Something Old, Something New (18 page)

“Blood work.”

“Whose?”

“Amari's.”

Trent, thinking the blood work was hers, was now relieved but confused.

She explained. “Doc Garland suggested comparing Amari's DNA to the DNA of a known male July relative might help answer the question of whether Amari is family or not.”

“You actually spoke to your brother? You didn't say anything about this when we talked that night.”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

He nodded affirmatively but didn't say another word.

“Doc said the tests would be more accurate if we used a direct male link to the Julys. So since Mal wasn't fathered by a July, we had to use my brother.”

“So what did the test show?”

“Ninety-eight percent chance that Amari is blood. Doc said the DNA markers lined up just like they're supposed to.”

“Wow. So now what?”

She shrugged. “I've got everyone in the family looking into any member who may have been in Michigan the year Amari was born, but so far nobody's stepped forward.”

“Maybe whoever his father is doesn't want to be found.”

“That may be, but he should step up anyway for Amari's sake. It's not like the mystery July is going to get custody.”

“No, he's not. So the test means that Amari was fathered by a male July.”

“That's the impression I got when Reg explained it to me, but I was so confused at one point, who knows. You should probably talk to him when you get the chance.”

“I will.”

She rose to her feet. “Okay, I'm on my way to the rec center. If you need me, that's where I'll be.”

He studied her for a moment. “Tamar, how are you, really?”

“Better than I was the night on the porch, and that's all I can ask.”

He nodded. “See you later.”

And she was gone.

Chapter 17

F
riday evening after school, Lily, Devon, and Trent boarded Bernadine's jet for the flight to Mississippi. They touched down late that afternoon at a small private airport outside Jackson and were met there by the car service Bernadine had hired to handle their transportation needs during their stay. The driver was a tall, barrel-shaped man named Harvey Miller who according to the dispatcher was a native of the area and very familiar with the back roads they'd need to negotiate in order to get to Devon's birthplace of Ibo.

“Not many folks in Ibo anymore,” Harvey said. “Only ones left are the ones who can't leave.”

“How far away is it?” Trent asked.

“Forty minutes, give or take.”

So they sat back and let Harvey drive them to Devon's home.

Devon peered out his window at the familiarness of the land and felt all the stuff that had been roiling inside him for the past few weeks melt away like magic. He was home. And if he had his way, he'd never leave Mississippi again. He knew that Ms. Lily and his new dad would be sad when Ms. Myrtle agreed to take him in, and he'd certainly miss them, but Ms. Bernadine would find them another little boy. He couldn't wait to see his old house and room. He'd probably have to live in Ms. Myrtle's tiny place, but he'd be able to walk down the road and look in the windows of the house he'd shared with his grandma whenever he wanted. She'd probably let him be the preacher again at the church, too, and that made him feel even better. He'd never have to change, because she'd let him be himself, and that's who he wanted to be.

Ms. Lily's voice interrupted his thoughts. “How are you doing, Devon?”

“Fine.”

She gave him a smile that looked a little sad. “Good.”

“Don't worry, Ms. Lily, Ms. Bernadine will find you another little boy.”

She didn't reply, but he saw her share a look with Mr. Trent that he couldn't interpret. He didn't mind, though. As soon as they found Ms. Myrtle, he wouldn't have to worry about his life ever again.

While Devon continued to build upon his fantasy, Lily and Trent watched the beautiful Mississippi landscape roll by. Although Lily had spent most of her adult life in Atlanta, after being in Kansas for the past few years, she'd forgotten how green the South was even in the fall. The back roads they were traveling down were bordered by a lush, verdant landscape that was broken up here and there by abandoned shacks and sagging barns. Every now and then they passed a small cluster of homes with people sitting on the porches or kids playing on the dusty cleared patches of dirt that served as the yard. She imagined that not much in the area had changed since the days of slavery, when this part of the nation was known as Deep South. According to statistics it ranked high in poverty, poor education, and teenage pregnancy, but because the South had a way of making lemonade out of life's lemons, she imagined there was a lot of joy around, too. She glanced at Devon, whose entire being seemed focused on the passing countryside. He was so convinced that he'd not be returning to Kansas, but she knew better and was not looking forward to the heartbreak she was certain he was going to have. As if Trent sensed she needed buoying, he closed his hand over hers, gave it a slight squeeze, and held on. She squeezed back to let him know how much it meant having him by her side.

A short while later, even though there were no road markers or signs of any kind to indicate their location, Harvey announced, “This is Ibo, folks.”

From her place in the middle of the seat, Lily leaned over Trent to glance out the window at where they were.

Devon called out excitedly, “There's the church! Stop, Mr. Harvey. Stop!”

Mr. Harvey eased the car to a stop, and before Lily could open her mouth, Devon had the door open and was out. She sighed and said to Trent, “This is going to be rough.”

“I know, but let's just go with it and see how it turns out.”

So they followed Devon across the high green grass to a windowless cinder-block building with a weathered, hand-painted wooden sign nailed on the front that read:
Goodwill Missionary Church of God. All Welcome.

Devon was wearing the happiest smile Lily and Trent had seen in months.

“This is our church.”

“So I see,” Lily said. “Lots of good memories here for you, I'll bet.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied proudly. “My grandma and I came every Sunday.”

Trent asked, “How far away is your house, Devon?”

“Just up the road. Do you want to see it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then come on.” He grabbed Trent and Lily by their hands and ran with them back to the waiting car.

Once inside, he gave Harvey directions, and they were on their way.

“Where's Ms. Myrtle live, Devon?” Trent asked.

“Down this road a little ways. We have to pass my house before we get to hers.”

“Then we'll stop by your place first.”

“It'll probably be locked up, but we can peek in the window and see my room.”

Lily said gently, “I believe another family lives there now, honey. Remember last year when we talked about Ms. Bernadine putting the ownership of the land away for you until you're eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“She found someone to rent the place, and the money the family pays to live there goes into a bank account she set up for you.”

Trent said, “So it might not look the same as it did when you and your grandma lived there.”

He glanced between the two of them with dismay.

Feeling the need to soften the distress the news had caused, she added, “Maybe the people have moved to another house by now, but we'll see when we get there.”

They drove a bit farther.

“Stop here,” Devon called out.

They were parked in front of a brown wood-planked cabin. Three children in the front yard were playing with a ball, and the sight of the car made them stop their game and stare curiously.

“This isn't it. My house is blue.”

“Are you sure? The new people may have painted it,” Trent pointed out.

Devon studied the place for a long, silent moment. “It is my house.”

“Do you want to get out?” Trent asked him. “We can go and ask if you can look inside.”

“No, thank you.” He looked so disappointed. “I'd rather go see Ms. Myrtle.”

“Okay.”

“I'll let Mr. Harvey know where to stop.”

Lily shared a look with Trent and silently said a prayer.

In truth, Lily was secretly dreading the meeting with Ms. Myrtle because of the pain she was sure it was going to cause Devon, but Ms. Myrtle was one of the reasons they'd come to Mississippi. No sense in putting it off and have him continue to hold false hopes about the future.

Devon asked Harvey to stop in front of a small wooden shack with a lopsided porch set on short wooden stakes that looked like a mouth with teeth missing. It reminded Lily of the pictures she'd seen in magazines and on the news of some of the homes occupied by the poor. It sat alone on a lot bordered on one side by a tidy little fenced-in garden and an old white Buick with its back axle on the ground. Surrounding the house were trees and more wild, lush greenness that could have passed for Eden.

They could see that the front screen door was open, so they got out of the car and stepped into a silence that seemed almost alive. A heavyset woman came out onto the porch. She was wearing a sleeveless muumuu that hit her just below the knees and red slippers. Her legs looked swollen by age and maybe diabetes. It was easy to see by the wariness on her aged brown face that she was trying to figure out who they were and why they'd stopped. “You all lost?”

Before they could stop him, Devon shot out of the car and ran up to the porch. As soon as he reached it, her mouth dropped. “Devon! That you? My goodness. Look at you!” She gathered him into a hug that soon turned into rocking. The happiness on her face was clearly evident.

A smiling Lily and Trent walked up to join them.

She looked out at them and said, “I'm Myrtle Brooks.”

Lily and Trent introduced themselves. Lily added, “We're Devon's foster parents.”

“Is that your fancy car?”

Lily smiled. “No, ma'am. It's rented.”

Myrtle looked down at Devon and said, “Looks like you fell into high cotton, baby boy. How are you?”

“Fine.”

She gestured to them. “Pull up a piece of porch. Too hot inside for visiting. Devon, I'm so surprised to see you. Glad, too.”

She sat in the big cane chair by the door, and Lily and Trent took seats on the lip of the sagging porch.

“So what brings you all to Ibo, Mississippi?”

Before either of the adults could respond, Devon said in a rush, “I came back to live with you.”

She paused, looked at him, and then slowly took in the faces of Lily and Trent before saying, “Really? I'm honored, but looks like you're living pretty good with your new folks.”

He shrugged. “I am, but I want to live with you. I don't like Kansas anymore.”

“You came all the way from Kansas?”

The adults nodded.

She looked at Devon silently for another moment. “Do they treat you bad?”

“No.”

“They must not be feeding you, then?”

“No, ma'am. Ms. Lily's a good cook, and I get to eat all the time.”

“Then what's wrong? Because I'm going to tell you right now, you can't live here. I don't have the money or the patience to raise you, Devon.”

He glanced down at the porch beneath his feet. “Oh.”

“I'm just telling you the truth.”

Lily felt bad for him, even worse than she thought she would, but she applauded Myrtle's upfront honesty.

Devon tried again, “But I won't cost a lot. I can help you with the garden, do chores, and I won't eat much. I promise.”

Myrtle reached over and placed an arm around his waist and hugged him close. “I'm too poor and too old. Your new folks must love you a whole lot to fly you all the way back down here.” She turned to them. “Both of you college graduates?”

Lily thought that an odd question, but she and Trent acknowledged that they were.

Myrtle set her attention on Devon and asked with a serious tone, “Do you know how blessed you are, boy? You have folks that went to college. You live here, you'll end up working at the meatpacking plant down the road, wishing you were somewhere else. These folks can help you get to places your grandmama and I could only dream about. God took our Willa Mae and blessed you with a new family so that you could grow up and become a presence in the world. Don't throw that blessing back in His face. It's not right.”

Her wisdom reminded Lily of Tamar.

“But I don't like living there.”

“Sometimes God gives you things not because you like them, but because you need them.”

“But they won't let me preach.”

“They're your parents, so I'm not getting in that, but from the beginning I never agreed with Willa Mae telling you you were anointed and all that other stuff, anyway.”

He stared, surprised. “But why, Ms. Myrtle?”

“Because you're just a little boy, Devon. That's why.”

Rather than think on that, or maybe because he didn't want to, he asked instead, “Then do you know where my parents are?”

She went still. “Why?”

“I want to live with them, then.” He folded his arms across his chest.

Myrtle said warningly, “Never agreed with the way your grandma spoiled you, either.”

Lily looked at Trent, and she wanted to laugh. It never occurred to her that Devon was a brat, but looking back at the way he'd been acting for the past few weeks, the signs were clearly there.

As if reading Lily's thoughts, Myrtle said, “Oh, yes. Spoiled the boy from the day he was born. He ran her, too. Anytime she tried to correct him, he'd throw those Bible passages at her, and she'd usually back down. Only one he never quoted was: ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child.' ”

Lily could see Devon starting to look a tad uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

“Ms. Myrtle, do you still have Missy?” he asked.

“She's in the barn. You can go say hello if you like. There's also sugar water in the fridge. Help yourself if you're thirsty.”

Avoiding the eyes of Lily and Trent, Devon went inside the house.

“Who's Missy?” Trent asked.

“My cat. She just had kittens. That'll give him something to do while we talk. So tell me, what's going on with him?”

For the next few minutes they told her about all the madness Devon had been causing, his refusal to let go of his suits, and the stealing.

Ms. Myrtle listened and said, “Sounds to me like he doesn't want to grow up. Probably missing Willa Mae a whole lot, too, but that's natural.”

“So do you know anything about his parents?” Trent asked.

She looked into the house to see if Devon was nearby. None of them heard him moving around inside the two-room place, so they assumed he'd gone to the barn to play with Missy and her kittens.

Myrtle replied, “I know where his mother is, but not his father. We never found out who he was.”

“What do you mean?” Lily asked.

She sighed. “Devon's mama's name is Rosalie. She was born . . . different, shall we say. She didn't progress like normal babies. Took her a long time to sit up, even longer to crawl, and she didn't talk, not even the babbling babies do. Willa Mae took her to the doctor, and they did some tests and found out she'd had serious brain damage while in the womb, but they didn't know why.”

Lily's lip tightened.

“They said she'd never progress past the mental abilities of a three-year-old, and that Willa Mae should think about putting her in one of those homes, but Willa refused. She kept Rosalie at the house with her until Rosalie was well into her mid-thirties. Folks around here would sit with her while Willa Mae was at work, but we were all getting older, and Rosie was needing more and more care, and then Willa Mae's sugar started acting up, so she was forced to have Rosie institutionalized at what the doctors told us was a real nice place.”