The Broken Canvas

by Tai Barnett

  “Betty Cummins was not only an ardent humanitarian, she was head of the Women’s Team of our church for the past 40 years. When she was not busy working at the soup kitchen on weekends, she was baking one of her famous cherry pies to take to the homeless shelters. She was a good, caring, strong Christian woman who despite the gossip surrounding her family and her past, made it her duty to prove otherwise and she did so graciously and courageously,” said the priest of the Holy Cross Cathedral.

  Lauren and Michael looked at Vernon sitting beside his mother. Julia had not said a word to anyone since they arrived at the funeral, not even to Vernon. She was a petite blonde woman with shoulder length hair and a ravenous black dress and shades. They all did the math. And yet, it was still unclear how a woman her age, who has a 54-year-old son, could look unnervingly so young.

  It was almost time for the reading to be wrapping up. Lauren looked through the side of the glass-stained window at the massive 35 feet Southern Magnolia Tree, while the priest was enthusiastically closing his sermon. The white Magnolia blossoms were large and striking with glossy dark green leaves, which were blowing gently in the wind.

  For some reason, she was troubled by what the man had said at the voodoo store and also considered how Andrew was passionate about me being his soul mate and declared that to everyone at the last Easter breakfast. As she continued looking at the flowers dancing in the wind, a strange feeling of angst overcame her. She was sad and didn’t exactly know why. Maybe it was the funeral bringing back memories of her love that was lost. Or maybe something big was about to come her way and she was being warned by her dreading feelings. But whatever it was, that man at the store seemed to know something about her that she did not know for herself. Somehow, he was convinced that her love was nearby. Now, she only needed to find him.

  But the only one that Lauren could think of was her good friend Stewart, who had been in love with her since high school. He was a kind and mild-mannered young man, who was always seeking opportunities to be in her company. Still, she never shared the same passionate feeling for Stewart as he did for her. Or perhaps, it was someone else that she encountered in her many travels with me that would eventually steal her heart.

  Michael noticed Lauren’s distraction and used his arms to nudge her.

  “Are you OK, Hun?” he whispered.

  Lauren was shoved out of her thoughts as she smiled.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Oh, of course, you’re not. I bet you’re still thinking about that weird man from the store, but don’t you pay that any mind. When it’s time for you to find love again, I am sure you will know it instantly,” Michael said.

  Everyone in the congregation stood as they looked at Vernon, his mother and Miss May walking behind the casket with the pastor while the organ played in the background. Then the hand full of people that were in attendance soon followed.

  A few hours later, Michael and Lauren decided to help Miss May clean-up for the four guests that were present at the repass. One odd, very old African-American woman remained behind. She was seated on the back patio overlooking the slave cabins.

  The old lady stood out as she wore an all-white laced dress with a big floral hat and walked with a wooden stick. She looked to be in her 80s with curvy hips and thighs. She held her floral purse close underneath her arms and bore a suspicious and strange smile on her round face while she was humming a negro spiritual ‘Hold On’.

  Vernon stood by the back porch and looked at the old lady as she slowly got up and walked towards the slave cabins.

  While Miss May used a kitchen towel to dry the plates, she noticed Vernon staring at the odd old woman. She walked over to him.

  “Well, I’m just bout down here Hun. Y’all had betta be on your way, it’ll soon be dark out,” Miss May said.

  “Who is that?” Vernon said.

  Miss May looked at the old lady and looked back at Vernon.

  “She’s just an old friend of your granny. She is from around the area,” Miss May seemed to be hiding something.

  Miss May looked back at the old woman and turned to go back inside.

  “Well, I’ma go inside and finish tidying up with the others. By the way, I need to give you a few things your granny left, so you need to come get them before y’all leave,” Miss May said.

  But Vernon stood still, looking at the old woman.

  Miss May sighed as she looked at him and went back inside.

  Bursting with curiosity, he decided to walk over to the old lady to see who she really was and why she was still there.

  He walked over and stood beside her while she still continued humming. He looked at her face that was covered with warts and her eyes closed as she continued humming. The cool evening breeze was twirling the white ribbon that was attached to the hat all around her face.

  She opened her eyes and looked at one of the cabins.

  “My great-grandmamma use to work these fields,” she said. “The Cummins were not like other white folks—they hardly ever whipped their slaves.”

  Her voice was gentle, yet shaky and wise.

  Vernon sighed while he looked out at the slave cabins, feeling gloomy that he and his family were in any way linked to such a cruel past.

  “Yeah, she would talk about old Massa Cummins. How kind he was, and he was not like all dem otha white devils. During Christmas times, your great, great-granddaddy used to brang toys that he had made wid his own two hands for di slave children,” she said.

  Vernon looked at her and smiled.

  “I tell ya, those toys brought a whole new meaning to Cummins plantation and to Christmas for those kids,” said the old lady chuckling.

  “You know my family well huh?” Vernon asked.

  The old lady turned and looked at Vernon and turned back and looked at the cabin.

  “Mm-hmm. I knew them all too well if you ask me. My granny worked all of her adult life for your family. Our family still remained friends even after the war. Your grandmother and I have always been good friends. We used to visit Miss Cummins all the time too. You see, most folks don’t know how hard it was for some of the slaves to make ends meet when they were finally freed. Your Grannies’ father was just like his fatha. He would give my family food and clothes whenever they could, and we spent holidays together. We children grew up together and were close. Especially Miss Julia and Roy, my brotha.” Vernon’s eyes went doleful as she continued. “Ohh, those two were inseparable when they were younga. They used to sneak out to go swimming down the old Pond—”

  Vernon looked at her and sighed. He looked out at the slave cabins as she continued.

  “Eventually though, their relationship turned into something else. Something dark and evil. That was some time before your fatha. But she went away to college in the city and came back married and pregnant with you,” she looked back at him.

  “But I am sure you know how the story ends.” she says

  “So, what you’re sayin’ is that Roy, your brother, is the Papa Roy—the voodoo priest that was my mama’s lover?” Vernon inquired.

  “I tried to talk dat boy out of all that voodoo and witchcraft but he was just as strong willed as his grandfather was. He was the one who taught him all that evil stuff too!”

  She looked at Vernon and her expression changed, the anger etched on her face.

  “You know you can free a slave from his shackles and beatings but freedom of the heart and mind, now that’s a whole otha story. A man has to find that kinda freedom all by his damn self. Our granddaddy hated them all! He said all white folks was just pure evil—even the Cummins. And he taught Roy, all he knew about killing a white man by using magic. A matter of fact, they say my baby brother Roy purposely got involved with your motha just to teach her a lesson—”

  Vernon sighed and looked into the distance at the cabins

  “Yet, he was the one that ended up dying,” said Vernon while looking back at her.

  The old lady sighed while she turned and started walk
ing back to the house and Vernon followed close beside her.

  “So, how come you’re not angry about all a dis…them sayin’ my mama killed your brotha an all?” said Vernon while walking beside her.

  “Child, in this life the more hatred and anger you carry in your heart is the sooner you betta start—digging your own grave. Mama and I tried to teach that to Roy but he neva did listen. And your motha ain’t any better eitha. Sure, you know, I believe in the gifts of the spirit that some people have. But if the dear Lord’s dun bless you with such a gift, why wouldn’t ya use it to betta help people and yourself? I ain’t neva understand it then and ain’t neva gonna understand it now.”

  “So, do you really believe that my mama actually killed your brotha and his wife?”

  She gave Vernon her hands to help her up the stairs at the back porch. He held her gently as she stopped and looked into his face.

  “Now, I can tell just lookin’ at you that you’re a hot tempered but loyal man. You see the good in people first. I think we should leave the past right there where it is son. Ain’t make one bit a difference if your mama did or did not, she is still the same bitter, angry, and greedy woman that she became and she just gonna have to take that up with the ’eavenly Fatha when her time comes. But somehow, I wanna think that somewhere deep inside Miss Julia, her father’s blood runs through her veins.”

  While Vernon escorted the old lady back inside, Lauren had just finished up with her packing. Her eyes glimpsed the portrait that she had seen before. The pale green and grey cast in the background and the faint gleam of bright colors of sunshine yellow and orange from the approaching nightfall was so alluring that she had to get a closer look at the individual strokes of the artists’ brush. She glanced around to see if anyone was seeing her go upstairs. But Michael and Miss May were busy packing away the dishes.

  Lauren softly and slowly took one step at a time until she made it to the top of the stairs. The painting was just a few steps away and right beside a closed mahogany door with an old antique mirror directly on the opposite wall.

  Lauren approached the painting of a woman dressed in black, standing on top of a cliff overlooking a plantation at twilight. The painting was eerie, mysterious and looked very real. As she took two steps closer to look at the details of the painting, the door beside the painting suddenly opened.

  Surprised and frightened, she started walking back towards the stairs.

  “I dun seen you already dear, so you might as well just come on in here for a while,” said Miss Julia from her room.

  With her heart pounding having been caught sneaking around upstairs, Lauren slowly walked up to the half-opened door. She used one hand to push the door wider as she saw Miss Julia standing by the window with a glass full of what smelled like, rum.

  Miss Julia was very attractive and shapely. She carried a pleasant expression on her well made up face. Although, one could tell from her eyes that she was a woman not to be crossed. She looked at Lauren and smiled while looking back downstairs through the window.

  She saw Vernon escorting the old lady to the entrance gate. She took a sip of her drink and put one hand at her hip.

  “No matter how hard you try, sometimes it seems as though some thangs ain’t neva gonna change!” Julia said. She took another gulp of her drink, walked over and sat on the edge of her elaborate modern designed canopy bed.

  Lauren stood by the door timidly and looked at Julia smiling and with a fixed look on her face.

  “Well, come on in. I don’t bite, despite what them others been sayin bout mi. Have a seat dear,” she said softly while shaking her slender legs and silky bare feet.

  Lauren was reluctant at first because the woman was odd and her behavior was bordering on bi-polar. Her mood varied from shaky, excited and pleasant to downright strange and anxious. But Lauren didn’t want to be rude to Vernon’s mother, so she walked over to the couch that was by the window and sat erect with her legs closed together and her palms placed down on top of her lap while looking directly at Miss Julia.

  Miss Julia still maintained her uncanny smile while she leant back her elbows onto the bed.

  “This bed belonged to my dear old granddaddy, thought I might have upgraded it a bit. What do you think?” she said smiling.

  “Oh well, it’s a lovely—beautiful bed, really very exquisite,” Lauren said tensely and while smiling.

  Miss Julia sat up and sighed while looking at Lauren.

  She suddenly stood up and walked over to her side table that was packed with strong liquor and wines. While pouring herself another glass of whiskey, she looked back at Lauren but the pleasantness of her face had unexpectedly altered into something frightful. “I must say, I am never usually this accommodating to strangers, especially one snooping around my house but…”

  She closed the bottle, walked back and sat on the bed.

  “There is just some thang about you, hun.”

  Lauren looked at Miss Julia not sure what to think now. “W-what do you mean?” Lauren asked.

  Miss Julia stood once more and placed the drink on the table and walked over to Lauren. She looked down at Lauren and kneeled before her as she slowly took one of her hands.

  Her pale cold hands and big bulging blue eyes were very intimidating.

  “Have you eva gotten your palms read dear?” Julia whispered. She gave Lauren an icy look and pressed her blood red lips together. The wrinkles all over her face were clearer now and the thick layer of foundation was disguising her age very well.

  “Ahh, no,” Lauren whispered, uncertain what to say or how to react to this very bizarre and scary woman.

  She took Lauren’s hands and rubbed her well-manicured long fingernails with red nail polish on each line, gawking into the palms with her lips slighted parted as though she was getting a rush from this reading.

  “Yeah, you definitely searching for somethang,” she muttered.

  She looked at Lauren goadingly with the most complete terror in her eyes.

  “Now listen child, I am gonna tell you three things and then I want you to go downstairs and you, that homosexual brother of yours and my servant son best be on your way right away—you here?” Julia was meaner now, not smiling sweetly anymore and holding on to Lauren’s hand even tighter.

  Lauren shook her head yes but was confused while trying to pull her hand away.

  “When you return to your home, someone will bring you news that will change everything.”

  Lauren stopped trying to pull her hand away and listened keenly.

  “The second thing is that someone close to you is gonna get ill in exactly 18 months. And the last thing, the most important one too, is the one that will love you—the one your spirit desires the hardest for but will refuse to accept at first, he is your true soul mate.”

  Lauren gasped and grabbed her hands from Miss Julia while rushing downstairs.

  Miss Julia fell back ways onto her bed and started laughing.

  “Y’all hurry back now, you here?”

  Julia burst out laughing while holding her stomach and lying on her bed.

  Pull up Another Chair

  While back in Scotland that morning, I tried to forget Mrs. Banister warning to me, hoping that I could undo the awful deed that had been done between Brody and me, the previous day.

  While I took my evening shower, I hurried to put on some clothes so that I could have one last dinner with the Banisters. You know me, nothing fancy, a cute little floral evening dress with very light make-up and hair caught up in one and all over the place. I quickly answered Lauren’s call before heading downstairs.

  "Yes, Lauren, I saw the selfies and all the other pictures. You guys seem to be having a lot of fun, despite the circumstances.

  “Oh get outta here! Vernon’s rich and his family own a what…plantation? I am going to kill him when I see him for not sharing that with me sooner. A voodoo store? I bet Vernon wasn’t happy about that, you know how he hates voodoo and anything like that. So, d
id you buy anything in the store? Oh yes, I saw the paintings and lovely crafts.”

  I don’t know why I wasn’t feeling guilty but, guilt was the last thing that was on my mind when I remembered Brody and me. I was just angry and disappointed with myself. And yet images of our time together were flashing uncontrollably in my head, reminding me how I loved him wanting to be with me. I had no immediate regrets about us and if tonight he gave me that look, who knows what may happen.

  “Hmm…ahm, everything is great with me. I am glad this is my final day here. Can’t wait until tomorrow evening to get on that plane. No. Nothing happened, Lauren. I just miss being home. They are having a dinner for us shortly. OK, yes hun, kiss Vernon and Michael for me. I love you too. See you soon.”

  I hid all of my disgraceful adventures in Scotland from Lauren. I am not sure why either, but I have been in a more reflective mood since Mrs. Banister so candidly expressed to me that she believed her son is not the one for me.

  Brody tried to discuss it but his demeanor was different since hearing that I was probably still in love with him; he was being distant.

  While we all settled around the table to have dinner, the doorbell rang, and Mr. Banister went to see who it was. I poured about half cup of gravy over the rosemary roasted lamp that was so invitingly waiting on my plate and put some on Charles’ and Rose’s. Brody was seated right next to Charles and I could feel his eyes staring at me.

  Mr. Banister walked back into the dining room with a concerned look on his face.

  “Look who I found outside,” he said while stepping aside to show who the mysterious guess was.

  I saw when Brody’s eyes widened, and he nervously and quickly wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed away the seat from behind him while standing. He was obviously surprised by this unannounced visitor.

  “Mariska, what a…lovely surprise!” said Mrs. Banister also with an overwhelmed look across her face, while everyone else turned around and looked at me and then back at Mariska.