as he picked up another glass to dry with his white towel. “Jeremiah told me you were moving to town,” he said.
“Oh, you know that old coot,” I laughed, but wondered if he knew Jeremiah or if he knew Jeremiah.
“Yeah, but he don’t drink much. Mostly comes in for a cup of coffee,” Nestor said.
“Coffee in a bar?” I questioned.
“It’s damn good coffee,” Nestor replied. He finally broke a smile.
“He tell you bad things about me?” I asked.
“Nope. He said you were a little down on your luck and his organization was helping you out. But that’s all he said. Nothing bad. We all get a little down from time to time,” he said.
“That we do,” I replied.
A couple of young men entered the bar. They pointed at the pool game, but then approached the bar.
“Evenin’, Nestor,” one of the men said.
“Howdy, Deputy Maynard,” Nestor replied.
“None of that, Ness. I’m off duty,” Maynard replied. “Give me a couple of beers. We gotta go show these youngins over here a thing or two about pool.”
Nestor popped the top off of two bottles of piss water. It didn’t matter what kind it was, beer was piss water. I refused to drink it. Any of it.
Maynard dropped a few bills on the bar, then joined the other men at the pool table. They welcomed him and his friend.
“Deputy?” I asked Nestor.
“Yeah, he works for the sheriff’s office,” Nestor replied.
“Good guy?” I asked.
“Absolutely, but I hear we are getting a new sheriff,” Nestor said. Sounded like he was fishing for my reaction.
“Oh, what happened to the old one?” I asked.
“Corruption in the ranks,” Nestor replied.
I grunted in response. A new sheriff. Right after I moved to town. Was that a coincidence, or was I right to be paranoid. I paid Nestor for my one drink, then headed toward the door.
A young man stepped in my way just before I got away.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” I replied.
“Wanna dance?” he asked. He had had quite a few drinks because his breath reeked of alcohol.
“No thanks. I came for a drink. That’s all,” I said.
He grabbed for my arm and tried to tug me toward him. “Come on. Just one dance.”
I pushed my magic down. This human man couldn’t hurt me unless I let him. Right now, I needed to let him. No one in this room knew what I was.
“Get your hands off her,” Deputy Maynard said from across the room. The customers silenced at his commanding tone. The jukebox continued to play. The man did not let go of my arm.
That rush of power that automatically overwhelms me, bubbled up to the surface, but I refused to let it take over.
Maynard sat down his bottle and walked toward us. “Tifton, you heard me. Get your hands off her. I’ve warned you before. You wanna go down to the jail?”
“Naw. Me an’ this pretty lady are just have in a conversation,” Tifton replied. I felt his sweaty fingers wrapped around my arm.
“Let me go,” I growled through gritted teeth.
“Your loss,” he said practically slinging my arm away.
Maynard rushed him, pinning him against the wall. My eyes went wide as he twisted the man’s arm around behind him. “Me and you are going for a ride,” Maynard hissed.
His friend joined him with a pair of cuffs. He snapped them on Tifton’s wrists, but Maynard kept him pushed against the wall.
“I told you that you weren’t going to manhandle the women in this town anymore. I keep my promises,” he said to Tifton. “Put him in my car. I’ll take him down to the jail.”
“You sure, Troy?” the other man asked. “I can take him down. You stay here and cool off.”
“Fine,” Troy replied, releasing Tifton to the other man who drug him out the door. “I’m sorry about that ma’am. He’s been too forward with all the ladies lately. He’s been warned. Once you told him no, he should have backed off.”
“Thank you, Deputy,” I said.
“You are Grace, right?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’d heard you moved into the trailer park. If you ever need anything, just give me a call,” he said, handing me a business card.
“Troy Maynard. Antique vehicle restoration and repair,” I said reading the card.
“Yeah, that’s my cell phone on there. I do cars on the side. Mostly for fun,” he explained.
Troy Maynard’s muscled frame filled out the plaid shirt and jeans he wore. His daring green eyes didn’t linger on me as most men would. He searched the room like a hunter. I immediately liked him. I wasn’t always the best judge of character though, and he was law enforcement. I’d had several tangles with the law over the course of my life. I had to remain wary of everyone. Even this man who helped me out of a bad situation.
“Thank you, Deputy Maynard,” I said.
“When I’m not on duty, you can call me Troy,” he said finally smiling.
“Are you ever off-duty?” I asked.
He huffed. “No, I guess not.”
“Have a good evening,” I said with a smile.
“You too,” he replied, then turned back to his friends.
I stepped out into the warm night. The town outside the bar was quiet except for the chorus of critters.
As I walked home, I watched a possum cross the road not too far from the trailer. I hoped that Cletus and Tater didn’t see it. They were chasing a possum the other day so they could cook it. Being good neighbors, they had already brought me a container full of fried frogs legs which were still in the fridge
.
This town wasn’t like my previous trailer. Nor was it like the one near Mrs. Sharolyn. But it would do for a little while.
When I made it back to the trailer, a small plastic crate sat on the porch. Inside a small black and tan dog stared up at me with pleading eyes.
“What the hell is this? Who brought you here?” I asked, picking up an envelope on top of the crate.
“His name is Rufus, and he needs a home. Please take good care of him.” I read the note out loud. I shook my head, while moving the crate so I could open the door to the trailer.
After getting the door open, I pulled Rufus in his crate into the living room.
“What am I going to do with you?” I asked. He nudged the gate. “Alright.”
I bent down and unleashed the puppy. He ran out wildly. Perhaps I should have let him go outside. I opened the door again, and he pressed his nose against the screen door. Before I could barely move it, he darted out the front door and squatted in the nearest patch of grass. Once he finished, he came back up the steps.
“You ready to go inside?” I asked. He wagged his tail. “Yeah, I bet you are. I don’t know who dropped you off here, but I’m not sure you are staying. I don’t need a dog.”
He harfed at me, so I let him back inside. He followed me around the room and into my bedroom where I changed into something more comfortable.
“Rufus, let’s get a few things straight. No pee in the house. No poop in the house. No humping legs. If you can do those things, I might let you stay,” I instructed him. He wagged his tail as I talked to him.
I’d made another bond. With a dog. At least if I decided to run, I could take him with me. I couldn’t take Winnie though. I mean, I suppose I could. Fulfill that myth about fairies taking children. I would just have to stay in Shady Grove for a bit.
“Ready for bed?” I asked. He barked at me again. I found a small throw blanket in the closet. Placing it on the floor, I patted it. He took the signal and laid on it. “Night, Rufus.”
18