by James Hunt
Chapter 3
Eleven hundred miles and two days of driving finally ended as Owen turned the U-Haul truck off the highway and passed the welcome sign that read: “Ocoee, Louisiana. Stop in, have some grub, and stay awhile!” and underneath the sign was the population which sat at fifteen thousand ninety-two, soon to be fifteen thousand ninety-seven.
The cabin of the U-Haul was only large enough for two to ride, and while most of the trip he rode alone, Matt had joined him for the last leg of the journey. Apparently Chloe and Grandpa were talkers, and his son needed some ‘quiet’ time. Owen understood that.
“Do they play baseball in Louisiana?” Matt asked, his glove in his lap, an Orioles cap on his head.
“Sure they do,” Owen answered.
“But they don’t have any professional teams here,” Matt said. “Does that mean we can’t go see any more games?”
“Houston’s not far,” Owen said. “I’m sure we could make a few trips over there this summer.” And with his new salary, they might even be able to squeeze in an actual vacation, though he wasn’t sure how far he wanted to push his new employer. Taking time off after only working at the place for a few months felt arrogant.
“I don’t like the Astros,” Matt said, glancing down at his glove.
“Hey.” Owen gave his son a shove. “I know the move is hard. But this place will be good for us. And who knows? Maybe the Orioles will play in Houston for an away game. That’d be cool, right?”
Matt nodded and then lifted his head, showing the start of a smile. “Yeah.”
The highway aimed straight for the heart of Ocoee’s downtown, and a small cluster of buildings rose on the horizon. Swamp land stretched out on either side of the road, and Owen checked his side mirror where he saw a sliver of the van that Claire was driving with Grandpa and Chloe. They’d leased it last week after the company offered to make the first few months’ payment until Owen and his family was settled.
Trees sprouted up alongside the shops, long strands of Spanish moss dangling from the branches. Large pillow-top clouds drifted lazily past the sun in patches, darkening the town and the first few shops on the left.
With only fifteen thousand residents, Owen knew it would be a bit of a culture shock for the family, seeing as how Baltimore was bursting at the seams with over half a million. But small-town life had its benefits. Less pollution, lower crime rate, a better sense of community.
In his head, their future in Ocoee was filled with the stereotypical Southern hospitality that he’d seen in television shows and movies, his northeastern accent slowly morphing to a Southern twang after a few years in the country. It would take time, but they’d learn to love it here.
“Dad, look!” Matt pointed out his window excitedly. “What is that?”
Owen followed his son’s finger to the sight of a woman standing out front of a shop called “Queen’s.” The woman had long, thick dreads that flowed over her shoulders and down her back. She wore earth-colored tones, and the one-piece jumpsuit sagged in unshapely areas around her body. White paint framed her face in thin lines, which made it hard to guess her age, but she looked older. She leaned against a tall staff, slightly warped near the top, that reached past her head. The storefront behind her had tinted black windows, blocking the views from outside. But a few tables covered with some merchandise were set on the sidewalk, though Owen couldn’t tell what they were.
Owen locked eyes with the woman as they passed, and he shivered from a sudden draft of cold air. “I thought we left all the crazies in Baltimore.”.
“I thought she looked cool!” Matt smiled brightly.
“Well, maybe we can go and check out her store this weekend?” Owen asked. “How does that sound?”
“Awesome.” Matt slipped his glove on and pounded his fist into the mitt excitedly.
The row of shops on Main Street ended and Owen took the next left. He followed the GPS on his new cell phone until he lost reception, then tossed it in the cup holder. He reached for the paper where he’d written the directions down as suggested by his new boss. Reception was spotty on the town’s outskirts.
The trees thickened on both sides of the back roads and Owen understood where their new street name received its origin. He slowed as he approached Cypress Lane, then turned onto the gravel road that led to their home. Tree branches stretched up and over the road, intertwining with one another, forming a shady roof that blocked the sun. The house came into view up ahead, and Matt leaned forward, placing his hands on the dash, his mouth ajar, and let out a low “woooah.”
Sunlight broke through the clouds and hit the house in thick streams that gleamed off the windows of the two-story home with a wrap-around front porch and second-floor balcony. Inside was six bedrooms and four baths, a massive living room, dining room, den, and kitchen. It was nearly three times the square footage of their house in Baltimore, and that was just the inside. They hadn’t seen any pictures of the surrounding property, which was sprawling.
“Is all of that ours?” Matt said, the house growing larger.
“It sure is, buddy,” Owen answered, his own tone awe stricken.
Most of the property looked to be swamp, and Owen wondered about the potential flooding hazards. But with the company paying for the house, the move, the van, and so much more, he wasn’t about to complain. You didn’t bite the hand that fed you, clothed you, and helped pull you from the brink of homelessness.
A truck was already parked in front of the house, and a man stepped out the front door, smiling and giving a friendly wave. Owen parked the U-Haul off to the side of the large patch of dirt that acted as a driveway, and Claire pulled up next to him in the van. He stepped out and gave Chuck a wave in return. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“Got here just a few minutes before you did.” Chuck Toussaint offered a handsome smile and a firm handshake as Owen walked up to greet him. “How was the trip?”
“Long,” Owen answered.
Claire snuck up behind him with Chloe on her hip. “You must be Mr. Toussaint.”
“Please, call me Chuck.” Chuck’s southern drawl was followed by a southern charm as he took Claire’s hand and kissed it. “It looks like our town just got a little more attractive.”
Claire snorted and waved her hand as Chuck released it. Owen arched an eyebrow as she blushed. She slapped his arm. “Oh, stop it. He’s just being nice.”
Chuck turned his sights on Chloe. “And who is this southern princess?”
Chloe’s reaction fell short of Claire’s blushing, and Owen couldn’t help but feel proud when his daughter looked Chuck straight in the eye and said, “I’m from Baltimore.”
“Chloe, be nice,” Claire said.
Chuck laughed. “Oh, it’s all right. The South needs more strong ladies like you, Miss Chloe.” He stepped toward the house. “C’mon, I’ll show you inside.”
Owen looked back to Roger as Claire set Chloe down and she raced Matt to the front door. He wasn’t sure if his father-in-law was having one of his moments, or if the old man just didn’t like the move. It could be both. “You coming, Roger?”
The old man shook his head. “You go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Claire tugged at Owen’s hand and whispered. “He’s taken the move pretty hard, and he’s nervous about the new environment. He’ll be fine by himself out here for a little bit.”
Owen nodded and placed his arm around Claire’s waist and the pair walked up to their new house.
“Welcome home,” Chuck said, his arms open and another wide grin plastered on his face. And what a home it was.
The entrance opened in to a small foyer that led into a massive, open living room. A chandelier dangled from the thirty-foot vaulted ceiling, and a wall opposite the front door cut the house in half. The living room had three doorways: one directly to the left after entering which led to the kitchen, and one on either side of the brick wall that led to the back of the house. Some older furniture was covered in white sh
eets, and the kids sprinted around excitedly.
“I know it looks a little dusty, but I have a cleaning service coming next week to give the whole place a good scrubbing,” Chuck said. “And don’t feel the need to keep any of this furniture. If you don’t want it, just let me know and I’ll have someone come and pick it up. Just do me a favor and don’t throw it away. I could sell it for good money.”
“This is incredible,” Claire said.
And it was. But Owen underestimated the age of the house. He’d been so excited to accept the job offer earlier in the week that he would have taken a shack if it meant he got a paycheck again. “When was this place built?”
“Early eighteen hundreds,” Chuck answered. “But the house’s innards are good. All the wiring and plumbing was redone a few years back, but if you find anything that doesn’t work, I will replace it free of charge.”
Owen glanced at some of the cracks high on the walls near the ceiling. The wooden floors underneath his feet groaned as he shifted his weight. A musty scent familiar with older homes graced his nostrils, and he’d started to sweat. He’d read that Louisiana summers were a different kind of hot than the ones he was used to in Baltimore. It was a humid heat. The sweat ring forming around his shirt was a taste of what was to come.
“We appreciate that, Mr. Toussaint,” Claire said, giving Owen a shove with her elbow. “Don’t we.”
“Yes,” Owen said, quickly. “We really do.”
“Do you guys need any help moving in?” Chuck asked.
“No,” Owen answered. “You’ve done enough. We can take it from here.”
“All right then,” Chuck said. “I’ll let y’all get to it. Owen, why don’t you walk me out. I just want a quick word.”
“Sure.”
The pair stepped outside where the temperature felt like it had risen ten degrees. Owen pulled at his shirt collar, trying to fan himself.
Chuck laughed. “I’d like to say you’ll get used to the heat, but I know how you northerners have thick blood.”
“It’s something we pride ourselves on,” Owen said, smiling politely.
Chuck scanned the property and pointed toward the right side of the house where a cluster of trees began after a clearing of tall grass ended. “Now, the property itself is quite large. Over seven acres, and the house is bullseye center of it. I do have to warn you that there is a small cemetery on the property, so if the kiddies go exploring, I do ask that they be respectful.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Owen said, sounding surprised. “In fact, there wasn’t a whole lot mentioned about the house. You’re sure everything inside is in working order?”
Chuck laughed. “I usually choose to omit certain details when selling something, but like I said, if anything doesn’t look up to code, you just let me know and I’ll take care of it.” He stuck out his hand, smiling. “I’m excited to have you on board, Owen. You’re just the man I’ve been looking for.”
“I appreciate the opportunity,” Owen said, and then watched Chuck get in his truck and drive off. As he did, Roger poked his head from the back of the U-Haul, hands in his pockets, and walked toward Owen. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
Roger stopped when he reached Owen, and he looked at the house, squinting from the sunlight. His hair was almost all gone and liver spots dotted his scalp. His skin was wrinkled and his jowls hung loose on his face.
“Seventy-three years I lived in Baltimore,” Roger said, his eyes still locked on the new house. “It was where I grew up, married, raised a family, and then watched my only daughter do the same. It was my home.” He gently messaged his hands, some of the fingers curved from arthritis. “I know the Alzheimer’s will take all those memories from me. The worst part right now is still having the sound mind to realize that. But I want you to promise me something.” He looked at Owen, his eyes red and misty, his voice quivering. “You don’t let the last memories that my grandchildren have of me be an old man that didn’t know them. Understand?”
Owen nodded. “I do.”
Roger kneaded Owen’s shoulder with his fingers. “I don’t say it enough, but you’ve been a good husband and father.” His lip quivered again, and his voice cracked. “And a good son.”
Quickly, Roger clapped Owen on the back and then walked toward the house, his head down as he wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeves. Owen couldn’t imagine the pain and struggle for Roger that was just around the corner. But he promised himself that he would honor the old man’s request. No matter what.
