by Rhett DeVane
Karen had drifted into a dreamlike state when the sound of raucous sexual gymnastics resonated from the suite next door.
“Hattie?”
“I hear them.”
A radio blared country music in the background, punctuated with loud grunts of male passion and female love chatter.
“I hope this doesn’t go on all night,” Karen remarked in a loud whisper.
The grunting escalated, accompanied by the screech of distressed bed springs. A rhythmic thumping echoed through the wall.
“What’s that?”
Hattie snickered. “Headboard.”
The louder the lovemaking grew, the more Karen and her cousin giggled: two adolescents watching their first R-rated movie, two bratty little sisters spying on their older brother and his date lip-locking on the family couch.
When the final frenzied cry calmed and the music was silenced, Karen and Hattie lay gasping for air.
“No one will believe this night.” Karen released a huge after-belly-laugh breath.
“Worst part of it, we will probably have to face those two at breakfast in the morning.”
“Good motivation to rise early and beat it the heck out of here.”
“Amen.
“Hattie?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome, cuz.”
“My Grandma May-May made tomato soup. She always said her teeth were store-boughten, so she strained out the seeds. Said they worked up underneath her plate. She had these big jars of tomatoes me and Moses—he’s my brother—helped her can, lined up in the pantry. That’s what she made the soup from. She would leave the pulpy stuff in. It was so good! Me and Moses would eat that soup up with soda crackers crumbled up in it.”
Tameka Clark
Chapter Twenty-eight
The mental health counseling practice of Dr. Krystle Nakoa was located in a small wood frame house on a shady tree-lined section of East Park Avenue, five blocks south of downtown Tallahassee. Identical in style to the majority of structures lining the street, it contained two treatment rooms, a private office, a common waiting area, a kitchen lounge, one bathroom, and a screened porch off the lobby.
From the moment Karen entered the double French doors, she admired the distinctly non-clinical atmosphere. An embroidered-pillow-studded couch covered in soft dark blue denim and a matching chair welcomed clients. Healthy plants thick with new growth and quirky artwork decorated each wall and corner. A built-in bookshelf stretched the length of one wall, lined with reference volumes on cancer and nutrition with a sign-out sheet to allow clients to borrow reading materials.
The inscription on a terra cotta pottery plaque caught Karen’s eye: “The Only Way Out Is Through.” Two stained glass pieces in jewel tones cast purple, blue, and green refracted light across the highly-polished wood plank floor. The room’s ambience stated: this is a place where a person can get to the core of things in a relaxed fashion.
A petite woman peeked around the corner of one of the rooms.
“You must be Karen Fletcher. I’m Dr. Nakoa. Krystle. I have to take this quick phone call, and then I’ll be with you. There’s tea steeping in the lounge. Coffee, too. First door to your left. Please help yourself to a cup. I’ll only be a minute or two.”
She smiled warmly and vanished into the private office.
“I have such a hard time staying inside on a morning like this. Why don’t we have our session on the porch?” the therapist asked when she reappeared. “The purple finches are fighting over the sunflower seeds I just put out.” Krystle flashed a white smile. “Must have been a colorblind person who named them purple finches. Orange, maybe. But purple? I’ve yet to see a dot of purple on a single one.”
Karen followed the counselor to a cozy porch. Hanging ferns and wind chimes were suspended from the eaves, and the shade of a mature pecan tree blocked the direct sun. She chose one of two white wooden rocking chairs and placed her tea cup on a small glass side table.
The doctor settled into a cushioned wicker loveseat and reviewed the intake information Karen had faxed the day prior. Krystle Nakoa appeared to be in her mid-forties and of Native American descent. Her smooth skin was a creamy café latte shade, and a long braid of ribbon-trimmed glossy black hair trailed down her back.
Dr. Nakoa regarded Karen with gentle dark brown eyes.“First of all, welcome. I read your intake questionnaire last evening, but I wanted to review it quickly to make sure I didn’t miss any pertinent details.”
Long dangling silver rope earrings danced with her slightest movement. “Before we charge right in, allow me to tell you a bit about myself. I have been an R.N. for twenty-five years, a private practice psychologist for fifteen years, and a licensed massage therapist for the past three.”
“Interesting combination.”
“Yes, and I use it all. Often, touch therapy will open doors traditional venues cannot. As a nurse, I have full knowledge of the medical challenges you are undergoing. Initially, my focus was family counseling. My personal battle with breast cancer six years ago steered me in a different direction. Now, I primarily see cancer patients and sometimes their family members in relation to the client’s treatment.”
“I didn’t know.”
Krystle tipped her head to one side and raised one eyebrow. “But your father did. No doubt my name was on the top of your list, correct?”
Karen nodded.
The doctor kicked off her sandals and folded her legs underneath her. “I’ve known Dr. Joe for a number of years. At one time, I worked at the hospital in Chattahoochee. He’s a fine man, and an excellent mental health worker.”
Karen’s gaze dropped. “But too close to help me.”
“A certain amount of detachment is necessary, Karen. Above all, he is your father. It would be very hard for him to look past that.” Krystle took a long sip from a glass of iced tea. “Credentials aside, let me tell you how I work. I’m not a namby-pamby, hold-your-hand type of therapist. Don’t come in here expecting me to sit back with a pad, taking notes and muttering how do you feel about that?”
Karen smiled.
Krystle’s dark gaze was unsettling. “I don’t go for bullshit. If I sense you are hedging and trying to play me, I’ll call you on it.” She chuckled. “Now, you may be thinking, Help me, I’ve come up on the female counterpart to Dr. Phil. I’m not heartless. You have to bear in mind, I have experienced the pain and uncertainty of cancer treatment. When I say I’ve been there, I have. Now, I’m sitting here on the other side of it holding out a hand to help you across the abyss.”
“It’s not just the cancer, the reason I’m here,” Karen said in a soft voice.
“It seldom is. It’s been my experience that the illness is merely a symptom of layers of underlying muck ripe for raking.” Krystle studied the intake questionnaire. “You are a few weeks past surgery, right?”
“Almost six.”
The doctor scribbled a quick note on the edge of Karen’s health history. “When do you start radiation therapy?”
“Next week.”
“We should be able to coordinate our sessions to jibe with your appointments at the hospital. There may be a time toward the end when you don’t feel like coming in. But it’s essential that we establish a routine; it sends a distinct message to the universe that you are serious about solving the dilemma that has been sent your way. Clear?”
“Very. How do we begin?”
“Since I have your clinical diagnosis and pertinent physical data, why don’t you start by telling me who you are?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know. I’ve pretended to be someone else for so many years, I seem to have lost the real me.”
Krystle tilted her head to one side. A gentle smile played across her regal features. “Sometimes, the best way to find out who you are is to start out by finding out who you are not.”
Lucille Jackson stuck her head through the threshold of the Triple C’s stylist salon.
“Here everyone is! Y’all are so quiet; I thought no one was here.”
Mandy looked up from the booklet in her lap. “I’m trying to catch up on my continuing education. This course is as dull as dirt. Come on in. I surely welcome a break.” She tossed the wire-bound papers on the counter.
“You all by your lonesome this morning?” Lucille asked.
“Wanda is off, preparing for the wedding festivities on Saturday. Evelyn is at home, and Stephanie is in with an early massage client. Melody never comes in this early.”
“Is Elvina off sick?”
“No, she’s around. She’s probably out back having her morning talk with Piddie.”
Lucille pulled up a director’s chair and plopped down. “You reckon she’s ever going to outgrow that?”
Mandy shrugged. “Doesn’t look like it. No time soon, anyway. Guess it’s not harming anyone.”
“Reckon not.” Lucille smiled.
“Do you need me to look at Wanda’s book and make an appointment for you?”
“No, I already got my regular time set up on Thursday next. I really stopped by hoping to pick your brain.”
“After reading that course, you’ll be lucky I have any left to pick.”
“The Reverend and I want to get something special for Wanda and Pinky’s wedding. You know, Wanda has done my hair for a good long while now, and she was so good to little Tameka and Moses Clark last year during all that awful unpleasantness.”
“How are the kids?”
“Growing like weeds. Their uncle sends us pictures now and then. Moses has gotten into the sciences, especially biology, like a house a’fire. He got that from all the work he did here in the gardens, I suppose. And little Tameka, she’s turning out to be a real beauty. Seems her brush with the likes of Hank Henderson didn’t mar the child’s tender soul. We surely were worried there for a while.”
Mandy pursed her lips. “I’m having a time coming up with ideas, myself. They’re going to be living part time at the farm and part time in town. Wanda’s dead set on keeping her house.”
“She’s been through a lot. I can see why she’s so independent-minded. I want to do something that means something to just her. For the life of me, I can’t come up with a notion.”
“You said you had recent pictures of the children? I wonder if Wanda has any? Usually, she will read letters from Birmingham, but I haven’t heard her mention any lately.”
“You just gave me an idea!” Lucille jumped up and slung her purse on one arm.
“Well, if you have any bright insights for me, please feel free to call and share.”
Elvina snapped the water hose to loosen a crimp and adjusted the nozzle to the gentle shower setting.
“Looks like we’re going to have quite a show of daisies this season, Piddie.”
She aimed an arc of spray high over the memorial flower garden.
“That is, if I can keep a certain ungrateful marauding rodent run off! You’d think with me laying feed and nuts out for him, he’d have the decency not to root around in this one patch of sacred earth.” She glared up the tall pine adjacent to the garden.
“I’m talking about you, mister! I know you’re up there listening in. I’d best not find any more of these delicate new shoots with their roots in the sunshine, or you’ll not see another single peanut from me! You hear?”
A tooth-stripped pine cone bounced in the grass inches from her.
“Hey! It won’t do you a dab of good to hurl things at me, you little devil! Sure as the world, you won’t score any points that-a-way.”
She watered and stewed for a few minutes before settling down on the bench.
“Piddie, I know how much you always loved to play Cupid. You helped Hattie and Holston hook up, and heaven knows how many others in this town owe their nuptials to you. Here’s the deal. I do believe D. J. Peterson is the one for your granddaughter. I’ve interviewed him countless times on our phone conversations, and I’ve come to respect him as a stand-up kind of fellow. He makes good money, though I know that’s not all-important.” She grinned. “Doesn’t hurt.”
Elvina brushed a piece of dried grass from the top of one sandal. “He’s miserable without her. You can hear it in his voice. She misses him, too, though she doesn’t admit it. Evelyn says Karen’s closed herself off a bit since she’s started in with the shrink in Tallahassee.”
She sniffed. “Myself, I can’t fathom why Joe couldn’t help her find her way through it all. He’s counseled a whole lot nuttier than his daughter.”
She waved a hand dismissively through the air. “Evelyn says it’s not prudent for a father to counsel his own child. I reckon I can see it—in a way.”
The gold watch reminded her of the morning’s obligations. “Time surely flies when I’m out here. Now I know why I never wore a timepiece all these years before you left this one for me in your will. If I don’t have the time a-staring me in the face, I don’t have to admit to how fast it passes me by.
“We’re all heading out to Pinky Green’s farm in Sycamore tomorrow afternoon for the wedding. Wanda says it’ll just be a handful of us. She’s not into the foolishness of a big fancy show. I do hope this one works out for her. Bless her heart, she’s had more husbands than Carters has little pills.”
Elvina laughed. “Don’t let on I said that! It was a bit mean-spirited, wasn’t it?
“Any-who, Donald’s planning on popping into town to bring Karen’s cats for a visit. Nobody’s letting on he’s coming. It’s to be a surprise.”
She glanced skyward. “Please, please, Piddie. If you’re not too busy, look down on those two young people and help them see past their troubles. There’s not near enough love to go around in this sad old world.”
“My mother is the last of the great pre-hippies. Before her time, actually. Free spirit. Think she might have been raised with wolves, or something. We never knew what a meal would entail. Always something from nature. She studied up on all that kind of stuff. None of us ever ended up in the ER, at least. Experimental—that’s the cuisine I grew up with. I can eat practically anything that’s not moving. Even then—if it’s seasoned right, maybe.”
Jason “Simpy” Simpson
Chapter Twenty-nine
D. J. parked the Acura NSX in the circular driveway off Main Street and glanced in the rear view mirror. Simpy eased into place behind him in the Georgia Metro van.
“All yours, my man.” Simpy handed the animal transport carrier over to him. “Pretty cool feline. Didn’t cry out but a couple of times. I let her out for a while, and she curled up beside me on the bench seat.”
“Good for you. I had the screamer in my car. Don’t think he drew a single breath without meowing for the past five hours. My hearing is permanently impaired. I tried to turn the radio up to drown him out, but that only drove him to new heights.”
“No one can say this isn’t a grand gesture of love and goodwill.” He clamped D. J. on the shoulder. “Good luck, Deej. Knock the woman’s panty hose off.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“This is your gig. I’m heading to the Homeplace for a French dip sandwich, then to the Triple C to my reserved suite. I have a hot date tonight!”
“Yeah?”
“Stephanie is cooking for me. If she does everything as well as massage therapy, I may never leave this town again.” Simpy turned toward the van. “See you tomorrow. You are going to the wedding, right?”
“Hattie and Holston asked me to come along. It remains to be seen, depending on how things go.”
Evelyn opened the front door before D. J. rang the bell. “Karen’s out back with her painting.”
She peered into the carriers. “These her babies?”
One corner of his lips twitched. “I hope you don’t come to hate me for this, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Nonsense. And if you don’t call me Evelyn, I’ll take offense. I bought a special self-cleaning electric litter box and set it up back in Mama’s bathroom. Also, plenty of
the kind of food you told me they like. I love animals. Joe didn’t want me to take in any more strays on account of I get way too attached and nearly grieve myself to death when one passes on.”
She shrugged. “Ah, well. I can’t see any harm in having one, or two, as house guests for a while. I believe it will help Karen’s spirits. She’s been so low since the surgery.”
Evelyn crouched down and made cooing noises though the wire doors. “Shall we let the cats out to explore?”
“It might be in everyone’s best interests to confine them to the back part of the house for a bit until they become acclimated and know where the litter box is located. Especially the little male tabby, Taizer. He can be a holy terror.”
“The other one is?”
“Tequila. You’ll fall madly in love with her. She’s sweet and cuddly like a fat rag doll. I didn’t care too much for cats at first, but she’s seen to it that I changed my mind.”
“Sit the carriers down in the hall, and I’ll take them one at a time to Mama’s suite. You go on out and see Karen.” Evelyn rested a hand gently on his arm. “Don’t be put off if she seems a little distant. She and the counselor are having a go at things. It’s been pretty rough on her trying to sort herself out.”
“Maybe this visit isn’t such a good idea. I should have sent the cats down with Simpy.”
“Oh, no, son. I dearly believe she’ll be pleased to see you, just don’t expect too much too soon.”
“Thank you, Evelyn.”
“I wouldn’t mind you staying here with us, but—”
“Hattie is prepared for me to use their guest room. I would rather not crowd Karen.”
Evelyn nodded. “Joe left you some fresh macaroni salad and cheddar herbed biscuits with ham for lunch, in case you’re hungry after the long drive. I’ll fix you a plate and glass of tea when you’re ready.”
Karen studied the gilded left wing on the damselfly perched on a thin stalk of wild peppermint slightly off center on the canvas. The perspective was slightly skewed, enough to offend a trained artist’s eye. She dabbed a fan-shaped brush into the background shade premixed on the palette and obliterated the image. A presence in her peripheral vision gained her attention. A warm flush of recognition stirred deep inside.
