by Rhett DeVane
“Anna, then. How did you get your hair so matted?”
“I drove from Atlanta with the convertible’s top down. The weather’s perfect for it, you know. I couldn’t resist.”
Starting from the bottom, Mandy gently worked a wide-toothed comb through the snarls. “You should wear a scarf. Or maybe, tie it in a ponytail.”
Trisha chuckled. “I perplex my stylist in Atlanta, too, Mandy. He’s always saying, ‘Anna, dahling, I’m gonna snatch that sports car out from underneath you and plop you in an SUV, and one without so much as a sunroof, at that!’”
Mandy winced. “Sorry if I’m pulling. I’ve got to get these tangles out before I can do a wash and set.”
“I know I ought to wear a cover, but I just love the feel of the wind whipping through my hair. That’s why I called ahead yesterday to make sure I could get in here for a touch-up before I go to see my friend. I would never get the mess straightened out by myself.” She studied her cuticles. “Besides, I tip well.”
Trisha glanced toward the opposite side of the room. “Suppose your nail specialist could see me for a fill on my acrylics?”
Melody leaned over from behind the low wicker partition separating the nail care area from the hair salon. “I think I have a space around eleven if you’re finished with her by then, Mandy.”
“There you go.” Mandy smiled. “How’s that for service?” Then, to Melody, “Be sure you tell Elvina you’ve filled the spot. You know how she gets!”
Mandy turned her attention back to her client. “That’s one of the benefits of living in a small town. We can always make time for you. So, you said you were visiting a friend?”
Trisha smiled slightly. This was going to be a cake walk.
“Yes. Karen Fletcher. You know her?”
Mandy’s face echoed her shock. “Well, sure. Everyone knows Karen. I just saw her yesterday, as a matter of fact. Why, her mama has a clothing design business here at the spa.”
Trisha stiffened slightly. “Is that right?”
“Maybe you saw some of her gowns on the way in. They’re hanging from the suspended rods behind the reception desk.”
“Now that you mention it, yes.”
Mandy spritzed detangling solution onto Trisha’s hair. “Evelyn’s quite talented. The first lady of Florida has ordered a couple of custom outfits, and Evelyn had a spot on the morning TV show out of Tallahassee, here a few weeks back.”
“I’ll have to scold Karen for holding out on me. I’ll shop a bit before I leave today.”
Mandy’s brows knit together. “I thought everyone up there in Atlanta called her Mary Elizabeth.”
“Everybody but me. I’m the only person who knows her real identity.”
“Is that so?”
“Uh-huh. I’m watching the townhouse and feeding her cats while she’s away. Karen and I are very close.”
Trisha relished the ruse, making up replies as she went along.
“I guess it just tears you apart then, what’s happening to her.” Mandy frowned. “I mean, we all felt harshly toward Karen for a bit, I’ll admit. But no one deserves to have breast cancer.”
Trisha’s pulse quickened. Now the pieces fit perfectly! The numerous mornings she had caught Mary Elizabeth retching in the staff bathroom, the sallow cast to her skin. Trisha had chalked it up to morning sickness. All this time, the princess wasn’t pregnant as she had suspected.
“How is she doing with all of it? I mean, just so I’m prepared when I see her.”
Mandy paused and studied her patron’s reflection in the oversized mirror. “I’m getting the feeling Karen’s not expecting you.”
“I wanted to surprise her. I guess it wasn’t such a good idea.”
“You might want to give it a couple of days. She and Evelyn are over in Tallahassee this morning for Karen’s last chemo treatment before they do the surgery on her.”
Trisha forced a mask of sadness. “I knew I’d catch her at a bad time if I just showed up. But I was afraid she’d beg me not to come if I said anything in advance.”
“Give her a couple of days, hon. She’s usually past the worst of it by then. I’ll just bet it will do her a world of good to see a friendly face. She can’t very well turn you away, now that you’ve come so far and had your hair all done up special.”
“You’d best steel yourself for how she looks,” Melody interjected.
“Now, she don’t look that bad, Melody,” Mandy scolded. “The wig I cut and styled for her looks pretty close to real.”
Trisha put a hand to her chest. “She’s lost the rest of her beautiful hair?”
“Most of it. It was a sad sight, I’ll tell you. She marched right in here and told me to shave it all off. Her head’s slick as a baby’s behind now. Of course, it makes the wig fit like a second skin, and bald was a sight better than the few stray pieces of fuzz she had left.”
“Poor Karen.” Trisha itched with the desire to return to Atlanta.
“You should stop in and visit her daddy, Joe. He’ll be about finished with the lunch crowd by the time you’re done here,” Mandy suggested. “He has a little place on the main drag. You probably passed it coming in—the Borrowed Thyme Bakery and Eatery.”
“Get him to make you one of his chicken salads with sugared pecans,” Melody added. “It is G-double-O-D, good!”
“I just might do that. And I’ll heed your advice about giving Karen some time before I stop by. I’m not far from here, over in Tallahassee at the Ramada. I’ll just shop and find something to occupy my time.” She paused and made careful eye contact with both women. “Don’t y’all breathe a word about me being here, now.”
“You can count on me,” Melody said.
Mandy agreed. “One thing about us: we know how to keep our mouths sealed shut.”
Really? Trisha mused.
“There we go. Let’s get you washed now, missy!” Mandy reclined the back of the chair over the basin. “I’m famous for my scalp massages, Anna. Just close your eyes, and I’ll make you never want to visit one of those pricey Atlanta city salons again.”
By one o’clock, a freshly coiffed and manicured Trisha Truman was northbound on the interstate, fortified with sufficient background information on Karen Fletcher. When Trisha completed the exposé on Georgia Metro Public Broadcasting’s noted spokeswoman, she could take her rightful place in the world of investigative reporting.
Mary Elizabeth Kensington would be lucky to land a job cleaning toilets at a radio station in Hole-in-the-Road, Idaho.
“A bologna sandwich, believe it or not, reminds me of my mom. She worked full time, so she didn’t have unlimited time to cook. Whenever she would come home worn out, we had bologna, that thin-sliced, orange-yellow cheese, and loads of mayo on white bread. She liked pickles on hers—dill. I know it’s not fancy, but bologna sandwiches remind me of Saturday lunch in her small kitchen, served at the metal and Formica table with the yellow padded chairs.”
Mandy Andrews, hair stylist
Chapter Thirteen
Karen smiled, a blissful expression on her face. “Listen!”
Hattie held her hands suspended over one of the many energy centers on Karen’s chest. A pulse of warmth caused her fingertips to tingle at the tips.
“What?”
“Those birds. I remember their calls from when we were little girls out sunning by the edge of the pool.”
Hattie strained to hear the high-pitched chirps. “The purple martins? Yeah, they’ve been here for a couple of weeks. I’m so accustomed to hearing them, I guess the sound has faded into the background.”
“They used to make Uncle Dan so mad, remember? He had their apartment houses on poles in the yard near the pool.”
Hattie’s expression grew wistful. “He loved the birds. It wasn’t that he wished them harm. I can’t tell you how many times he told Bobby and me how they ate their weight in mosquitoes several times a day. He just didn’t like the way they used the pool for drinking water and left messy
droppings on the concrete.”
Karen laughed. “Your mama—remember when one pooped right on her during one of the many picnics by the pool?”
Hattie grinned. “That wasn’t the only time. She swore she had a bull’s eye painted on the top of her head. A pigeon nailed her one time coming out of the Cut ’n’ Curl, too. She was all dolled up with a fresh hairdo at the time.”
They fell silent for a few moments listening to the faint chirps of the purple martins riding the air thermals high above the farmhouse.
“Daddy moved the bird-apartment houses a few years back. Pissed ’em off. Seems they really liked the side yard. A few families returned the first year, but they didn’t come back in full force until he conceded and relocated their condos to the original location. The next year, Daddy was so excited when he spotted the first scout bird. A few days later, the whole shebang arrived with their little birdie bags in tow. He didn’t mess with nature after that.”
“Uncle Dan was a piece of work.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m realizing how much I missed out on things. He and your mama—gone. I never saw them after I left for Atlanta.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for you on that account, Karen. We really do have a great family. I miss them both so much. I do feel closer to them though, living here on the Hill.”
“You’re so lucky. It’s beautiful here. So peaceful. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to find a place where I can feel at home again.”
“You will.”
Karen took a deep breath. “Know what I notice the most now?”
“What’s that?”
“Scents. Not the manmade kind. Most of them make me queasy. Natural aromas, like . . . lying here, every now and then the breeze shifts just right, and I smell the honeysuckle vines in bloom in the woods behind your house.”
Hattie lifted her nose and sniffed.
“I can’t seem to snuffle enough air into my nose. I caught the faint perfume of the native azaleas in the hollow by the highway as I drove out here.” Karen took another deep breath. “And wisteria! There’s a maze of wisteria vines in the thicket by the Triple C Spa. Wonderful”
Karen opened her eyes and studied the flower garden at the edge of the porch. “As corny as it sounds, this cancer has made me notice . . . things.”
“It was food for me. Not during, but after. I was scared to eat anything for a long while. It hurt—a deep pain, awful.” Hattie shuddered involuntarily. “But after the surgery, as I recovered, I was ravenous. It all tasted so good!”
“Food is the last thing on my mind right now. I can barely hold rice and toast down.”
“It gets better, Karen.”
They were silent for a few minutes.
“You know what the Reiki makes it feel like when you hold your hands above the tumor?”
“Hmm?”
“Like . . . when you pour salt on a garden slug and it curls up. Like little fingers are pulling back inward—an octopus dying and its tentacles sucking back toward its body.”
“Wow.”
“I believe all of this is working, Hattie. I really do. I visualize as you taught me when I’m lying in bed at night. I see the tumor getting smaller and smaller until it’s an insignificant dot that blows away on the wind.”
“That’s perfect, Karen.”
“D-Day is coming up after my last chemo, you know. They’ll do another scan and measure the tumor before I go in for surgery. I just know it’s shrinking. I can feel it.”
Shammie, Hattie’s aged Persian cat, stretched and regarded them with golden eyes. Karen reached down to the large cat resting on her stomach and stroked her thick fur.
“She’s certain her part in this has helped immensely, as well.” Hattie said. “Cats are attracted to energy work. They don’t want it done to them, but love to hang around and help out.”
“I’m glad she’s here. Makes me miss my babies a little less.”
Hattie shifted her hands slowly over various energy centers on her cousin’s body. “Feels warmer over your heart chakra—a lot different than when we started Reiki sessions.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. A few more weeks around my family, and I could be almost a human being again.”
Hattie worked in silence for a few moments before Karen spoke again.
“How did you feel when you found out about your cancer?”
Hattie hesitated, then said, “I didn’t react at first. I was still half sedated from the colonoscopy. I went straight from the Digestive Disease Center to the hospital. It didn’t really sink in until my surgeon made rounds later that day. He informed me of the possibility of ending up with a colostomy bag. Before that, I had not even considered disfigurement. Cancer was just something you went in and cut out.”
Hattie continued the Reiki treatment as she talked. “Thank God for Jon Presley. He was the floor nurse that night. He happened to come in right after the doctor left. I totally freaked out, lost it. Jon took the time to stay with me and talk it all over—the cancer, my fear. He shared his personal trials with it. I can’t discount the rest of the gang, either. They were right there with me, every step of the way.”
“Holston?”
“He was in New York when I was diagnosed. Jake was with me, initially. Holston came as soon as he heard.”
“I know it was reassuring to have the man you loved by your side.”
“Both of the men I loved were by my side. Jake was my rock. As for Holston, I was scared how he would react. We had just become engaged, and there I was in the hospital with a possibility of disfigurement or premature death. I felt like damaged goods.”
“Obviously, it wasn’t an issue.”
“I tried my best to make it into one, until he called me on it.” Hattie smiled. “I’m very fortunate. I found out exactly what kind of man I had fallen in love with. He was there with me—all the way.”
Karen wiped a tear that had drifted down her cheek.
“Oh, honey. I’ve upset you. I’m so sorry. Here I am, talking on and on about myself when you’re the one going through hell.”
“I asked, Hattie. It really does help—hearing from someone who’s on the other side of all of this.” She dissolved into heaving sobs.
Hattie sat beside the massage table on a low stool, her hands resting gently on her cousin. Years of experience had taught her to simply remain close without trying to staunch the emotions or try to fix the client’s problems.
“You miss your fiancé, don’t you? Can’t you contact him so he can be here with you?”
“I don’t have a fiancé. Mary Elizabeth does.”
“And you don’t trust him enough to be honest?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” She blew her nose on a tissue Hattie provided. “I don’t think I could stand any more pain right now.”
The Triple C Day Spa and Salon bustled with activity. In addition to the local patrons, customers from out of town filtered in, a result of the First Annual Magnolia and Moonlight Golf Tournament. Stephanie bustled between the massage treatment room and the hydrotherapy room. Both hair stylists’ time slots were filled, and Melody complained of a backache from hunching over nail care clients.
“Whew!” Lucille Jackson eased onto Wanda Orenstein’s chair. “Y’all are cooking today. I’ve never seen the front parlor so full.”
Wanda whipped the drape to cover the older woman and pressed together the Velcro neck closure. “Golf widows—gotta love ’em!”
“Reckon that means Mister Jake’s busy, too.”
“I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the boy in a few days,” Wanda answered.
“He has two weddings, a garden party, and the clubhouse dinner this week,” Mandy supplied. She whisked Sue Ellen Sales from the chair to dryer number three and adjusted the controls. “You want a magazine to look at, Miz Sue Ellen?”
Her client nodded, and Mandy selected a home and garden edition. “I got the new People, too, as soon as Jocelyn finishes it. She’ll most like
ly be asleep in a few minutes, so you can lean over and get it if you want.” She motioned to dryer number two.
“What are we doing, today, Miz Lucille?” Wanda rested her hands on the black woman’s shoulders.
“Nothing too fussy. Just trim up the fringe across my forehead. I’m wearing one of Elvina’s hats for Easter Sunday, and my hair mashes down into my eyes when I put it on.”
“You and the Reverend got special plans for the services this year down at the Morningside AME?”
“We’re holding sunrise service down by the lake. Later, we’re planning a big dinner on the grounds after the main Easter Sunday service. That’s why I need to stop and see Jake after this appointment. I got to make sure he’s ordered the lilies for the sanctuary.”
Elvina appeared at the salon threshold. “I’m certain he has. Jake’s got a memory like a bad mother-in-law.”
“You’re looking mighty pretty this morning, Elvina,” Lucille complimented.
“Thank you, Lucille. Y’all going to have special music on Easter?”
“Sure are. Chiquetta Wilson is going to be the soloist. You remember her? She led the music at Piddie’s memorial.”
“Y’all best shore up the stained glass windows you just put in.” Elvina chuckled. “That woman could break the sound barrier when she hits a high note.”
“You coming then?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll most likely attend the sunrise meeting with the Baptists, but you can save me a spot by you on the first pew for the eleven o’clock. I’ll have to ponder on what I’ll cook up.”
Karen Fletcher stepped behind Elvina and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
“Well, look who’s here!” Elvina hugged the younger woman. “Melody’s all ready for you.”
“I really don’t know why I’m bothering to get my nails done,” Karen said as she settled into the chair opposite the nail specialist. “It’s not like the rest of me looks great.”
Elvina smiled. “Whatever it takes to make a woman feel better, that’s what she should do. Have they scheduled your surgery yet?”
