Tattered & Torn

by Carol Dean Jones

  “What you white bitches want with me?” he growled, still not looking at either woman.

  “We’re here about your grandmother, Maud Templeton.”

  “She croak?” he asked without emotion.

  “No. Well, not to our knowledge. Actually, we’re trying to locate her and hoped you could help.”

  With a sarcastic smirk, he responded, “So go knock on her door. She’s in the phone book.”

  Sarah explained about the housing development being torn down and what little she knew about Maud after that time. “She was in a shelter for a few weeks, but we’ve lost track of her after that.” The man showed no interest. “Has she been here to see you?” Sarah asked.

  “Yeah,” he grunted.

  Feeling a degree of hope, Sarah asked, “When was she here?”

  “Few years back,” he muttered, still showing no interest, but then he asked why they wanted to find her.

  “We want to make sure she’s not on the street. If she needs a place to stay, her caseworker may have something for her. We were hoping you could help us find her, but I guess you can’t.”

  “You got it right,” Jerome said with a snicker as he hung up the phone, stood, and yelled for the guard, saying, “We’re through here.”

  “Wait,” Sophie hollered loud enough for him to hear her without the phone. He turned and glared at her. “Please wait,” she mouthed and taking the phone from Sarah, she motioned for him to pick his up. “Someone came for her and took her out of the shelter,” she said. “It was probably a friend. Do you have any idea who that might have been?”

  Jerome appeared to be thinking about Sophie’s question but didn’t respond. When he finally did, he just said, “It’s time for grub,” and walked over to the door, turning his back on the women.

  “Well that was a total bust,” Sophie said as the guard escorted them through the front gate.

  “Yeah,” Sarah responded despondently.

  “So what next?”

  Sarah didn’t answer right away, but finally shook her head slowly and responded, “I have absolutely no idea.”

  * * *

  Over coffee the next morning, Charles said, “Well, I guess we have a wedding to plan.”

  “I don’t know how much help Martha will want from us. You know how independent she is, but when she comes to lunch tomorrow, we’ll talk about it. I’ve been picturing Pastor John’s sanctuary all decorated with flowers…”

  At that moment, the phone rang.

  “Good Morning, Sophie. You’re up early.”

  “I had an idea.”

  “Tell me,” Sarah responded eagerly.

  “Well, last night I took out all my 3x5 cards. I have a couple dozen with notes, you know.” Sarah tried to imagine what her friend could possibly have written on her cards since they were for clues and, as far as she could see, they didn’t have any. “So I shuffled them and spread them out, and I could immediately see what we should do next.”

  “And what’s that?” Sarah asked, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice.

  “We need to talk to Darnell.”

  “Who’s Darnell?” Charles mouthed. Sarah had the phone on speaker so she could finish her breakfast while they talked.

  “The other grandson,” she said.

  “What?” Sophie asked.

  “Sorry, Sophie. I was talking to Charles.”

  “Well, talk to me! Let’s go to Texas.”

  “Sophie, we’re not going to Texas, but let me see if Charles can help. Maybe he can arrange for us to talk to Darnell by phone.”

  “If he’s anything like his brother, he’ll just hang up.”

  “True, but let’s give it a try.”

  “By the way,” Charles interjected, “I wish I’d known about your 3x5 card trick when I was still with the police department

  “It’s a great way to solve crimes,” Sophie responded proudly. “I’ll show you how I do it sometime.”

  “Thanks, Sophie,” he replied with a chuckle.

  As it turned out, Sophie’s suggestion worked. Later that afternoon, Sarah was actually on the phone with Darnell, who proved to be much more cooperative than his brother. “I’ll be out of here in a month,” Darnell offered at the end of their conversation, “and I’ll come help you look for her. I miss Granny. She was always good to us.”

  Sarah called Sophie the minute she hung up to give her the news. “We have the woman’s name, Sophie. Darnell remembered her. He said his grandmother had this good friend over the years that he was sure would have taken her in if she needed a place to stay. He said this woman, Bertha Washington, lived with them for a few years after her own husband died.”

  “How will we find her?”

  “Charles already has. She lives over on the east side. It’s not a great area, and he wants to go with us when we go to see her.”

  “See? My detecting cards worked,” Sophie said proudly. “When do we leave?”

  “How about tomorrow morning. Martha’s coming for lunch today.”

  “Tim didn’t mention that,” Sophie responded sounding hurt.

  “No, it’s just Martha. We’re having mother-daughter time. Charles and Timothy are going to the computer show.

  “Okay, tomorrow morning then. I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  “This is a pretty fancy lunch, Mother. What’s the occasion?” She looked at her mother with a tilted head, but Sarah could see her daughter’s lips quivering as she fought to hold back a smile.

  She seems very happy, Sarah thought. “We’re celebrating a beautiful new beginning,” she said. “And, hopefully, we’ll be making some plans.”

  “I knew it,” Martha responded. “You and Sophie have had your heads together, haven’t you? Tim said Sophie probably had all the details worked out, and we haven’t even set a date.”

  “Actually, honey, Sophie and I have agreed to stay out of the planning totally, except for anything you ask us to do. And we’re both happy to help in any way if that’s what you want. I just want this to be your day, and I want you to have whatever kind of wedding you’d like to have.”

  “Thank you, Mom,” she responded gratefully. “Tim and I both appreciate that. We’ve talked about it, and we both want the same thing.”

  “And that is?”

  “A small wedding, just the family and a few close friends at Pastor John’s church with a simple luncheon right here in your backyard.”

  “Oh Martha, that would be wonderful. I could make…”

  “No. That’s the other part. I want to have it catered. I want to have you available to me -- I’ll be a wreck, and besides, I want you to be able to enjoy the party.”

  Sarah wanted to object. She wanted to do it all herself, but she had to ask herself why. Martha wants to do this, and I’m not going to take it over. “That sounds lovely, honey. What time of the year are you thinking of?”

  “Early September,” her daughter responded. “While it’s still warm.”

  Sarah knew one thing she could do starting right away that her daughter couldn’t object to. She’d begin planning the garden so it would look spectacular by September. Martha would never get suspicious since she knew how much her mother loved gardening. Her dahlias would still be in bloom, she thought, and perhaps she’d add a colorful array of asters. She would talk to the people at the nursery and get any other ideas they might have. She also knew that if she took very good care of her roses throughout the summer, they would look stunning in September. She had planted the climbing variety the first year they were in the house, and the vines were eagerly scrambling up the fence on all three sides of the backyard.

  “You look deep in thought, Mother, and I know that look. What are you up to?”

  “Oh nothing, dear. Just picturing you in a wedding gown.”

  “No wedding gown. I want a nice suit.”

  “Silk?” her mother suggested in the form of a question.

  Martha laughed. “Okay, silk, and you can help me
pick it out.”

  Sarah smiled and nodded her agreement. “And maybe a pretty dress for the garden party?”

  “Okay,” Martha chuckled. “A silk suit and maybe a pretty dress…”

  “And my treat.”

  “Mother, I work. I can afford…”

  “No argument. It’s my right to buy my daughter’s wedding dress. But you get to pick it out.”

  “Deal,” Martha agreed, scooping out another helping of pasta salad. “But that’s it.”

  “You need to talk to Pastor John and set a date.”

  “I know, Mom,” Martha responded in a tone that gently reminded Sarah to leave the details to her daughter. “We’re seeing him after services on Sunday. I’m still a member, and Tim wants to join the church. I’ve always loved Pastor John, and now he’s become a part of our lives. We want to keep it that way.”

  Sarah smiled, knowing that her daughter was well on her way to a far happier life. Martha was a prominent scientist, and her last twenty years had been spent immersed in her work. Sarah was glad to see her emerging into life outside her lab.

  “When shall we go shopping?” Martha asked casually.

  “How about you take a couple of days off from work, and we drive up to Chicago. There are these lovely lakeside shops, and we could spend the night at the Lakefront Hotel. Oh, and there’s the honeymoon wardrobe to think about too.”

  Martha threw her head back and laughed, shaking her head with exasperation. “You just aren’t going to keep this simple, are you?”

  “I’m trying,” Sarah responded contritely. “I haven’t tried to plan the menu.”

  “Not yet…” Martha said, knowing her mother too well.

  Chapter 8

  “That’s our turn right up there,” Sarah announced, pointing to an intersecting road.

  “I know, dear,” Charles responded. “I’m following the GPS.”

  “And it’s probably in the next block since these are the four-hundreds and the numbers are going up,” she added. Charles nodded his head but didn’t respond.

  “That’s it right up there,” Sophie hollered from the back seat. “See, it’s green just like Darnell remembered.”

  Charles sighed and pulled up in front of the house, just as his GPS announced their arrival at their destination. “Don’t know how I’d make it without you gals,” he said with that sarcastic tone Sarah really didn’t like, but tolerated.

  The neighborhood didn’t look as bad as Charles had remembered when he was a cop. He knew there had been efforts in the past few years to close down most of the crack houses on the east side. Driving into the neighborhood, he had noticed an apartment building for senior citizens under construction, and a block later children were enjoying a new playground. All part of the city’s revitalization program, he told himself. He’d never been too impressed by the city’s efforts in the past. It seemed to result in more crime and more people on the street. Appears to be working better this time, he thought.

  “Do you want me to go in with you?” he asked as the women were getting out of the car.

  “It might be better if Sophie and I go in alone and talk to Maud. But keep your phone handy. I’ll call if we need you.

  The house was in need of fresh paint but otherwise appeared to be well cared for. Foundation plantings were overgrown, but the grass was mowed, and there were flowers in pots on the porch. The door was opened moments after Sarah knocked. The elderly woman appeared puzzled but was polite. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Sarah Parker, and this is my friend Sophie Ward. Are you Bertha Washington?”

  “I am. What can I do for you ladies?” she repeated.

  “We’re looking for Maud Templeton, and her grandson said you might know where she is.”

  “Not Jerome, I hope. Maud doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

  “Actually, it was Darnell who suggested we talk to you. He said you and Maud had been close friends.”

  “Still are,” Bertha said as she opened the screen door and invited them in. “Who’s that man in the car?” she asked suspiciously.

  “That’s my husband. He just drove us here.”

  “It’s hot out there. Have him come in. I was just fixing iced tea.” Sarah stepped back out and motioned for Charles to come in. He hurried to the door looking worried.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered, expecting trouble.

  “Nothing. Ms. Washington just wanted you to come in out of the heat.”

  “So is Maud here?” he asked as they went in.

  “I don’t know yet. We’ll get to that.” She supposed it was his police interrogation background, but he always wanted to get to the point. He wasn’t much for the gracious art of preliminary small talk. “Just follow my lead,” she added.

  Once they were all four settled on the well-worn upholstered furniture in the sitting room, Bertha was the first to mention Maud. “Well, I guess you already know that I took Maud out of that terrible shelter a few months ago and brought her here to live with me.”

  “That was kind of you, Ms. Washington…” Sarah was saying, but Bertha interrupted her.

  “Didn’t do it to be kind. Maud and I are like sisters. Besides, she took me in after Bernie died.”

  “Your husband?” Sophie asked, wanting to be involved in the conversation.

  “Been gone twenty-five years now, God bless his soul.”

  Charles sat through another ten minutes of what he thought to be unnecessary chatter. He tried to appear patient and sipped his tea, but ultimately, he could take it no longer. “Does Maud Templeton still live here?” he asked, and Sarah frowned at him.

  “Mercy yes,” Bertha responded. “Been here every day for three months...”

  “May we see her?”

  “…except today,” Bertha continued. “Today she went on the medical bus to the foot doctor. Her bunions.”

  “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “Should be any minute now. She’s been gone three or four hours. More tea?”

  Charles sighed deeply, but only Sarah seemed to notice.

  “What do you want with Maud anyway?” Bertha asked. Sarah was relieved to have a topic of conversation introduced to keep them occupied while they waited for Maud. She told Bertha about the quilt, probably even more than the woman wanted to know. Finally, they heard the front door open, and a wispy, petite woman limped into the room.

  “Bertha, who are all these white folks?”

  “They’re here to see you, Maud. They want to ask you about an old quilt that was up in the attic of your old place. Someone found it when they were tearing it down.

  “Laudamercy,” Maud exclaimed. “I haven’t thought about Mama’s quilt for years.”

  “It was your mother’s?” Sarah asked, sadly realizing she would have to return Memories to this woman.

  “Not really hers. It was actually the boys that found it.”

  “Stole it’s more like it,” Sarah heard Bertha mutter under her breath.

  “Could you start from the beginning,” Sarah’s very impatient husband said. “Where did the quilt originally come from?”

  “Don’t know that, sir. Don’t have any idea. The boys just brought it in one night along with a lot of smelly stuff that was covered with soot like it’d been in a fire. I heard there’d been a house fire over on 19th Street that night and, looking back and knowing those boys better now, they probably robbed the place. Back then I never would have thought that. I figured they were good boys. Both in jail now, one for murder. I should have known they was no good.”

  “So they brought the quilt to you?”

  “They took everything except the quilt to the junk man. I kept the quilt. They brought me back three dollars and told me that was all they got. Don’t believe that neither. Anyway, I took it upstairs to cover Mama, but she only used it a few weeks. She’d been terrible sick and just laid in the bed. Wouldn’t even eat when I tried to feed her. One day she just gave up and went to live w
ith the Lord. I kept the quilt folded up on her bed for a few days, but Jerome was threatening to take over her room, so I wrapped the quilt and put it in the attic so as he couldn’t sell it. There was something special about that old quilt. I never knew just what, but I knew it should be protected from my boys.”

  Everyone sat quietly for a few moments contemplating what Maud had said. “So how did you come by the quilt?” Maud asked Sarah.

  Sarah told her about seeing it in an thrift shop and buying it. “But if you want it back, Maud, I’ll bring it to you. It’s really yours.”

  “Not mine,” she responded. “It belonged to whoever’s house burnt down.”

  Charles wondered if he could find out about that fire, but he’d need more information. He helped Maud reconstruct the timeframe, which she couldn’t pin down any closer than to say, “Jerome’s in his forties now, and I think he was nine or ten when he brought that stuff home.” Charles did some quick calculations and came up with the mid-80s.

  “And you say it was over on 19th Street?”

  “That’s what I remember the boys saying.”

  “I know you raised your grandsons,” Sarah said, having learned that earlier from Bertha. “But what happened to their mother?”

  “Her rotten husband killed my Clarissa,” Maud stated with conviction.

  Sarah and Sophie gasped, “He killed her?”

  “Maud,” Bertha scolded. “You know that’s not what happened.”

  “Sure as I’m sitting here. I knew it the minute the police came to tell me she was gone. My girl was always bruised up and had black eyes. She’d always have some crazy story about how it happened, but I could tell that she was just covering for him.”

  “You told the police about your suspicions?” Charles asked.

  “Sure did, but they just kept saying it was drugs.

  “The police didn’t believe you?” Charles asked, trying to remember the case, but it was probably before he made detective.

  “Oh, Jamal could be a charmer when he wanted to be. He had those cops wrapped around his finger. He convinced them my girl was no good. He told them she drank, abused the boys, took drugs, and whatever else he could think of, but none of that was true.”