“Yes.”
Jimmy looked at the three pictures again. This time he studied the woman’s face but learned nothing.
“Where does she live now?” he asked.
“We don’t know,” Mama said. “Your daddy hasn’t heard from her for almost eleven years.”
“Why did she go away?” Jimmy asked. “Was it because of me?”
In an instant, Mama had her arms around him and brought his head into her shoulder.
“Don’t ever say or think that again,” she said. “You are a wonderful boy. Anyone would be proud to have you as a son.”
Jimmy enjoyed the hug but wasn’t sure why Mama did it. She stroked the back of his head, kissed him on the forehead, and released him.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” he answered.
“Do you want to keep the pictures?” she asked.
Jimmy held the photos lightly in his hand. “Is it okay with Daddy?”
“Yes, we talked it over and decided you were old enough to have them.”
“I’ll put them in my desk drawer but not on my board.”
“That’s fine.”
Mama prayed for him then stood up.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night, Mama.”
As Mama turned to leave, Jimmy spoke. “If I ever meet the woman in the pictures, what should I call her? I can’t call her Mama, because you’re my mama.”
Mama was still for a second.
“I’m not sure,” she answered in a slightly shaky voice. “Maybe you should call her Ms. Horton. Her name is Vera Horton.”
— Eight —
The first week of summer vacation, Jimmy helped Mama around the house. Each morning they worked in the backyard vegetable garden. By early June the Georgia sun had coaxed tomatoes, green beans, yellow squash, okra, and three rows of corn from the red clay. Jimmy enjoyed routine, repetitive tasks that most people found boring and was an expert at pulling weeds. Mama taught him the difference between the good plants and the bad plants, and he carefully worked his way down each row, leaving weed-free soil behind him.
Buster enjoyed having Jimmy home from school and often interrupted by begging for a stomach scratch. Mama wore a broad-brimmed straw hat while she worked. Jimmy wore an Atlanta Braves cap with a big A on the front. Mama told him he received an A as a weed puller.
One morning as Jimmy finished the last row, Mama came across the yard with two glasses of lemonade.
“Are you thirsty?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
They sat down, leaned against a large tree, and stretched out their legs. The late-morning air was still. It was as quiet as only a small town in the summer can be. Drops of water ran down the outside of the glasses. Buster lay down beside Jimmy.
“I’m glad you’re my mama,” Jimmy said.
“Me too.”
“You chose me, didn’t you?” Jimmy asked.
“You know I did.”
“Tell me again.”
Mama smiled. “Do you like that story?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How old were you when I first met you?” Mama asked.
“Four years old.”
“Do you remember the first time I saw you?” Mama asked.
“I pretend that I can.”
“Well, you were the cutest four-year-old boy in Piney Grove. I worked in the clerk’s office at the courthouse and knew your daddy because he was a lawyer.”
“The best lawyer in Piney Grove.”
“That’s right.”
“One day he picked you up from the babysitter and brought you to the clerk’s office. I looked up from my desk, and there you were, standing in front of me.”
“Was I wearing glasses?”
“Yes, and you blinked your eyes several times and stared at me.”
Jimmy chuckled. “Why was I staring and blinking my eyes?”
“I’d like to think it was because you knew I was going to be your mama, but I think you wanted me to give you a lollipop from the jar I kept on my desk.”
“Did you give me a lollipop?”
“Not until I asked you to tell me your favorite flavor. You said ‘grape,’ which was my favorite too. We each ate a lollipop.”
“Where was Daddy?”
“He was watching us. We’d been talking on the phone and eating dinner together for several months, and he wanted me to meet you.”
“What did you think?”
“I liked your daddy a lot.”
“No, about me,” Jimmy said, smiling.
Mama took a sip of lemonade. “I loved you the first time I saw you. Now I love you with my whole heart. I couldn’t love you any more if I tried.”
Jimmy felt doubly warm—from the sun above and the love sitting beside him.
“A few months later, I planned your five-year-old birthday party,” Mama said. “The next week your daddy asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”
“Because you loved both of us.”
“Yes. And we got married at Christmastime.”
Jimmy had a picture in his room of Mama and Daddy in front of a Christmas tree. Mama was wearing a white dress. They got married at the house and both looked happy.
“Where was I when they took the picture of you in the white dress in front of the Christmas tree?”
“Probably eating wedding cake in the dining room.”
“Do you still have some of the cake in the freezer?”
“Yes, your daddy and I will eat it after we’ve been married ten years.”
“Can I have some too?”
“Yes, we’ll give you a bite.”
Jimmy rolled a piece of ice around in his mouth, then put it in his hand for Buster to lick.
“Why don’t I have any brothers or sisters?” he asked.
Mama lowered her glass from her lips. “What made you think about that?”
“Max has a sister. Denise has a brother and a sister.”
Mama turned slightly and rested on her arm so that she faced him.
“Some people love their own children; others get to love a child who’s already been born. Daddy and I wanted to have more children, but the doctors said that we can’t. I’m happy to have you to love. That’s enough for me.”
Jimmy looked closely into Mama’s face.
“Did I make you sad?” he asked.
Mama reached over and stroked his hand. “No, but it was a serious question. Do you understand my answer?”
“I think so.”
“Tell me.”
Jimmy was used to this. It was how he learned best.
“You and Daddy went to the hospital to get a baby, but the doctors told you there wasn’t one for you, so you came home and kept loving me.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
They finished their lemonade. Jimmy carried the tools back to the rear of the house and leaned them against the wall. Mama followed with the empty glasses.
“You’re a good worker,” Mama said. “On Monday you’re going to help your daddy at the office.”
“But I don’t know what to do.”
“There are weeds that need to be pulled at a law office too.”
ON MONDAY MORNING, JIMMY PUT ON A NICE PAIR OF PANTS and a collared shirt. He went downstairs to the kitchen and watched Mama remove a crisp strip of bacon from the skillet and place it on a paper towel.
“Lawyers’ helpers need to eat a good breakfast,” she said with a smile.
Daddy lowered the newspaper. “I eat prosecutors for breakfast, insurance companies for lunch, and government agencies for supper.”
Jimmy gave Daddy a puzzled look. “I like bacon and eggs.”
Mama placed four slices of bacon on a plate beside a mound of fluffy eggs. Daddy had a single piece of bacon and a smaller portion of eggs.
“Lawyers’ helpers don’t have to worry about cholesterol,” he grunted.
Jimmy sat at the table and methodically ate his breakf
ast. Daddy glanced at his watch.
“Hurry, so you can brush your teeth. We need to leave in a few minutes. I have a hearing at nine o’clock in front of Judge Robinson.”
Jimmy ate faster, then ran upstairs and brushed his teeth. He coated the toothbrush with so much toothpaste that in a few seconds the foam spilled from the corners of his mouth and made him look like a rabid dog. He carefully kept his face over the sink. Mama called upstairs.
“Rinse out your mouth! It’s time to go!”
Jimmy splashed water on his face and into his mouth. He pulled his lips away from his teeth and inspected his work. Mama and Daddy were waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re only going to be at the office until eleven o’clock,” Mama said. “I’ll pick you up, and we’ll make a few stops before coming home to eat lunch. You’ll spend the rest of the afternoon with me.”
“What about Grandpa?” Jimmy asked. “I didn’t get to see him this weekend because he was sick.”
“It’s time to go,” Daddy said. “You can sort out the rest of the day later.”
Mama hugged Jimmy, holding him longer than she did when he left for school.
Jimmy followed Daddy out the door. The June air was cool and the grass damp. By late July there wouldn’t be enough moisture in the air to spare for dew. They rode in silence. Jimmy glanced over at Daddy several times. They parked in the spot marked “Reserved for James Lee Mitchell, Esq.”
DADDY’S OFFICE WAS IN A HOUSE ONCE OWNED BY THE GRANDmother of a local surgeon. Two blocks from the courthouse, the one-story brick house had an archway over the front door. Daddy claimed it was in better condition than when it was first built. Mama especially liked the pretty yard and said it was the nicest law office in Piney Grove.
To reach the front door, Jimmy carefully stepped from one paving stone to the next. Daddy glanced back at him.
“You can’t be looking down if you want to work for me.”
“I was checking for weeds.”
Jimmy, hopping on one foot, hit the center of three more pavers before reaching the front door.
In the room where people waited to see Daddy, fancy chairs sat in front of a fireplace that could be turned on with a switch. Pictures in thick frames of men on horseback with dogs hung on the walls. Jimmy’s favorite picture was of a pack of dogs running beside some horsemen after a red fox that was climbing a wall in the far distance.
A lady who worked for Daddy sat at a shiny wooden desk. A fancy red rug covered the center of the wooden floor. Daddy stood beside the lady’s desk and flipped through a stack of pink papers.
“I have to go to court in a couple of minutes,” he said to her. “Call David Gallegly and tell him the closing on his new building has been changed to Wednesday at three o’clock. Warn Bryce Thomas that the insurance company may hire a private investigator to spy on him and not to be doing anything inconsistent with the doctor’s recommendations.”
Daddy glanced up and saw the lady staring at Jimmy.
“Oh, yeah,” Daddy continued. “You know my son, Jimmy. He is going to help us this morning. You and Delores need to find something for him to do until I return from the courthouse. My hearing shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”
Daddy left the room and went into his office. Jimmy stood in the middle of the red carpet. The pretty lady with yellow hair gave him a little smile. She’d been working for Daddy for six months. Jimmy had met her briefly a couple of times when Mama brought him by, but he couldn’t remember her name.
“Hi, Jimmy,” she said. “I’m Kate.”
“Hi,” he responded.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.
Before Jimmy could answer, Daddy reentered the room. He had his briefcase.
“Jimmy can do more than you might think. Just make sure you show him specifically what you want him to do, and check on him.”
“Yes, Mr. Mitchell.”
The front door closed behind Daddy.
“We have coffee, water, soft drinks,” Kate said. “But I guess you don’t drink coffee, do you?”
“No, ma’am. I’m not thirsty.”
“You don’t have to call me ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kate laughed. It was a friendly sound. She stood up. She was short like Mama but skinnier. Her straight hair fell to her shoulders.
“Do you know Delores?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let’s ask her if she has a project for you.”
Daddy relied on Delores Smythe for everything except telling him what to say in court. She’d been his secretary since before he met Mama. She didn’t have a husband, but she had three cats. Jimmy didn’t know how old she was, but Mama said Delores had reached the place in life where she never got any older.
Jimmy and Kate went into a small office across the hall from Daddy’s big office. Small paintings of her three cats hung behind Delores’s desk, and photographs of the cats, singly and together, surrounded her work area. Delores was wearing a white blouse with a bright yellow scarf around her neck. Reading glasses hung from a chain that disappeared under the scarf. She looked up when they entered the room and removed earphones from her ears.
“Jimmy,” she said in surprise. “Is your mother sick?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I haven’t seen you since Christmas. You’re getting taller and taller.”
Jimmy wasn’t aware of this, but he’d heard similar comments from several people.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jimmy glanced at the pictures of the cats.
“How is your dog doing?” Delores asked. “Buster, isn’t it?”
“Buster is the best dog in the whole world,” Jimmy answered. “He’d like to play with your cats if you want to bring them over to the house sometime.”
“That’s probably not a good idea. My babies spend most of their time indoors.” Delores picked up a photograph of a brown tabby. “Do you remember this one?”
Jimmy squinted at the picture. He’d met the cats several times when Daddy dropped work papers off at Delores’s house. All three cats walked around on tiptoe with their backs arched when strangers visited and didn’t reveal enough about their personalities to make a name stick in his memory.
“No, ma’am.”
“This is Otto,” Delores replied. She reached for a large photo in a silver frame of a fawn-colored Siamese and a long-haired white Persian lying together on a fancy green pillow and showed it to him. “And here are Maureen and Celine.”
Jimmy looked at the cats. He couldn’t understand cats. They didn’t seem to care about anything. Except in storybooks, Jimmy had never known a cat to join in an adventure like Buster’s trips with him to Grandpa’s house.
“Pretty cats,” he managed.
“Doesn’t Jimmy have the best manners?” Kate interjected. “He even calls me ‘ma’am,’ and I’m barely out of high school. He’s going to help us this morning.”
“Help us do what?” Delores asked.
“Work here at the office.”
“What does Lee want him to do?”
“That’s up to us,” Kate responded. “Uh, to you.”
The phone rang, and Kate returned to the reception area. Delores tilted her head to the side and put the end of her glasses to her lips.
“So this isn’t a fun visit to your daddy’s office?”
“No, ma’am. The other night at supper Daddy said he needed help, and I told him I’m a good worker. Mama thinks it would be good for me to spend time at the office so Daddy and I can do things together.”
Delores raised her eyebrows. “Jimmy, I’ve never heard you put that many words together in your whole life. I guess you’re growing up in more ways than inches. What would you like to do? Did you talk with your daddy about it?”
“No, ma’am, but I’m good at pulling weeds from the garden. I can vacuum the floor, put dishes in the dishwasher—”
“Hold on. That’s
what you do with your mother, but it gives me an idea.”
Delores pointed to a large white box in the corner of her office.
“I was going to ask Kate to organize the papers in that box, but it might be something you can handle. Do you know the months of the year in correct order?”
Jimmy gave her a puzzled look.
“You know, January, February, March.” Delores stopped and waited.
Jimmy continued the sequence. “April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December.”
“Good enough. Bring that box into the conference room.”
Jimmy picked up the heavy box and followed Delores to the rear of the office.
“Is that box too heavy for you?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m getting stronger every day.”
At the end of the hall they entered a rectangular area that had once been a sunroom. Solid walls had been added, but two skylights remained. In the middle of the room was a glass table surrounded by six chairs.
“Put the box on the table,” Delores said.
Delores took out a stack of letters and documents. She picked up a letter and pointed to the top of the sheet.
“Read this,” she said.
“October 8, 2004.”
“Good.”
She selected several other sheets, and Jimmy correctly identified the date.
“Now, put these five letters in order beginning with the oldest one on the bottom.”
Jimmy stared at the letters for several seconds before shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”
Delores placed all five letters on the table. “Which one was written first?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
Delores didn’t get upset. “You don’t have to be there to know when a letter was written. That’s why the date is at the top. Which comes first every year, your birthday or your mama’s birthday?”
“My birthday.”
“Is July before December?”
Jimmy didn’t answer but glanced at the letters. “So this letter with January on top is before the one with May on top.”
“That’s right. It’s older. But you have to look at the year, not just the month. This is an old case that has information in it from several years ago. There are letters in this box written in 1998.”
Overwhelmed, Jimmy backed away from the table. “I can’t do this. But please don’t tell Daddy. Maybe I could work in the yard? I’m a good weed-puller.”
Jimmy Page 9
