Haunting Refrain

by Mary Marvella

  Sarah told Peter about the characters at the Creation Community General Store.

  “Hey, they could be relatives.” he said.

  “Yours or mine?” she asked,

  He grinned. “Both.”

  She glanced at him, then back at the road.

  “Water?” He opened a bottle and held it out to her.

  She took it. “Thanks,” She drained the bottle.

  When they had to follow a long truck Peter began to fidget. “You could pass him, you know.”

  “Nope, double yellow line.”

  “But that doesn’t apply to log trucks.”

  She laughed. "It does if someone coming the other way hits you, or if a cop is around. Make your own rules at cards, too?”

  “Of course. And at Monopoly, too.”

  “That game has rules?”

  “When we play together, I’ll let you make them.”

  “Works for me.”

  Each time they passed a plantation home restaurant, Peter commented on how much he’d love to open his own.

  As they approached the four-way stop at Creation, Sarah felt excitement bubble over.

  “Sunshine, you remind me of an Alka-Seltzer.”

  “What, fizzy?”

  “No, my dear, effervescent.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s better or not.” She pulled into the first empty parking space, five spaces down from the storefront.

  “Must be a busy day in Creation.” His tone was a little sarcastic. “All the parking spaces are taken.”

  “Nah, there’re still three more marked spaces. Come on.”

  Inside the owner and Lonnie greeted Sarah like they were all old friends.

  ”Thanks you so much for the directions you gave me the other day. They were perfect.”

  The man grinned as though she’d told him he’d saved her life or like she’d said she loved him.

  “So you found the place, did you, Miss Sarah?”

  “Yep, I couldn’t believe how great it felt to be there.”

  She finally introduced him to the hicks.

  The old man rubbed his bearded jaw. “Jackson? I recollect a couple of Jacksons around these parts. There’s Barney and his brother Jeb. Neither of ‘em worth a damn.”

  “Well, I’m more interested in the exact location of the Jackson family home-place.”

  The owner shook his head, frowning. “Come on outside for a spell.” He looked toward the lanky, blond teenaged boy behind register counter. “Lonnie’ll bring us a cold glass of sweet tea. Sugar or sweetener?”

  He led the way back to the front porch without looking back to see if they followed or if Lonnie got the tea.

  “Come on, Pete,” Sarah reached for his hand, tugged. “Gotta set a spell and chew the fat, if you want information.” She grinned and pulled again. “That’s how it’s done here.”

  “How you like your sweet tea, mister?” Lonnie sauntered from behind the counter, toward a white, fifties-style refrigerator standing beside a new looking, older red Coca-Cola drink cooler. Must be worth a fortune.

  “Sweet,” Peter answered.

  “Peter!”

  Lonnie’s blue eyes shot daggers at Peter’s “funny”. His voice sounded like he reprimanded a child. “We’re polite here, not ignorant. You want sugar or not?”

  Sarah frowned, then turned to smile at the youngster. “We’ll both have sugar, please. Thank you, Lonnie.”

  The boy blushed and grinned. “You’re welcome, Ma’am.”

  “Come on, Peter, You act like you’ve been dipping pickles from the pickle barrel.” She followed their host to the porch and took the rocker he indicated.

  Peter had a smart mouth but he wasn’t stupid. He’d need to do damage control to get back in Sarah’s good graces. He followed her toward the front door. “Sorry, Lonnie.”

  Peter watched the road for the occasional passing tractor or dusty pickup truck. He accepted his tea in a Ball canning jar and took a swallow. He choked. Damn stuff tastes like syrup.

  Sarah rose to pat his back but Lonnie beat her to it with a harder than necessary whack.

  The old coot in the rocker hooted. “Gotta go slow or you’ll get a headache.” He and Sarah sipped the stuff like nectar. Must not be from the same batch as my sweet-tea-from-hell.

  Sarah and their host discussed the weather as though they had all the time in the world. Lonnie brought out a plate of cookies. Sarah took one and gave the kid a thrill with her million-dollar smile.

  The woman’s a real charmer. Oh, well, might as well relax and let her play the game. She’s a pro at it.

  “Mr. Jackson, I recollect the land that belonged to your family was sold in small farming lots back in ‘50. Ain’t much left of the house and buildin’s. The place was damaged a lot by the storm of ’90. It had been empty for lots of years.”

  Peter must have looked disappointed because the owner looked concerned. Sarah touched his arm in sympathy.

  “Sorry, young fella, folks at the county office been plannin’ for years to finish demolishing the house. They just ain’t got around to it, yet.”

  Peter kept his voice even, as though he hadn’t just been told his roots were rotten. Hell, he knew the genes were. “Sir, could you direct us? I’d like to tell the family what I learned.”

  “Sure, son.” He droned directions that sounded more roundabout than necessary. Sarah listened for him.

  “Well, guess we’d better get on our way.” Sarah stood.

  Finally. Peter rose before she could change her mind and sit back down. “Yes, sir, thanks for the refreshments and the information.”

  Lonnie appeared with a tray and collected the jars and napkins and stuff.

  The owner walked them to Sarah’s car. “Be careful if you wander around the Jackson house. Nobody’ll know if somethin’ bad happens to you. Keep those cell phones with ya, case y’all need to call for help.”

  “We will, and thanks again.”

  Peter couldn’t wait to get away from those bumpkins, especially Lonnie who had poisoned his tea.

  “Aren’t they so sweet?” Sarah asked. “I could sit and talk with them all day.“

  “Yeah, real nice.”

  Peter hardly said a word to her once they left the store. He’d seemed so disappointed at the news, but maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it had sounded.

  They passed several nice modern houses with well-tended farms. One older clapboard house had anchored a pasture crowded with cows and calves. Not bad. Then the area had changed.

  “According to the old man’s directions and historic society maps. We’re now entering old Jackson country. The road to Sarita’s house had been smooth compared to this one, though only five miles apart. Here grass and weeds grew tall. For Sale signs dotted the roadside. Peter wanted to cry at the neglect.

  Why couldn’t my ancestors have sold the land to developers when it was worth anything? This area could’ve been lined with houses and yards or small gardens. He and Sarah would have done better. Miller and Sarah’s Mattie would have done better. Damn!

  Will Sarah’s family be willing to help me get some of this back? How high could the asking price be if the signs are faded and broken? How can anything make me feel worse?

  Then he saw the shell of a plantation house on a hill. It’s a good thing Sarah’s driving. He removed his sunglasses, but the house looked worse in the bright morning sunlight. Tears stung his eyes and he put the glasses back on. Damn it. I’ll get behind my relatives and get help from the only people in my family worth a shit. The women who married into it and the ones who married out of it.

  First things first. How can I get Sarah’s help?

  Sarah pulled into a driveway near the house. “I’m so

  sorry, Peter.” She removed her sunglasses and he could see her eyes glistening with tears.

  “It’s not your fault. It isn’t Mattie’s fault or her Yankee’s either.”

  The house and outbuildings were literally falling down.
<
br />   Peter opened the car door and stood, leaning against the frame, but he stayed put.

  “We don’t need to get out here. No telling what’s living in this mess.“ He got back in and sat, resigned for a few quiet minutes. “Let’s go check out your place.”

  They made their way there in twenty minutes of backtracking and turns.

  Sarah felt strange returning to the place where so many memories lay. Sarita’s memories rushed over her. Before the war separated friends and brothers Jacksons had been as welcome here as had Sarita and Mattie. Miller had always seemed quiet but kind. “You know, Peter, our families were once friends.”

  “But love separated them,” He finally spoke.

  “Mattie thought it was more a matter of jealousy.”

  Something seemed different as she approached the overgrown boundary hedges along the road. It was littered with branches. Had there been a storm last night? No someone had trimmed the hedges. How odd.

  Peter sat up straighter beside her. “It doesn’t look as bad as I expected,” he commented.

  “No,” Sarah said. “It doesn’t look as bad as it did yesterday. And look!” Someone had taken down the brick gate supports and removed the sagging gate.

  She knew where to turn because someone had also bush-hogged the driveway. Hedges still marked the way but they had also been tamed since yesterday. Only a work crew could have accomplished so much in so little time, but how and why?

  “I thought you said my car would scrape on the tall weeds and grass on the driveway.”

  “Yesterday it would have. Someone worked a miracle after I left, but who?” The house came into view and Peter gasped. She followed to the circular drive and understood. Two pickup trucks occupied space beside the porch.

  “What the hell?” she muttered. Had someone bought this place so quickly? Why hadn’t folks at the store in Creation mentioned it? In a place like this there could be no secrets for long. She pulled up to the front steps, knowing she must be trespassing. Someone had swept them and the porch. She’d have thought she was seeing the place from a Sarita memory, but the paint was still peeling, the door still hung at a slight angle.

  “The place looks like someone’s getting it spruced up to sell it.” Peter interrupted her musings.

  “Oh, yeah, that could explain things.” That would be better than if someone had already bought it.

  “Can we get out and explore?”

  “Of course.” She opened her door and stepped out. She slathered sunscreen on her face and arms and offered the tube to Peter. He covered his face and arms, then handed it back to her.

  “Thanks, we can’t be too careful about wrinkles or skin cancer, can we?”

  “Come on. Better put on a hat.” Grabbing her pack from the back seat she slipped it over on her arms through the straps. She plopped a baseball cap on her head.

  “Didn’t bring one.”

  She shook her head at his lack of preparation. Turning her back to him she instructed. Reach in the outside pocket and grab my spare cap.”

  After adjusting the back for fit he leaned to look in the side mirror to be sure the hat looked right. “Grab the small insulated pack.”

  “How far are we going? Surely we won’t be away long enough to need provisions.”

  “You never know.”

  She led Peter to the porch. “Your ancestors walked here. History happened here more than a hundred and fifty years ago. So did mine and William’s.”

  Peter looked around, taking in the surroundings with almost as much excitement as she felt. “The place looks great. It would be a wonderful place for a restaurant and maybe a gift shop. Imagine weddings here and parties.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Sarah laughed. “You have quite an imagination. Got the money?”

  Peter stopped. “No, I really don’t but I’ll ask around the family. Maybe the cousins can help me raise some capital to get things started. Unless you want to be my business partner.”

  Was he kidding? “I know nothing about business, and I haven’t had time to save enough money to invest.”

  “It’s no big deal.” Peter sounded casual but not.

  They found the workmen in back of the house, clearing a wide berth around the buildings. Her, Sarita’s herb garden looked more civilized but some weeds remained. An elderly woman stood fanning herself with a large hat in the midst of the wilderness.

  “Hey,” Sarah called out. The woman looked up. “What are you doing here?”

  “Stay where you are.” Sarah waited as she made her way down a row that wasn’t clear yesterday. “Don’t want you tramping anything. Folks don’t know what to preserve.”

  ”Who are you?” Peter stepped beside Sarah.

  Silver streaks liberally laced her brown hair. She looked older than she had from a distance.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Sarah noted a slight limp in the strange woman’s steps.

  “I can handle this, Peter.” He meant well but she didn’t need him to speak for her. “Who are you? How often do you come here to steal, I mean gather herbs?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m Paula Long and I’ve been tending this garden since it became county property forty years ago. I harvest enough to keep the plants healthy.”

  “The place seemed neglected yesterday. There were a lot of weeds.” Sarah stared at the lines etched around the stranger’s eyes. She acted like she belonged here but how could she? She placed the hat back on her head.

  “I couldn’t get here this spring. “My son, one of the workmen gave me a ride out today.” She pointed toward a crew of men swinging blades in a path toward the burial grounds.

  “Why are they here,” Sarah asked. “the workmen I mean?”

  “How would I know? I think someone expressed an interest in buying the place. Who could explore with all the neglect and growth. I always came out in my truck but I haven’t been driving since the seizures started.”

  “If you have seizures, why are you working in this hot son and by yourself?”

  The woman laughed. “I’m on medication and my son checks up on me every half hour.” She held up a walkie-talkie. “There are herbs out here that might help me treat the seizures more naturally. I didn’t keep any for myself last winter, didn’t expect to need them.”

  “What do you do with the herbs you harvest?” Peter asked. She needed to remind him not to do that on her land. But it wasn’t her land or Sarita’s.

  The answer was directed to Sarah, instead of to her worrisome companion.

  “I dry and prepare them for use with patients who can’t get medical care or who react to modern drugs. I’m a natural healer and herbalist. I don’t pay for herbs and I don’t charge.”

  “Well, I can’t see any harm in that.” Sarah said. “Didn’t realize there were still people like you.”

  “I’m a midwife, too."

  “Sounds useful,” Sarah said.

  “I’ll get back to work, if ya’ll don’t mind. My son'll take me home when the crew breaks for lunch, and I’ve more herbs to gather and weeding to do. If you’ll come back early tomorrow, I’ll show you what’s useful and what isn’t. I’ve kept some gardening tools and gathering baskets in the shed over there.” She pointed to a small outbuilding. “Feel free to use ‘em.”

  Sarah said noting as the herbalist returned to work. "Think the storeowner knows about Paula and her gardening projects?”

  “Of course he knows. Looks like he mighta warned us. He probably knew about the workmen bein’ out here, too. I knew there was somethin’ odd about those bunpkins.”

  “Oh, Peter, hush!”

  “Sorry, Sarah. Think we could look inside the house?”

  “Help me pick some blackberries, first. The workmen will probably clear the bushes away by this afternoon.”

  For forty minutes they gathered juicy, ripe berries, filling three large storage bags.

  When Peter drained one of the water bottles in one continuous swallow, she laughed. “Didn�
�t think we’d need provisions, huh.”

  Sarah smiled at the memory of picking berries with William and nearly making love with him out here in the open. What if they had and workmen had come here yesterday and caught them?

  “You were right, ma’am. Don’t forget we have food in your car for a picnic.”

  “So, Let’s go get some.” This picnic wouldn’t end like the one with William did.

  ##

  Back at the car Peter had prepared the picnic lunch. He’d spread a tablecloth on the newly mowed lawn under a tree. Then he’d pampered Sarah. Now they sat side-by-side and sated.

  “Peter, you can cook for me any time.” She rubbed her

  middle and leaned back with her eyes closed. Good.

  “Love to.” He meant that, especially if they could turn this place into a restaurant. “Would you let me cook for you every night?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Could it be this easy?

  “Every night?” She opened her eyes and frowned at him. “I don’t think William would like that. And Mama would be jealous. She likes to cook for me, too.”

  Not the reaction he was hoping for. “So we could eat with your mama. I guess we could invite William sometimes. If you think he’d want to eat with me.”

  Sarah smiled. “ You know that wouldn’t work.”

  He reached for her hand. “You know I care for you.”

  “I care about you, too.”

  He squeezed. “Sarah, I --“