Something Old, Something New (12 page)

Lily's tears met Tamar's.

Tamar whispered, “Come on, you two. Let's go say our good-byes.”

Leo stayed where he was. He knew without asking that Agnes would not want him at her bedside.

She was indeed awake. Seeing how fragile and small she looked lying in the hospital bed with the oxygen lines in her nose and the IVs in her thin brown arms sharpened their pain.

Marie didn't bother wiping away her tears as she bent over the bed and stroked her mother's silver hair. “How you doing, Mama?”

“Not so good, baby,” she rasped out. “Not so good. Need to tell you something.”

“It can wait, you rest.”

“I'm going to get all the rest I'll need in a few minutes, so just listen.”

Tamar smiled. “You tell her, girl.”

Agnes looked to her old friend. “Going to miss you, Tamar.”

“I'll miss you more.”

Tamar moved closer and placed a soft kiss on the forehead of her BFF. “I expect you to meet me at the Gates when it's my turn, Agnes Marie.”

“I will. And maybe we can find a good man up there. Do you think?”

Tamar chuckled through her grief. “I hope so. We didn't do too good this time around, did we?”

Agnes quieted, as if she'd drifted back in time, then said finally, “No, we didn't.”

She settled her eyes on Marie and said softly, “And that's what I've been trying to tell you. All these years I've lied to you, Marie.”

“About what?”

“Your father. Your birth. He wasn't killed in Korea. I made up that story.”

Marie stared. “Then who was he?”

“A boy I met while I was at Spelman. He wouldn't marry me, so—”

“You took out your anger on me because my mistake reminded you of yours?” Marie asked incredulously. She turned on Tamar. “Did you know about this?”

“She's my best friend, and it wasn't my place.”

Lily couldn't believe her ears. How much more would Marie have to suffer?

“How could you?” Marie threw back at Agnes in a voice thick with tears. “All the name-calling and the anger and derision, when you'd done exactly the same thing? Why couldn't you have helped me?”

“We Jeffersons don't have bastard children.”

“Yes, we do!”

The monitors began beeping.

Agnes looked up at her only child and whispered with her last dying breath, “Get rid of that Leo. All he wants is our land.”

The nurses rushed in, but Agnes Marie Jefferson was gone.

T
he memorial service was held outside on the open plains behind the Jefferson home. It was a raw, cold day. Dressed in mourning black, Marie greeted everyone and thanked them for coming. Agnes had requested cremation, and that her ashes be sprinkled over her land, so those who'd come formed a large shivering circle. In the center stood Tamar. She raised the vase holding the cremains high in the air as if offering up a final tribute and then said, “Agnes Marie, we loved you, and we'll miss you.”

Everyone nodded in solemn agreement.

The ashes were spread, tears flowed, and when it was over, they all went into the house for the traditional repast.

That evening, after everyone had gone, Lily was in the kitchen washing up the last of the dishes. The tired-looking Marie entered and said, “Thanks for helping.”

“No problem. You go on back out there and sit down. I'll finish up.”

Instead, Marie took a seat at the kitchen table. “Leo wanted to stay, but I sent him home.”

“He's been very supportive.”

“Yes, he has, but I wanted to be by myself tonight. Genevieve is going to stay with Tamar. I think Tamar's grief is even rawer than mine.”

“They've been friends a long time.”

“Before I was born.” Marie added wistfully, “I keep expecting Mama to walk in the door.”

Lily put the last of the dishes in the drain, dried her hands, and took a seat at the table. “She'll be missed.”

“I can't believe the last words out of her mouth were to tell me what to do, though,” Marie noted in a voice tinged with humor and disbelief. “She was something.”

“Yes, she was.”

“My life's my own now.”

“Yes, it is. Any idea what you might do?”

“Finish my grieving and then contact my son.”

Lily nodded. “Good girl.”

“And then figure out a way to forgive Tamar for not telling me the truth.”

“It wasn't her place, Marie,” Lily said gently. “No sense in being angry at her.”

“My head knows that, but my heart—it still hurts, and I want to scream. All those years Mama spent berating me and looking down her nose. Why couldn't she have just told me the truth? Life for us would have been so much better.”

Lily had no answer, but she hoped Marie would someday find it within herself to forgive Agnes for what she'd done.

Marie glanced up at the clock on the wall. “It's late, Lily. You should probably head home.”

“Anything else you need me to do before I go?”

“No, you've been a rock these past few days.”

“Just trying to be here for you like you were for me when Mom died.”

They shared a tight, emotion-filled hug, and Lily whispered, “So sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Lily drove home through her tears.

Chapter 11

A
s the plane lifted into the air, Reverend Paula Grant gazed out the window at the receding sight of Miami. Watching her old life fade from view was bittersweet.

Two plane changes later, she entered the Hays airport. She knew someone from Henry Adams would be meeting her, but she assumed it would be Ms. Brown, or her assistant Lily Fontaine. Instead there was a well-dressed young man in a suit holding a card with her name on it, and Paula felt very special indeed. He introduced himself as Nathan Nelson, helped retrieve her suitcases from the belt at the baggage claim, and escorted her out to a large black town car. After politely ushering her inside and closing the door, he got behind the steering wheel and drove them away.

It didn't take her long to learn that Nathan was a conversationalist. She heard about his wife, Lou, and the baby they were expecting around the Christmas holidays, and that if the child was a boy, he would be named Ethan after Lou's wife's great-grandfather. She learned that he was a native of Kansas and that being the driver for Ms. Brown was the best job he'd ever had.

“She makes me feel like I'm real important, you know.”

Enjoying the smooth ride, Paula totally got that.

“She's been encouraging me to get my GED. Nobody in my family ever graduated high school. You'd think a lady with all her money would look down on poor folks like me and Lou, but not Ms. Brown. She's been real concerned about the baby. Even got me and Lou some health insurance so we could see a real good doc. Lou says she's like a fairy godmother. You're going to like her.”

One of Paula's guiding tenets was to treat the lowly just like the mighty. She was glad to have further proof that Ms. Brown subscribed to that tenet as well.

During the ride, Paula looked out at the passing landscape. She hadn't seen such wide open spaces since leaving Oklahoma two decades ago, and the thought brought back bittersweet memories. Like Nathan's family, no one in hers had ever graduated from high school either until she came along. It hadn't won her any accolades, though. If anything, her thirst for knowledge had driven a death stake into her relationships with the kin she'd left behind. She'd been born to an unwed teen mother in one of Oklahoma's all-Black townships, where due to the ignorance brought on by poverty, the remnants of segregation, and a world without dreams, no one could fathom why Paula took her education so seriously. Uppity thoughts, her aunt Della had called them, and there was no place for that when all you were destined for was a job in the laundry or kitchen of the local prison, if you were lucky. Thinking back on those painful years, Paula was glad she'd gotten out, because from the moment the scholarship she earned took her to college, she'd never gone hungry physically or spiritually ever again.

Nathan interrupted her musings. “You here to hear little Devon preach?”

The question caught Paula off guard. “No. Little Devon?”

“Ms. Fontaine's foster son. He's been preaching up a storm this summer.”

“Really?”

“Yep. My granny says he reminds her of somebody called Rev. Ike.”

Paula chuckled. Ms. Brown hadn't mentioned the town already having a preacher.

Nathan continued, “At first, so many people came out to hear him there weren't enough seats. It was kind of fun watching him bouncing around on the stage and shouting ‘hallelujah,' but then folks started noticing that he did the same thing week after week, and they stopped coming.”

She found this very interesting. “So why did you call him little Devon?”

“Because he's eight, maybe nine years old.”

She blinked with surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. Nice kid, though.”

For the remainder of the ride, Paula pondered an eight-year-old Rev. Ike and what role she'd really been hired to play.

Nathan left the highway and took to a back road that cut through more wide open spaces. Finally he said, “We're here, Reverend. This is the Power Plant, where Ms. Brown and Ms. Fontaine have their offices.”

“The Power Plant?”

“Yes, ma'am. It's called that because of all the power Ms. Brown has around here. It's a joke.”

“Ah.”

Paula peered out her window at the shape and flowing lines of the flat-topped red building. It looked like it should have been in Manhattan or on the cover of
Architectural Digest
, not the plains of Kansas.

Nathan came around to open her door, then retrieved her bags. “I'll walk you in.”

“That isn't necessary.”

“Ms. Brown said I was to bring you to her office, and that's what I'm going to do.”

Paula surrendered to the rock-star treatment and followed Nathan to the building and inside.

Bernadine was on the phone when they arrived at her office door. A smile creased her face when she saw Paula. She excused herself from the person on the other end of the phone for a moment to say, “Welcome to Henry Adams, Reverend. How was the flight?”

“Long.”

“I'll bet. I have to finish this conference call, but Lily will show you around and take you out to where you'll be staying. I'll hook up with you later.”

“That's fine.”

Ms. Brown turned back to her call, and Nathan left Paula in Lily's capable hands.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Then let's get you something to eat first.”

They walked out to Lily's car, and a few minutes later she pulled up in front of the Dog. Paula peered at the sign. “The Dog and Cow?”

Lily smiled, explained the name and the owner's intent, and added, “He used to be the veterinarian here, and was doing a lot of drinking back when he opened the place. He's in recovery now, though.”

Paula had no idea what she expected the former alcoholic owner of the diner to look like, but it certainly wasn't the handsome dark-skinned man who introduced himself as Malachi July.

“Welcome aboard, Reverend. Lunch is on the house.”

“Why, thank you.” It was easy to see the man was a flirt from the mischief in his eyes. He led them to a booth near the windows and left them to their menus. Paula looked around. It was late afternoon, and the place was almost empty. The music was thumping Rufus with Chaka Khan singing “Tell Me Something Good,” however, and that surprised her as well. The waitress took their order, and after she departed, Paula asked, “Does Zoey know I'm coming?”

“No. We thought we'd wait to see how you want to play it. Her adoptive mom, Roni, flew in from New York last night so she could be here.”

“Does the mom work there?”

“For the moment.”

When Paula heard who the mom actually was, she stared in stunned silence. Finally, finding her voice, she said, “Zoey's been adopted by Roni Moore? THE Roni Moore?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, my goodness.”

“Would you like to meet her after we eat?”

“I would. I have all her albums.”

“She loves Zoey like she loves breathing. She and her husband, Reg, couldn't be better parents.”

Paula was blown away.

After a lunch that definitely hit the spot—who knew a place with such a strange name would serve such awesome burgers—Paula and Lily left the diner and headed for the school to meet up with Roni and Reg.

Once there, Lily made the introductions, and Paula had to stop herself from staring at the music legend by mentally reminding herself why they were there.

Reg asked, “Do you think she'll remember you?”

Paula shrugged. “Only way to find out is to bring us together.”

So, while Lily, Paula, and Reg waited in the hall, Roni quietly stepped into the classroom. A moment later she returned hand in hand with the skipping Zoey. Upon seeing Paula, Zoey stopped and looked at her quizzically.

“Hey, Zo-Zo.”

Zoey's mouth dropped open, her eyes went wide, and she began taking in deep, quick breaths, as if her excitement made it difficult to breathe.

Paula held out her arms and asked softly, “Can I get a hug?”

Tears were already streaming down both faces as Zoey ran to Paula and was scooped up and held tight.

“Oh, baby girl. I have missed you.”

Lily and Roni were crying as well. Reg wiped at his eyes.

An emotional Paula gave Zoey a solemn kiss on the cheek and held on to her as Zoey sobbed with a rawness that pierced everyone's heart.

Paula asked the adults, “Is there an empty room we can use? I'd like to speak to her alone, if that's okay.”

The wariness on the faces of Zoey's parents was plain and somewhat expected, so Paula sought to reassure them. “Just for a minute.”

Zoey's nonstop weeping made them finally nod, and a tearful Roni whispered, “This is breaking my heart.”

Paula's, too.

They were led to the school's clinic and left alone.

Paula sat on the nearest chair, the still-crying Zoey curled up in her lap. “Hey, it's okay,” she whispered as she rocked the sobbing child. “It's okay.”

Seeing a box of tissue on the counter, Paula pulled a few free and handed some to Zoey. After a while, they both wiped at their tears and blew their noses. Paula took a moment to ponder what tack to take. She'd been thinking about Zoey's muteness almost nonstop since meeting Bernadine and Lily, and she was pretty certain she knew the cause. With the sniffling Zoey now curled in against her like a lost child, Paula held her close and said quietly, “Ms. Brown told me about Bonnie. I'm so sorry for your loss. It had to be scary when you were alone.”

Zoey's eyes welled up again, and she nodded.

Paula placed a kiss on the top of her head and gently tightened her hold. “Ms. Brown also said that your new parents love you very much. Do you love them?”

The dark eyes looked up at Paula's, and she nodded her head again.

“Honey, did Bonnie tell you not to talk to anyone before she went to heaven?”

The nod this time was short and tight.

“She'd be real proud of you, you know. From what I'm hearing, you haven't said a word for almost two years. I'm guessing it's been real hard not being able to tell your new parents how you feel, or how great they are.”

And for the first time since her mother's passing, Zoey used her voice to croak, “Yes.”

Above her head a smiling Paula silently praised God. “Well, I think if Bonnie was here now, she'd say it's okay to start doing just that. In her own way, your mama was trying to protect you.” Paula looked down into her eyes. “Does your throat hurt when you try and talk?”

Zoey nodded.

“More than likely it's from not using it for such a long time.”

Zoey croaked and then coughed as if her voice was stuck in her unused vocal cords. She whispered, “Daddy Reg is a doctor. Maybe he can give me some medicine.”

Paula smiled. “I'll bet he can.”

“Will they be mad?”

Paula searched the seriousness in her eyes. “That you're talking? No, doll. Not if they love you as much as I keep hearing they do. Your mom, Roni, will probably cry and let you eat Cheerios and bananas for the rest of your life. You do still like Cheerios and bananas, right?”

Smiling shyly, Zoey nodded, then her eyes turned serious again. “I was scared they'd get mad and send me back if I said I could really talk.” Tears filled her eyes again.

Paula gently eased her closer. “It's okay. I'll explain. It'll be all right. I promise.” Changing her tone, she added, “And check this out. I'm going to be living here, too. Ms. Brown is going to build me a church, so I'll get to pester you every day, just like in Miami.”

Zoey's face lit up like this was the best news she'd heard all day, and she threw herself against Paula and hugged her as tightly as her skinny little arms could muster.

Paula hugged her back. “I like the sound of that, too. Now how about we go talk to your parents? I know they're probably worried.”

Zoey looked up and whispered in her froggy voice, “I'm glad you came, Reverend Paula.”

“So am I.”

Hand in hand, they left the office, and Paula silently gave thanks to the Almighty for bringing them back together again in this remarkable little town called Henry Adams.

Later, while sitting in Bernadine's office, Paula explained to Bernadine and Lily the whys of Zoey's muteness. “I had this talk with Reg and Roni earlier, and they wanted me to share it with you. As for our Zoey. One of the first things drilled into children on the streets is to keep your mouth shut. You don't talk to the police, the lady from the welfare office, or the social workers. If you've ever been around kids, you know that given half a chance, they'll tell all your business.”

Lily smiled. She liked the reverend's plain way of talking.

Paula explained further, “If you're a parent on the street, you don't want anyone to know where your drugs are stashed, or where you sleep at night, or that your kid doesn't attend school. If a child lets slip something that parent doesn't want her worker or the police to know, she might be locked up or declared unfit and lose her children to the state. Zoey was all Bonnie had.”

Lily thought the muteness all made perfect sense now.

“The night Zoey was found by the police, she did exactly what her mom had schooled her to do. Around people of authority, keep your mouth shut.”

Bernadine whispered, “She had to have been scared to death around the police and the doctors and the social workers.”

“Yes, but in a way the muteness became her shield, something she could hide behind so she wouldn't have to answer a bunch of questions about herself or her mother.”

Lily asked, “But why did she hold on to it? She's been adjusting well. It's easy to see how much she's loved around here.”

“She was scared that if she told the truth, you all might be mad and send her back to foster care. Remember, she's only eight years old. Stuff's hard to figure out when you're little.”