The Belles of Desire, Mississippi

by M. L. Bullock

  The only Belle missing was Jeopardy. She wasn’t downstairs, so I knew she had to be in her castle room. I hated walking up the stairs, but today I would have risked walking through the gates of hell to help my sister. Why did it have to be this way? I vowed right then and there to write Daddy a letter. He had to know that his daughters needed him. Surely the Army would let him come home. I’d heard of soldiers coming home for emergencies before.

  Jeopardy met me in the hallway. She’d shed her sundress and was wearing a pair of capris and a tank top; these were obviously some of Aunt Dot’s hand-me-downs. Momma rarely bought Jeopardy an outfit, and Jeopardy hated the things Momma bought her and was quite vocal about that. Yes, she looked quite scandalous for a Sunday. Her hair hung loosely now, and over her shoulder was her crocheted purse. I pretended I didn’t see a pack of Momma’s cigarettes peeking out between the stitches. “Where are you going?” I asked in surprise.

  “I’m going to the river. I’m meeting some friends there. If you care anything about me, you won’t rat me out.”

  “I would never, Jeopardy. I never have!” I was offended at being accused of disloyalty. She should know that hurt me down to the bone.

  She tilted her head and said, “Then come with me, Harper. Just for the day.”

  “What if Momma comes looking for me?”

  “What if she does? Are you my sister or not?”

  “Okay,” I agreed without thinking it through any further. Jeopardy had challenged my loyalty, and I had to prove it to her. “I need to change, though.”

  “I’ll meet you behind the potting shed. But I’m only waiting five minutes. If you don’t come, if you chicken out, Harper, I’m gone.”

  “Alright. I’ll be there.”

  Jeopardy and I tiptoed down the stairs, and she left out the back door to avoid another battle with Momma. Momma and Aunt Dot were still going at it, so I took advantage of the distraction and went to my bedroom and quickly changed into a checkered shirt and blue jean shorts. Grabbing my tennis shoes, I left Summerleigh, happy to leave the heated argument behind me. Loxley had her favorite kitten in her lap. She wouldn’t miss me.

  I ran around the house, avoiding the kitchen window, and found Jeopardy waiting for me by the shed. My rebellious heart had never felt freer. Jeopardy smiled at my bravery and offered me a cigarette. I refused but smiled back. So this was what it was like to be Jeopardy…carefree and adventurous! I had never been either of those things. No wonder Momma didn’t like her; Momma wasn’t carefree or adventurous either. But I loved my sister, and it felt good to see her smile. Even if it meant we were about to get into major trouble. I’d never done anything like this before, but it was too late to turn back now.

  We held hands and ran all the way to the river.

  Chapter Nine—Jerica

  Something woke me from my dream, but I had no idea what it could have been. Nevertheless, I was wide awake and feeling quite perturbed. One minute I was running free with Harper and Jeopardy, an invisible witness to their family troubles, and the next I found myself staring up at a white painted ceiling. Sunlight filtered through sheer white curtains, and the sounds of birds surprised me. Oh, yes. Now I remembered. I was in Desire, and this was Summerleigh, or at least the cottage at Summerleigh. Imagine me, Jerica Poole, here in south Mississippi, the new owner of an old mansion.

  My heart broke for Harper, but I needed to think about what I had seen. I wandered into the kitchen and hoped that Ben had been kind enough to have purchased coffee. He had! I would have to call him later and thank him. He’d really saved me by thinking ahead. Still, I would have to make that trip to the Piggly Wiggly in Lucedale sooner rather than later. As I loaded the filter and coffee into the white coffee machine, I thought about the silence. There were no sirens out here, no horns honking or rowdy neighbors yelling across balconies at one another. It was really like another world. A slower world.

  While the machine sputtered to life, I sauntered upstairs to finish arranging my toiletries in the bathroom. I loved the fractured glass windows and the tidy tile job. The fixtures weren’t showroom new, but who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? And I had so much space. I arranged the towels and filled my medicine cabinet. My two missing prescriptions were a concern, but maybe I could postpone finding a new doctor awhile. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I headed back down to grab that cup of coffee. My watch told me it was three o’clock. That can’t be right. Shoot. Don’t tell me I killed another watch battery. Watches and I never got along, but I had loved this one so much I figured I’d give it another shot. Well, maybe there was a battery place in town too.

  I noticed for the first time that there was a squeak on the third stair down. That was slightly irritating. I would have to take a look at that. Might be just a loose board. As I checked out the suspect piece, I heard a light tapping on the back door. It was so light that I had to really focus to hear it. Yes, someone was here for sure.

  “Coming!” I yelled, hoping it was JB. The back door was between the kitchen and the laundry room if I remembered correctly. I rubbed my eyes and wished I’d bothered to brush my hair. “Almost there,” I said pleasantly. The clock on the wall told me it was eight. Man, I had slept late this morning. That never happened.

  Unlocking the dead bolt, I opened the door with a friendly smile, but there was no one there. No one at all. “Hello?” I called out. No one answered, but arranged neatly on the bottom porch step was a small bouquet of flowers. Not the hothouse kind but wildflowers, purple, yellow and pink. The only one I recognized was the black-eyed Susans.

  Marisol…

  Who would have left these here? Someone very shy, apparently. Maybe JB had children or I had a neighbor closer than I thought? I hurried back inside and went to the kitchen. Grabbing a mason jar from the cabinet, I filled it with water and put the flowers in the window above the sink. Okay, I needed coffee. I sipped the black brew and enjoyed the flowers. It must have been one of JB’s children who left them. Had to be. I didn’t see any other houses around here. Trespassers didn’t normally leave bouquets on your doorstep. I touched one flower and smiled at the sweet offering.

  Now, what was my plan? For sure I needed a shower, but Summerleigh waited for my exploration. After another few swallows of hot coffee, I grabbed the keys and headed to the house. The cottage was about fifty yards from the main house, and it was a lovely morning for a walk. Instead of going through the back door, I opted to make it official and go around to the front. It all looked so familiar. Just like Harper showed me in my dream, just as she had described many times in our conversations.

  “What a beautiful place, Harper,” I said as I nearly tripped over a stone. What in the world? Who would put a marker this close to a pathway? Clearly, this wasn’t some random rock but a stone marker with some inscription hidden under the grass. That’s funny, I thought. The rest of the garden was so overgrown, that was true, but it had some order to it. This marker appeared to have been completely forgotten. Or at least overlooked. I squatted down and scooped away leaves. A tiny brown spider scurried away. Good thing too. Spiders were not my favorite creature.

  In Loving Memory of a Lost Soul

  Loving memory…so this was a person? I had thought perhaps a pet, but a person? This seemed an odd place for a memorial stone. How horribly sad.

  Jeopardy! Could this be for Jeopardy Belle?

  “Sorry, Jeopardy,” I said as I lovingly touched the stone. And I didn’t know why, but I added, “I’ll bring you home…I promise.” The wind fluttered my hair around me, and the sound of footsteps behind me made me stand up and look around. I saw no one.

  I decided it was best not to linger here and allow my imagination to run away with me. I’d done that before, and look where that got me—medicated. I journeyed on to the house, walked to the welcoming front door and slid the key in. Some thoughtful person had wisely painted the porch floorboards a dark green. That was an excellent shade for hiding dirt and whatnot. I opened the fr
ont door and stepped inside Summerleigh for the first time. I remembered the mixed emotions Harper felt, and I experienced something similar. The porch and exterior had appeared so welcoming, except for the obvious roof disrepair, but there was nothing too welcome inside.

  This would be what people would have called the Great Room when it was built. There was a sweeping staircase on the left side of the room that led to a windowed landing. Just before it and to the right were two evenly spaced wooden columns that gave you the feeling you’d stepped inside a Greek temple. In the center of the columns on the back wall was a large fireplace surrounded by built-in bookcases. What a strange place to put a fireplace. Or maybe not. What do I know about south Mississippi architecture? Not a lot, but I knew about wood. Whoever built this place spared no expense from what I could see, such beautiful oak and pine. Summerleigh must have been a beautiful place in her heyday, but happy? I had my doubts. I shivered again, wishing I had worn something besides shorts and a t-shirt.

  To the left was an open door that presumably led to the kitchen and parlor. I remembered from Harper’s time that the right side of the Great Room would lead to the bedrooms. At this moment, that area of the house felt dark and forbidding. Were the trees covering the windows? For a split second, I heard footsteps. I made the mistake of calling out, “Hello?” only to have the echo scare the snot out of me.

  “Good Lord, Jerica. Get it together.” I shoved the key in my pocket but decided to leave the door open. This place could use a good airing out. I went into the parlor; the faded burgundy area rug and matching couches were all too familiar. Only the radio was missing. I passed through the parlor and headed to the kitchen. As I stepped through the doorway, I had the urge to cry. Everything I had seen in the dream, the farm sink where Harper had filled the peach pot, the once shiny white stove, the family table, it had all been real. And because it was all real, the weight of my promise hit me hard. I was here to see justice done, not just for Jeopardy but for all the Belle girls. Yes, my dreams had all been real, and my promise!

  Before I could take my thoughts to their expected conclusion, the front door slammed so hard the dishes in the kitchen cabinet shook. “Dear God!” I said as my knees buckled a second.

  And then I heard footsteps.

  A child’s footsteps from the sound of them.

  They were running up the stairs, and I took off after them.

  Chapter Ten—Jerica

  As I raced up the stairs and across the balcony, I paused briefly before clearing the last set of stairs. An entire unexplored floor stretched before me, but I was leery about adventuring too far from the staircase. Not because I was tired but because I had come to my senses. What was I doing chasing phantom footsteps across questionable flooring? And then the footsteps stopped just above me, and I heard the floorboards creak as if someone were standing on the top balcony looking down at me wondering why I was taking so long.

  “Alright, just slow down,” I said to no one in particular when I heard a whisper from above. I could tell it was a child’s whisper, but for the life of me, I could not hear what she was saying. Was that a little girl? Or something that wanted me to think it was a girl?

  With my pulse racing, I carefully climbed the last staircase and stood in the decrepit hallway. Boy, this place hasn’t seen any love in a long time. The hallway wallpaper was in tatters, strips of the dry rotted paper had come off the walls in many places. There was a thick coat of dust on the floors and moldings. As I stood at the top, I counted four rooms on the top floor and a narrow door at the end of the hallway. Where did that go? The attic, of course—Jeopardy’s castle room! “Hello?” I asked, praying that my own echo didn’t come back in a frightening way. “Is anyone up here? I thought I heard…you.”

  Nothing. Not even a whisper now, but the air was electric as if I stood in a lightning storm that was ready to start popping at any moment. Then I heard a strange sound.

  Thump. Click, click, click.

  I waited and heard it again.

  Thump. Click, click, click.

  Off the top of my head, I couldn’t say what that sound was, but it sounded familiar. I knew I’d heard it before. It was coming from the last room on the right. I passed the two empty rooms, one to my left and one to my right. There was no furniture up here and certainly no lost little girl. Maybe that was it? JB’s kids? They liked to play in here. That had to be it. If this big old house stood empty, it seemed natural that some curious child or teenager might want to check it out. Funny, I hadn’t seen any vandalism or other evidence of kids hanging out, no empty soda cans or candle stubs. Nothing except the flowers on my porch.

  I now stood in the doorway of the largest room and waited. I couldn’t make myself step into the room, not yet, but I heard the sound again. Thump. Click, click… I stepped inside expecting to see someone. Anyone. But I found a room that was empty except for an old wooden rocking horse, empty bookcases and a rolling red ball on the floor.

  And a set of old metal jacks.

  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! I immediately ran back down the hallway and cleared the staircases in a matter of seconds. The front door didn’t want to open at first, but I kept tugging on it until it finally opened. Once I got into the yard I could breathe again.

  That was the sound I heard! Someone was playing with the jacks. Loxley? Was Loxley’s ghost here? Oh, God! I can’t do this. I looked up at the empty window, but there was no one there. Wasn’t that good? Did I want to see a ghost girl hanging out at the window?

  Heck no. I walked around the house and headed for the caretaker’s cottage. I had to think about this, or not think about it. I decided to get a shower after I locked the doors. Now was the perfect time to go to town. No sense in delaying my supply run. Thirty minutes later, the SUV was turning onto Highway 98 West. According to my GPS, Lucedale was only twenty minutes away. I could go to Mobile, but since JB had suggested the Piggly Wiggly to me, I thought I’d check it out.

  I decided to take the town’s Main Street and instantly fell in love with the charming little mom and pop shops that lined it. There was more than one shabby chic consignment furniture store (I’d have to check those out later for inspiration), a health food store, a clothing store, various specialty shops and a few restaurants. I liked it. After driving around for about ten minutes, I felt a bit disappointed that I hadn’t found the Piggly Wiggly; however, there was another grocery store, as well as a big chain department store that had a grocery too. But now that my stomach was rumbling, I decided I’d rather stop at the diner I spotted, a little place called Ricky’s Country Diner.

  I pulled the SUV in and went inside to grab a bite to eat. Maybe someone in here would know how to get to the Piggly Wiggly. The place was packed. I hadn’t expected that from the number of cars outside, but then again, some of these patrons were probably walk-ins. I found an empty table at the corner of the restaurant near the grill.

  “Good morning. What can I get started for you?” This was no teeny-bopper waitress but a muscular man with intense dark eyes, dark hair and a deep voice speaking to me. I had not expected him either.

  “Um, I have no idea.” I handled a laminated menu but couldn’t narrow down my choices. “It’s my first time here. What do you suggest?”

  “It’s pretty close to breakfast, and we’re still serving. The breakfast platter is a winner. The most popular dish is the Double Slam. How do you like your eggs?”

  “Over medium.”

  He nodded. “And what to drink, ma’am?”

  “Orange juice, please.”

  “Alright, I’ll get that started.”

  I couldn’t help but watch him walk away. Wow, he’s…

  “I know, he’s a bit of eye candy, isn’t he? But don’t let that body fool you. Jesse Clarke has more brains than most. Hi, I’m Renee, but my friends call me Ree-Ree. Jesse is my cousin; we own this restaurant. You’re a new face. First time here?” She smiled politely.

  “Hi, Renee, Ree-Ree. I’m Jerica. Yes, fir
st time here. I wasn’t staring. It’s just I wasn’t expecting to see…”

  “Oh, no need to apologize. Everyone stares at Jesse…he’s just that handsome. Just passing through? Headed to Leakesville, maybe?” Without an invitation, Renee sat in the chair opposite me. I didn’t mind, but I was a bit surprised. She got busy wrapping silverware, a fancy task for a small diner such as this one.

  I smiled politely but hoped to change the direction of this conversation. I hated that I got busted ogling the waiter. “No, I live in Desire now. I was told that the Piggly Wiggly was a good place for groceries, but I’m kind of lost.”

  “Lost in Lucedale?” She chuckled and finished up her silverware, depositing the last one in a plastic tub. “And there’s no Piggly Wiggly here anymore. Hasn’t been in about five years, I’m guessing. Hey, Humble. When did the Piggly Wiggly leave?”

  “2012,” an old man answered her. He hardly missed a bite of his food.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. 2012. Someone sent you on a wild goose chase, Jerica. But we do have a Wayne Lee’s. And of course, there’s the big blue store that everyone hates but goes to anyway. What were you drinking?”

  “Oh, orange juice.”

  “Be right back.” Renee had long dark hair that she wore in a tight ponytail at the back of her head. She wore plenty of makeup, especially black mascara, but she didn’t really need any of it. She had lovely skin, like her cousin Jesse. I stole another peek at him as she returned with my drink. He was actually the cook, not just the waiter. I guessed it made sense since he was one of the owners. He caught me staring, and I pretended to look at the menu. Good Lord, Jerica. You’re not a teenager.