Temple Secrets: Southern Humorous Fiction: (New for 2015) For Lovers of Southern Authors and Southern Novels

by Susan Gabriel

  Does he not realize she’s in a coma? Violet wonders.

  Edward walks past Lynette like she is invisible and kisses his mother on the forehead before sitting at the foot of the bed. He crosses his hands on his lap as though a position honed and polished at a school for deathbed etiquette. Violet feels certain Edward will play the good son until he gets what he wants, which seems to be whatever he was looking for downstairs.

  “Mother, are they treating you all right?”

  He glances at Violet and talks to his mother like they are having polite dinner conversation. He fills Miss Temple in on his work and tells her how horribly busy he has been. He asks if she received the flowers he sent to the hospital and waits a beat for her to answer.

  A crowd has gathered that has nothing to do with a ghost tour. Someone rattles the gate. Who knew secrets could get people so riled. Violet wonders if she should call the police, and she and Lynnette exchange concerned looks. The ad in this morning’s paper questioned the wrongful conviction of a long-ago murder. None of the parties are still alive, except for a few descendants who seem to want revenge.

  Edward describes to his mother in detail about what is going on outside. Something Queenie had suggested they never mention to Miss Temple in case she can hear. Every few minutes Edward reaches over and pats his mother’s hand with four quick taps, as though patting the head of a bunny at a petting zoo.

  Surely, even comatose, Miss Temple can see through her son’s performance, Violet thinks.

  Meanwhile, Lynette hovers over Edward like he might turn off the life support machines while she isn’t looking. She also looks occasionally out the window where the crowd is building.

  “Well, Mother, I must be going,” Edward says finally. “I need to go outside and deal with the rioters. They’re very upset about those secrets in the newspaper. Whoever is doing this must be very angry with you,” he adds. “There’s certainly plenty of people that fall into that category.” He leans over and kisses Miss Temple on the cheek.

  As soon as Edward steps away from his mother’s side, Lynette double checks the machines.

  “Would you like me to show the gentleman out?” Lynette asks Violet, sounding like one of the bouncers at the jazz clubs she and Jack went to before the girls were born.

  Edward turns and looks at Lynette like he’s just now noticing her. He wastes no charm on her. “I can show myself out,” he says. “I used to live here.” He then stops in front of a full-length antique mirror to straighten his tie before leaving, perhaps to irk Lynette. Violet and Lynette follow him to the second floor landing where they watch the door to make sure he leaves. Without looking back, Edward crosses the foyer, walks out the door and then slams it.

  “Who died and made him king?” Lynette stands, her hands on her wide hips.

  “That was Edward Temple, Miss Temple’s son,” Violet says.

  “I know,” Lynette says. “When he was in here before, he was absolutely rude to his sister. Didn’t even speak to her. Just laughed and stared.” She scoffs. “Forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think he cared one bit about his mama laying there. I think it was all just a show for us.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Violet says.

  The lights in the old house flicker as if the ghostly Temples agree, too.

  “Is that them?” Lynette asks, looking more than a little alarmed.

  Violet nods.

  All day the house has been more psychically alive than usual. Like the people outside, the former Temples are riled. Violet glances at her watch again. She is ready to be home, where the only spirits in their apartment is a single bottle of rum in the kitchen cabinet used to mix with honey, garlic and lemon whenever she and Jack are getting colds.

  The noises outside grow, as Miss Temple’s energy builds. The whole house is humming along like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. In the meantime, Violet’s shoulder confirms that something big is about to happen.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Old Sally

  Old Sally stops her rocking and listens to the message on the wind. Except for the light of the full moon, the beach is completely dark.

  “It’s time,” she tells Rose and Queenie. “We best be going now.”

  Old Sally stands, ignoring the pain in her hip, and walks inside. Urgency accompanies her movements as she gathers items in the cloth bag she uses to tote ingredients for her spells.

  “What is it, Mama?” Queenie asks, following her inside.

  “You two wait in the car. I’ll be right there,” Old Sally says. She needs to not forget anything. Every ritual requires certain sacraments.

  Queenie and Rose return to the car. A few minutes later Old Sally joins them.

  “Tonight, Iris crosses over into the next world,” Old Sally says to them, “and I’ll do my best to help her.”

  As they drive into Savannah, Rose is quiet in the back seat. Even Queenie isn’t talking much. When death is close, people often get quiet. Life’s biggest mystery requires respect.

  Rose leans forward with a question Old Sally has been expecting. “Have you used Gullah magic on my mother?” she asks.

  “Mostly protection spells so others don’t get hurt,” Old Sally says. She always knew she would never lie to Rose. “Whenever your mother gets puffed up with meanness it doesn’t sit right in her belly.”

  “You mean Iris could have stopped all that stomach upset herself, if she’d just been nice?” Queenie asks.

  Old Sally nods.

  “Lord, have mercy,” Queenie says. “I wish Iris had figured that out. Then Violet wouldn’t have to carry those tinctures around to cover the smell of her stomach upsets.”

  “What most people don’t know,” Old Sally begins again, “is that Iris has her reasons for being the way she is. Your mama was a sweet thing at first,” she says to Rose. “She was a good girl and tried to do everything right so her mama and daddy might praise her. But they be too busy to even notice her. The only thing that got their attention was meanness,” she continues. “That’s when they sat up and noticed, because they be worried that Savannah’s rich folk might judge them. Edward inherited this meanness, too, just as sure as if it had passed down like the Temple family china.”

  “I forget Mother has her reasons for being the way she is,” Rose says.

  “That be true,” Old Sally says. “But just like any of us, your mama could have chosen to be something different if she wanted. She had a heart of gold, too. She just lost track of it.”

  “Is that the only spell you used on her?” Rose asks.

  Heaviness sits in Old Sally’s chest. Sadness older than her, passed on from an earlier time. “There be another spell,” she begins, her tone softer. “This spell be started by my grandmother, Sadie, against the old slave master Temple for sending away the children of the slaves to work other places, never to be seen again.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible that he did that,” Rose says. Tears sparkle in Rose’s eyes, but Old Sally has no time to capture them. “That would be my great-great grandfather?” Rose asks.

  Old Sally nods and pulls a burlap doll from the pocket of her dress to show Rose, and begins again. “This spell requires a special root that can only be found deep in the swamps of southwest Georgia. The root is ground up and put inside this doll.”

  Rose takes the doll and looks at it for a long time, and then sniffs it. “It smells like molasses and marsh water,” she says. Rose starts to pass it to Queenie who holds up a hand and says no, thanks.

  “Every year I put new roots in the doll to keep the spell fresh,” Old Sally begins again. “This is a revenge spell, pure and simple. It makes any Temple sick to their stomach when they are being the master over people. That’s why you’ve never had a stomachache in your life, Rose, and why your mother has more than most.”

  “I don’t think it ever occurred to Iris that life had anything to teach her,” Queenie says. “Or that she may be the cause of her own discomfort.”

  “That be rig
ht,” Old Sally says.

  The messages Old Sally has received from the other world confirm that Iris Temple’s time on this earth has ticked down to a matter of hours instead of days. For decades Old Sally has known that she would be present for Iris’s death. Her family and the Temple family have been entwined for generations like a sweet grass basket woven and bound tight enough to hold water. Old Sally’s family carries the secret elixir to cure the dark parts in the Temple’s history. Centuries have passed where Old Sally’s family has mingled with the Temple bloodline. Old Sally’s mother was a result of this mixing, as was Queenie.

  The closer they get to Savannah, the more Old Sally feels pulled into the agitation of Iris Temple. It confirms that this crossing will not be an easy one. Some souls are ready to leave this earth and embrace the transition feeling their work is complete. Others fight it with everything they have. They are the ones who have unfinished business.

  And if anyone has unfinished business, it be Iris Temple, she tells herself.

  Within a mile of the Temple home, Iris’s edginess makes Old Sally clutch her cloth bag and pray for the strength she’ll need for the battle ahead. She hopes there is enough strength in her hundred-year-old body to do her part in the ritual.

  When they enter the house through the kitchen door, the Temple spirits rush forward clamoring for Old Sally’s attention. In the center of the room she stops and waits. To Old Sally, the Temple ghosts are like youngsters that can’t sit still and get into mischief all the time. When she worked in the house she was always telling those ghosts to behave. They listened, for the most part. But now it seems those youngsters—with the help of the Temple secrets—have grown into something much older and darker.

  “What is it, Mama?” Queenie asks. “You look frightened.”

  “The spirits. They all riled up,” Old Sally says. Shadows dance in the room, but with no clear shapes. Old Sally points to a note on the kitchen table. “That be for you,” she says to Queenie.

  Queenie reads the note from Violet aloud:

  Dear Queenie,

  Edward was here again tonight. Creepy, as usual. There was a crowd at the gate earlier, too, but the police came and made them leave. I’ve gone home for the night, but Lynette is upstairs watching after Miss Temple. I hope all goes well. V.

  Old Sally feels the imprint of Violet’s earlier distress. She is glad that her grandchild went home to be with Jack. Jack will never let anything bad happen to her. Like Rose, Violet is a special child, too, but in a different way. After Old Sally is gone, Violet will make sure the Gullah traditions don’t get lost. The safer she stays the better.

  “Why was Edward here again?” Rose asks.

  “Sometimes the spirits of the living get riled up with the spirits of the dead,” Old Sally says. “That’s why so much happens on a full moon. The veil is thinner between the two worlds.”

  “I forgot there’s a full moon tonight,” Queenie says.

  “A blessing and a curse,” Old Sally says. “There be no turning back now.”

  The color leaves Rose’s face.

  “You’ll feel better once your mother passes,” Old Sally says to her. We all will, she thinks. She squeezes a bit of reassurance into Rose’s hand.

  Old Sally isn’t surprised that Edward has shown up three times today. Everything happens in threes right before a big change. He’s been waiting a long time for this moment. Once his mother is out of the way, Edward gets to do whatever he wants with the Temple estate. But Old Sally will have to deal with him later. For now, it is his mother that requires her full attention.

  Rose and Queenie follow Old Sally through the dining room and into the foyer. She spent sixty years of her life working in this house and could walk through the rooms with her eyes closed and never run into anything. Her mother worked here before her, and her mother’s mother before that. As a girl, she explored it when the Temples weren’t around. In some ways, she knows the Temple house better than her own. She certainly cleaned it many times over. And though she hasn’t been here for twenty years, she hasn’t missed it one bit.

  The ghost of the third Edward Temple stands halfway up the stairs as if waiting to greet her. Old Sally sees him clear as a sunny day, though Rose and Queenie don’t appear to. This is Queenie’s father. Wooden arms and legs used to hang on various hooks in his office in the Temple home. The sight of them always shocked Sally. Sometimes he would make the wooden limbs dance for her like he was a puppeteer and they were his puppets.

  The second Edward Temple, in specter form, stands at the top of the stairs. A surgeon in the Civil War, he was said to have lost his mind as a result of the mountain of arms and legs he amputated. He still wears his officer’s uniform. Even as a ghost, his eyes are open wide, still witnessing the horror. Old Sally’s grandmother, Sadie, had a boy child by him who was sent away before the war to a plantation in Virginia. They never knew what happened to him and they never saw him again.

  Old Sally’s family tree is so gnarled she can barely keep it straight herself. Patterns have played out for two hundred years, like they have all been puppets to the same puppeteer. In the past, she’s thought of their intertwined history as a Gullah spiritual with different verses.

  But now it be time for a new song, she tells herself.

  For over three decades, Old Sally has known a change was coming that would end the dark pattern. The other world has sent messages foretelling the change for years, in dreams, tea leaves and inner knowing. All speak a language Old Sally understands. Yet the messages lately all point to danger.

  The Temple Book of Secrets showing up makes sense, too. All sorts of darkness gets released before the light comes, that’s why people always say it’s darkest before the dawn. Old Sally caught sight of that old book many years ago. Before Edward the 3rd died, it was kept in a desk drawer in his office.

  Once when it was laying on the top of his desk she looked inside. It was a fancy ledger, covered in leather, where each wealthy family had a page with a list of bad things they’d done. Pages filled with different inks made from different pens, the dates going back to when her Grandmother Sadie was a girl. Some families had died out or didn’t even live in Savannah any more. But there were others that still lived here.

  Notations of who beat their wives or had mistresses. Notes about fathers who messed with their children. Heavy drinkers. Barren wives. Addicted sons and daughters. Slaves who disappeared. Illegitimate children. Secrets that even generations down the line make a family look bad. Old Sally had never seen anything like it.

  It be like the devil keeping track of all his people’s evil deeds, she thinks. Nothing at all about anything good.

  Queenie offers a hand and Old Sally holds it as she climbs the spiral staircase. Rose follows a few steps behind. Old Sally rarely climbs steps anymore. Her house is on one level.

  “White people just keep building up and up,” Old Sally says, “reaching for sky instead of earth.” Makes no sense, she thinks.

  The second Edward Temple laughs like what she said is ridiculous. They don’t want her to succeed. They want Iris to stay with them. As long as Iris stays behind, the past has more power and keeps people down. She pauses and Queenie asks if she’s okay. She says she is.

  “Are the spirits still active?” Rose asks.

  Old Sally nods. “Like a fancy party where everyone is in attendance.”

  The Edward Temples in the past were not especially mean men, but they chose women who carried their meanness for them.

  “Is my father here?” Rose asks.

  The question from Rose doesn’t surprise her. It broke Rose’s heart when her daddy died so young. Though feeling rushed, Old Sally turns and touches Rose’s cheek.

  “Mister Oscar be a better man than several Temples combined,” Old Sally begins. “Your daddy’s ghost doesn’t hang out with the other Temples. He stays in his office on the main floor.”

  Rose glances in that direction.

  At the top of the stairs,
Old Sally holds Queenie’s arm to steady herself. It feels like she’s walking into a strong wind. A wind that wants to steal her breath. The closer Old Sally gets to Iris’s room, the more Iris’s spirit shoves her away.

  When Old Sally enters the bedroom, Iris Temple laughs from the in-between world. She will not go to the other side without a fight. The forces are stronger than Old Sally expected. Her head lowered, she pauses and asks Queenie and Rose to give her a moment to think. Her mind races like a general putting together a plan before going into battle where the enemy is twice as big as anticipated. All the crossings she attended have been tame compared to this wildness.

  Queenie and Rose both carry Temple blood and will be useful in their fight. But based on Iris’s resistance, Old Sally needs more help than she thought. She debates whether to call Violet, but it seems her granddaughter has dealt with dark forces enough for one night. Another presence in the room calls for her attention, and Old Sally raises her head. A large white woman in a nurse’s uniform stands next to the bed. In that instant, Old Sally knows this stranger is the additional help she needs.

  Lynette smiles at Old Sally like somehow she recognizes what they will do together. Her ancestors have chosen her. A hard-earned kindness surrounds her, as someone strong enough to overthrow the dark and claim the light.

  As Old Sally approaches Iris’s bed, she senses Iris gathering strength in the in-between world. Being back in the Temple house is giving Iris power. For the longest time, Old Sally thought everyone heard voices from the spirit world. The first time dead people talked to her she was still a girl and thought she was making up the voices in her head. But the older she got, the more she realized that she could communicate with people in the spirit world. What she didn’t realize is people in a coma are in this in-between world, too. She thinks of it like a waiting room where people are waiting to be called. Except it isn’t a room, it’s a way of being.

  A conversation commences between Old Sally and Iris that no one else can hear.