by Tai Barnett
Cummins Plantation
While I was locked away in torment, considering the portentous words of Mrs. Banister, Michael, Lauren, and Vernon were on their way to New Orleans.
It was nearing dusk when they arrived at the elaborate wrought iron gate of the Cummins Plantation. There they were allowed to enter the property by a frowzy old man who appeared to be the gardener. From their rental car they could see the huge property with lush green grasses and several tall live oaks that were scattered over the lavish estate.
The enormous acreage seemed to extend back for miles as they drove a long path about a quarter of a mile until they reached an elaborate yellow and white Greek Revival style building. The details on the mansion were exquisite. It had simple moldings, with substantial octagonal columns cornices, gables with pediments and red concrete patio flooring.
Michael’s big eyes widened as he peered through the car window to have a closer look at the estate. “Vernon, are we lost? Because this looks more like one of those old sugar plantations to me,” he said
“Uh-huh and there you go…I am sure those are some old slave cabins right over there?” Michael continued while pointing to the side of the house. He and Lauren were captivated by what they were seeing.
But Vernon said nothing. Instead, he kept his head frozen, looking straight on ahead as he proceeded toward the house. We had never met Vernon’s father. And for some reason, his dad decided not to attend his mother-in-law’s funeral which left us even more dubious about Vernon’s past and family.
As they parked outside the front of the manor and exited the car, they observed the row of Creole cabins some distance away—perhaps imagining what life was probably like during such a terrible period in history.
Lauren sighed and took her floral hat from her head as Vernon closed the car door.
“Vernon, I thought you said we would explore the town and the historical sites after the funeral?” Lauren asked.
But Vernon seemed to be lost in his own deep thoughts.
“What a lovely, beautiful house,” she continued while walking toward the steps of the front door, still trying to get him to open up about what he was obviously hiding.
“Yeah, I feel like we’ve stepped back into the 1800s, but it does seem a bit eerie too. It has a very creepy feeling,” said Michael.
Vernon still only remained silent, looking into space with one hand at his hip.
He removed his shades and walked to the back of the car. He opened the trunk and started removing the luggage.
“Well. Y’all don’t just stand there…come help me with the luggage,” Vernon yelled.
Michael and Lauren rushed towards Vernon. They were both confused but were anxious to learn from Vernon what was really going on.
“This is where we’re staying?” asked Lauren as she folded her arms.
“Wait…wait a minute! Why do I get the strange feeling that this is your house?” said Michael.
“Well, it ain’t my house—at least not yet. It’s Granny Cummin’s house and now it all belongs to Julia.” Vernon removed the suitcases from the trunk, placed them in front of Lauren and Michael and slammed the car trunk shut.
“Julia? Who is Julia?” said Lauren while pulling her brown and pink suitcase on the wheels towards the front door.
As Lauren asked her question, they heard a slight cracking of the elaborate four panel double door at the front of the house. They unexpectedly saw an African-American woman appearing from the side patio with floral gloves on her hands, holding a glass of lemonade and a braided wide rim hat on her head. The front door suddenly slammed shut. Whomever was inside seemed as though they were not up for entertaining any visitors.
As they stood wondering who had slammed the front door, the old woman who was unbothered by this walked closer toward them.
“Well, butter my butt and call me biscuit. The prodigal grandson has returned home to Cummins,” exclaimed the rugged looking woman in a soft yet stern southern drawl.
Vernon stood tall and sighed as he looked at the woman. He started to walk towards the stairs.
“Well, hi Miss May…h-how you doing…it’s been forever right?” said Vernon as he walked up the stairs and unto the patio where she was standing with her hand by her side.
“Mm-hmm…and so it has,” she said as she removed her hat, her gloves and finished her drink.
She placed her glass unto one of the patio wooden chairs and looked at Vernon.
“Why, you are the spitting image of your fatha,” she looked back at the others.
“I see he decided not to come and son…you sure you wanna be brining strangers up in here, when you know how crazy Miss Julia can get?” the woman asked.
Vernon looked back at Michael and Lauren.
“Well, they are more like family than any strangers. They are more than all right, Miss May. Julia is just gonna have to mind her own damn business for all I care! This weekend is about Granny Cummins, not her!” Vernon exclaimed.
“Yeah, well, you sure be asking for trouble,” she looked at him and smiled.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come give your old nanny a hug. I ain’t seen you since you were knee high to a grasshopper.”
Vernon walked towards her, closed his eyes while he gave her a very long and tight hug and kissed her on the cheek.
“Well, no sense we be standing out here. I finished supper, too. You and your friends must be hungry by now.”
“So, is she up?” said Vernon looking back at the front door.
The woman looked at him with her hands by her hips and smiled as she looked at the front door.
“Ohh, she is hardly up nowadays. But as you can tell, she is wide awake this morning. Most days she just lays around in bed on her laptop or readin’. But every now and again, she is very up and about, going shopping in town and spending money and talking all kinds of crazy things. Very unpredictable as usual.”
“Michael…Lauren?” shouted Vernon while beckoning them with his hand.
Michael and Lauren were completely unprepared and slightly nervous. They had no idea what to expect or how to react to all this. They walked over to the lady and smiled.
“Guys, I would like to introduce you to Miss May. She was my dear old nanny when I was a little boy—Miss May, my very, very dear friends; Michael and Lauren.”
They shook each other’s hands.
“Nice to have you, folks. Have you ever been on a plantation before?” Miss May said while letting them through the front door.
“Well, we did visit a plantation back in Jamaica where our father is from, Rose Hall Great House. They say it’s haunted by a white witch who was its mistress and that she murdered her three husbands there,” Lauren said.
“Well, the stain of greed and suffering will always remain at these here plantations. Each one carrying its own account of how cruel and heartless man can be to one another when given power,” Miss May said dolefully.
As they settled down in the dining room, Miss May turned and looked at them.
“Now as I told Vernon, I made supper, you can eat and then I show you around. Make yourselves at home. You can stay in the guest rooms downstairs. Miss Julia don’t take too kindly to strangers snooping around on the upstairs.”
“Madie May! Madie May…who the hell you got down there at that front door?” shouted a female voice with a thick southern accent from upstairs.
“I’ll be up in a minute, Miss Julia! I know it’s time for your supper!” Miss May yelled. Her voice was subservient yet firm.
Vernon rolled his eyes and looked at his old nanny.
“It seems old ‘Massa’ be still hollering your name Miss May. I don’t know what era she thinks she’s still living in—damn lazy, she wouldn’t hit a lick at a snake,” Vernon said angrily with wide eyes.
Miss May smiled while she looked at Lauren and Michael.
“Ohh-whee, this boy still sure do got a lip on him, I tell you that much. I had to pinch him in the neck sometimes
just to shut him up,” Miss May said. “But, Miss Julia pretty much still who she is, Vernon!”
Lauren and Michael looked at each other with confused but fascinated expressions.
“Vernon, now why don’t you go on into the kitchen and start sharing out the food for your friends. I will be back soon. I betta go give her supper before she throws another one of her old hissy fits,” Miss May said.
“Sure thing, Nana May,” Vernon exclaimed.
“Sure, good to hear you calling me Nana May. I ain’t never heard you say that since you were ten years old. Anyway, I will be back shortly,” Miss May said smiling.
That evening while Vernon set the table for supper, Michael and Lauren looked around the house.
“So, you’re…rich and not just rich, your family owns like the entire 1750 acres plantation, which will one day be all yours?” said Michael while walking around the room and admiring the draperies and carpet.
“Well, being that I am an only child, I guess when it’s all said and done, everything eventually will belong to me,” Vernon responded casually.
“For someone that’s so wealthy, you sure don’t sound very happy, Vernon. Why is that?” Lauren said as she stared at one of the large family portraits lined on the wall.
One portrait in particular caught her attention, but it was at the top of the stairs right next to a closed door. It was a picture of Vernon’s grandmother. Lauren reached for a pair of tested eyeglasses from her handbag and stared at the picture intensely from where she was standing. The woman’s deep blue eyes were engaging, mesmerizing as though they were trying to tell her a story. She was beautiful and angelic-looking with light blonde hair and plump cheeks. But although Grandma Cummins’ face was pleasant, her eyes could tell that there was an underlying sadness that she was experiencing.
“Well as the saying goes, do not judge a book by its cover, hun,” Vernon said.
“Who is that?” Lauren asked, she pointed at the three feet portrait with her head slightly tilted back.
“Ohh, that’s Granny Cummins, old granny was the sweetest, most gentle person that you eva did meet. She kinda reminds me of Natasha in many ways,” Vernon said.
“But tell us…because I am extremely curious, how do you end up leaving all this behind and becoming—no offense, hun—but a house-keeper? It just doesn’t add up,” said Michael.
“Well. Y’all just come sit down at the table and eat supper,” Vernon said while he sat down around the antique table. Michael and Lauren took a seat in front of him.
“The truth be told, my great-great great grandfather got the property from his father when he died right after the civil war. It was passed down from generation but…”
Michael and Lauren looked at each other and looked back at Vernon.
“Listen, now what I am about to tell you I ain’t never told nobody at all. A matter of fact, this story ain’t never left my mouth until now and y’all betta not let it leave this room either, except for, maybe, Tasha,” Vernon stressed.
“Well, I am sure you know you can trust us, Vernon,” said Lauren.
Vernon sighed.
“Huh…OK. Well, many, many years ago there was a rumor about my family being involved in voodoo and witchcraft. While there was never any proof of that, the people in the area downright treated my Granny Cummins like we were some common criminals.”
“Yes, well back in Jamaica a lot of people were believed to be medicine men or women,” Lauren said.
“You mean Obeah Man, Lauren!” Michael exclaimed in a Jamaican Patois.
“Yes, well, I am afraid it didn’t just end there, Michael. Well, my mother…Julia, was always different from the rest of them. She was completely fascinated by these stories. And no matter how hard poor Granny tried to shield her from learning voodoo and witchcraft, the more she rebelled. Well, everyone was hoping that when she married my fatha, things would have changed, but they only got worst. Mama would stay out all hours in the night and sometimes they would have to send out the gardeners or workers to find her in the late hours in the morning because she was doing her witchcraft naked on the plantation grounds.”
“Wow! Sounds just like the white witch,” said Lauren looking over at Michael.
"But to make it worst, she actually did start seeing things before they happened and even the workers started becoming afraid of her. Nowadays, the plantation is placed on exhibition to vacationers during the week but even they became afraid of all the stories they were hearing. By the time I was nine years old, my mother had become pregnant, but it wasn’t for my father, it was for a renowned voodoo priest called Papa Roy that lived in the voodoo district. It was rumored that she lost the baby because Papa Roy left her for another voodoo priestess. A couple months after that, Papa Roy and his new wife suddenly and mysteriously just died. People said they were coughing up blood and their stomachs got swollen, then they just died. Of course, that was when the rumors started spreading that my family was evil and that my mama casted a spell on Papa Roy and his wife.
My father tried to forgive my mother. He did everything he could to gain her love and friendship, but she just became bitter and angry, leaving us and Granny for many months at a time. Finally, my dad took me and left to live with his aunt in Atlanta. I was distraught because I loved my granny and I still loved my mother. So even though we loved Granny, we left everything behind. My father told me to swear on his life that I would never return nor speak to anybody from Cummins ever again. But I had been secretly meeting with Granny in town for the past twenty years now, can’t believe she is gone," Vernon said.
As Michael and Lauren sat around the colossal pine wood dining table, Vernon served them a hot plate of gumbo.
“But you don’t believe all that superstition, do you, Vernon? I mean there is obviously some rational explanation to all this, they were obviously poisoned or something?” said Michael.
“Honey, I use to think just like you. But the more of this life I experience, the more I begin to understand that there are some things in this world that we ain’t never been able to explain with logic. I remember one time distinctly when my mother told one of the tour guides that her entire family were going to be murdered by someone in their community in seven days.”
“You’re lying…it actually happened?” exclaimed Lauren.
“On the eighth day, she was preparing to bury her mother, father, and six brothers.”
“Well, I am yet to accept any of this superstitious nonsense,” said Michael while stirring his bowl of gumbo. Michael and Lauren looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“Well, I believe you, Vernon. And I would love to meet your mother some time,” Lauren said.
“Well, Julia doesn’t like strangers. Matter fact, she doesn’t like anybody but herself. And I am sure you won’t see her either, maybe only for the funeral. Locking herself upstairs has never been a problem for her,” Vernon says. He took a taste of the gumbo.
“So, Julia is your mother?” Michael asked.
“Unfortunately, she is my dear child,” said Vernon.
"Anyhow, enough of me. Your food’s gettin’ cold and I want us to turn in a bit early ’cause we need to go into town to finalize the funeral arrangements. We can check out some of the sights, too, at the Quarter. I couldn’t take y’all to N’Awlin and not take you to the French Quarter, now could I?
“Oh…and by the way Michael, I chose this job because of the way my daddy brought me up. Ain’t nothing wrong with dedicating your life in service to others. After a while, you find that there is an even greater reward that you receive by becoming a part of people’s lives. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to bring beauty and order to those who didn’t have the time to do it for themselves. Why, I see my job as being as dignified and prestigious as any doctor or engineer,” Vernon said smiling.
“Well, preach that word doctor, ’cause you downright saving all our lives every day with that wonderful southern cooking,” said Michael grinning.
; “Oh, definitely and the way you decorate a house. You could be featured along with all those other A-list Hollywood decorators,” said Lauren.
“You damn right he could, girl!” Michael said.
The Practical Voodoo Sanctuary
The next morning after making funeral arrangements on Canal Street, Vernon, Michael, and Lauren walked the colorful and lively Vieux Carré. They were fascinated by the elaborate 19th century Spanish architecture and buildings that were garlanded with fancy iron designs and scenic balconies. There was also lovely greenery and European inspired sculptures.
The three explored some of the local art, elegant antique shops and boutiques while Lauren and Michael took selfies and eagerly sent to me.
They then settled down at a restaurant courtyard for some lunch while they indulged in the finest Cajun cuisine and the beautiful mule-drawn carriages going back and forth.
After an hour had elapsed, while the trio headed towards some of the colorful roadside paintings, they stumbled up on a voodoo shop called The Practical Voodoo Sanctuary. It was a broken down old shop colorfully painted and adorned with bright lights and voodoo canvases.
Michael and Lauren’s face suddenly lit up. Lauren was intrigued by the mystical paranormal world, but Michael really enjoyed the fun and excitement of it all and of course, teased the psychic readers.
“Ohh, let’s go in. We have to go in!” exclaimed Michael as he held on to Lauren’s arms.
“Boy, you both crazier than a chicken with its head cut off wantin’ to mess wid dem hoodoo, voodoo evil and people that are up in dat shop. Don’t you know that the sun don’t shine on the same tail all the time?”
Lauren and Michael shook their heads and sighed.
“Now ya’ll betta just listen here, Miss Lauren and you, Mr. Flashy, you don’t wanna be messing with no evil. Now I can assure y’all that it will catch up with you soona than lata.” Vernon exclaimed.
“Ohh, come on Vernon, how often do we go to New Orleans? And I have always wanted a reading from a psychic. And reading peoples energies, why, how is that evil anyway?” said Lauren.
