Like there was a chance of that ever happening.
Cubi-Jack giggled again. “It’s way too late. I tell her that all the time—that she’s smart and pretty.” He whispered to her uncle, “God made her that way on purpose—all golden, inside and out.”
Yep. God smoothed her skin with sunshine, gave her naturally pink lips and lightly curled her hair in long spirals. She would have created herself a different way—if God would have asked. Porcelain skin, platinum hair and a revered family name would have been her choices.
And what about Cubi-Jack? He would have chosen not to have had that stroke after that high school football game when the extreme Southern heat roasted his brain as he pushed himself toward excellence. But God didn’t change that either, and Cubi-Jack didn’t harbor any resentment. He didn’t harbor any resentment when his father felt the pressure of his son’s disability and left to find work and never came back, or when his mother found a new husband and moved away, leaving Cubi-Jack abandoned in one of the wooden tent houses at church, which had been in their family for generations. He didn’t care about something as superficial as skin color when the old black woman who used to cook at camp meeting saw his circumstances and adopted a seventeen-year-old white boy when it wasn’t the custom to do so at the time. No matter what, Cubi-Jack always made the best of his circumstances and became the backbone of Four Hole Swamp.
“Most people don’t think to count God’s blessings till the ones they had done been taken away.”
“You got that right, Cubi-Jack,” her uncle said.
Is that true?
“Yep. It’s a sin and a shame,” Cubi-Jack said.
It was his favorite saying about nearly everything that wasn’t right with the world.
“I got to go. Got too much work to do. People need me,” Cubi-Jack said.
He was right. People, like her, did need him. Just as he was. With all his wisdom.
Cubi-Jack stood tall and straight as he walked out the door like the mayor, waving his certificate in the air to say goodbye.
“Was that someone on the phone earlier, darlin’?” her uncle asked.
“Yes, it was. Just something I need to take care of in the morning. Can you handle things here if I finish up the rest of that breakfast sausage this evening?”
“Sure, honey. As long as those sausages are finished in time for the weekend.”
“Thanks, Uncle Marion. I’ll be back sometime after lunch tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you let me help with those links? That way, you can take the rest of today off, too.”
She’d like nothing better. The afternoon looked right for fishing and thinking. Mostly thinking.
Maybe this was a good time to prepare in case she got the job. She darted to the door, called Cubi-Jack back to help and slipped him a twenty. The three of them finished stuffing the sausages in an hour. Cubi-Jack would work out perfectly. If she were hired.
After gathering her bait and tackle, she started out on the path behind the shop. Sinker tagged along.
At her favorite spot, she crouched with her hands around her knees on her stump. The waters before her were dark and peaceful. The sun spewed fractures of light on a few pieces of wet earth beneath her. And she could hear solitary splashes as turtles rolled into the waters from fallen logs.
The air about her had a decided ribbon of chill in it. She didn’t think she’d fish today. She had plenty of thinking to do. Not about the shop. About leaving it. Was pursuing her dream worth all that she’d encounter? The safety of her world in Four Hole and the surrounding swamp was familiar—not always kind—but she knew what to expect from people.
Out in the world beyond her little community, people would see her differently—they would newly judge her by her last name, where she was from—and if they ever found out about her mother… Was she going to be all right in that new environment? If she couldn’t, she was going to die as a butcher’s assistant, an old maid and be buried in Four Hole Swamp Cemetery with a bunch of old prospectuses and withered dreams—and maybe her fishing gear.
What should I do, Lord?
Just then, a huge old catfish jumped and rolled like it wanted out of the shallow water.
Was that what she wanted, as well? Out of the shallow waters of Four Hole? That seemed to be her answer. At least to see what she could do with her talent, her degree and her dreams.
⸙
The next morning, she knew exactly what she was going to wear. She had a blue suit that she kept tucked away for funerals and special occasions at church. After staying in the shower extra long to wash all the swamp off her, she dried her hair and was thankful for the low humidity. The strands were nearly straight—not wild like they could get when the humidity reached epic levels. She dressed and headed out with what she imagined confidence felt like.
Thank goodness for the parking garage around the corner from Sterling Financial. Toleman Sterling would never have to see Cameo, her old, blue ride.
Hanna was overwhelmed by the fancy décor when she walked through the door of the office. The style was tasteful and expensive. She could tell.
“May I help you?” asked a pretty young receptionist with short auburn hair.
Hanna introduced herself. “I’m here to meet with Mr. Sterling.” Good. The words sounded strong and confident. No one could know that her insides were shaking like warmed over souse meat.
“Oh, I should have realized.” The receptionist turned in her seat and her short bob swung with playfulness.
Hanna admired the lightness and swing in the woman’s hair.
Mr. Sterling came out and escorted her back. He asked a few questions about her education and work experience.
“I’d like to start you out doing bookkeeping and finance reports in one of my insurance offices. How does that sound to you?”
“That would be great. You won’t be sorry. I’m really great with numbers.”
He nodded as he looked over her resume again.
“So, you’re from around the Summerbrook area. We have an office there—State and Casualty Insurance and Financial Services. That’s where I’d like to place you initially. I’ll move you to the downtown office pretty quickly if that works out like I think it will.”
“Awesome.” That was where her friend April worked. At least she’d know someone—someone friendly.
He told her about the starting salary. Which was more than triple her current income. And then he said the words. “You’re hired.”
All of a sudden her spirit became as light and as playful as the young receptionist’s hair. “Thank you,” she said as she stood and shook his hand. “You won’t be sorry.” Was this what real joy felt like? The same joy that Cubi-Jack felt over his certificate?
“I know I won’t be sorry. If Furman Laurens is so impressed with you that he mentions you every time he sees me, I know I’ve made a good decision.”
“Furman Laurens?” She was surprised, but she should have known. He’d been trying to make up for things that weren’t his fault ever since she’d met him. “How’s his father doing?”
Mr. Sterling closed the folder in front of him. “Still in the hospital. Not well, I’m afraid—at least that was the last I heard.”
She knew what she had to do. First of all she found out the particulars of her job—when to show up—what her duties would be. And then she said goodbye and headed to the hospital. It was only a short walk. The entire peninsula of Charleston seemed only a short walk to her.
It was almost lunchtime and she remembered Furman telling her that he spent most of his lunches there to give his mother a break.
As she walked, she admired some of the antebellum buildings and intricate wrought iron work on the fences and gates. The architecture was a far cry from the simple straight-lined dwellings she was used to in Four Hole. How blessed she was to be given an opportunity to work in the midst of such beauty.
When she arrived at St. Francis Memorial Hospital, she found out where Mr. Laur
ens’s room was. She found the room and peered her head around the door. Furman was alone with his father. She hated to feel that way, but she was glad. It would be soon enough that she would have to deal with people like Evelynn Laurens on a daily basis. But Hanna was determined to be brave—no matter what.
She knocked. “Furman?” she said in a quiet voice.
He turned and his whole face changed when he saw her. He looked like a child who’d just seen Santa.
And she felt like a brand new shiny bicycle.
⸙
“Hanna?” Furman reached for Hanna’s hands to welcome her. His heart welcomed her, as well. She was a sight for sore eyes. And sore senses. Her light fresh fragrance gave him a respite from the stale scents and medicinal odors in the hospital.
And he was startled at just how attractive she was—not in the traditional sense that his social circle found beautiful, but in a unique way. Her shy smile hinted that there was something more, something deeper, beneath the surface of her appearance.
“I came to say thank you. And to see how your dad was doing.”
“Thank me for what?”
“I got the job with Sterling Financial today.” Her eyes beamed with the excitement of her news.
“Oh. I didn’t have much to do with that.”
A pretty young doctor walked into the room, looking down at the chart she held in her hands and said, “Well, Mr. Laurens, we just got the test results, and I’m afraid your suspicions were right.”
He cleared his throat. “May we talk about this some other time?” He didn’t want to run Hanna away with the news he was dreading.
The doctor turned abruptly on her heel. “Ooops. Sorry. I saw your mother leave and I didn’t know you had company. I’ll come back later.”
He looked at Hanna and didn’t offer an explanation. She would most assuredly think the results had to deal with his father. It wasn’t his intention to mislead her, but he needed all the facts first.
A feeble voice called from the bed. “Son, who came to visit me?”
“Father, this is a friend of mine. Hanna Rudder.”
“Is she a friend of mine, also?” the visibly frail man asked.
Furman whispered, “He’s been in and out of it lately. He’ll probably think he knows you. He says the nurses are all childhood friends of his.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. I am your friend. And Furman’s.” She walked to him. “How are you feeling?”
“They don’t know what’s wrong with me, and they won’t let me go home. I’m supposed to help Evelynn with the roses and the party.”
Hanna lowered her head.
Furman didn’t know what to say. He wished his father hadn’t brought up those meaningless roses.
“Do you like to work in the garden?” she asked.
His father smiled weakly. “Every season there is something to do.” And he went on telling her about every chore for each season.
Hanna smiled and listened attentively. She looked so professional in her blue suit that someone could easily mistake her for one of the hospital administrative staff. If only his mother could see her now. On second thought. His mother would find fault with anyone not on her short list for a future daughter-in-law. His mother was obsessed with continuing the family name—with another ancient family name in Charleston. As soon as possible.
“Father, I think you’d better rest now,” Furman said. “I need to speak with Hanna for a moment.”
“But isn’t she my friend?” the old man asked.
He was in such need of his old friends now, and precious few had come while he’d been hospitalized.
Hanna spoke up quickly. “Of course I am. May I pray with you before I leave?”
Her words startled Furman. No one ever had prayed in the hospital room with his father before. In his family, prayer was reserved for Sundays—in church, if they went.
The old man looked confused, but didn’t reject her request. She reached for his hand, bowed her head and began to pray.
“And Lord, in the end, we place Mr. Laurens in Your loving hands. Amen.” Hanna lifted her head.
“What’s going on in here?” Furman’s mother asked as she came through the door.
Great. His mother had the worst timing. “Mother, Hanna was just saying a prayer for Father before she left.”
“A prayer? This is a hospital, not a church. And what are you doing here?” Evelynn looked Hanna up and down like she was picking her out in a police lineup.
“Hanna was just leaving.” Furman touched Hanna’s elbow to lead her out.
The expression on his mother’s face changed. “Oh, did you come here about the dinner Saturday night? I did want to go over the arrival time for the servers…I mean servants.”
“Mother, Hanna has a new job. I don’t think she’ll be serving.”
“I’m afraid she’ll have to. She was involved from the beginning. She knows all that we’ve agreed upon for the event.” Evelynn straightened the pillows behind his father. “I’d hate for…Home…something Catering to lose the job now that we’ve finally straightened out that menu fiasco.”
Hanna looked at Furman. He would never allow that to happen. And anyway, his mother was just bluffing, but Hanna didn’t know that. She seemed like the kind of person who believed what she was told.
“She’s not serving. Goodbye, Mother.” The best that he could do was to get Hanna out of that room as quickly as possible.
Inside the hospital hallway, he asked, “Where’d you park?”
“The George Street garage. Will your mother really take the job away from Callie if I don’t serve?” Her eyes were filled with concern. The happiness he had seen in them earlier had disappeared. Still they were beautiful.
“She won’t and she can’t. She was fortunate to get Miss Marks to take her on in the first place.” They stepped onto the street in front of the hospital together. He put on his Bolle sunglasses. “I’ll walk you to the garage.”
Hanna squinted. “That won’t be necessary. Don’t you need to get back to work?”
“Yes, but the garage is on the way to my car.” They walked in unison over the cracked bluestone sidewalks. He liked the way she looked beside him and didn’t want to say goodbye to her. “I thought we might celebrate tonight.”
She glanced up at him. “That’s not necessary. You’ve done enough for me already. Helping me with the job and all. Now I can pay you back for causing you to write that check at the gala.” She smiled.
Hmmm. That money she imagined she owed him made her feel…connected to him. Maybe, he’ll just let that ride for a while. “Not a problem.”
“I’m really appreciative for your understanding…and help.”
How could she be so grateful for so little? And on top of his mother’s insults. And all the trouble at the ball. “Well, I have these season tickets for the Dock Street Theater that came with the gala donation, and you did go with me to the gala. Which is why I have them. So I think you’re kind of obligated.”
She looked at the sidewalk and smiled again.
He liked the idea of an obligation existing between them. As long as he could keep it positive and mutual. “So how about dinner and a show tonight?”
“I don’t think so.” Her wide brown eyes didn’t look so convinced of her words.
He looked at his watch. “You’ve got plenty of time. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“I don’t think—”
He cut her off. “Your protests are useless unless you have another date. Do you have another date?”
She lowered her head and smiled an even bigger smile.
That’s a yes.
⸙
All the way home she beamed inside. Good thing no one could see her. She had a lot to be excited about though. A new job. A date with a good-looking man who had more manners and breeding than Four Hole Swamp had dark water. And she didn’t have to help Callie with that dinner after all.
These were windfall blessings for which she
didn’t even pray. But why was God smiling so on her lately? She was still the same person she was last week. She glanced at the heavens through the top of her front windshield. Thank you, Lord.
But even through her gratefulness, she doubted her worthiness. Did she really deserve these gifts from God? She knew what the popular Christian culture would say—that all God’s children deserve his blessings; however, that answer just didn’t resonate in her soul.
And something else didn’t seem right to her. In Furman’s father’s hospital room when she prayed, there was…discomfort about the Laurens family—like she was doing something foreign. Perhaps God placed her there for them—to pray for them. He couldn’t possibly have placed Furman in her life for any other reason, right? She needed to keep her head about her where he was concerned. God would never couple her with a man who didn’t serve Him.
She passed through Summerbrook and entered the low lands that surrounded it. She lowered her window and breathed in the deep, rich scent of the earth. As she passed the campground, she found Cubi-Jack raking the dirt walks at Four Hole Community Church in his white shirt and tie.
“Hey, Cubi-Jack.” She told him about her job and how she wasn’t going to be around as much.
“Hanna, you go and measure up your amazing to their amazing, like you should, but I will miss you.” He leaned on his rake.
“I’ll miss you, too.” She hugged him. Was that what she was really doing? She certainly didn’t feel very amazing. “What I really came here for was to ask you if you’d help out Uncle Marion for me when I’m gone.”
He dropped the tool he held in his hand and hugged her. “Will I still be able to work here and help everybody else when they need me?”
“Of course. He just needs your help with the heavy stuff.” She took a seat on an old wooden bench.
Cubi-Jack sat beside her, but a heaviness came over his face. “What about Friday afternoons during football season? When I turn myself in and they lock me up?”
Cubi-Jack loved Summerbrook football games. He had been the quarterback when he’d had his stroke. That was how he got part of his name—QB. After his brain injury, he remembered he was the QB, but he could not remember his given name, Jack. Somehow his brain could remember the Jack part if he said the QB in front of it, so quarterback Jack became Cubi-Jack. Unfortunately, Cubi-Jack couldn’t keep himself under control at Friday night football games and was always getting arrested for disorderly conduct, so he started turning himself in every Friday during football season for safe keeping.
Swamps and Soirees: A Summerbrook Novel Page 10
