by Jae Hood
He felt it too. As soon as his hand touched mine, he became a statue, staring at me as though seeing the moon for the first time.
My entire being is nothing but a downy goose feather, drifting languidly in the breeze—peaceful and light, floating and free. No one will keep me from this man.
No one.
My grandmother’s words, written in a sloppy, childish scrawl, were haunting. I’d never heard her speak in such a manner. She was typically jovial and, at times, crude. To know she felt such romantic feelings toward a man was odd, to say the least, as though I were reading the innermost thoughts of a stranger.
An odd sense of familiarity swam through my veins. The feelings were the exact same feelings that flooded me every second I spent with Tanner.
“Find anything?” asked a silky voice.
I picked up the diary and waved it in the air. “I just read Nana’s first encounter with your grandfather.”
“How was their first meeting?”
Unable to squelch the giddy excitement of the first time our grandparents met, I whispered, “Electric.”
Tanner smiled, and I wondered if he was remembering the first time we touched, in a tiny little church.
The smile fell away as he spoke again. “Anything about Jeb?” he asked. “My father?”
I sat the delicate diary on the table and picked up another one. “Not yet, but soon. I feel it in my bones.”
*
A few days later, I sat my large purse on a shelf near the back door of the cake shop and faced my frazzled-looking grandmother. “I’m taking a vacation. Lucy and I are visiting our mother in Birmingham. We’re leaving in the morning and staying until Sunday.”
Nana’s penciled-in eyebrows first shot up on her forehead and then wrinkled in confusion at my demanding voice.
The enthrallment I’d felt upon discovering Nana’s written words of meeting Peter Montgomery had abruptly dissolved once I realized the only other diary dating past that one ended before the death of my father. I abandoned any further readings that night, falling into a restless, fitful sleep. Tanner had long since snuck back home, driving a vehicle he’d borrowed from a friend.
“Get Aunt Maggie and Aunt Sarah to work in our place,” I said. “They fill in for us during the school year. It won’t hurt them to hit a lick at something, considering they haven’t worked, let alone done anything else productive, all summer long.”
Nana cringed at my tone. I dug around in my purse, removed a large, slightly wrinkled manila envelope, and shoved it in her hands. Thick tension mounted in the room, wafting around us in angry, invisible waves. I pressed my lips together. Amos’ envelope trembled in her fingers, and her shameful blue eyes darted to mine in question.
“Yes, I know,” I said, answering her unspoken question. I yanked an apron from where it hung on the wall and tied it around my waist. “I’ve read part of your diaries and all of Amos’ paperwork. I know about the affair. I know who Amos’ biological father is. I know Davis Montgomery murdered my father.”
“Rue,” she said, “you have to understand …”
“I do understand,” I replied. “I mean, I think I understand part of it. You lied to me about falling for a man going to war. The truth is you fell in love with a married man. I get that. I get that you didn’t know he was married. You couldn’t help but fall for his lies. What I don’t understand is how you could keep my father’s murderer a secret. How could you protect Amos? Is it because of the guilt you feel for him being the product of your secret affair?”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Can you fathom what it’s like to be terrified of your own child? I don’t think you can, Rue.”
I tilted my head to the side. “How long have you had the envelope in that safe?”
Agony swept over her face. “Since after your father’s death. Amos brought it to me and told me to keep it safe.”
I took deep breaths to calm my frenzied nerves. “The day I took you to the hospital, you were crazed. You thought you were dying. Is that why you gave me the safe? Was that your way of somehow making things right with my father? By dumping all this on me?”
“I did think I was dying,” she responded. “Rue, I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfish and so ashamed.”
Infuriated, I scrubbed my face. “Can we stop talking about this for now?”
Nana nodded, dropping her gaze to the envelope she held.
“Everything is in there,” I said. “I know Amos is looking for it. Do you need the rest of the stuff in the safe as well? I haven’t had time to finish the diaries or go through the rest of the documents.”
Nana shook her head and gripped the envelope in her quivering hands. Josie entered the room. An evil grin crossed her cherry-colored lips.
“Ho,” Josie hollered. “You ain’t nothin’ but a ho.”
Nana huffed. “Takes one to know one.”
Then Nana stomped away, her white sneakers squeaking against the floor. She disappeared into her office, slamming the door behind her and sending Josie into a fit of giggles. I rolled my eyes. Josie snickered and went back to work. Every so often, I couldn’t help but glance at Nana’s office door that she was hidden behind—her and her son’s envelope.
I could only hope Amos wouldn’t realize anyone knew about the contents of that envelope, or the fact that the Montgomerys and I had our own copies of his dirty little secrets, thanks to the Xerox machine in Graham’s office.
*
My phone calls to my mother were futile, at first. She either ignored my calls, allowing the phone to ring until I reached voicemail, or she flat-out rejected them. I refused to leave a message begging for her address. I wanted nothing more than to say angry, hurtful things to the dead air, but rudeness would get me nowhere with my mother. I needed her address. Also, I needed the element of surprise. The last thing I wanted was for Christine to have an inkling of our plans to visit her in Birmingham.
After calling her for hours on end, and avoiding my morose sister’s dejected stare, I caved, leaving her a voice message and lying through my teeth.
“Hey, Mama,” I said in an irritated voice. “You got a check from the Social Security office in the mail. I thought about mailing it to you, but I don’t have your address, and I’m pretty sure this is all some sort of mistake on their part. Why would they send a check in the mail instead of depositing it in your account as usual? Since you’re not answering the phone, I’ll just call the Social Security office and clear everything up. Bye.”
My cell began chirping almost immediately. Lucy and I exchanged sad frowns. I let each call go to voicemail. Finally, the phone made a dinging sound. I pressed the message and the speaker button. My mother’s irate voice filled the air, cussing at first, before turning sweet and pleading. She left her address near the end of the message and begged me to return her call.
“I think I hate her,” my sister whispered in an emotionless voice.
Lucy was just a ghost of her former self. In the days following the unveiling of the contents of the safe, she’d done little besides sleep. The only thing she’d taken an interest in were the pieces of jewelry we’d discovered in Nana’s jewelry box. A necklace holding an elegant, ancient key hung from her thin neck. Her tiny body seemed even smaller, and her bones pressed against her pallid flesh. I reached out, took her cold hands in mine, and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“I think I do too, Sissy.”
We spent the rest of the night packing our bags and left for Birmingham the next day.
*
Our trip to Birmingham was long, quiet, and uneventful. I lay against Tanner in the back of Graham’s Cadillac, relishing the coolness of the leather seat beneath my sundress and the way Tanner’s hands tended to wander along my body.
I read Nana’s diary, engrossed with each meeting between my grandmother and Peter Montgomery. Not once had she yet mentioned another woman. Nana initially knew nothing of the man’s marriage to Tanner’s grandmother.
Saddened by
the thought of my sixteen-year-old grandmother being swindled by a very married, twenty-one-year-old man, I shut the diary and laid it aside. I told myself I’d read it later, and I drifted to sleep in Tanner’s arms.
I awoke an hour later when Chance pulled the Caddy into the parking lot of a swanky hotel. Graham was nice enough to rent us two rooms for our visit to Birmingham. It was a little too fancy for my taste, with high ceilings and lavish, sparkling chandeliers, but I paid it little attention. I was too concerned with finding my mother and thoughts of my poor grandmother to care about anything else.
We didn’t take time to unpack our belongings before hitting the road once more in search of our mother. Chance entered the address in the GPS, and the robotic voice instructed us with each twist and turn. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at our destination.
Christine wasn’t doing so bad for herself. In fact, the neighborhood looked pretty nice, considering she’d attempted to make herself sound destitute the last time we’d spoken.
The apartment complex, made of red brick and decorated with black wrought iron, stood three stories tall and was nestled in a decent neighborhood. There was a pretty rock waterfall near the front of the complex, churning clear blue water. Children splashed in a pool tucked between the buildings. My mother’s car was parked nearby, covered in a thin dusting of pollen.
Lucy and I left Tanner and Chance in the parking lot against their wishes. We climbed the steps to our mother’s apartment and took turns banging on the door. There was no sound of movement inside, no sign of life. We wandered down the stairs and found our boys leaning against the Caddy.
Lucy shrugged, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “She’s not home.”
Chance held her close. “Maybe she’ll be home soon. Do you want to wait inside the car?”
Tanner suggested a stroll in the park across the street and we all agreed. My sister remained silent but allowed Chance to tuck her into his side. We crossed the street and entered the park, splitting into pairs and agreeing to meet back near a large fountain in two hours. Chance and my sister disappeared in the distance.
“It’s beautiful here,” I said. “Isn’t it pretty? It almost makes me forget we’re in a huge city.”
“The scenery is spectacular.” Taking me in from head to toe, Tanner smirked, pulling me in for a kiss.
As we strolled hand in hand across the bright, lush green grass in the park, a flash of auburn hair caught my eye. The color and texture were all too familiar to me.
At the bottom of a steep hill, under the shade of a silver maple tree, my mother sat, her legs tucked beneath her atop a patchwork quilt. The quilt was familiar as well; it was one my grandmother, my maternal grandmother whom I had never met, had made by hand. The heirloom was one of many things my mother took with her when she left Mississippi.
A wicker picnic basket sat at her side, along with a handsome younger man. The two were chatting and throwing their heads back in occasional laughter. She was happy, looking young, free, and unchained by the worries of life. A hot flash of jealousy stabbed at me, slicing through my chest and pricking my heart.
The man was unfamiliar. My mother’s male companion looked to be in his early thirties with blond hair, tan skin, and a lean, athletic build.
The man reached out and tucked a strand of my mother’s hair behind her ear, and she smiled. A knot formed in my throat. Never had I seen another man, aside from my father, touch my mother in an intimate manner. I’d never witnessed her respond in such a way, even with my father. The sight made me weak in the knees. I leaned against Tanner for support.
The most agonizing thing were the two blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls, around four years old, playing near the blanket. My mother pulled a couple of juice boxes from a small cooler sitting nearby. She spoke to the two cherubs with a soft smile on her face, and they abandoned the ball they played with to grab the drinks. My mother then took turns combing her fingers through their curls.
I’d never completely understood the definition of “heartbroken” until that moment. It was as though someone had punched a hole in my chest, squeezed my heart, and ripped it from my torso. Swooshing sounds ran through my ears, like a train rushing down the tracks.
“That’s my mother,” I whispered.
Tanner clutched my sweaty hand in his own. “Who are those people with her?”
“I have no idea. Find my sister, Tanner, before she sees this. Please.”
Happiness surrounded me. Children laughed and played, chasing one another in a game of freeze tag. Young couples smiled and laughed, leaning into one another. An elderly man and woman sat on a park bench sharing their meal, comfortable in their silence after years of love and commitment.
But I felt no love, no commitment, no happiness. I was livid.
Christine didn’t notice my angry approach, not until I was hovering over her on my grandmother’s blanket. Contentment slipped from her face and her mouth parted in horror. Two round, twin faces gazed up at me in open curiosity, their jaws slowly working the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my mother had given them. The man looked between my mother and me with his forehead drawn.
I smirked at my mother’s paling face. “Hello, Mother.”
“Mother?” The man shook his head, gracing me with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You must be mistaken. Christine doesn’t have any children.”
Christine doesn’t have any children.
Christine doesn’t have any children.
Christine doesn’t have any children.
The words wound over and over through my brain in a shrewd, sing-song voice. It became difficult to breathe, and it had nothing to do with the humidity and stifling heat swirling around. My throat was in a vise grip, my chest was about to explode, and my mind was a rubber band, pulled and stretched to the point of snapping. Lucy’s face flashed through my mind.
My heart trembled, but the finger I pointed at my mother held steady. “Never have I hated anyone more than I hate you at this moment.”
A startled cry left the children’s mouths. My mother grabbed Tupperware bowls crammed with food, shoving them inside the basket and motioning the children to stop eating. The man started talking loudly then, but I couldn’t hear him over the rushing locomotive tearing through my ears. In a rage, I kicked at a monkey bread cake sitting on a plate near my mother’s knees. The little balls of baked dough scattered across the grass. A large chunk of it slapped my mother on her red-stained cheek. Thin, white icing streaked across her astounded face. Twin cherubs cried, their curls bouncing with each sob.
I couldn’t find it in me to care. Christine was lucky they were sitting there. If not for them and the crowds of people milling around, I quite possibly would have strangled her.
“You worthless little nothing!” my mother screamed. “How dare you come here starting trouble, ruining everything I’ve work so hard to accomplish? I have a new life. Why couldn’t you just stay in Mayhaw and let me be? You’ve messed up everything.”
“Christine?” The man gathered the crying children into his arms, gawking at my mother with a dumbfounded expression.
“Take the kids to the apartment, Dan,” my mother said. “I’ll explain everything later.”
Dan nodded. He and the two sobbing toddlers stumbled away, hand in hand, across the park. They disappeared in a thick crowd gathered near a fountain. I was left alone with my bitter mother.
We stared at one another for a long moment, waves of hatred seeping out of us. It was her voice that cut through the tense silence.
“I never wanted you. Why do you think I married your idiot father? It wasn’t for love, that’s for sure. I married him because I had to. I married him because he got me pregnant with you. If it weren’t for you, I’d have left that hick town years ago and gone on with my life!”
Years of backhanded comments and slaps across the face stabbed at my memory, each moment in time bloated with truth and understanding. “You married Daddy because you were p
regnant with me?”
Christine sneered. “Yes, you were a freaking accident. Lucy was planned. She was a poorly devised plan to feel something I couldn’t feel with you. And it worked, for a while.”
I was nothing to that woman. I was nothing but a child she never truly wanted, never truly cared for. Years of resentment, heartache, and exhaustion infiltrated my being.
“I’ll leave you alone.” I clenched my hands at my sides, enraged at the humorous grin on her face. “You can continue with your shiny new life and your shiny new family, if you answer one question for me.”
She smirked, cool and calm, planting her hands on her hips. “Great, let’s hear it so you can be on your way.”
“Do you know anything about Daddy’s murder? Do you know who killed my daddy?”
Christine’s smirk melted and was replaced with a frown. She shook her head, narrowing her eyes. As much as I wanted to scream from the mountaintops that I knew about Davis killing my father, I didn’t. It was one of many requests of Graham’s I upheld that day.
She snorted, crossing her arms and tilting her head. She studied my face. “No, of course not. Why would you ask that? I didn’t love the man, but I certainly wouldn’t have murdered him.”
“I didn’t say you murdered him.” I raised an eyebrow as her eyes went askew and darted from mine. “I asked if you knew who did.”
Christine huffed, bent to grab the blanket, and picked up the discarded cake plate. She shoved it in the picnic basket. “No. I can’t believe you have the audacity to come here and ask me that. You’re ridiculous and pathetic, Rue.”
“The only person ridiculous and pathetic is you,” a stony voice said.
Christine straightened at the sound of Tanner’s voice. He stood beside me, hands clenched in fists, gritting his teeth. Pure hatred poured from his body.
“And just who are you?”
“Someone who cares about your daughter,” he replied. “Something you know nothing about.”
My mother’s mouth fell open, but Tanner continued to speak, refusing to allow her to get a word in edgewise.
