by Rhett DeVane
“Squealer.” Rich pulled a small note pad and pen from his uniform pocket and poised dramatically. “What was your tag number again, Joe?”
“Facts are facts, officer. Where are the twins this morning?”
“Slumber party at Tuck and Elaine Bradford’s house. I’ll pick them up in a bit,” Carol answered. “They’ll crash the rest of the day since, I’m sure, sleep was the last thing that happened last night.”
“Those girls are growing up fast, aren’t they? Seems like only yesterday when my Karen and Byron were that age.”
“How is your daughter holding up?” Carol asked in a soft voice.
Joe wiped flour dust from his hands. “Mind if I grab a cup and join you?” He settled into a chair and took a long noisy sip of coffee. “There’s nothing in this world better than a good cup of freshly brewed Colombian. My doctor ever tells me to give this up, and I’m throwing myself straight off the Jim Woodruff Dam.”
They watched the ebb and flow of traffic on West Washington Street for a moment.
Joe sighed. “Karen started the chemotherapy injections on Monday. She already had a couple of treatments up in Atlanta, from what she told us. The doctor here’s just taking up the reins. Karen held out okay for a day or two until she started having side effects. The nausea’s fierce. Doctor told her she may lose part or all of her hair, but it’ll grow back after the treatments. Way she told Evelyn, it had already started to get a little thin even before the second round of chemo up there.”
“They give her anything to help her?” Rich asked.
“Oh, they have all sorts of drugs for the nausea, but you know what works the best? Plain old ginger. I’ve made her a couple of batches of gingersnap cookies, and Evelyn bought her some ginger syrup over in Tallahassee at the natural food store. Wanda’s friend, Pinky Green, brought some herbal concoction over to soothe her mouth in case she gets sores.” Joe’s eyes watered slightly. “It’s amazing how folks are, when you’re facing something like this. Help and support are coming from every which-a-way.”
“That’s the benefit of living in a small town where you still know your neighbors.” Carol smiled. “I heard Elvina Houston’s rallied the church prayer groups half the way to Marianna.”
Joe grinned. “Yeah, same thing Piddie would’ve done, had she been around. ‘Never hurts to enlist the help of the All-mighty,’ she always said. Hattie’s helping Karen with Reiki treatments. Can’t say I really understand it at all, but it seems to improve Karen’s peace of mind. They use visualization, where she imagines her body fighting off the cancer cells. Certainly after all the years I spent as a staff psychologist at the hospital before I retired and opened this little restaurant, I’d be the first one to testify to the power of belief.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Joe. What is the significance of the old blue pottery bowl in the closed glass showcase?” Carol pointed to the wall above the cash register.
“That was Piddie’s mama’s biscuit mixing bowl. Piddie dragged it around with her for all the years she lived in Alabama, and then moved it with her to Chattahoochee after Evelyn’s daddy passed. Evelyn says it was her mama’s most prized possession on the earth, besides her, of course.”
Carol smiled. “That’s sweet, you giving it a place of honor here.”
“All my recipes, I owe to my mother-in-law. If you gave her a fire and a pan, the woman could sauté the devil himself and make him worth eating.”
Carol laughed. “Where’d you get the idea for the name of the shop?”
“Piddie always maintained she was living on borrowed time once she passed the biblical allowance of three score and five. Thyme is one of my favorite spices, so it just made a catchy name, I guess.”
Carol pointed to her empty plate. “If this breakfast was any indication, you’ll surely stay busy.”
“That’s why I only do breakfast and lunch. I reserve evenings for home-time with my wife.”
Carol leaned over and rested her hand over Joe’s. “You know to let us know if there’s anything, and I mean any little thing, we can do for y’all. We will come running.”
Joe cleared the gathering emotion from his throat. “I know it for a fact, Miz Carol.”
Evelyn woke with a start, her maternal instinct nudging her from sleep. She silently slid from the king-sized bed where Joe slept soundly. Sunday mornings had become a cherished time, as they were the only mornings her husband didn’t rise before daybreak to leave for Borrowed Thyme. She crept down the hallway on tiptoes, and then stood listening outside of the guest bathroom. The unmistakable sound of retching emanated from the other side of the door.
“Karen, honey?” she asked in a lowered voice.
Her daughter’s weak voice: “I’m okay, Mama. Go on back to bed.”
“I was awake, anyway,” she lied. “I’ll go make some of Pinky’s special tea.”
In the kitchen, Evelyn chose a delicate antique porcelain cup embellished with pink and yellow roses. Somehow, having a warm drink from beautiful china would soothe any problem. She reached to flip the coffeemaker on, and then hesitated.
“No, best not to do that,” she muttered. “The smell might make her feel worse.”
Evelyn placed a second pottery mug on the counter and positioned a silver infuser ball filled with herbal rosehip and chamomile tea into each cup. Normally, she would have steeped and served in the special pot Joe had given her for their last anniversary, but Pinky had given careful instructions on brewing the soothing concoction one cup at a time to ensure potency.
Karen appeared at the kitchen threshold wrapped in a white chenille robe. Her thinning blonde hair hung in limp damp clumps. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath her eyes.
Evelyn forced a small smile. “C’mon, baby doll. Let’s have our tea out on the porch. The birds are up singing, and it’s the perfect temperature. You go on out, and I’ll go fetch the Sunday paper.”
Karen shuffled slowly through the kitchen toward the screened-in garden room. Evelyn ducked her head quickly and busied herself so that her daughter wouldn’t see the tears gathering.
If only she had a magic wand to wave and take it all away. Or, to transfer the symptoms to her body. Her memories drifted to Karen as a little girl—feverish with chicken pox, thrashing about on her princess canopy bed. Mama, make it better, she’d cry out pitifully. And Mama would, given a few days.
The necessary treatment for cancer was unrelenting with the chemotherapy injections, then days of gradually decreasing agony until the next round of medication. Pinky was correct when he said you have to nearly kill the person to extinguish the evil growing inside.
Evelyn closed her eyes. “If you’re up there listening, Mama, and I feel you are, please help me be strong enough to see this through.”
After fetching the thick Sunday edition of the Tallahassee Democrat from the front steps, she steeled herself, forced her breathing to calm, and placed the two cups, honey, and fresh lemon wedges on a tray.
“Tough time this morning?” Evelyn placed the tea tray on a wrought iron table.
Karen sniffled. “I hate worse than anything in the world to throw up. Even those times where I know it’ll make me feel tons better to get rid of whatever’s in my stomach, I just can’t bring myself to do it. Now, it seems I’m not given a choice. The dry heaves are the absolute worst!”
Evelyn stirred honey into her tea cup. “Morning sickness did that for me—with you and your brother, both. It calmed down after about the fourth month with you, but I was sick every single morning with Byron.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
Evelyn flipped her hand. “Nonsense. Nothing for you to be sorry over. It was worth every second, ’cause look what came from it.”
“Speaking of my baby brother, is he coming down?”
“He’ll be here for your surgery. I talked to him right after you went to bed last night.”
Karen tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “I’m certainly disrupting everyone
’s lives.”
“Now, you stop that thinking, missy. Your grandmamma used to say, ‘When times are tough, you can’t allow yourself the luxury of negative thoughts.’ Being there for each other is what family is all about.”
“Under normal circumstances, maybe. But I’m sure Byron resents how I’ve chosen to live my life up to this point.”
“That just isn’t so, Karen. He loves you. You’re his flesh and blood kin, and no manner of nonsense can erase that fact. He wants to be here to support you. Linda can’t come down on account of someone has to take care of the boys. They’re not out of school yet. She cares, too. She got on the phone right along with your brother and wanted to hear all about what you’re having to endure.”
Karen sipped the fragrant tea and watched two squirrels battling over the birdfeeder.
“Is there anyone . . . special . . . up there in Atlanta you need me to call for you?”
“No.” Karen hesitated for a moment. “There’s only my boss, and I’ve already spoken with him about taking extended leave.”
“All right then. You think you could stand a little breakfast?”
“Any sweet potato biscuits left?”
“I do believe so. I can pop a couple into the oven to warm, if that sounds good to you.”
Karen nodded.
“I’ll have you something to put in your stomach in a flash, then.” Evelyn jumped up and scurried to the kitchen.
“My mother made homemade Italian bread. We would slice it when it was not yet cool and spread fresh butter on it. More often than not, she would have a big pot of tomato sauce simmering on the stove, and she would take up a small bowl for us to dip the bread in. My own children do the same thing when I make bread. They can smell the aroma from miles away, and all of a sudden, I have them underfoot in my kitchen. I give them a bowl of sauce and a few slices, and they move out of my way. Come to think of it, perhaps that was my mother’s trick, too.”
Angelina Palazzolo
Chapter Ten
Near midmorning, Elvina Houston settled onto the customary seat by Piddie’s memorial flower garden.
“Morning glory!” Elvina called, smiling. “I think that’s the funniest way to greet someone, don’t you, Piddie? I near to bust a gut every time Jake says it to me. Thought I’d use it on you, in case you need a good chuckle.
“I’m sorry it’s been two days me not coming to visit. Reckon if you know-all-see-all from your new perspective up there, you know I’ve been laid up with a sinus infection. I felt it coming on me fast, so I pranced straight over to the clinic for a round of antibiotics. Lord knows, I do hate to take a handful of pills, but when I get my spring sinus troubles, I’d surely suffocate if I didn’t.
“The girls had to do double-duty while I was laid up. I felt so bad; I couldn’t make it out of bed to perform my front desk responsibilities. That ain’t like me, a’tall, missing a day of work, much less two!
“Not that I’m sad to have all the pollen and what not. The flowers have been incredible. You ought to see your yard over on Morgan Avenue! Jake throwed the fertilizer to the azaleas, and honey hush! They have near to kilt themselves blooming.”
Elvina patted her violet-print cotton dress. “Jake’s the reason I’m so dressed up today. He’s throwing hisself a birthday garden party this afternoon. Jon told me the boy’s spent two solid weeks cleaning and gussying up the house. I can’t wait to see it!
“He took up the old carpets and had the wood floors refinished. Ain’t it funny how we rushed to get wall-to-wall carpeting when it came out ’cause it was the thing to have? Now, if it ain’t the rage to have the wood floors back! Beats all I’ve ever seen, how things are so circular.
“Evelyn’s sewing up a storm, as usual. She and I are collaborating on a line of ladies’ and little girls’ Easter dresses with straw bonnets and purses to match. I’m doing the handbags and bonnets, of course. You’d’a been right proud of Evelyn on the TV spot. She acted like she’d been born in front of a camera. Spoke right up and told all about her business and the joy she’d found so late in life designing clothing. The phones have been a’ringing off the hook with women asking to speak to her.”
Elvina laughed. “You ought to see the doggie outfit she made for Elvis for the garden party this afternoon. It’s a little blue-striped seersucker jacket with a white bowtie. I swannee, that little Pomeranian has more suits than most men I know! Reckon this one will do him for Easter, too. Jon takes him to the children’s services most every Sunday. Those younguns love him to death. He sits real quiet and proper while the youth minister is preaching to the children. Reckon he’s making sure he’s got a home in dog heaven?”
She grinned. “I’m in just such a good frame of mind, Piddie. I can’t help myself. This time of year before the heat of summer sets in makes me feel like a youngun myself.
“What else—oh, Wanda and Pinky Green are getting thick as thieves. She floats around the spa half the time like she don’t have good sense. I think she spends near all her time off out at Pinky’s farm—you know, about eight, nine miles beyond the Davis homestead.
“Pinky’s a real nice fellow, and I’m proud for Wanda. To hear her talk, she ain’t had the best luck with men folks. Tended to hook up with no-accounts like she took them on to raise. It’s high time she found a good one.
“Stephanie’s doing okay. She keeps booked regular with her massage therapy clients. I do my level best to help her out. Someone comes in looking the least bit frazzled, I tell them they need to schedule a massage. Between Hattie up at the Madhatter and Stephanie here at the Triple C, I don’t reckon there’re too many locals haven’t had a massage by now.
“Mandy’s busy as a bee in a tar bucket working with the new crop of beauty queens. Little Miss Sneads ain’t too far off. Neither is the Miss Marianna contest. Lord help her, she’s a saint. The girls ain’t so bad themselves, but the mamas! Some of them can be a hard pill to swallow.”
Elvina coughed to clear her throat. “Sorry. I’m still a mite phlegm-ish. Angelina Palazzolo had the gout in her right big toe, but she’s on the mend now. She gets it every time she eats too much pork, she told me. Still, she’s like the rest of us; we do things we love even though they might be bad for us. If you’re gonna dance to the music, you’ve got to pay the piper, you always said.
“Karen’s having a tough go with this last round of chemo before she goes in for surgery. Her doctor’s supposed to do another one of them scans a couple of days before she goes in, to see if they’ve succeeded in shrinking the tumor down. Evelyn said that’ll make all the difference in whether they take the whole breast or just a piece. Karen’s coming to the party at Jake and Jon’s, though. She told her mama she needed to get out and about a little, just to make her feel alive. Poor thing’s hair’s so thin, you can see her scalp. Evelyn’s sewed up several soft turban head wraps for her to wear, and Mandy’s already ordered a couple of wigs. Mandy thought ahead on that one—took a snip of Karen’s real hair before it all falls out, and is using it to match the shade for the wigs. She and Jake have been cooking up some kind of fashion show for Karen to style the wigs when they come in the mail.
“So, everyone’s doing her or his part. Lucille’s rallied the prayer groups down at the Morningside AME church. I think you were on target on one thing, Piddie. Your black friends surely know how to contact the Almighty. I’ve gotten to where I attend the services down there more often than at the First Baptist. I do so love the singing.”
Elvina paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath of air.
“The wisteria—oh my! It smells so very sweet to me this year. I do hope you have flowers up there in the by and by. All I know is—if I was God and it was my place, I’d fill it full of blossoms and declare it spring for eternity!”
The simple wooden frame house on Morgan Avenue was bordered by a row of flowering ligustrum and an expansive side yard dotted with azalea-ringed pine trees. The lot sloped sharply to the rear of the house where a set of
steep stairs led from the back screened porch down to a sandy clearing shaded by a massive Southern magnolia tree. Beds of maidenhair and holly ferns surrounded the opening, with a narrow walkway leading to a small vegetable garden on the lower terrace.
Under Jake Witherspoon’s care, Piddie’s former home glowed with a fresh coat of white paint, new burgundy shutters, and an updated kitchen and bathroom. Although the rooms were small by modern standards, Jake had chosen colors and furnishings to avoid a cluttered feel.
Jake and Jon’s home was decorated in full spring-garden-party regalia. Potted flowers with pastel blooms lined the driveway, walk, and front porch—showy, but a shade shy of over-the-top. Four white rockers with ivy-printed cushions awaited visitors to the front porch.
In the dining room, Piddie’s antique mahogany table held an assortment of sweets and canapés: double fudge chocolate chip brownies, red velvet cake, lemon squares, gingerbread cake, salmon spread on toast points, crab-stuffed mushrooms, peeled boiled shrimp, miniature ham-stuffed sour cream biscuits, sun dried tomato hummus, and fresh vegetables with dipping sauce. A matching side table held iced tea, lemonade, soft drinks, and bottled water.
Jake’s creation—a massive arrangement of daffodils, iris, daisies, and fern—held court as the table centerpiece. The claw foot tub in the bathroom held a similar spray of seasonal blooms. Smaller floral touches were scattered throughout the house.
In the garden, the clearing beneath the magnolia was dotted with tall citronella candles. Though the party was planned for daylight hours, the faint citrus scent served to repel the ever-present ravenous mosquitoes.
Keeping with tradition, Elvina Houston provided the first knock on the screened door, thirty minutes ahead of official soiree starting time. According to her friends and adversaries, the underlying reason was her fear of missing even one tidbit of juicy gossip. By being the first to arrive and the last to depart, Elvina provided fewer opportunities to be the subject of conjecture.
