The Belles of Desire, Mississippi

by M. L. Bullock

  I rolled the chair back to the table and picked up the envelope again. How long had Harper been planning this, and how in the world did her old friend Ben Hartley know she’d passed away so quickly? No way he made the drive up from Mississippi in just a few hours. I tapped on the desk as I waited for the return of the mysterious Mr. Hartley. How exactly did he know Harper? It sounded like something serious had passed between them. How could I politely ask such a question? Curiosity killed the cat. After a couple of minutes, I walked out to the office and waited in the hall. Anita raised her dark eyebrows at me.

  “Where did he go?”

  “The old man?”

  “Yes, Ben Hartley.”

  “He left five minutes ago.”

  “What? He left his stuff in here.” I walked back in the office and was surprised to see that his leather bag was gone but not the two envelopes. With shaking fingers, I opened the larger envelope. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This was Harper’s Last Will and Testament.

  I read the document aloud just to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind.

  I, Harper Belle Hayes, hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions, including my home, Summerleigh, to my dear friend, Jerica Jernigan Poole…

  Chapter Seven—Jerica

  I parked the SUV in the driveway and sat for a minute; how amazing was it that I’d actually made it in one piece? I’d never been an adventurous person, and except for my senior trip, this was the first time I’d left the state of Virginia. And I’d certainly never been the one to do the driving; Eddie always commandeered the wheel for any day trips we went on. But look at me now. Here I was! I got out of the vehicle to stretch my legs. Driving for two days had left me feeling stiff all over. I slammed the car door and dug my hands into my back pockets as I stretched my back.

  Summerleigh had undergone recent repairs. Even from just halfway up the length of the driveway, I smelled fresh cut lumber and sawdust. And I knew sawdust. My foster parents had owned a lumberyard, and I had spent many a happy day playing with blocks and piles of dust. The historic home had five columns that lined the front porch. Yes, there were two one-story wings flanking either side of the two-story main house, exactly as Harper had described it. The wing to the left needed some roof repair, and a massive tree branch lay next to it. That must have been the culprit. They say this area of the south has incredible summer storms. Someone will have to trim some of these trees back because a few of those limbs look a bit dangerous.

  Besides the roof damage to the west wing, Summerleigh needed major siding repairs and a fresh coat of paint from top to bottom. That was just what I could see from the exterior. I noticed a wisteria vine loaded with purple blooms wrapping around the porch railing. Fat bumblebees were taking an interest in it too, and although the purple flowers gave the place a “lost in time” vibe, the vine would have to go. Or at least be cut back from the wooden railing.

  Dad’s words came back to me: “You have to protect the wood, Jeri.”

  See, Dad, I listened sometimes. You would love this place. I wish you could be here to see it. I protected my eyes from the glare of the sun with my hand as I stared at the top-floor windows. No glass had been broken, even though no one had called the place home in nearly thirty years. Still, the punch list was growing. The roof repairs, then a paint job, and who knew what I would find inside. The front lawn had been cared for, thankfully. Back when Harper first arrived here, the front yard looked like a jungle. Someone had obviously taken pride in keeping up with the gardening. Dark-leafed camellia bushes bloomed in neat flower beds in front of the house, and the white blooms gave the place an inviting look, like a postcard. The front porch light fixture had been replaced recently too. A grand black pendant light hung over the white porch below. Was I really doing this?

  Well, Harper. I’m here. Now what?

  I climbed back in the vehicle and drove to the back of Summerleigh. The back of the house was not as impressive as the front. A forlorn-looking circular courtyard was behind the house, and several gravel pathways disappeared into unkempt gardens. I followed the driveway around the courtyard and down a short drive that led to the caretaker’s cottage. If you could call it that. The cottage was a smaller replica of Summerleigh, without the wings. Now this place was beautiful! It was a two-story home with painted whiteboards and two columns, one on each end of the front porch.

  Anita, you’re never going to believe this.

  I immediately sent my friend a text and snapped a picture to go along with it. Like me, she could hardly believe Harper’s generosity, but she’d supported me every step of the way since my decision to leave Sunrise. After the mysterious Ben Hartley’s visit, everything in my life fell apart. Or maybe it fell into place.

  Nightmares of the accident returned, and Eddie vandalized my vehicle several times. The detective couldn’t locate him, but no matter where I hid out, Eddie always found me. And that was heartbreaking because I really wanted to help him—even after all the heartache. Losing Marisol had just about destroyed us both, but I’d managed to pull myself back up, thanks to my work. Eddie couldn’t do that, and for whatever reason, the drugs, the grief, whatever…he blamed me for all of it. As if I were responsible for what happened to my baby, my only child. Guilt rose unbidden within me, but I immediately forced my mind to focus on what was in front of me. No, I wouldn’t travel down memory lane today. This was my life now. The only regret I had was leaving my daughter behind.

  Naturally, I had to give up my job. My employers weren’t happy about the inheritance, and I certainly couldn’t tell them that Harper wanted me to find her sister. But again, thanks to Harper, I had several thousand dollars in the bank with more to come later and a house that needed my attention. Not to mention a mystery that needed solving. Would I really be able to find Jeopardy Belle? What if I couldn’t? If that was the case, I wouldn’t stay. I couldn’t do that in good conscience. I thought perhaps some heir would appear to claim the family home, maybe one of Addison’s or Loxley’s children. But nobody did. No one wanted Summerleigh. Nobody cared that Jeopardy had never been found.

  So here I was in southern Mississippi, far away from home, and I felt invigorated. I hadn’t expected to feel this level of “rightness,” and it was a pleasant surprise. This had been the right thing to do. A raindrop hit my face and shook me out of my daydreaming. I grabbed my purse and hurried to the front door. I had a car to unpack, but it could wait. I slid the brass key in the door of the cottage and stepped inside. I was immediately met by a blast of cold air. Thank goodness the air conditioner worked in here. It was a bit too cold, though, I thought with a shiver.

  “Wow,” I said as I walked further into the inviting front room. The place had lovely hardwood floors, and there was a quilted rug in front of the wicker sofa. A beautiful window along the side of the room made the perfect picture frame for the greenery beyond. The sun was still partly shining, and rain had begun to fall softly. I spied a small patio and a barbecue grill too. On the other side of the room were built-in oak bookcases, and I immediately went to check them out. I was impressed by how well made they were.

  A small dining room was on the other side, with a kitchen just beyond that. The kitchen was small, but everything looked perfect. A vintage gas stove was against the far wall, and it looked neat and tidy. I loved the metal cabinets. Someone certainly had done a masterful job of keeping the place vintage but up to date. I opened the fridge; it was so clean it almost sparkled. I’d have to go to town today to stock the pantry. I doubted that anyone delivered out here. What’s upstairs? Probably the bedroom and a full bath. A half bath was across the hall from the kitchen. As I set foot on the stairs to scamper up and check it out, I heard a polite knock on my door.

  I opened it without worry. Eddie would never find me down here. Nobody knew where I was, except Anita, and she’d die before she told him anything.

  “Hi, may I help you?” A striking man stood on my doorstep. He wore a handyman’s clothes, and his welcoming smile was brill
iant and warm.

  “I was wondering the same thing. I was working in the potting shed and thought I heard someone pull in. You must be the new lady. Do you need any help?”

  “Jerica Poole,” I said as I extended my hand to him. “And so far, so good.”

  He didn’t shake back, showing me his dirty palms. “You probably don’t want to shake hands with me. My friends call me JB.”

  “Hi, JB. You been here long?”

  “Yes, it’s been awhile. You plan on sticking around? I was sad to see Ben go. It will be nice to have someone here to watch over the place.”

  “It’s my privilege. I can’t believe how beautiful this place is, and I haven’t even been in the main house yet.” I smiled, wondering if I should invite him in for a glass of… Wait, I have no groceries. “I’d invite you in for a glass of tea, but I haven’t made it into town yet. Where’s the best place to shop?”

  “Up the road. Lucedale has a Piggly Wiggly. They’ll have everything you need.”

  “Great. Well, JB, I’m sure I won’t be as handy as Ben, but I’ll try. Will I be able to find you if I need to ask you a question? Is there a phone number where I can reach you, or do you have a schedule or something?”

  “No, I don’t stay in one place long enough for a phone—or a schedule—but I am usually wandering around here. If you need anything, you’ll probably find me in the potting shed. Just up the path there, toward the pond.”

  “There’s a pond?” I asked incredulously.

  “More like a mud hole, but we call it a pond,” he joked with me.

  “Great. I’ll see you around, then.”

  He paused at the bottom of the steps and smiled once more before he walked away, a pot of dirt tucked under a muscular arm. He glanced back at me one more time, and I waved politely. The rain had stopped; even though I was on the front porch, I felt so cold that my teeth were nearly chattering. God, I hope I’m not coming down with something. Rubbing my arms to warm myself up, I decided this was the time to get my boxes moved. Hmm… why hadn’t I asked JB to help me? Dummy. Oh well, I could handle it. I’d packed it all, taped it and loaded it up. I could certainly unload my own car.

  It was dark before I finished, and I was too tired to investigate Summerleigh. Unlike the cottage, which was bright and cozy, the main house was completely dark. Not a light shone from any of the dusty windows. Was the power off? Well, I’d have to worry about that tomorrow.

  I stowed the last of my stuff inside, unpacked a few boxes and decided I couldn’t ignore my stomach any longer. Driving into town seemed like such a chore now. Strolling into my clean kitchen, I opened a few cabinets and found them stocked with basic grocery supplies.

  Ben must have done this! In fact, I noticed he’d posted his phone number on the refrigerator with a Campbell’s Soup magnet. I reached for a can of soup, quickly found a can opener and warmed the contents on the stove. Chicken noodle soup and a glass of water would be my supper, and that was all I needed. I cuddled up on the couch with a small quilt I found, white and pink with roses all over it. I loved it. With my stomach full and my back slightly sore, I drifted off to sleep.

  And then Harper was there.

  Chapter Eight—Harper

  Even though Jeopardy and I were the oldest, Addison rode in the front seat of the Master DeLuxe this Sunday morning. Addie had a tendency to get sick if she rode in the back seat for any length of time. I didn’t care much about who sat in the front seat, but Jeopardy did, and I could see her point of view. Jeopardy was a young lady now, the oldest of the Belle sisters, all of fifteen. And who wanted their friends to see them riding in the back seat? It’s the baby seat, she complained quite loudly as we loaded up. It didn’t matter to her that she didn’t want to go to church to begin with. But she was here now, and I squeezed her hand once to reassure her before she snatched it away. I didn’t know why she was so mad at me, but I was determined to make her smile again.

  Come to think of it, making Jeopardy smile had been my lifelong ambition, at least when Daddy was away. Just think, in another week, he’d be home again. I had begun to count the days off on my dime store calendar, the one with the puppies on it. Of course, I didn’t show it to anyone. The subject of Daddy’s arrival seemed off-limits right now, and I couldn’t understand why.

  Momma was behind the wheel, complaining the entire time and honking her horn every few minutes. Loxley slept between us in the back seat, despite the noise. Here we were, in our Sunday best. Even Jeopardy wore a dress this morning, but I noticed she’d forgotten to wear a slip, which to our mother’s mind wasn’t ladylike at all. I hoped Momma didn’t notice that oversight. We pulled into the driveway and waited for the dust to settle before we got out. Momma checked her teeth in the mirror and shot Jeopardy a disapproving look before she opened the door and stepped out.

  Just as she did seven days a week, Momma looked like a movie star with her short blond hair and pretty features. Despite having four children, she had a trim waist and a perfect figure. “Come on, girls. Church is about to begin. Now remember, no sleeping or looking around like a wide-eyed calf. Are you listening, Loxley?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Our sleepy sister took Momma’s hand, and the rest of us walked behind her. I always loved coming to church, mostly because of the music. Sometimes the pastor told funny stories, and I liked those too. I got lost in the “thees” and “thous,” but even that was entertaining.

  Most Sundays, Jeopardy frowned the whole time, doodled on paper when she could and always, always did a lot of people-watching. Daddy never said anything to her, but things were different now—Daddy wasn’t here. Unfortunately for Jeopardy, Momma settled herself between her and Loxley and didn’t mind pinching Jeopardy’s arm if she let herself get distracted. Momma didn’t pinch me often, but it could hurt worse than a fire ant. And that was pretty bad. I fell in a fire ant bed once; I had bumps for weeks and would never forget the pain. Never.

  We’d gotten through “Bringing in the Sheaves” with no incidents, except Jeopardy wouldn’t sing and didn’t care that Momma was cutting her eyes. She cracked gum instead, and I thought for sure she’d get backhanded for that. Sister Sheryl Sellers—she liked being called “sister,” as did most of the church ladies—half-turned in her pew to see who the gum-cracking culprit was but didn’t say a word. She did give Momma an offended look, though. As soon as the heavyset woman’s head was turned, Momma held out her hand and waited for Jeopardy to spit out her gum. With a petulant expression, she dropped her gum in the waiting tissue.

  The choir began singing again. Do Lord, oh do Lord, oh, do remember me… Loxley and I sang loudly, and Addison’s soft voice obediently sang too. Jeopardy alone refused to praise the Lord even though Momma offered to share her red-backed hymnal with her. Please, Jeopardy, behave yourself. I kept my eyes in front of me, but I sensed impending disaster. So did Addison; she clutched her stomach, but I couldn’t comfort her right now. I kept singing but silently prayed to the Good Lord for help.

  Where is Aunt Dot this morning? She never misses Sunday Service. Please God, send Aunt Dot to church this morning. Help Jeopardy, God. Please save her, Jesus.

  I called on the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, but the tension rose on our uncomfortable wooden pew—and we were surrounded by a church full of witnesses. Pastor Reed had just begun his sermon on the Garden of Gethsemane when Jeopardy let out a yelp that shocked the entire congregation.

  “Sit down!” Momma whispered like a freight train, but my sister wasn’t having any of it. She was on her feet, her face like a dark cloud.

  “Jeopardy,” I whispered as she climbed over me with tears in her eyes. Momma hadn’t gotten up yet, but she would in a moment if Jep didn’t come back. She didn’t.

  Soon, all of us Belles were streaming out of the church and Momma and Jeopardy were having a shouting match in the parking lot. I didn’t understand half of what they were saying, but my sister was yelling, her face red, and her bare, bruised arms gave evidence of Momma’
s cruel pinches. I didn’t look back at the church, but I had a feeling that all fifty of the congregants were watching us from the arched windows of the First Baptist Church of Desire, Mississippi.

  Loxley cried as Momma threatened to beat Jeopardy; Addison held her hand over her mouth as if she were going to throw up. Then like an angel from heaven, Aunt Dot pulled into the parking lot and scampered toward us. Her perfect bob bounced as she ran in heels toward Jeopardy, who was a screaming, crying mess.

  “What in the world?” Aunt Dot asked as she gathered Jeopardy into her arms. “Ann, have you lost your mind arguing in the church parking lot? Oh great, here comes Augustine.” Aunt Dot yelled to her, “Thank you, Augustine, but we’re all fine here.”

  “She’s incorrigible,” Momma cried behind her handkerchief. “She’ll ruin us all, Dorothy! Even Father says…”

  “Ann, please. Don’t say something you will regret later. I’ll take Jeopardy home.”

  “She’ll ride home with me, Dot. She’s my daughter!”

  Jeopardy sobbed on our aunt’s shoulder. “No, dear,” Aunt Dot answered calmly, “I think you need a break. You must be under so much stress with John Jeffrey gone. I will take Jeopardy home now. Have a cigarette or take the girls out for a soda. We will see you at Summerleigh.” Aunt Dot didn’t wait for an answer; she left with her arm around Jeopardy’s shoulders.

  Momma was silent as the grave on the drive home. We didn’t stop for a soda, even though Addison whined about it until Momma popped her bare leg. I was suddenly glad that I wasn’t in the front seat this morning. I blinked back the tears so Momma wouldn’t see me cry. I couldn’t be seen as taking sides, not if I wanted to smooth things over. If that was even possible now.

  To my surprise, Aunt Dot’s car was in the driveway when we got there. My sisters and I raced through the kitchen to avoid the coming battle. The Daughdrills rarely argued, but when they did, it was usually an epic event, although they never laid a hand on each other. I lingered outside the door for some morbid reason. Aunt Dot accused Momma of being cruel to Jeopardy; Momma called Aunt Dot a nosy spinster. I couldn’t take any more of the accusations. I decided to tend to my sisters. They would need me, I believed. But Loxley didn’t want a hug and instead went out the front door to go find one of her kittens. Addison headed to bed for a lie-down.