Southern Secrets

by Shelley Stringer

  Banton nodded, and then cleared his throat. “Come on, little mama…let’s get you upstairs to rest. You’ve been up quite a while,” he grinned at me. Aunt Sue paused as she cleared the table.

  “I told you not to call me that! It sounds just like…” I began.

  “Uncle Earl and Aunt Totsie!” Aunt Sue finished with a grin as I rolled my eyes.

  “Um, son, not so great to be compared to those two, back-woods East Texas hicks, with only about five teeth between them,” Uncle Lon chuckled from behind his newspaper.

  “So I’ve heard…I just knew if I did it, I’d get a response,” he called over his shoulder as he took off for the stairs. I rushed after him, and just when I reached him, he turned and scooped me up to carry me up the staircase.

  After Banton had me all tucked in for my nap, he left me to take a shower. After he’d finished, he pulled my laptop out of the case and settled down on the bed beside me.

  “Who were you just on the phone with?”

  I picked my phone up and checked the screen. “Laurilee. I thought I’d better call her and let her know we weren’t coming.”

  “I’m sorry, Chandler.” He frowned, reaching over to stroke my cheek with his thumb.

  I nodded. “She’s disappointed, but she said she would go out and take some pictures at the cemetery for me, and she would send some pictures from the rodeo.” I looked up at him as I placed my phone back beside me. “I still think you’re over-reacting.” I fought back angry tears. I realized I wanted to go home to Texas more than I’d first thought.

  He sat, unmoving, his expression unreadable except from that irritating muscle twitch in his jaw. I sighed and reached up and stroked his bicep. His expression thawed as he turned to me.

  “Not napping with me, today?” I asked as I yawned.

  He leaned over and placed a kiss on top of my head. “Nope, I’ve got some paperwork to turn in, and a formal letter to shoot off to command about my buddy Commander Reed. John says it won’t do any good, though. Our team is off the grid.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked curiously.

  “We aren’t even listed as a SEAL team. We don’t exist. Our military records are top-secret, restricted security clearance stuff. Because of what we are dealing with – Orcos – the military wants plausible deniability. We don’t have a chain of command,” he murmured. I was resting my eyes, but they popped open to gaze at him, feeling a sudden, tight coldness in my chest. He made it sound as if anything happened to his team, it would be as if they hadn’t existed. I shuddered, not able to think about it.

  Banton looked down at me and rubbed my shoulder comfortingly. “This matter between Reed and me isn’t settled yet,” he admitted as he resumed clicking the keys on my laptop. As I gazed at his strong, beautiful profile, I began to relax. There was something so soothing about his nearness, hearing him work as he watched over me. I settled in for a long nap.

  * * *

  I woke to a quick rap on the bedroom door.

  “Chandler dear, are you awake?” Aunt Sue called out.

  “Come on in, Mrs. Sue. She’s just waking up,” Banton called back as I stretched and turned over. “Hey, beautiful. You had a good nap. You never even moved.”

  “I guess I was more tired than I thought.” I answered. Aunt Sue crossed over to the bed.

  “I’m sorry to disturb, but Uncle Lon and I were just about to leave. Drew will be home soon from his tournament, and we thought it might be safe to leave now.”

  “Oh, yes…Mrs. Sue, I think you all are safe for the time being. We’ll keep a close watch on Constance, don’t worry,” Banton assured her.

  Aunt Sue reached her hand out to place it on his shoulder, and then pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so glad you married Chandler, I can see you make her happy. I know you both will look after Constance. She is in good hands.” She switched to hug me.

  “And Constance is right, for once. Her grades have never been better! I can’t complain there,” Uncle Lon shook his head, crossing the room to join Aunt Sue.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lon. Thank you for staying and for helping us to defend the house last night, and thank you for all you’re doing for us with Brie’s family. I know it’s a load off John’s mind.” Banton shook his hand.

  “You’re more than welcome, Son. I just wish you’d come to me sooner. You let me handle the legal situation. You take care of my baby-girls. All my girls,” Uncle Lon finished, patting the baby-bundle.

  After Aunt Sue and Uncle Lon left to go back to Denham Springs, Banton and I lounged in the bedroom, whispering and laughing. He reached up and pulled me in for a kiss.

  “Mmm. Now the day has been perfect. I’ve been waiting for your kiss all day.

  “Well, now ma’am, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he grinned, pulling the blanket up, and disappearing under it.

  “Watch it, mister, or you’ll start something you can’t finish!” I warned him. He began to work his way up under my top. “Ban…um…Banton!” I giggled harder as he mixed tickling with his kisses.

  Footsteps running up the staircase, and the door slamming in the nursery brought his head from under the covers. He listened for a moment, muted voices drifting through the wall. A shattering-type crash brought us both upright, and he flung the blanket back as he leapt up from the bed.

  “I’ll see what’s going on,” he called back, easing the door open. Disappearing into the hallway, he then quickly returned. Hurrying over to the bed, he pulled me up into his arms, and then rushed out into the hallway and down the staircase as I could hear what I thought were angry voices coming from the nursery.

  “Banton, what is going on?”

  “Diversion,” he stated simply, opening the front door.

  “Well, I thought you might enjoy the last of the sunshine on this beautiful spring day, and I wanted to give you a present.” He grinned down at me. As he stepped out onto the porch, he turned and asked, “What do you think?”

  He placed me gently down on my feet. I walked slowly over to the beautiful, massive wicker porch swing at the end of the veranda. It had a huge, overstuffed white French flour sack cushion, and overflowed with throw pillows to match. I turned and sank down into the pillows. Reaching over me, he grabbed a luxurious fur throw and pulled it up over me, tucking it in around my bare feet. I looked up at him in wonder.

  “I just thought it would be a comforting thought while I’m away next time, to think of you out here, swinging and enjoying the sunshine, reading one of your books, or working on your laptop…waiting for me to come home.”

  I just nodded at him, the tears threatening to spill over. He sank down beside me and pulled me up close to his side as he began to swing us slowly back and forth.

  “I absolutely love it. It’s perfect. And I can certainly see us out here, swinging the babies to get them to sleep on a late summer evenin’.” I leaned my head back on his shoulder. “But it wasn’t here this morning,” I observed. He grinned at me.

  “Everett and Mr. Philippe helped me out, with a little help from John.” I remembered why we’d come downstairs, and pulled back to look up at him.

  “So are you going to tell me what happened upstairs? Are Constance and Ty having a fight? You know she’s battling the venom and her nerves aren’t normal,” I reminded him. He grinned even bigger.

  “No, not a fight, exactly…although I don’t think her nerves are a problem, right now,” he answered wryly.

  “What are you talking about? I heard them arguing, and we heard something break. Don’t you think you should check on them?” I worried aloud.

  “Um, no…I think they needed a little alone time. Believe me, we need to be out here on the porch. Anything gets broken, we’ll just replace…I think,” he chuckled.

  “I don’t follow you,” I said, studying his strange reactions.

  “Let’s just say she doesn’t have any doctor’s orders keeping her from exploring her new-found um…extreme sensations,” he offered as the light went
on in my brain.

  “Oh, gosh, that’s…” I trailed off.

  “Yeah. It is.” He sighed and kissed me on top of the head.

  The sound of footsteps and a cane bump making way slowly up the sidewalk alerted us to Mr. Jackson’s presence.

  “Well, hello, Mrs. Chandler, Mister Banton. I see’d you all come home dis mornin’, and I wanted to come and see you all was all right after all dat mischief evening afore last,” Mr. Jackson greeted us as he made his way slowly up the steps.

  “Hey, Mr. Jackson, it’s good to see you. Let me go in, and fix us all some lemonade. Sweetheart, do you want a glass?” Banton asked as he rose.

  “I’d love it,” I answered. He leaned down to kiss me before he went into the house.

  “If’n you don’t mind, you might bring out five of dem glasses. I invited a guest to sees you. I hope dat you don’t mind,” Mr. Jackson said.

  “No, of course not. Who’s coming?” I asked as Banton disappeared into the house.

  “My Auntie Chloe, de one dat I been tellin’ you ‘bout, she be out and about wid her daughter dis afternoon. She called a while ago and asked if maybe she could come down here wid me, dat she has some keepsakes she wants to gives you and Mister Banton. She said dat it be ‘bout time dat she meets de one dat brought de life back to dis ole house, and dat she wants to have one of our ‘front porch sits,’” he grinned his wide, toothy grin as he looked down at the floorboards on the porch.

  “Great…I’d love to meet her. I have such questions for her!” I exclaimed excitedly as the sound of tires on the gravel made us turn.

  “Oh, here she be right now. I’ll jes go and helps her out of de car.” He made his way down the stairs with the help of his cane. I was amazed, he moved quickly and spryly, obviously excited about his Aunt’s visit.

  “Auntie Chloe, it sho be good to sees you! You look good, fo an old woman!” he teased her, trying to take her arm. Mr. Jackson’s aunt was tiny, wiry woman, with her gray hair braided and coiled around her head. She walked with the aid of an ancient cane, and wielded it as she spoke.

  “Old? Who you a-callin old? Don’t be a-getting fresh wid me. I knows all yo secrets to be a tellin to dis young-un here. I bets you gots her all tricked into thinkin’ dat you be a nice ole-man. Now, give yo ole’ Auntie a kiss, afore I turns you over my knee.” She grinned a toothless grin at him as she kissed his cheek.

  “Now, Auntie Chloe, don’t be fillin’ Mrs. Chandler’s head full ‘o no rubbish, now. She’s a-wantin you to tell some of yo stories.” He helped her up onto the porch, and over to the rocker next to the swing. I swung the blanket back to stand and greet her.

  “Oh, don’t you go and git up. Dem babies are big enough now to make yo motions a cumbersome task. You just stay there, and let Auntie Chloe comes to you,” she chimed in her charming Creole accent. “You sho is a tiny bit of a lady, now…ain’t dat de truth!” she exclaimed as Banton returned with the lemonade tray.

  “And dis here be my cousin Marie. Marie, Auntie Chloe, dis here is Mrs. Chandler, de one dat I been a’tellin you all about, and her husband, Mister Banton,” he introduced us, with a great deal of pride in his voice.

  “Now, dis is a treat…I ain’t had no lemonade in quite a while,” her eyes sparkled out from her deeply wrinkled, kind face.

  “Now, Mama, you know you’re not supposed to have lemonade, with your diabetes actin’ up on you,” her daughter Marie warned.

  “It’s all right. Chandler makes it with Splenda. It’s fresh squeezed,” Banton said, handing her a glass.

  “Thank you. It’s nice to finally put a face wid a name. Red’s been a’talkin ‘bout you all so much. We feels dat we knows you.”

  “Red?” I asked as she laughed.

  “We been a’callin my nephew here ‘Red’ since he was in diapers. When he was little, he was a might lighter skinned dan now. He had a sprinklin’ of dem freckles what dem red-headed white boys might have, so’s dat’s where he got de name, and it stuck.”

  I could tell I was going to love Miss Chloe as much as I did Mr. Jackson. I smiled at the thought; it was spending the afternoon with a favorite Aunt and Uncle.

  “Well, now Mrs. Chandler…first things first. I gots some things here dat I think might interest you, and now dat you done restored de life in dis here ole house. When de ole Missus died, her family told my grandmamma to take whatever dat she wanted of de belongings in de house. She chose a few items, keepsakes dat she knowed were favorites of de ole Missus.” Miss Chloe began pulling items out of an old box she carried up on the porch with her. “Dis here, it be Mrs. Johnson’s favorite apron. My Grandmamma said dat she always wore it when dey was cannin’ or tendin’ de garden. Red tole me dat you cooks a-right smart in her old kitchen, and it would make both o’dem happy to knows dat you is wearin’ it now.” She smoothed the antique fabric out with her withered, wrinkled black hands, and then lovingly folded it and handed it to me. I held it to my chest, and looked up at her.

  “Thank you so much,” I whispered, overcome at such a personal item.

  “That is so kind of you, thank you.” Banton told her as he reached over and patted her hand.

  Then she continued. “This here is a quilt, dat my grandmamma and Mrs. Johnson made, out of Miss Marie’s baby clothes and such. After Miss Marie and de babies died, my grandmamma thought dat it would be good therapy fo her, and dat it would make a good keepsake fo her to cover up wid on cold, winter nights.” She handed me the antique quilt. I brushed my hands over it lovingly, feeling the delicate velvets and cottons, and intricate laces included in the pattern.

  “It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this. It’s part of your family history too; don’t you want your children to have it?” I asked, stunned.

  “Oh, we’s got quilts galore! When I was little, dat’s all de women folks had to do--cook, and quilt. We’s all gots quilts dat our Grandmamma’s made to hand down. You take dis here one. It belongs here in dis house, maybe keeping yo own daughter warm someday.” Her kind gray eyes twinkled at me. I was so choked up all I could do was nod.

  “Dis be a special picture, and my Grandmamma said dat it always sat by de front door. De frame is old, but you can see what a beauty dat Miss Marie was. Dis was taken at a studio in New Orleans right before de war broke out, and she was married.” She handed me the fragile chalky frame, yellowed with age. The dainty dark-haired beauty gazed out of the tin photograph and straight into my heart.

  “I was fascinated by dis here photo, when I was a wee little girl. I would stare at it fo hours, and used to play in de yard wid de other kids, and I would make dem call me ‘Marie’. I thought dat she was de most beautiful girl dat I’d ever seen, and I wanted to be just like her. Her name was beautiful too, and when I hads my own chile, I named her after dis beautiful girl,” she admitted, beaming at her daughter. “And dis here book, it be a journal, dat de ole Missus kept during and after de war. It’s a might worn and hard to read, but I thought you might want it.” Miss Chloe handed me the small black leather book, and then patted me on the leg.

  Banton placed his arms around my shoulders as he took the picture from me to study her image. My eyes watered at thought of the beautiful girl, dying just when her life was starting. I imagined her mother as she aged, longing for her daughter as she sat huddled by the fireplace inside, covered in the precious fabrics I now held in my hands.

  “Oh, Sweet Chile, now I done gone and made you sad. Please don’t cry, dis here is a happy time. De ole Missus, and my Grandmamma, dey would be happy a’knowin’ dat you will go on rememberin’ dem, and maybe pass on dese here stories to yo grandbabies someday. De memories, dey belong wid you and yo husband here, to stays in dis house and to be used and surrounded by love. It gives dem a happy, happy endin,” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling even brighter. She took both my hands in hers, and said, “Now. Take dis here ole woman for a tour o’dis house. I haven’t stepped foot in dat door since I was a young girl in de thirties.”

  Ba
nton helped me to my feet as Mr. Jackson did the same with his Aunt. Marie rose to follow us all into the house. Miss Chloe wondered at all the work we’d done, and when we’d finished our tour, she turned to me.

  “Chile, dis old house shines, now. It was a grand ‘ole place when I was a girl, but it is more beautiful now dat you done gone and put yo touches on it. Mrs. Johnson would be proud, and so would my grandmamma.”

  I swallowed hard, steadying my voice before I spoke. “Thank you, Miss Chloe. Thank you so much. These treasures you’ve given to make the house seem even more our home as if we are a part of the history.”

  After a quick tour of the house, we sat down in the living room to finish our visit. I placed the quilt Aunt Chloe had given me in my lap, wiping my eyes with the back of my hands.

  “Chile, you done gone and cried a river today. You gonna get dem babies upset wid all yo caterwalin’,” she said as she shook her head and grinned.

  “Um, Chandler does that. She has the softest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.” Banton kissed me on top of the head.

  Mr. Jackson chuckled. “Exceptin’ maybe Mister Everett. He be a might soft hearted, too.”

  Banton laughed out loud. “Yes, you’re right, Mr. Jackson. Maybe that’s why they are such good friends.”

  “Oh, Red done told us ‘bout him too. I was a’hopin’ dat we would get to meet him, I likes to meet characters.” She chuckled as she rocked back in her chair.

  “Yeah, he’s a character all right. Maybe you will get to meet him, when you come back next time,” Banton offered,

  “Miss Chloe, may I ask, what was your grandmother’s given name?” I asked curiously.

  “Her given name was Elois. She didn’t have no maiden name, slaves back in those days took the last name of de master’s dat dey belonged to. Then she took Mr. Jackson’s name when she married,” she answered as we listened curiously. I’d wanted to know her grandmother’s name, to be able to weave her into the stories about the house.