Up the Devil's Belly

by Rhett DeVane

  Up the Devil’s Belly

  a novel by

  Rhett DeVane

  Up the Devil’s Belly

  Copyright © 2005 Rhett DeVane

  All rights reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or person—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2004118315

  First Edition print version published in 2005 by Rabid Press, Austin, Texas.

  Contents

  Up the Devil’s Belly

  Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Afterword

  A Note from the Author

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Dedication

  For my mother, Theresa DeVane-

  My hero, my friend, and my biggest fan.

  “There are two kinds of devils – the ones you know and the ones you don’t. The devils you don’t know are the ones you want to look out for. They’ll put a hurtin’ on you every time.”

  Piddie Davis Longman

  Prologue

  Sarah Chuntian Lewis

  Lulled by the monotonous drone of the jet’s engines, I drifted into a clammy, drooling sleep. The twenty-four-plus hours spent traipsing the globe from China to Los Angeles to Atlanta throughout the previous day and evening finally provided the dead-out exhaustion to override my normal resistance.

  Beside me, Sarah Chuntian Lewis dozed peacefully on Holston’s lap while he scribbled in a small notebook. Miniature bubbles of saliva formed at the corners of her rosebud mouth. We marveled at her ability to wall herself off from the turbulence of the world. Perhaps the noisy, crowded orphanage where she’d spent the first seven months of her life had steeled her to the jangling din of human voices.

  From the moment Holston and I had met Sarah at the orphanage in the Jiangxi province, we had fallen desperately in love with her round, ever-smiling face and sunny disposition. I had imagined she would hold a deep, abiding sadness for her unfortunate introduction into a country so overpopulated that its rulers dictated the number of offspring per family, and whose society valued male children over its female counterparts.

  As a newborn, Sarah had been found late in September in a reed basket on the stoop of the orphanage, wrapped in a soft pink, hand-woven blanket, amid handfuls of wild daisies. A hand-scripted scrap of paper attached to a corner of her clothing contained the Chinese character for the word chuntian— spring in English.

  A subtle change in the pitch of the engines nudged my awareness. I opened my eyes and studied Holston’s profile in the dawning light. The shadow of beard stubble accentuated the lines of his strong chin. A wisp of dark brown hair hung over his gentle dark eyes. Often, I marveled over this tall, dark, and handsome man. By any standards, I was average; five-four, medium-length brown hair, hazel eyes. Nothing special. But, Holston Lewis loved me to absolute derision. I thanked the heavens on a daily basis for whatever good karma had sent him my way.

  “I can’t wait to tell Jake you actually slept on an airplane,” he said.

  I yawned and stretched as far as possible in the cramped space. “He’ll just bug you to find out how much Benadryl you had to give me to knock me out.” I nodded toward Sarah. “Can you believe her? She’s slept practically the entire trip.”

  The intercom crackled. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we’ll be landing shortly in Tallahassee. Weather conditions this morning…sunny, clear, 68 degrees, highs expected in the upper 80’s with around 75% humidity. We’d like to take this opportunity…”

  “I’ve yet to have nary one of these left over when I take them to a party or covered dish dinner. They beat plain ole deviled eggs all to pieces.”

  Piddie Davis Longman

  Piddie Longman’s Wicked Deviled Eggs

  12 hard-boiled eggs

  ½ cup mayonnaise

  4 Tablespoons prepared horseradish (or a dab more if you like it spicy)

  1 ¼ teaspoon dill weed

  ½ teaspoon ground mustard

  ½ teaspoon salt

  dash pepper

  paprika to garnish

  Cut the boiled eggs in half lengthwise. Remove the yellers. Set the white halves aside. In a bowl, mash up the yellers, then add the mayo, horseradish, dill, mustard, salt, and pepper. Mix it up real good. Spoon into the egg white halves. Sprinkle a little paprika on the top for color. Keep in the refrigerator until you’re ready to serve. Yield: two dozen.

  Chapter One

  A bible of southern etiquette would contain a psalm on appropriate food gifting occasions: And it came to pass that a decree was sent out unto the land that each person should bring, according to his or her due, a casserole.

  During times of stress, good or bad, the residents of Chattahoochee came bearing glassware and aluminum pans filled with homemade comfort food. The entrees included chicken ’n ’dumplin’s, pot roast with potatoes and carrots, green beans with french-fried onion topping, tuna and English pea salad, and, always, one container filled with an unnaturally colored unidentifiable mixture topped with a melted mat of cheddar cheese.

  With the aid of Aunt Piddie and her longtime friend and fellow little-ole-lady-hotline nemesis, Elvina Houston, folks from the three surrounding counties knew of our return to the farmhouse on the Hill. They politely waited one full day to allow us to settle in. Then, they came. By the afternoon of the second day, the refrigerators in the country kitchen and the pool house were filled to bursting with offerings. I bugged my sister-in-law Leigh, my cousin Evelyn, and our down-the-lane neighbors, Margie and John, to take food home with them. The congratulatory cards were piled high on the kitchen island waiting for thank-you notes to be penned and sent in the return mail.

  Jake Witherspoon’s rear protruded from the refrigerator as he poked under the aluminum foil lid of a pottery bowl. “Tuna casserole—I’ll bet Julie at the Homeplace made that one. Hmmm…lasagna! That’d be Angelina Palazzolo’s.” He removed a large milky-blue glass covered dish. “Whose dumplin’s?”

  I shrugged. “Ginny Pridgett, I think. The card’s over there somewhere.”

  “Ewww! Can I have some? She makes the best chicken ’n’ dumplin’s. But, don’t dare tell Piddie I said so. It’d eat her alive.”

  “Help yourself. We’ve gotten so much food, it’ll go bad before we can eat all of it. You want to take the tuna casserole home with you? I detest the stuff. And Julie, bless her heart, always brings it. I think she got the r
ecipe from Mandy at the Cut ’n’ Curl.”

  Jake wagged a thin finger. “Triple C Day Spa and Salon, Sister-girl. The Cut ’n’ Curl is a thing of the past. Just call it the Triple C for…” He snapped his fingers with an upward flourish. “Cut, curl, and coddle.”

  “You’re really getting into this thing, aren’t you? I mean, considering you’re not really working there.”

  Jake propped his hands on his slender hips. “Beg pardon, missy. I’m the creative designer, overseer, and grounds manager. Actually, with Jolene in place at the Dragonfly Florist, I’ve spent more time at the Triple C than uptown.” He clapped his hands together. “I can’t wait till Saturday. The grand opening and welcome-home-baby-Sarah party is going to be the social event of the late spring season!”

  “No doubt about that, with you heading up the planning committee.” I shook my head and smiled. “Evelyn made the most amazing little playsuit for Sarah to wear.”

  “The one with the appliquéd gold dragon?”

  “There’s more than one?”

  Jake piled a paper plate with a congealed lump of dumplings and shoved it into the microwave. “Does your cousin ever go half way with anything? She’s made five different oriental influence outfits for Sarah. Two are silk—obviously not for everyday spit-up wear.”

  The microwave beeped, and Jake settled onto a cushioned barstool at the island counter with his plate. “You haven’t seen her house since you’ve gotten home, then?” he asked around a mouthful.

  “Let me guess. Red, black and gold? Chinese characters as wall hangings? Maybe some bamboo curtains and rice paper lanterns?”

  Jake’s nose wrinkled as he grinned. “Piddie would say you have ESPN.”

  “Poor Joe. He just finished hanging the nautical kitchen wallpaper before we left for China.”

  Jake moaned with pleasure. “Gah, this is so good. Sure you don’t want some?”

  I shook my head. “Not unless you want me to blow up. I’ve done nothing but eat since we got home. So, Evelyn has redone their entire house since we left for China?”

  He stabbed the air with his fork. “Actually, no. Just the kitchen and den. She’s been too busy. Her ongoing home redecoration fetish has paled with the demands of her new designer clothing business. We had planned on having a small display area for her gowns and outfits right behind the reception desk at the Triple C. Since she needed more space, she and Joe outfitted an old pantry off the mudroom for her work area. She has cutting and layout tables, two old sewing machines, and one new computerized model that, I’m sure, set Joe back several thou.”

  “What about Aunt Piddie? She can’t stay home alone all day.”

  Jake swallowed a gulp of iced tea, then dabbed delicately at the corners of his mouth. “Pid’s going to run the reception desk for the spa. She’s all psyched up about it. Said it’d beat sittin’ around at home. As long as we have a TV so she can watch her soaps and Oprah, and an extra phone line so she can keep up with Elvina’s goin’s on, she’ll be happy.”

  He chuckled. “You should see Joe. He’s like a new man. Since Evelyn’s been so busy making clothes for the shop, she hasn’t had time to cook. He’s been eating out most every meal, and he’s even put on a little weight! I haven’t seen him this happy since the Alaskan cruise.”

  How Joe had tolerated Evelyn’s lack of culinary skill for all the years of their union was beyond me. My cousin was famous for her bad cooking, but it didn’t stop her from experimenting on her husband and mother. Evelyn’s state-of-the-art kitchen contained every gourmet tool known to the modern world and a library of over fifty cookbooks. My cousin’s downfall was her tendency to embellish the printed recipes with her own strange spins. My Aunt Piddie had been living with Evelyn and Joe for the past few years since her balance had deteriorated and swore that Evelyn’s bad cooking kept her regular.

  “Oh…let me show you the business cards Jon designed for Evelyn.” Jake fumbled in his wallet and produced a small, pale green card with a line drawing of a smiling elf holding a needle and thread. One end of the thread looped to form the logo ELF-Wear.

  I rolled my eyes. “Elf-wear?”

  “For her initials…Evelyn Longman Fletcher. ELF-wear.”

  I laughed. “Clever.”

  Jake smoothed a wrinkle from his tailored shirt. “She’s working on a line of infant clothing. I think the whole thing with Sarah, and, of course, little Josh, has inspired her. She’s made the cutest little kimono outfit for him to wear to the party. Josh is such a chunk, he’s going to look like a Sumo wrestler in it!”

  I pushed a strand of stringy hair from my eyes. “I’m going to feel underdressed.”

  Jake carried his utensils to the sink. “Actually, you won’t. She’s made satin kimonos for the whole dang family and staff. You should see mine! It’s a luscious shade of deep purple.”

  “You know, kimonos are Japanese. They don’t have them in China.”

  Jake stopped midway between the sink and the dishwasher. “Don’t you dare point that out to Evelyn. She’ll be devastated. Kimonos look oriental…that’s all that will matter to folks around here. No need to get technical.”

  “Suppose you’re right. By the way, did you ever get the scoop out of Piddie as to why that sleaze-ball Hank Henderson tried to block the rezoning petition for the mansion?”

  “Not a clue. She says she’ll ‘take it to her grave’. Must’ve been something good, though. He changed his mind so fast, the city council’s still reelin’!”

  I plopped into my favorite chair, a threadbare overstuffed recliner long past its prime. “I don’t get why he has it in for you. It worries me.”

  “Sister-girl, not everyone’s gonna love me. My queerness offends a lot of folks. Especially if they don’t bother to get to know how incredibly enchanting I am.” He smiled wide enough to show off his twin dimples.

  “Humble, as well.”

  Jake executed a stiff bow. “Humility is one of my finest girlish qualities.”

  “There’s just something about Hank that creeps me out.” I shuddered involuntarily.

  “Well, he keeps that young Williams hoodlum off the street, anyway. Since he’s been doing odd jobs and errands for Hank, he’s not looming around town looking like a drug deal waiting to happen.”

  I swept a scattering of breadcrumbs from the countertop. “I’ve wondered about that, too. Hank always has kids coming and going. How could he possibly have that much footwork to do here in this small town?”

  “Dunno.” Jake shrugged. “Maybe he’s trying to make points with the city council by helping the underprivileged. He’s the type to always have some kind of agenda. Whatever he’s doing seems to be lucrative. Elvina Houston told me she heard he’d ordered a new Mercedes.”

  “The one he has doesn’t look that old!”

  “Different priorities, I suppose.”

  “Oh, by the way, I wanted to thank you again for picking us up at the airport. I still can’t fathom how you and Jon managed to slip off to Tallahassee without half of town in tow.”

  “Jon convinced everyone that y’all would be exhausted from the trip, ant that it might overwhelm poor little Sarah if everyone came at once.”

  “Bless you!” I kissed him on the cheek.

  Jake’s boyish features had changed little since grade school – same calm blue eyes, impish smile, and pleasant face with a scant dusting of freckles across the nose and cheeks. A few faint lines around his mouth belied the constant pain he had lived with for the past few years.

  “My pleasure. I’ll make sure to bring you a copy of the video Jon took of you three coming off the plane.” He cocked his head. “You unpack my present yet?”

  “Nope. Paul Wong is shipping a big box over for us. You’ll just have to wait.”

  Jake snorted.

  Holston and I had purchased silk lounge jackets similar to Japanese kimonos for the entire family. Jake’s red coat sported a black dragonfly resembling the logo for his West Washington Street flower s
hop.

  Jake jabbed my arm. “One little hint?”

  I shook my head. “Nada.”

  “After all I’ve done for you, Hattie Davis Lewis! Slaving away this farmhouse, doling out daily affection to your poor pooch and puss. Taking both of the cars out for drives to keep their little batteries alive!” He dabbed his eyes dramatically.

  I patted him on the head. “It will be worth the wait. I promise.”

  Jake slapped his brightly-painted art deco walking cane on the floor. “Well, I’d just love to stay here and see who we could drag across the coals next, but, I’ve got a few last minute touches to add to the Triple C before tomorrow. Oh, by the way, Evelyn asked me to tell you to have your little family at the Salon in the morning by 8:30, the latest. She’ll have your kimonos ready. Just wear plain black pants and a white top.”

  Jake shuffled toward the front door. “The Homeplace is catering lunch. So, all you’ll need to bring are Sarah’s bottles and supplies. The open house will run until around 4:00 PM. Evelyn has cribs set up for Sarah and Josh for baby naptime in case they get fussy. Toodles! Love and kisses to Prince Charming and little sweetpea.”

  “Sure you don’t wanna stay a little longer? Sarah’ll be up from her nap any minute now, and I’m gonna wake Holston. I thought we’d take John and Margie’s ATV to the fishpond.”

  Jake hesitated a moment. “I’d really love to. A little peace would be great about now. Mandy, Melody, and Stephanie have worked themselves into a high rollin’ boil over the whore-derves. Someone could end up in the ER if I don’t get on back and referee.” He grinned. “I can’t believe you haven’t dragged that baby to the pond yet…or yourself, for that matter.”

  I looked at Jake like he’d lost his last remaining piece of sanity. “Can I remind you that we just got home from half way around the globe day before yesterday? We slept the entire first day home, and the masses started bringing food today.”