The Move (The Creek Water Series Book 2)

by Whitney Dineen

  Fill out grant applications.

  Call an electrician.

  Look into ways to hypnotize my mother into doing my dad’s bidding.

  Chapter 49

  I’m still annoyed with Beau when he gets back from dropping my mom off at Myrah and Clovis’s. I demand, “Well, how did it go? Were they surprised to see her?” Before he can answer, I add, “You know, I would have liked to have witnessed their meeting for myself.”

  Beau puts both hands out in front of him with his fingers spread like he’s getting ready to catch a basketball. “I know. I’m sorry about that, but I felt like your mama needed a break from people who know her. You know what I mean?”

  “No. She came here for us, why would she need a break?” I demand.

  “She seemed overwhelmed, Lexi, especially after your daddy’s little speech.” He explains, “I didn’t take her right out to the farm. I drove her around town for a bit to help her get her bearings.”

  “You did?” I ask. “Where did you go?”

  “We went to the factory first, so she could see where your dad has been staying. I wanted her to see what drew him here. I thought it might help her understand his odd behavior a little better.”

  To say I’m surprised would be a massive understatement. So far, my impression of Beau is that he’s a ruggedly great-looking alpha-male type, not necessarily Mr. Sensitive. Showing her Dad’s place must have really helped Regina get her balance. There are a lot of unknowns and surprises for her here, what with never having set foot in Missouri before, let alone in a small town like Creek Water. “What did she think of it?” I ask.

  “She didn’t say a lot. She walked around, looked out the windows, and got a feel for the space. Then she spent several minutes staring at the blank canvases your dad has lined up against the wall. She thanked me for taking her there. I think she understood Bertie’s decision a little more.”

  “Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say. It turns out Beau is quite intuitive and that makes him a hundred times more appealing.

  “Did you take her out to the farm after that?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. I drove her down by the river first. I’ve always thought there was somethin’ about the Mississippi River that helps a person think.”

  “What did she say?” I ask.

  “Nothing. We sat there and stared for about twenty minutes. When I finally broke the silence, I asked her if she was ready to go to the farm.”

  As touched as I am about the care Beau took with my mom, I wish I had been there so I could have seen how she reacted to meeting her long-lost family. “How did it go? Was she excited? What did they say?” I demand.

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. She didn’t want me to come in with her. She just got out of the car and walked in by herself.”

  “What about the dogs?” I remember Beau warning me to stay put until Clovis assured them I was okay.

  “They ran up to her and she yelled ‘sit’ and those two beasts hit the dirt. They laid down like their mistress had arrived.” I laugh at the surprise written across his face. “You must have grown up with dogs,” he says.

  “Nope. Bertie couldn’t run the risk of them knocking into canvases or getting in his way when he was creating something.”

  “Then how in the world did she control them so well?” he wonders.

  “Regina is the queen of control,” I tell him. “Once, she and I were about to get mugged in the subway. I kid you not, two burly creeps were coming right at us. It was late at night and no one else was around, so shouting for help wouldn’t have helped.”

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “My mom pushed me behind her and shoved her hand in her purse. She walked straight at them, pulled out her NYU employee badge and stuck it right in the first guy’s face. Not only was he completely taken off guard by the fact that my mom approached him, but he couldn’t read the ID that close up.”

  Beau demands, “What happened next?”

  “She leaned in and said, ‘I’m with a black-ops branch of the CIA and you assholes are about to ruin three years of hard work. The shadows are crawling with my people, so you’d better turn around and get the hell out of here before I signal them to shoot you between the eyes.’”

  “How old were you?” he asks.

  “Eighteen. And, believe me, I didn’t look capable of shooting anyone. It was all I could do not to pee my pants.”

  “Did they run?” he asks.

  I say, “Yeah, but not before my mom mugged them.”

  “What?” he asks. He’s clearly as astonished as I was at the time.

  “She told them to hand over their wallets. Then she took out their IDs before giving them back. She told them that if they ever tried to steal from anyone again, she’d have them taken out.”

  Beau bursts out laughing. “She did that all without a weapon? Were they idiots?”

  “I’m guessing they were meaner than they were smart, but that goes to show you how intense Regina can be. I have no doubt that had they tried to actually hurt us, she would have sprayed them with mace and thrown them in front of an oncoming train before they could have gotten anything from us.”

  Beau shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say. I guess I can see how she’d had enough of feeling vulnerable today and wanted to meet her family without witnesses.”

  I say, “Your mom wants my family to join them at the club for dinner tonight. I think that might be a bit much for Regina.”

  He pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Myrah,” he asks, “how surprised were you?”

  I don’t know what she’s saying, but I hear a lot of joyous sounds on the other end of the line. He continues, “Y’all up to meeting us at the club for dinner tonight at six?” He listens closely for several moments before saying, “I sure do love you, too. See you then.”

  Then he tells me, “Your mom is going to stay with them while she’s in Creek Water. They’ll meet us for dinner.”

  Will wonders never cease? The anger I’ve been feeling toward Beau evaporates like steam in a cold breeze. “This day is not turning out like I expected. But I’m glad my mom is here. It’s the only way for my parents to resolve the feelings going on between them.”

  Beau says, “Relationships aren’t always easy. You’ve got to be willing to put up with a lot, and trust that the rewards will far outweigh the frustrations.”

  I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking from personal experience. “Beau, what’s going on between you and Shelby?” I finally ask.

  A look of sadness crosses his face. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he tells me before adding, “but I can tell you this: I like you, Lexi, a whole lot. Not only are you a breath of fresh air around here, but I love spending time with you. I’m glad you’re moving to Creek Water.”

  I’m more confused than ever. Beau drives me back to my dad’s loft in silence. My thoughts run along the lines of wondering why he’s trying to romance me before he’s prepared to say that he and Shelby are through.

  I suppose I could pretend the last twenty-four hours never happened and go back to thinking of him as nothing more than Emmie’s cousin but, to tell the truth, I don’t want to do that. I want something real to happen between us, but I have no idea how that can happen if he’s not going to be honest with me.

  Chapter 50

  Beau pulls up in front of the old sewing machine factory, and I am pulled out of my thoughts when he says, “I have a couple of errands to run. I’ll pick you and Bertie up at five thirty, okay?”

  “No, thanks,” I tell him. “I’ll drive us.” I figure it’s best to have a little distance between me and Beau. Also, this way, if someone—like me—needs to make a getaway, I’ll be able to do so without relying on anyone else. Dinner with my parents and the Frothinghams could be delightful or it could be a complete nightmare for multiple reasons.

  My parents are not country club types, so I imagine they might not feel very comfortable there.
At least Bertie has gotten to know Emmie and Beau’s family a bit, so I’m pretty sure he won’t be up in arms about going, but I can’t say the same for Regina. Also, there’s no telling how my folks are going to get along with each other after their confrontation this afternoon.

  I get out of the car without even thanking Beau for the day. My mind is so focused on what’s going on between us, that I’ve lost all interest in small talk.

  Bertie is in full painting mode when I get upstairs. He’s got some Native American flute music playing and he’s finally applied paint to a canvas. “Hi, Dad; I’m back.” He doesn’t even know that I’m there.

  I decide to take a shower and spend the next couple of hours on my laptop working on grant applications. I figure with the documented history of the house, I should be a shoo-in. Once I’ve filled out three different forms, along with one to get the house on the National Historic Registry, I jump into the shower.

  There’s nothing like hot water beating down on your head to bring clarity. During my extended twenty-minute cleansing, I decide that first and foremost I’m going to take care of me. My parents are adults with a long history. They’ll either get through this bump in the road or not. But whatever happens, it’s on them.

  Then I conclude that Beau needs to take care of his own house before he can get involved with me. I can’t be worried about what he and Shelby are to each other. When he’s ready to talk to me honestly, I’ll listen; but until then, I’m determined that no more romantic moments, especially kissing, will take place between us.

  I put on a pair of slacks and a sweater, no dressing up tonight. Although, I do take extra care with my hair and makeup. I don’t allow myself to analyze why. Once I’m ready, I go back into the main living space to say goodbye to my dad, who I know isn’t going anywhere now that he’s started painting.

  Bertie is so engrossed in what he’s doing I could probably bring in a troop of fire-eating belly dancers and he wouldn’t notice. I say, “Dad, I know you probably can’t hear me, but I’m going out to dinner. I shouldn’t be late.”

  His only response is to change his music to Led Zeppelin, a sure sign he’s heading into an all-nighter. I make a mental note to stop by the store to buy some earplugs, so the music doesn’t keep me awake.

  While driving through the streets of Creek Water, I’m flooded by a feeling of continuity. My ancestors walked these streets. They built lives here. I have no idea what living here was like for them, but I’m guessing they liked it well enough. I mean, Myrah and Clovis are still here. That’s got to be an endorsement.

  I don’t know how to find the club on my own yet, so I rely on GPS to keep me on track. The long, tree-lined drive makes me feel like I’m driving back in time. I can almost imagine what it was like to make this trip in a horse-drawn carriage, which is both enchanting and unnerving.

  Had I lived here at a time before cars, I would most certainly not be coming here to dine. I’d probably be washing dishes in the back. It’s not a sensation I’ve ever experienced in New York. My grandmother was a well-known jazz singer and as such, she was treated with great respect in both the African-American community as well as the white community, even though she was once accused of shoplifting by a white store owner in Manhattan.

  The owner called the police and demanded that Mimi be taken to jail. The Irish cop who took the call recognized Mimi and told the man he was full of it. Thelma—Mimi’s real name—Cohen didn’t need to steal. After showing the store owner the inside of her purse, something he wouldn’t let her do before calling the police, Mimi told the cop that she hoped he’d come by the club where she sang, so she could repay his kindness. Paddy Dickenson became a regular, often bringing along fellow officers. Mimi had herself quite a fan base in the NYPD.

  My mother’s colleagues have always treated her with respect. While there are still way more white professors than black ones, there are also Asian and Middle-Eastern faculty as well. Times are not what they once were and I’m very aware of how fortunate I am to live in the time I do.

  I appreciate, in a way I haven’t before, that it was the work of other generations that have made my life possible. The lesson my mom was always keen for me to learn is really hitting home here in Creek Water.

  I park my rental car out under a large tree in in the parking area and walk toward the club’s entrance. I can’t imagine I’ll ever think it’s worth the money to join a place like this, but it is nice not to feel uncomfortable being here.

  Then I see Shelby walking up ahead with her parents. While I’d like to say hello to her, I don’t look forward to seeing her mother again. I come to a stop. What if Cootie says something to my mother? Oh, lord …

  Chapter 51

  Emmie is already inside with her mom, aunt, and uncles when I arrive. “Where are Zach and Faye?” I ask.

  My friend answers, “We’re trying to get the baby on a better sleep schedule. Zach read this book about how sleep breeds sleep and that if we put Faye to bed by six o’clock at night, she’s supposed to pass out for a minimum of twelve hours before waking up.”

  “That seems counterintuitive,” I reply. “But there must be something to it.”

  “I hope so,” she says. “I’m ready to have an uninterrupted night already.”

  Before I greet the rest of her family, I say, “It’s nice that your mom and Uncle Jesse are dating. Have they been a couple for long?”

  Emmie looks at me like I’ve asked how many warthogs she’s planning on eating for dinner. “What are you talking about? They’re not a couple.”

  “Really? Whenever I see them, they’re together, always talking to each other and sitting by each other. I just assumed.”

  Emmie turns to look at them before saying. “Jesse’s my daddy’s brother. Plus, he’s nine years younger than Mama.” Turning back to me, she adds, “They’re family.”

  “If you say so.” It’s plain as the nose on my face that there’s something more going on there, but maybe they’re not ready to make it public yet.

  When the hostess takes us into the dining room, Emmie asks, “Uncle Jesse, would you mind if I sat next to Mama?” It’s obvious my comment is filling her head and she’s hoping to get some answers.

  Jesse moves away from his usual place by Gracie’s side and answers, “Sure thing, honey.” That’s how he comes to sit next to me. We’re still expecting my mom, Myrah, and Clovis, so we order a drink while we wait.

  After asking for a glass of wine, I lean over to Jesse and ask, “So how long have you and Gracie been seeing each other?”

  “About a year,” he says. “But don’t tell her, she doesn’t know it yet.”

  “What do you mean she doesn’t know?” I release a bubble of laughter at the thought that they’re dating but Emmie’s mom doesn’t realize it.

  He answers, “Gracie thinks of me as Reed’s little brother. I’m trying to get her to see me as a man in my own right.”

  “How’s that going?” I ask. I mean, the whole thing is too absurd for words.

  He tilts his head to the side as though really considering his answer. “I don’t really know. Sometimes, I think she realizes how much fun she has with me and wishes it was more, but then she inevitably says something like, ‘We need to find you a nice young lady, Jesse.’ She says it like I’m eighteen and she’s ninety.”

  I ask, “Have you ever considered trying to make her jealous?”

  “That’s a fine idea, but I don’t want to mislead anyone else.”

  Before we can plot any further, Clovis and Myrah come in with Regina. There’s a radiance about my older family members that makes me want to bask in their presence. My mom looks genuinely happy to be here, although I think that’s more to do with being reunited with her new family than seeing me and Dad. Both of us are clearly on her list.

  Myrah stops to greet each Frothingham. She hugs them and exchanges loving words before she gets to me. I wrap my arms around her and say, “I’m so happy you’re getting a chance to kn
ow my mom.”

  “Child, this here is like a decade full of Christmas mornings for me. Regina is an amazin’ woman. I already feel like she’s one of my own.”

  Clovis touches his wife’s cheek affectionately and says, “The gals in this family are a wonder, that’s for sure.”

  Myrah replies, “Don’t you ever doubt it.”

  Then they find their seats. My mom is across the table from me so I don’t have a chance to ask her anything, but I can tell she’s turned her day around from the last time I saw her, when she was getting told off by my dad.

  Regina orders a beverage and then looks at me. “Where’s your father, Alexis?” She asks in such a way you’d think she was inquiring after a particularly virulent fungal infection. She continues to use my full name as parents do when you’re in trouble. Which I’ve apparently been since she arrived in town.

  “He started painting,” I tell her. She nods her head once, knowing as well as I do that Bertie painting is essentially the same thing as him falling off the edge of the earth: neither of us know when we’ll hear from him again.

  Beau is the last to arrive. He seems a little flustered as he sits down. He apologizes, “I hope I didn’t hold y’all up.”

  His mother assures him that he did and demands, “Why are you late?”

  “I got caught on a call.”

  He smiles at me and asks, “Where’s your daddy?”

  I take that opportunity to make Bertie’s apologies to everyone and explain, “My dad has started a new series of paintings. I don’t think he’ll be around much until he’s done.”

  “I think that’s such an excitin’ profession,” Emmie’s mom gushes. She smiles at my mom and adds, “And you being a professor, Regina, that blows me away. I’d love to know more about your work.”

  Before my mom can regale her audience with tales of female suffering and injustice, the waiter comes to take our order. Once we’re all done, I shift the conversation to Clovis’s most recent hobby of beekeeping. Mom will have plenty of opportunity to share her opinions. “Tell us about your bees, Clovis.”