Mama's Comfort Food

by Rhett DeVane

  “Damn, Deej. You look like hell, bud.”

  D. J. raked a hand through his hair. “Not much sleep.”

  Simpy smirked. “Who would’ve ever thought it? Atlanta’s most eligible bachelor, conqueror of a long line of distinguished socialites, reduced to a quivering pile of yak.”

  D. J. stared at the image on the monitor. “How far along is she in treatment?”

  “This segment was filmed a couple of days past surgery.” He referenced a desk calendar. “I’ll be heading back down next week before the first radiation therapy session. That’ll go on for six weeks, I believe.”

  “She looks so small and frail.”

  Jason chuffed. “That woman’s anything but frail. Thin—yes. Pale—sure. But who wouldn’t be?”

  “And she’s facing it alone.” The desolate expression on D. J.’s face was so complete, Simpy immediately regretted his cavalier tone.

  “Deej, Karen’s got an incredible family who has been by her side from the start. And if they aren’t there for some reason, the whole dang community circles around her. Makes me believe I want to end up in a small town some day, instead of a city so big you hardly recognize your next-door neighbor.”

  “You liked it there?”

  Simpy grinned. “What’s not to like? I stayed in a refurbished Southern mansion with hot and cold running charm. Someone was always bringing me food, and Stephanie, a very attractive massage therapist, gave me discounted sessions. Mandy cut my hair for a third of what the salon here does, and this woman, Julie, up at the main restaurant made the best damn French dip sandwich I’ve ever tasted.” He nodded emphatically. “Like it? I can’t wait to go back. Wanda, the other stylist, has asked me to shoot her wedding. She and this character, Pinky Green, are throwing a big cookout shindig the weekend before Karen starts radiation. The food should be awesome.”

  Simpy reached over and slapped a hand on D. J.’s shoulder. “Karen’s thinking of you, Deej. She told me to tell you hello.”

  “Really?”

  “Do I look like freakin’ Cupid? Of course she actually said it.”

  “I have spoken with her mother and Elvina Houston, but not to her.”

  “Ah, Elvina Houston. There’s a small town icon for you. Knows everyone for miles and their lineage, plus all the accumulated dirt. She’s like a gossip columnist with tons more class. Drives this massive boat of a car, and I’ve never seen her without a phone in her hand.” He grinned. “Woman loves me. Pinches my cheek at least once a day. And I’ve sat on her patio drinking green tea till the wee hours.”

  “What could you possibly have in common with someone like her, enough to carry on a decent conversation?”

  Simpy stretched backward in the chair. “You’d be surprised. Elvina keeps up on current international affairs. Reads three major newspapers on the Internet, each day. We hashed over the rising tide of unrest in the Middle East and the president’s handling of terrorism following the 9-11 attacks.” He shrugged.“You need to find out about all these folks for yourself, especially with you marrying into Karen’s family. They come with the package.”

  “Remains to be seen.”

  Simpy clamped him on the back. “What you need is a grand gesture, my friend. Load up the dang cats and show up on her doorstep.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Unless you’ve cooked up a better plan. She’s missing you and her felines. I’ve been around the woman enough to see it. She’s not going to turn her back on all three of you.” Simpy studied him for a minute. “Karen’s not the one facing this alone, Deej. You are. Get up off your mangy, depressed butt and do something about it.”

  Karen settled into the passenger’s seat of Hattie’s sport utility vehicle. “You going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope. Surprise.” Hattie shifted into reverse, then braked suddenly. “Your mom’s yelling to us.” She rolled the window down.

  Evelyn ran to the driveway carrying a small jute bag. “Y’all almost forgot this, honey.” She handed the tote through the open window. “SPF 30 plus and a special lotion just for faces. Be sure to keep covered up, now. You don’t want to sunburn going into the radiation therapy next week.”

  “Don’t worry, Ev.” Hattie patted her older cousin’s hand. “Holston packed so much sunscreen in my bag, we’ll probably draw in clouds for fifty miles.”

  “You sure you have enough along to eat? There’s some of Joe’s chicken salad in the refrigerator. I could send it along with you.”

  “Actually, your wonderful husband brought a cooler filled with food by the house earlier this morning. There’s no telling what we have in there.”

  “Well . . . all right. Y’all be careful. You keep the cell phone turned on, Karen, and call if you have any trouble.”

  “Yes, mommy dearest!” Karen blew her a kiss.

  “Be home before dark!” Evelyn yelled in their wake.

  Karen glanced at her mother’s reflection in the side view mirror. “Do parents ever believe their children grow up?”

  “No. Even when I visited the Hill long after I turned forty, Mom would send me off with half the contents of her refrigerator packed in the car. I understand the protectiveness, though. When Sarah gets old enough to leave for college, I’m moving, too.”

  “Oh, that will be fun for her.”

  Hattie tipped her head. “Not nearly as joyous as having her father and me along on her first date.”

  Karen laughed, enjoying the easy cousinly camaraderie. “I appreciate you taking off to spend the day with me, Hattie. And in the middle of the week, no less.”

  Hattie smiled. “One of the perks of self-employment—I’m a great boss who believes in mental health leave. Holston’s between projects, so he didn’t mind hanging with Sarah.”

  Karen dug in her purse, extracted a tube of lip balm, and peered into the sun visor vanity mirror. “Mama’s trying to cram the furniture she and Daddy brought from Virginia into the house. I was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. Where all that stuff is going to fit is beyond me. One piece in particular, a rustic jelly cupboard that belonged to my great-grandmother, doesn’t match mother’s formal style at all.”

  “Ev will figure it out, I’m sure.”

  Karen fiddled with the radio. “I thought originally we might be heading for the coast, but since we’re going east toward Tallahassee, you have me stumped.”

  “Suffice it to say, I’m escorting you to my favorite outdoor Florida spot: one of the most beautiful places within an hour’s drive.”

  When she reached the capital city, Hattie exited the interstate and turned south. A few miles from town, she veered onto a tree-canopied two lane highway. One more turn brought them to the entrance to Wakulla Springs State Park.

  “All those years at FSU, and I never came here,” Karen said.

  “Really? I spent almost every weekend by the springs during warm weather. The Lodge is still one of my favorite places to eat.”

  “Guess I was too busy being weird, huh?”

  Hattie raised one eyebrow. “You said it. I didn’t. Anyway, that was then, and this is now.”

  Hattie parked the Ford Escape beneath the deep shade of a towering live oak tree and helped Karen with two folding chairs, a beach bag, and the wheeled cooler. A short walk brought them to the edge of a white-beached swimming area adjacent to the headwater spring feeding the Wakulla River. Though the temperature was climbing into the nineties, a slight breeze off the water provided natural air conditioning. Karen felt the fine hairs on her chilled forearms prickle.

  The women commandeered a patch of soft grass beneath a stand of cypress trees. Karen settled into her chair with a sketch pad and a set of artist’s pencils, and Hattie opened a dog-eared paperback.

  “Help yourself to the cooler. Your dad packed all kinds of soft drinks, bottled water, and iced tea, in addition to the numerous plastic containers of mystery edibles.”

  Karen glanced to either side. Other than a young couple with a toddl
er and an elderly gentleman and his wife, they had the spring to themselves.

  “Go ahead, Karen. Strip down to your bathing suit.”

  “I hate for anyone to see my body the way it looks right now. I can barely look at myself in the mirror when I dress. Too many craggy places where I once had curves.”

  Hattie lowered her novel and offered a smirk. “I didn’t loan you the suit so you could perish in the heat, Karen. No one knows you here. Besides, ” she grinned, “I’ll charm them so thoroughly with my cellulite thighs, they won’t even bother to notice you.”

  Karen conceded, removed her jeans and shirt, and slumped down in the beach chair with a sea grass hat pulled over her eyes.

  Hattie rolled her eyes. “Now, isn’t that much better?”

  With the sketch pad opened in her lap, Karen held a charcoal pencil poised in mid-air. Fifty feet across the water on the spring’s far shore, the graceful silhouette of a great blue heron blended into the tall marsh grass. Karen was mesmerized by the richness and variety of colors. The tree line was dappled with hues of spring green against a deep blue sky. High, air-brushed wispy clouds moved lazily overhead.

  The crystalline water was a faint shade of celadon green, cleared and raked of vegetation within the swimming area. Beyond the floating ropes and buoys, ribbons of freshwater grass undulated in the gentle current.

  Karen allowed her ears to attune to the subtle sounds of nature: the caw of a disgruntled crow, an occasional cricket call, and the cackle of coots and wood ducks skimming among the duckweed and lily pads. Periodically, the slap of a mullet landing after jumping skyward broke the glassine water surface. An anhinga skimmed low over the river, diving headfirst into the water and reappearing with a small fish clamped in its beak. The bird flipped its head back and swallowed the catch whole before emitting a raucous victory cackle.

  Karen watched a pair of wetsuit-clad divers pass behind their chairs carrying air tanks and fins. “They allow diving here?”

  Hattie shook her head. “Don’t think so. Doesn’t do much for business if a tourist spots an alligator toting off a human leg.” She laughed at her cousin’s mortified expression. “Just kidding, Karen. Actually, there are tons of gators in the waterways of Florida. Most folks mistake them for floating logs—until they wink. Those two guys are probably state employees. I think they do water quality studies, stuff like that.”

  “Oh.”

  Suddenly, the misty peace was broken by the loud chatter of children.

  “Oh, no.” Hattie whined. “An invasion! I thought we’d have it to ourselves today, with school still in session.”

  “They don’t seem to be heading our way.”

  A long train of middle-school-aged youngsters intertwined with adult chaperones trailed to the cement loading dock. Uniformed state park employees herded the groups carefully onto long river boats. One by one, the jungle cruise boats left the dock and inched upriver, stopping at intervals to provide nature lessons over tinny speaker systems. After a slow circle around the deep mouth of the spring, the engines roared to life, sending a wake into the swimming area. By the time a half-hour had passed, Hattie and Karen had counted ten boat tours.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen them move that fast,” Hattie said. “The last boat could’ve pulled a skier.”

  An absurd picture formed in Karen’s mind: a loaded tour boat crammed to capacity with loud children, arms and legs poking out at odd angles, with a pink-frocked Cypress Gardens-type fifties female skier holding the rope with a cocked foot while waving to the shore. She dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  The bemused expression on her cousin’s face caused her to laugh harder, to the point of snorts and gasps for air.

  “You okay?” Hattie asked when Karen finally calmed.

  “Yes. Better than okay.”

  The deserted tour boats were moored. The only sound was the distant call of an eagle in a roost high atop a cypress tree down river. The toddler laughed, digging holes in the wet sand with a yellow plastic shovel. A slight breeze pushed spring-cooled air across Karen’s skin and sent miniature ripples across the mirrored surface of the water.

  An iridescent fly, green with gold bands, landed on her arm. She studied it closely, marveling in the rich sparkle of sun-reflected color. Karen became aware of the infinite complexity and beauty surrounding them. For the first time in months, she moved outside of herself; she slipped away from the shame of harbored lies, physical pain, and the all-consuming world of cancer and sickness.

  Karen closed her eyes. The faint scent of magnolia blooms mingled with the darker aroma of rich, wet river soil. “Thank you for today.”

  Hattie marked her place with one finger and looked over to where her cousin reclined, a peaceful smile playing across her features.

  “You’re welcome. There’s more to come. We’ll be having dinner, too. The chef here makes the most incredible pecan-encrusted grouper. Not to mention the twice-baked potatoes. My toes are curling just thinking of it.”

  “I think I may actually have an appetite.”

  “Good. One more thing—we’re staying the night.”

  Karen’s head jerked up. “Here?”

  Hattie motioned to the grounds. “You think the spring is enchanting and peaceful now, wait until it’s just the registered guests. The lodge is old, but very well kept—marble bathrooms, that sort of thing. Feels like the kind of place Clark Gable would have stayed.”

  “But . . . Mama?”

  “Your daddy knows the plan. Evelyn would’ve had a cow and insisted on you coming home. I thought, perhaps, you would like a break from Chattahoochee. We can always pack up and leave after dinner if you’d rather.”

  “No. It’s just—I don’t have a change of clothes.”

  Hattie smiled. “Took care of that, too. Elvina and I went in when you and Ev were up at the spa. Packed your toiletries, underwear, some fresh clothes, and just about every thing else imaginable.”

  “What a sneak you’ve turned out to be!”

  Hattie swatted the air with one hand. “Oh, honey, you don’t know the half of it.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  Hattie arched her eyebrows playfully. “Me to know, and you to find out.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  Hattie opened the novel. “No use prying. You’ll find out soon enough. By the way, what are you wearing to Wanda and Pinky’s wedding on Saturday?”

  “White Capri pants and a floral shirt. You’re changing the subject.”

  Hattie’s expression was unreadable behind the dark sunglasses. “So I am.”

  “Hattie! Hi!” The raven-haired male waiter flashed a row of even white teeth. “Where’re the husband and baby?”

  “Preston, I was hoping you were still here. Holston and Sarah are at home. This is girls’ night out.” She motioned across the table. “My cousin, Karen Fletcher.”

  Preston bowed slightly. “Enchanted. Glad you two could come over.”

  “Is the grouper fresh?”

  “Not half as fresh as me.” He winked. “It’s been flying out of the kitchen tonight. Very popular.”

  “Good, save me a piece.”

  “Me, too,” Karen added.

  “So, how’s school going?” Hattie asked. The restaurant was run by FSU’s Hospitality Program, and most of the staffers were students in restaurant management training.

  “Slowly. If only I didn’t have to work, I could get more accomplished in a shorter space, you know?” He filled the water glasses.

  Hattie smiled. “Been there—about twenty plus years ago. Hang tough, you’ll get through.”

  “Ah, well. May I start you ladies off with an appetizer?”

  “Some of your smoked salmon spread.”

  “Good choice.” He smiled and disappeared through the heavy swinging double doors leading to the kitchen.

  “Do you know everyone, Hattie?”

  “Mainly at food establishments. Sad, huh? I came here a lot when I l
ived in Tallahassee. Holston and I have been a few times. Sarah loves Preston to death; lights up when he comes anywhere near her. If she was eighteen years older, I’d worry.”

  By the time Preston delivered after-dinner coffee and cream, Karen and Hattie had pushed back in the cushioned chairs.

  “Sure I can’t interest you ladies in dessert? Ruby made Key Lime pie.”

  “That sounds great, but I don’t know where I’d put it.” Hattie rested a hand protectively over her belly.

  “Me, either.”

  Preston nodded. “You two ladies driving back to the Hooch tonight?”

  “Actually, we’re staying over.” Hattie pointed toward the ceiling.

  “If you’re in the room directly above us, you’re adjacent to the honeymoon suite.”

  “Oh, Lord. I forgot about that when I called for reservations. I’ve certainly made that mistake before.” She glanced toward Karen. “Little insulation and marble floors. Everything echoes.” Then, back to Preston. “Any newlyweds on board tonight?”

  A grin lit his face. “I don’t know, but I bet you’ll find out.”

  After dinner, they retired to a long, cavernous marble-parquet sitting hall decorated by three separate couch and chair groupings, a grand piano, three marble checkers tables, and a massive masonry fireplace. Following six games of checkers, the cousins strolled around the grounds beneath ancient Spanish moss-draped live oaks, sweet gum trees, and magnolias. Thick evening mist rolled over the springs.

  “The Creature from the Black Lagoon was filmed here,” Hattie commented.

  “I can see why.”

  “They run a moonlight boat tour, usually in the fall. They take the boats across the spring into an inlet and cut the engine. It’s so eerie and quiet. All you can see is the reflection of scores of beady little reptilian eyes shining in the light from the moon.”

  “Nice.” Karen shuddered involuntarily.

  “Then, everyone goes into the Lodge for dinner. Very romantic. Very old Florida. The best part—very not Disney.”

  Finally, they had talked themselves into exhaustion, and the soft queen-sized beds beckoned.