Janice slowed her pace as she walked down the grassy incline back behind her great-aunt’s house. Storm clouds, thick and heavy looking, had just slid in front of the sun, casting a dark shadow over the surrounding modest brick homes, a silent warning of their intent. She was grateful for the temporary reprieve from the sun, but the air still felt stifling and smothering, with a humidity level just as high as the temperature.
She smoothed her hands over her tightly bound hair, glad that she’d put it up in a ponytail. Her choice to wear a lightweight tank top and cotton shorts also seemed to have been wise, especially now that she found herself out in the heat, approaching her great-aunt’s garden.
“Hey, Mamie,” she said, glad to see she was just as active as ever, hunched over the black soil in a bright, flower-pattered muumuu and oversized straw hat.
Though her real name was Millie, she had always preferred to go by Mamie, and Janice, along with Mamie’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren, had always referred to her as such. She turned, appearing startled, and then grinned with recognition after pushing up on her horn-rimmed eyeglasses.
“Well, I’ll be.” She stood with hands stained from the earth for a gentle hug and kiss. “It’s good to see you, sugar. Let me tidy up here and we’ll go on in the house before that thunder a-gets us.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t already inside,” Janice said, knowing how much storms bothered her. Thunder had yet to grumble, but the storm was right on top of them, and usually Mamie took more precaution, taking cover inside away from the windows with the lights shut off.
“It kindly snuck up on me. Shoulda been payin’ more attention.” She glanced up at the cloud cover. “We better hurry. It’s a-coming.”
Janice helped her tuck away her gardening tools under the overhead porch and then carried the bucket she’d packed full of freshly plucked vegetables.
“Garden’s looking good,” Janice said. Mamie brushed her hands together and then opened the basement door. They stepped inside the dim space that always had a smell that made Janice think of the word murky, even as a child. The washing machine was going on the other side of the room, and Janice was awed that Mamie could still carry baskets of laundry up and down the basement stairs, a feat other women her age might find difficult. Mamie was a force to be reckoned with at eighty-six years old, and Janice figured all the physical work she still did was what kept her so spry. She could only hope to be that vigorous at her age.
“The tomatoes come in nicely, and I got some cucumber, and some corn and green beans. But there ain’t been much else. I reckon that rain will help everything along.”
Janice followed her slowly up the stairs and into the kitchen. She set the bucket next to the sink as Mamie removed her hat and washed her hands. Her white hair was tied back into a bun, her wrinkled face a little scarlet from exertion. She had the fine features that most of the Carpenter women had, which many folks had often pointed out and complimented them on, making them easily identifiable as family. Janice liked to think that had an artist created their faces, he would’ve insisted on using a very fine tipped drawing pencil in order to get the sharp details and distinctness of their facial structure just right.
Mamie wet a paper towel and wiped herself off.
Thunder growled loudly and Mamie looked up as if she’d be able to see it.
“Lord, it’s a-coming.”
Her brow creased with what Janice knew was anxiousness. Some people teased Mamie over her fear of storms, but in Janice’s opinion, she had good reason to be scared. She’d been flooded out of her home when she was five and her family had lost everything, barely escaping with their lives. The water had come in the middle of the night and they’d had no warning or time to prepare. But the memory that bothered Mamie the most about that night, according to her, was the fear and torment she’d heard as people cried and shouted and sometimes, screamed, as the fast-moving water took a loved one away.
“Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll get us some tea?” Janice asked, retrieving two glasses from the cabinet. She poured the tea as Mamie switched off all the lights, convinced it would prevent a lightning strike, and disappeared into the living room. Janice found her in her favorite recliner, which she’d had so long it was molded to her form.
She gave her the tea and sat on the ancient vinyl couch across from her and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. The only light came through the window, and it was weak and gray and unable to fully permeate their space. Janice could see Mamie, however, and she could take in the layout of the room, so her view was sufficient enough.
Mamie’s house was tidy and what some would call sparse, with nothing but the absolute essentials. There was a mid-century coffee table holding a single, solitary book. It was a book about the history of their town and therefore, special enough to display. A smaller table was on Mamie’s right side where she kept her telephone and drinks. A standing light, one that Mamie could reach from where she sat, was just behind that table. On Mamie’s left, which Janice could not currently see, was a good-sized magazine holder where all of Mamie’s beloved crossword puzzle and word search books were kept alongside her magazines.
They sipped their tea, and Janice’s gaze went directly ahead to the remaining piece of furniture. It was an old dresser that was being used as a television stand. Janice didn’t want to even try to guess how long Mamie had had that particular television set, but it had knobs to change the very few channels Mamie could pick up with the antennas.
“What brings you by today, sugar?” Mamie leaned back and adjusted her glasses.
Janice sat back too and crossed her legs. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you and I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. And you always told me when someone crosses your mind, you should go and cross their path.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Betty Sim’s a-dying would it?”
Janice shifted, supposing it could be. She didn’t want to tell her that, though.
“Lord, child, I know I’m old, you don’t have to sit there looking like the cat that swallowed the mouse.” She set her glass on the table next to her. “You ain’t got to worry yourself. I’m a-doing just fine and dandy.”
“I was sure you would be.”
“But you was worried.”
Janice shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
Mamie chuckled, and then stared out the front window in what looked like sad contemplation.
“It’s a shame, Betty getting sick and going so fast. I wish I woulda called her. It woulda been nice to talk to her one last time.”
“She knows you cared, Mamie.” Mamie and Betty hadn’t been outrageously close, but they had known each other for a very long time. Janice felt for her, knowing that Mamie would’ve wanted to attend the funeral, had she not been in Wilmington, visiting her grandson, just as she did at this time every summer. “Your heart was with her and that’s all that matters.”
She didn’t appear to be comforted. “Her kin, they doing all right?”
“They’re having a bit of a hard time adjusting, her passing away so suddenly and all. But they’ll pull through. They’re strong people.”
“I remember you and that Maurine was attached at the hip when you was little. The Lord almighty couldn’t a torn you two apart.”
Janice smiled wistfully. She had seen Maurine earlier that morning. She’d been quiet and distant with her recently, and Janice had assumed it was in response to Carla coming to stay with her. But, as she’d discovered that morning, her mildly cold distance had since hardened into ice. Her disdain had shifted from Carla’s residency with her to the will. She was downright pissed at Carla, and it seemed that feeling had extended to Janice as well. She was convinced that she had sided with Carla, and her paranoia had probably all but been confirmed when Janice tried to get her to understand that Carla hadn’t known about Betty’s final wishes.
Maurine had bit into her then with harsh words.
“Since when have you and Carla been so tight?”
“Was having one Sims girl as a best friend not enough for you? You got to have two now?”
Her hurt and jealousy were palpable, and Janice had tried her best to get her to see reason. But when it had come to trying to explain her and Carla’s sudden closeness, she’d faltered and stumbled over her words, which made their relationship sound shady, like maybe they were shutting Maurine out or keeping something from her.
Truth was, she was hiding something.
She was hiding her feelings for Carla.
And she was becoming more and more certain that Carla was doing the same.
“We were pretty tight, weren’t we?” she said, the guilt over Maurine’s hurt turning her stomach.
“Poor child must be heartbroken as close as she was to her mama.”
“She is. They all are.”
“What about that little old granddaughter of Betty’s? She come home for the funeral?”
“Carla.” She sipped her tea, her mouth suddenly dry. “Yes, she did.”
“Good. That’ll help Maurine a little. They was always more like sisters than they was aunt and niece.”
The guilt expanded, and she felt it trying to climb her throat. She hesitated in telling Mamie about Carla’s current living arrangement, but she knew she’d find out sooner or later. In this town, the only boundaries that were respected regarded land. Personal boundaries and privacy? You had to drive into the city for those.
“Actually, Carla’s been staying with me.”
Mamie turned from the window and fixed her eyes on her. The surprise she’d felt at that information had only shown itself for a second before she regained control. A second was a lifetime when it came to hiding emotion, though and more than enough time for Janice to see it.
“Wasn’t she the one who was always running around trying to catch lightning by the tail?”
The corner of Janice’s mouth lifted as her own attempt at hiding what she felt failed. Mamie’s description of Carla was spot-on. Even now when she was besieged with stress and grief and sadness. That lightning chaser was still there, and Janice could see it in her eyes sometimes. Like when she returned from a run or showed off her sharp wit. It was like watching Carla being brought back to life, back to her true form, if only for a few seconds.
“Yep, that’s her. You couldn’t have described her any better.” She tried to lower the upturned corner of mouth, but she had a hard time, too amused and excited as she pictured Carla in that state.
“You’re quite fond of her,” Mamie said, causing Janice to quickly refocus on her. She was wearing a grin, similar to what Janice felt was on her own face. But Mamie’s seemed to be almost mischievous.
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
“There ain’t no supposing about it. I can see it in you.”
Janice felt her cheeks burn and her gaze abandoned Mamie’s before she could stop it, and she knew that would only feed into whatever it was Mamie was after. She had her suspicions as to what she was digging for based on her comments and the grin, but she had a hard time believing that a woman Mamie’s age, with such a conservative background, would ever think that she might feel something more for Carla than friendship.
“I didn’t realize ya’ll were so close.”
Oh, Lord.
Maybe I’m the one who’s naive here.
“We—I—” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead, desperate to get a hold of her nerves. “Our…closeness is more of a recent thing.” She cleared her throat and could feel the scrutiny of Mamie’s lively eyes.
“Mm.” She nodded once, like she understood. “She still got all that tomboy in her?”
Janice shifted again, her discomfort growing.
How in the world do I answer that?
Yes, Mamie. She’s a stunningly beautiful, almost graceful looking grown woman who still has a little bit of that tomboy in her…
And it’s sexy as hell.
“I—she’s grown up a lot, Mamie. She’s a teacher as a matter of fact. High school.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
Janice blinked at her. Oh, heaven above. “Sorry?”
She waved her off. “Did I ever tell you about your great-aunt Gale? My younger sister?”
Janice shook her head in confusion. Of course, she knew who her great-aunt Gale was, but she had no idea what Mamie was referring to about her.
Rain began to fall before Mamie could answer, seemingly a quick foreshadowing of how Mamie’s probing would soon cause the world to fall down on Janice. They both looked out the front window at the heavy downpour. The rain was coming down so hard the drops looked connected, like hundreds of silver streaming lines.
Mamie’s old rotary phone rang, and its shrill was shocking, causing Janice to startle and spill some tea.
She shook it off her hand and made sure it didn’t get on her tank top.
Mamie answered the phone and greeted Ethel, her long-time neighbor, and in hearing Mamie’s invitation for Ethel to come over to wait out the storm, Janice knew she should go. She returned to the sink to wash her glass. She was drying it with a dishtowel when Mamie hung up.
“Ethel’s coming by,” she said. “She don’t much like thunderstorms either.”
“I’m going to go ahead and go then so you two can visit. I have some errands to run anyway.”
She put away the glass and walked back into the living room to stand at her chair.
“It’s good you and Ethel have each other,” she said, smiling down at her.
“I reckon so.” She took Janice’s hands. “We all need somebody in this life. Some of us find someone, and if we’re lucky it lasts a good spell. And there are some of us that don’t. Your great-aunt Gale, well, she was never married, never found a fellow she cared for, but that didn’t stop her.” She laughed softly. “I reckon that’s why the good Lord puts all kinds of people in our lives. So’s we always have someone if we need them. Gale, she had one of those people. A good close friend to walk by her side.” She pumped her hands up and down, letting her know what she was about to say was important. “I know you wasn’t ever happy being married, sugar. But you ain’t got to be alone. You can have yourself someone and it don’t have to be a husband. It can be someone else who’s special to you.”
She paused, looking up at her with a loving warmth Janice could feel seeping into her skin.
Was she referring to Carla?
Could she really be?
A light rapping came from the carport door. Mamie smiled at her with regret, the end to their conversation as obvious as her quiet disappointment.
“You ain’t got to say nothing,” she said. “You heard me out and that’s all I wanted.” She sighed. “You know I don’t like you driving in a storm, but I ain’t gonna argue with you. You’re as stubborn as your daddy was, and arguing with him plum wore me out.”
There was another short series of raps.
“Promise me you’ll drive careful.”
Janice nodded. “I will.” She knelt and kissed her. “I love you.”
“I love you, sugar.”
They parted and Janice hurried to the door. Ethel greeted her with a bubbliness that was usually infectious, but Janice was as oblivious to that as she was at what she was saying. She excused herself politely and said good-bye and stepped into the muggy air, not even focused enough on reality to ready herself for the cold onslaught of rain she had to endure to get into her car.
Nothing, it seemed, could bring her back from where her conversation with Mamie had taken her.
Nothing could bring her back from her fantasy of a future with Carla.