by Jeff High
I looked to the side and raised a curious eyebrow toward her. “Now that’s interesting. Do I detect a note of condescension in the wind? I thought these people were your tribe.”
“They are my tribe. But you also might notice that I chose to live fifteen hundred miles away.”
“I thought that was because the last time I checked, Watervalley doesn’t have a beach.”
"True. But the main thing I have here are memories. Mind you; memories are a good thing. But I don't want a life where they outnumber the discoveries. And often times I do miss this place. After all, I have a husband and a son buried here. But there is life beyond Watervalley."
“I would certainly agree.” I let that small bit of common ground rest in the air for a moment. The revelry in the distance was beginning to escalate, but we seemed a world away from it. I spoke in earnest. “I’ll admit, I have grown to envy Christine’s sense of roots, the strength and security of knowing there’s a place on earth that will always be home. There’s something to be said for that.”
Still facing the distant crowd, Maggie wrapped her arm around mine, an expression of affirmation and confidence. She spoke in a relaxed, elegant voice, richly enunciating her words.
"The funny part about that is that after we buried her father, we couldn't get Christine to cross the county line for years. She hid in Atlanta and wouldn't even come home for Christmas. It took her mother getting sick to bring her back. Then you showed up and overnight, it was like she came alive. She fell in love with Watervalley again, she fell in love with the people here again, and she definitely fell in love with you. I've never seen that girl so smitten. She was nuts about you from the first minute."
“Hmm,” I grunted skeptically. “She must have kept that detail to herself. Granted, the Bradford charm eventually won her over. But as I recall, she did a pretty good job of playing hard to get for quite a while.”
Maggie shook her head lightly. “She was just protecting her heart. After the day you disrupted her class, she came home that night and ranted nonstop to her mother about what a jerk you were, how rude you had been, and all the things she wished she would have said in the moment. Madeline texted me later that night and said, ‘I think she’s met the one.’”
I cut my eyes toward her, confused. “I am definitely not getting the logic here.”
“Most men don’t,” she said with a casual shrug. “Madeline knew because she had never seen Christine so worked up about a guy. And, in all fairness, it was probably a pretty good tell that several times during her tirade, Christine mentioned that you had incredible blue eyes. You must have hit her like a lightning bolt.”
I stood for a moment, absorbing everything Maggie was telling me. “Well, I can tell you from my side of the narrative that I had a life-threatening crush on her instantly. Christine Chambers has occupied a part of my brain ever since. And, I must say, while it’s delightful to hear all of this now, the version of the story you’re telling is a pretty significant re-write from the one I remember.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not in the least.”
“Good.”
Maggie tightened her hold on my arm, clearly content in the moment. But given that reality, a thought occurred to me.
“You know, as I remember it, this whole lightning bolt condition was not contagious with some of the other Chambers women.”
She understood my point, smiling modestly. “I love my granddaughter, Luke. I needed to be sure about you.”
“And has that box been checked?”
“Oh, I well think so,” she said dismissively.
I offered her a pleased smile and gazed at the distant crowd. A long silence ensued.
“You know, Luke. Now would be a good time for you to mention how much you adore me.” Having said this, she winked precociously.
For a moment, I looked at her blankly, pondering my answer. Maggie Chambers was certainly unabashed and clearly well-schooled in knowing how to get what she wanted. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity. “Well, let’s give the storyline some time. I wouldn’t want the plot to develop too quickly.”
She glanced up at me with a mordant, leering smile. “What I’m asking, doctor smart alec, is, are we good?”
I didn’t answer immediately. Perhaps there was still some residual angst that Maggie had so convincingly fooled me for such a long time. But, she was endeavoring to bury the hatchet... this time figuratively and not in me, as was her norm. Still gazing distantly, I reached with my opposing hand and patted her arm. “We’re good.”
After a short silence, I added. “Besides, Maggie, I have to say. I certainly owe you a debt of gratitude for enabling me to take the research position. It’s a very generous offer.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a pleased diplomacy. “If you felt trapped here Luke, eventually you would be miserable. Christine would feel the burden of that as well. I didn’t want that. Not for her, not for either of you.”
“Understood. But I have to ask, why all the subterfuge?”
Maggie flipped her hand at me in dismissal. “Oh, allow an old thespian her fun. A little bit of theater just adds some spice to life.”
It wasn’t a particularly satisfying answer. But it was an answer. I exhaled a long sigh.
“Well, Maggie...fair enough. But I’m just going to say it, you’re quite the drama queen.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“But in the future, is it okay if I don’t attend every performance?”
She laughed, spontaneously lifting her hand to her mouth. “I will say this, Luke Bradford, if you’re anything, you’re clever. If you’re half as good at research, I think Christine’s dowry will be well expended.”
“Thanks. Although I suspect you are only one of six people here this evening that think that.”
“That many, huh? Who besides immediate family?”
“My friend, Matthew for starters. Although I think he has mixed feelings. And my old college professor and new boss, Dr. Jackson Bray. He’s coming tonight. In fact, I probably need to be getting back to see if he’s arrived yet. If word gets out about who he is, there could be a lynch mob.”
“Sounds best you should,” she said tactfully. Then with some dramatic pluck, she added, “So, come on sailor. Buy me a drink first.”
I looked at her artfully. “What’s in it for me?”
“About $75,000,” she said bluntly.
“Point taken.” Arm in arm, we began to walk toward the crowd.
“Oh, and Luke. I have one more favor to ask.”
“And what might that be?”
“Promise me a dance later.”
“What kind of dance?”
“A slow one, of course. I don’t want the paramedics involved in the evening.”
“I’ll treat it like a summons from the Pope.”
“Good.” Then, after a few more steps, she added, “Would it be okay if I do grab your ass then?”
I stopped abruptly, clearly dismayed. “Can I just tell you how disturbing that is on so many levels?”
“Oh, chill out, blue eyes. I’m just kidding. But you have to remember. I grew up here. There are still a few old bats from high school that I want to get an eye full of me dancing with the best-looking man at the party.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” I said with detached shrewdness. “Maybe I should grab your ass?” I was about to laugh out loud when Maggie stopped and studied me with an air of contemplation.
“Let me think about it.”
Chapter 39
A PECULIAR QUEST
UPON RETURNING TO THE crowd, I immediately found Dr. Bray talking with Baby Beth. In his mid-fifties, Jackson Bray looked every bit the distinguished doctor. He was tall, immaculately dressed and carried himself with a rather well-washed urbanity. Baby Beth's socialite radar homed in on this unknown newcomer immediately. As I approached, they were in an animated conversation with Baby Beth embracing his arm and disclosing a jovial confidence, me
lting him with her infectious laughter. Dr. Bray seemed to enjoy the moment.
“Oh, there you are, Luke!” Baby Beth said gushingly. “I was just admonishing this handsome fellow for taking you away from us. But I don’t think it’s had a bit of effect on him. He’s just been bragging about how brilliant you are and what a great job you will do.”
Dr. Bray and I shook hands heartily. There passed between us a kind of amused, unspoken understanding. We both knew that the evening would be a potential minefield of anti-departure prods. He seemed quite un-rattled and took Baby Beth's teasing in stride. Fortunately, Baby Beth, who had the attention span of a bumble bee, saw some social prize across the way and waved to him wildly. “You boys excuse me. So nice to meet you, Jackson!”
Dr. Bray responded politely, barely saying the words before Baby Beth had glided away.
We engaged in comfortable small talk for a few minutes, after which, he asked me a rather curious question. “Do you by chance know an Estelle Pillow? I think she’s from Watervalley.”
“Yes, I know her quite well. You two are acquainted, I presume?”
“Very much so. Dr. Pillow is a little on the flamboyant side, but while she was at Vanderbilt, her research on enantioselective bifunctional catalysis using hydrogen bonding was absolutely groundbreaking."
Instantly, it seemed, a forgotten language returned to me. The vocabulary of academia had been hibernating, replaced by such phrases as “he up and ran off.” And yet, I completely understood the processes that Dr. Bray was describing and how they contributed to the studies of disease. It was an absolute moment of clarity regarding the distinction between the two worlds I was straddling.
“Luke?” Dr. Bray’s voice woke me from my temporary fog.
“Oh, sorry. I was thinking about Estelle and how her world has changed. It would seem that her groundbreaking discoveries are now with macarons and tarte tropezienne. She owns the local bakery.”
“I see.” He paused, contemplating this reality for a moment. “Well, I guess people need to follow their passions. For an academic like myself, though, it seems like a waste of a brilliant mind.”
I had no answer for him and could only nod reflectively.
“Anyway. Do you think she’s here tonight? I’d love to catch up with her.”
“If she is,” I said wryly. “We’ll certainly know it soon enough.”
He stared at me blankly, clearly not grasping my assertion.
“Estelle has a talent for making her presence known.”
He lifted his head and mouthed a silent “ahh.”
As if on que, an audacious shriek exploded from behind us. "Jackson Bray, you big teddy-bear! Come and put some loving on me!”
Spontaneously, we both turned to find Estelle making a bee-line toward my reticent and stoic professor, smothering him in an all-embracing hug. The normally reserved dean yielded to her both in body and demeanor; evidence that his regard for her went past academic respect. Candidly, he seemed in awe of Estelle.
But the greatest delight of the moment was in Estelle’s wake, her sister, Connie Thompson. She stepped toward me wearing a warm, affectionate smile, a look that immediately conveyed an eager openness. It seemed that the Connie I knew was back. She was singularly focused on me, oblivious to all the animated antics of Estelle’s conversation with Dr. Bray. After an instinctive hug, she held my shoulders in a moment of pure adoration. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“I’m good, Mama T. Maybe the bigger question is, how are you doing?’
“I’m alright. It’s been a troublesome past few weeks, but I’m better now. We’ll find a time soon to talk about it.”
I immediately took her arm and gently began to lead her away from the crowd, speaking with quiet authority. “I have a better idea. Let’s talk about it now. You’ve had me pretty worried.”
Thankfully, Connie readily conceded to my appeal. We found a table in the distant shadows of yard, and I pulled two chairs side-by-side. I was uncertain where to begin and opted for the informal. "So, how was the flight back from Chicago?"
She stared at me blankly, as if the question had caught her off guard. She quickly offered a weary smile. “Terrifying. The flight took so many dips and turns I thought the pilot was skywriting something. And on top of that, the passengers were a rowdy bunch of young hoodlums. Next time I’ll be sure to request a non-high-school-senior trip flight.”
We laughed lightly. I continued. “And did you have a good visit with Rayford?”
“I did. It’s always good to see my boy. But as you might guess, I had some other things to attend to. The real confession is that I wasn’t just in Chicago. During the week I flew to Texas and Ohio also. It’s been quite an adventure.”
“Texas and Ohio? Good grief, Connie. What on earth for?”
“Well, it all started with that DNA test you gave me.”
Her words took me a moment to assimilate. “The one I gave you for Christmas? What about it?”
“I had forgotten the silly thing. Then about six weeks ago I came across it in the bureau drawer and decided to send it in."
“And?”
“What it told me made no sense. According to the results, I’m twenty-two percent Portuguese.”
“Portuguese? Really?”
I sat back in my chair, dumbfounded. “You’re right. That doesn’t make any sense. That means that either one of your parents was half or one of your grandparents was practically one-hundred percent Portuguese.”
“And none were. All of daddy’s people were from right here in Watervalley. Been here for generations. Mama’s parents, Grandfather and Grandmother Coleman were from Ohio. Their ancestors had been slaves from Western Africa. No one ever mentioned having an ounce of Portuguese blood in the mix. So, it got me to wondering.” She paused, her face framed in apprehension.
“Wondering...what?”
“Maybe I was adopted. I was ten when Estelle was born, so I witnessed first-hand Mama being pregnant with her. But I never recall seeing a picture of Mama when she was pregnant with me.”
“I don’t know, Connie. That seems to be a bit of a reach. Granted, it was the fifties, but babies just didn’t appear overnight without somebody taking notice.”
“That’s true. But daddy served during the Korean War. He stayed stateside the entire time, stationed in Fort Hood, Texas with the First Cavalry Division. He and Mama had been married three years when he was drafted for a two-year enlistment. After a year, Mama couldn’t take being apart anymore, so she moved to Texas and the nearby town of Killeen and worked as a waitress. She was gone for eleven months and I was born during that time. So, no one in Watervalley ever saw her pregnant with me.”
“Still doesn’t prove anything.”
“I know. But that’s why I went to Texas. The base hospital where I was born is long gone, replaced in the sixties. There were no documents to be found there. So, I went to Austin to the state archives to find my birth records.”
“And?”
“I found a certificate of live birth that shows me as the daughter of Thomas and Maylene Pillow.”
“So, that settles it, then. You weren’t adopted.”
“Correct. But, I’m still twenty-two percent Portuguese. And that leaves one disturbing possibility.”
I spoke hesitantly. “That maybe...Thomas Pillow wasn’t your real father.”
“Umm hmm,” Connie confirmed dryly. “It’s been a hard prospect for me to swallow, but I guess anything is possible.”
“You do know how to figure that one out, don’t you?”
"Yes. I explained everything to Estelle, and she sent a DNA sample off earlier this week. If her profile comes back the same, it will mean we both share the same mother and father."
“And if it doesn’t, then I guess you’ll have your answer.”
“Yes. It has had me pretty worried. But, I think I’ve come to terms with it. That is, should the worst come to be true.”
I nodded silently, somewhat at
a loss as to how to reassure her. “Connie, look. How you feel about this is your business. But it doesn’t change anything about who you are, regardless of the outcome.”
“I know you’re right, Luke. And candidly, I’m almost a little too old to let it bother me too much. But still, I would be lying if I said I don’t think about it.”
“Wait for Estelle’s results before you travel too far down that path.”
She nodded, forcing an accommodating smile. But another question struck me. “So, why did you travel to Ohio?”
"Mama was born in Wilberforce, Ohio. Grandpapa was there in school at Payne Theological Seminary at the time, just before he came here to be an AME Minister. I couldn’t find any birth records online, so I went to Columbus to visit the Vital Records office in person. There was no certificate on file, but they advised me to go to the county where she was born. So, I rented a car and drove to Xenia, Ohio. Wilberforce Seminary is in Green County, and Xenia is the county seat. That turned up nothing as well. But the clerk there told me not to be surprised. A child born at home by midwives back in the twenties to a poor seminary couple was likely never recorded. So, that was a dead end. I've been through all of Mama's old papers, but there is nothing in them either, certainly no copy of a birth certificate."
“Well, do you think there is a chance your mother was adopted? Maybe that’s where the Portuguese blood comes from.”
“The thought has occurred to me. But Mama and Grandmamma Coleman were the spitting image of each other. Granted, Mama’s black skin was more porcelain. But they could have been twins. Add that to the fact that she and Grandpappa Coleman were very humble, devout people...I just have to dismiss the idea that any hanky-panky was in the mix of that situation.”
Unfortunately, Connie’s insights and her dismissive confidence about her grandparents were quite convincing, leaving me to agree with her conclusion that the likely variable had to do with her biological father. Estelle’s DNA results would tell the ugly truth. For Connie’s sake, I wanted it not to be sor. My mind rambled, grasping at other possibilities. “Did you look for your grandparent’s birth certificates in Ohio? Maybe that might tell you something?”
