A Second Helping (12 page)

 

Bleary from sleep and too much traveling, Eli James sat on the side of the bed in his boxers and tried to remember where he was and how he'd gotten there. When it all came rushing back, he groaned. He'd hoped this had been nothing more than a bad dream but it was worse; it was his life. He'd traveled halfway across the country so his dad could work in Little Town on the Prairie, and the two of them could live next door to a witch woman. That she'd put a spell on him was the only explanation he could come up with as to why he'd let her run over him the way he had, and kept him from telling her what he really thought, and where she could stick the report she expected him to do, which he had no intention of doing. He could care less if he flunked American history. The town was such a backward-ass place, the one-room schoolhouse probably didn't even have history books.
What the hell am I doing here?
he wailed inside. Why did life keep picking on him? His world fell apart when his mom died. All he'd wanted was for her to live. He missed her so much sometimes he cried at night. And now, it was just him and the Professor. The two of them had never been really close. Jack hadn't coached Little League or taken him bowling or done any of the other stuff his friends' dads were known to do. Now, with Mom gone, he wanted to get all fatherly, and Eli wasn't feeling it because why should he? Jack taught night classes every semester so no matter what after-school activities Eli participated in, he hadn't been there; not for the
team sports Eli loved to play, any of the art competitions to applaud him for being the best high school sculptor in the state, not for anything; ever.

He ran his long fingers through his sleep-tousled, jet black hair and put his face in his hands. He couldn't wait to be eighteen so he could move out, take charge of his own life, and leave his dad and this stupid town behind.

 

Mal walked into the diner's kitchen and found Rocky and Siz going through the freezers. Because of the town meeting they weren't going to be open for dinner but he'd asked Rocky to provide some munchies. “You two figure out what we're eating for the meeting?”

“Siz wants to do an appetizer buffet. Were it left up to me, we'd just fry up a bunch of chicken wings and call it a day, but I'm going to let him teach me some of the things he's been learning in class and we'll see if this old cook can learn some new tricks.”

Siz came out of the big walk-in freezer with two large, frost-covered bags. “You're not old, Ms. Rock.”

“Compared to you, I'm Methuselah's wife.”

“Who?”

She and Mal shared a grin.

“Never mind,” she said to Siz. “What's in the bag?”

“Chicken drummies. There's a bunch of other stuff we can use too. But we're going to keep what we're making a secret.”

“We are?” she asked skeptically.

Mal speared him with a look. “Don't do a Florene on me now, son. Hate to have to fire you your first day out.”

“I'd hate it too, so don't worry. I just want everybody to be surprised by the food and the presentation. That's all. It's gonna be awesome. Promise.”

“I'm holding you to that.”

Rocky could see Mal's continued skepticism but she'd be there to haul Siz back if he went overboard, so she wasn't worried.

Clay Dobbs walked in, and after greeting Rocky and Mal, and nodding to the young man he didn't know, he said to Mal, “Just got a call from Marie. Their plane just landed.”

“Okay, but meet Siz first.”

Clay looked confused. “Who?”

Mal made the introductions.

Once they were done with the formalities, Siz asked Clay, “Anybody ever tell you you look like Julian Bond, sir?”

Clay cocked his head at the question. “What do you know about Julian Bond?”

“Well, he was the communications director for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, and in 1966 was denied his duly elected seat in the Georgia legislature because he opposed the war in Vietnam. I'm taking a humanities class on the sixties, and we're studying him and some of the other young African-American leaders like Bobby Seale and Stokely Carmichael.”

Humor twinkling in her eyes, Rocky asked, “You didn't accept this job just so we could help you pass your class, did you?”

Siz smiled. “No, ma'am, but he does look like Julian Bond.”

Mal said, “You should have seen him when he had all
his hair. He and Julian could've passed for twins. Now both of them are old.”

“Shut up,” Clay said, laughing. “Like you're not.”

Clay turned back to Siz. “You're going to be a better cook than that other one, right?”

“I hope so, sir.”

“Then we'll keep hope alive.”

Mal shook his head, “Let's go. Rock, if anybody calls looking for me, Clay and I are heading to the airport to pick up Genevieve and Marie. We'll be back in time for the meeting.”

“Okay. Drive safe.”

After their exit, she turned to Siz. “Okay, Emeril, what are we cooking?”

 

For the drive to the airport, Clay was behind the wheel of his big green Chevy Suburban because Mal's old Ford couldn't seat four. They talked a bit about everything and nothing while on the way, until finally Clay asked, “You think the police are ever going to catch Riley?”

“Who knows. I'd've bet even money Dalton would've run him down by now.”

“Me too. Can't imagine where he and that hog could be hiding out.”

“Apparently with that redhead woman on the video.”

“She's got to be crazy as he is to be marrying two hogs.”

“I know. So, what are you going to do about Genevieve?”

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

“She's married, Mal. You and I had this discussion
when Riley first took off. Not messing around with another man's wife.”

“You're not getting any younger.”

“Morals don't age.”

Mal sighed and turned his attention to the view passing by his window. He and Clay had been friends since second grade. They'd graduated high school together, ran the ladies together, and survived Nam together even though the carnage and death took its toll. Once home Clay turned inward and became more introspective while Mal sought refuge from the nightmares in drink and young women, the only two things that made him feel alive. “Okay, since you don't want to discuss Genny, what do you think about Siz? He manages a jazz band.”

“Liked him. Seems a lot better choice than that Florene.”

“Mr. Ed would have been a better choice than Florene. Glad Bernadine agreed with me.”

“Speaking of Bernadine. Anything new on her ex?”

“Not that I've heard. She did tell me she wasn't taking him back.”

“Good.”

“Exactly. All I need is competition.”

Clay grinned. “I told you this wasn't going to be easy.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Dealing with a grown woman's a lot more complicated than those coeds you're used to.”

“I know. I know. But answer me this. How can you be so wise with my love life and so clueless with your own?”

“Shut up.”

Mal smiled and settled in for the rest of the ride.

Clay made the turn that took them onto the airport property and he and Malachi scanned the faces of the few people standing outside the terminal. “Do you see them anywhere?”

“Not yet.”

A few seconds later, Mal pointed. “There they are. Why's Genny in a wheelchair?”

“God. I hope she didn't have a stroke.” Clay steered the truck to the curb and he and Mal got out.

“What happened to Genny?”

Marie shot a disapproving look at Genevieve over the rims of her black rhinestone cat eye glasses and drawled, “Too many Kamikazes.”

Both men stiffened. “What!”

Genevieve reprimanded them in a weak voice, “Stop shouting. My head's hurting bad enough as it is.”

Clay knelt down. “Are you okay?”

“No. Marie tried to tell me to go slow, but I wouldn't listen.”

Marie took her cue. “Also told her not to chase Kamikazes with Hurricanes. Didn't listen to that either.”

Clay's eyes widened. He studied Genevieve's pale face and slumped shoulders. “Since when did you start drinking?”

“When I saw Riley and that woman and those damn hogs. If that was your husband, you'd drink too. Should've married you, Clay. Probably had those babies I wanted by now.”

Clay's mouth hit the sidewalk.

Mal and Marie shared a look.

Marie said, “I think she may be a little bit drunk still. Let's get her home.”

Clay was staring at Genevieve, transfixed.

Mal called to him, “Hey, you. Pick up your teeth. Time to go.”

Clay visibly shook himself before straightening to his full height. He got behind the wheelchair and pushed the eyes-closed Genevieve toward the truck. Marie and Mal grabbed the handles on the rolling suitcase and fell in behind them.

Marie sighed. “You know Mama's going to blame all this on me.”

Mal cracked, “And well she should. You've been Satan's handmaiden since kindergarten.”

She punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, rubbing the throbbing spot, which earned a grin from Marie.

Once they were inside the truck and had their seat belts fastened, Clay drove toward home.

 

Marie was right. After she put Genevieve to bed, she came downstairs intent upon grabbing her car keys. Although she was dead on her feet from being dragged all over Vegas by Genny last night, she didn't want to miss the meeting due to start in less than an hour. According to Mal, the new teacher she hired for the school had arrived earlier today with his son. She was as anxious to meet them as she was to know what the name of the school was going to be. “Mama, are you ready?”

“Yep. How's Gen?”

Marie entered the front room. Her ninety-year-old mother, Agnes, was at the door, pocketbook on her wrist.

“She's asleep.”

“Do you think she'll be all right here alone?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then.”

 

They left the house and got into Marie's old Pontiac. As she drove out to the road and toward town, her mother said, “You shouldn't have gotten her drunk like that, Marie.”

“I didn't get her drunk, Mama. She saw Riley and that pig on the TV and she flipped out.”

“Still.”

The disapproval in the tone was hard to miss. “Still, what?”

“You should never have taken her to Vegas.”

“It was her suggestion, remember?”

“I do, but you could have said, no.”

“She's a grown woman, Mama.”

“She's not used to the vices like you are, Marie. You should have been more vigilant.”

“Mama, I didn't come home to argue with you. Okay?”

“Fine.” She turned away in a huff.

Marie gritted her teeth. “Mama, I'm sixty years old. When are you going to let go of the past?”

“I'm not in the past.”

“Yeah, you are. I admit, I was wild back then, but I'm no longer seventeen, pregnant, and a disgrace to the hallowed Jefferson name.”

“Stop being disrespectful.”

Marie sighed audibly. “How about we not talk about this. Sorry I brought it up.”

Marie turned full attention to her driving but she was equal parts hurt and angry. Appearances meant everything
to Agnes Jefferson, and for her only daughter to have gone away to college only to return home pregnant had been so devastating and shaming that all these many years later, the incident still resonated. Admittedly, Marie had been a wild teen; drinking, smoking, running with the proverbial wrong crowd because she'd found the strict tenets of small-town life so stifling, rebellion became a way to breathe. When she earned the college scholarship that gave her a ticket out, she'd grabbed it with both hands. Six months later she was pregnant. The father of her unborn child, a young graduate student, told her he had no intentions of divorcing his wife or claiming the baby, and that Marie was on her own. She'd cried for days. Faced with no other choice she returned home. Having to confess the situation to her mother was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, and having to listen to the recriminations, devastating. The year was 1966 and in those days it was unheard of for a young unmarried woman of her age to keep her illegitimate baby, so Agnes drove her to a home for wayward girls in Topeka where Marie gave birth. She never even got to hold the baby boy—the nuns said it was better that way. Now, almost a half century later, the ache in her heart remained. She'd managed to fill much of the void by becoming a teacher, a profession she dearly loved, but she prayed for that child every night. Still.

B
efore heading over to the town meeting, Bernadine swung by home to check on Crystal. They'd texted each other a few times over the course of the day and even though Crys assured her things were okay, she needed to see with her own eyes.

She found her in the kitchen making pancakes.

“Hey. You want some?”

“No thanks. There's supposed to be food at the meeting, but put the leftover batter in the fridge for me, please, just in case.”

She nodded.

Crystal's quiet demeanor tugged at Bernadine's heart. “How you doing?”

“Okay, I guess, but this is so stupid. I barely knew her, so why am I feeling like this?”

“Because she was still your mom, and when she passed, your dream of getting back with her was taken too.”

Crystal appeared to think that over. “I guess so.” After a
few moments, she said, “I didn't know it was going to hurt like this.”

“The sharp parts will fade over time.”

“How long did it take you when your mother died?”

Bernadine thought back on that painful, life-changing episode. “A while. I don't think you ever get over it, but you do get through it. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. In a way.”

Having dealt with her own grief, Bernadine knew there was no rushing it out the door. “People heal in their own time and in their own way. So if you don't feel like doing anything for the next few days, it's okay. Folks will understand.”

As Crystal's watery eyes held hers, Bernadine saw something in them that gave her pause. Not sure what it might be, she asked gently, “Anything else you want to talk about?”

“Yeah. Are you really going to keep me?”

Bernadine studied the face she'd come to love. “Forever and ever, amen.” In fact, Bernadine was ready to begin adoption proceedings to make Crystal her own, but she didn't think now was the proper time to broach the subject. She wanted to wait until she finished her grieving. “You okay with forever and ever, amen?”

The soft smile temporarily masked the sadness. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Oh, forgot to tell you. Preston said the colonel and Mrs. Payne are having issues, and he's real worried. He made me promise not to say anything, but I thought you needed to know. He's really sad.”

Although Bernadine had been alerted to the situation by Sheila, she was surprised to hear Preston had opened
himself, and to Crystal of all people. “He just offered up how he was feeling? That's not like Preston.”

“I know, surprised me too, but he was looking all beat down so I made him talk to me.”

That was surprising as well.
Crystal as counselor?
“May I ask what you told him?”

“Not much. Mostly, I just listened. He thanked me, though. Made me feel like I was all mature and stuff.”

“I'm glad you were there for him, Crys.”

“Told him not to make it a habit, though.”

The dry humor made Bernadine chuckle.

Crystal grinned in response before saying, “You should get going. Tamar'll be all up in your grill if you're late for the meeting.”

“True.” But before departing, she walked over and held out her arms for a hug. Crystal stepped into the breach and let herself be enfolded and held on tight in return. Bernadine had no words to offer, just love, so she kissed her brow, squeezed her one more time for good measure, and left the house for the meeting.

When Bernadine pulled into the D&C's parking lot, all the trucks filling the spaces made her wonder if more than just the meeting was going on inside. Upon entering she thought that must be the reason, because the place was in full party mode. On the new jukebox, the Ohio Players were belting out “Fire,” over the sounds of laughter and raised voices. The fragrant smells of food cooking permeated the air. She glanced around approvingly at the people milling about with piled-high plates in hand. She spotted Malachi seated at one of the round tables slapping domi
noes and talking smack. Seeing him made her think about their picnic date. In the back of her mind she really wasn't sure if agreeing to it had been the right thing to do, but she left her second thoughts alone for the time being and resumed checking out the faces in the crowd.

All of the foster parents were in attendance, as were the kids. In one of the back booths Amari and Preston had their heads together over an opened laptop. She hoped they were working on their proposal, but with those two one could never tell.

“Evening, Ms. Brown.”

She turned to see Rocky coming up behind her. “Hey there. Looks like everyone's having a good time, and I don't see anybody sending their plates back to the kitchen.”

“Which is a good thing.”

“A very good thing.”

“You can give most of the credit to my new assistant. His name's Matt Burke, but he calls himself Siz. Short for Sizzle.”

Bernadine stared.

Rocky chuckled, “I'll tell you about it one day when we both have some time. Anyway, he's from the culinary college and tonight's menu is all his doing.”

“Can I meet him?”

“He's in the back still cooking up a storm right now, but Mal's going to introduce him during the meeting.”

Bernadine saw Lily waving her over to the table she was sharing with Devon, Zoey, and the Garlands. She waved back and asked Rocky, “Did you and Lily get a chance to talk about that food you wanted to return?”

“Sure did. I should have that inventory list to her sometime tomorrow.”

“Okay, I'm going to go grab me a plate and a seat. Thanks so much for all this.”

“You're welcome. I'll see you later.”

Slowly making her way through the crowded diner, Bernadine spoke to those she knew, like Clay, Agnes, and Marie, and those she didn't, like a married couple who introduced themselves as the Clarks. According to them they once lived in Henry Adams, were presently residing in nearby Franklin, but were considering moving back so that their two daughters could take advantage of the new school. After telling them how pleased she was to meet them, she moved on. She was also pleased to see Jack and Eli sitting with Tamar, although she wasn't sure Eli found the arrangement pleasing.

She then stopped and talked for a minute with Bing Shepard, who was sharing a booth with some of his old buddies from the Black Farmers Association. The newly elected president of the United States had recently announced a plan that might finally settle the Black farmers' long-standing grievances against the U.S. Department of Agriculture for its well-documented discriminatory and predatory lending practices. Before Bernadine left for vacation, Bing had asked if she knew a lawyer who might represent the cases of the local farmers. She'd been given a name that afternoon.

She handed him a sticky note with the name and phone number written on it, and said over the din, “Call her tomorrow. She's very good and will look after you all.”

“Thanks.” Bing pocketed the note.

“Oh, and she's willing to do it pro bono. Her grandfather lost his land to the USDA back in the eighties. Let me know how it goes.”

“Will do.”

Glad that she'd been able to help, Bernadine finally took her seat. She was just about to get up and head to the buffet table when she saw Leo enter the diner.

“What the heck is he doing here?” she asked crossly.

“Who?” Roni asked, looking around.

“My ex.”

Lily saw Leo and she stared with surprise. “What do you think he wants?”

“A big fat, restraining order.”

“Well don't make a scene,” Roni cautioned. “That might be just what he's wanting you to do.”

“What's an ex?” Devon asked.

Lily said, “Someone you were married to but not married to now.”

“Oh.”

He and Zoey shared a glance.

“Just ignore him, Bernadine,” Lily suggested. “If he gets stupid, Sheriff Dalton is just a phone call away.”

Roni nodded agreement. “Go get something to eat, girl. We'll keep an eye on him.”

Reg chuckled at all the intrigue and said to Devon, “Glad I'm not an ex.”

Devon replied, “Me too.”

By the time Trent walked over and shut down the jukebox so the meeting could get started, Bernadine had forgotten all about Leo because she was too busy wondering just
how much Siz would charge her to cook for her exclusively and forever. She absolutely loved the little shrimp and spinach stuffed filo tarts. The meatballs were fabulous, as were the Asian spiced drummies. Sizzle, or whatever he called himself,
could burn
as they used to say back in the day.

“Okay,” Trent called out. “Let's get this show on the road. Dad. You wanted to go first.”

Malachi stood. “As you all know, Rocky Dancer is back with us.”

Cheers greeted that and folks began chanting her name.

She came out of the kitchen with a wide grin on her face and stepped up beside Malachi. The cheering and chanting soared even higher until finally Trent had to get out his gavel and calm everybody down.

“It's good to be home,” she said once the roar subsided. “But I want you to meet the young man responsible for tonight's meal. His name is Siz.”

He came out of the kitchen, and the noisy cheers and chanting of his name greeted his arrival too. He stood there red-faced but smiling, and then did an elaborate bow.

Rocky held up her hands. “Okay, y'all. Quiet. Now, with Siz on board, we're going to be trying some new things. He's got a lot of good ideas about us eating healthier, but not with stuff you can't pronounce.”

“We're holding you to that!” someone shouted.

Laughs followed that.

Rocky said, “Again, thanks for all the love. If you need anything just come on back.”

She and Siz waved and headed off to their domain.

Next on the agenda was Amari, of all people. Bernadine and Lily stared, puzzled.

Lily asked quietly, “Did you put him on the agenda?”

Bernadine shook her head.

Amari walked up to the front of the room and said, “I need everybody to put August First on their calendars. We're having a parade.”

“Will it have police cars?” Bing called out loudly.

The room erupted with laughter.

Amari grinned. “Hope not.”

Tamar's voice followed loudly with “Better not.”

More laughter.

“I don't have all the details worked out yet, and Ms. Bernadine and my dad have to see a proposal, but I'm trying to be a real July, and Tamar said I had to do something to honor the Dusters. Back in the day, they had parades on August First, so I want us to have one too.”

The room grew quiet the moment he said he was trying to become a real July. Bernadine looked around the diner and saw the quiet pride in Tamar's face mirrored in Trent's and Malachi's as well. Amari's quest for family meant something to them. Apparently it meant something to everyone else too, because one by one folks got to their feet and applauded him and his plan to revitalize part of Henry Adams's grand past. Amari's young face beamed. He might have had half the town hauled before a judge, and lord knew how this whole parade idea would turn out, but from the construction workers, to the Julys, to Bernadine, Amari was loved.

“Oh, and anybody who wants to be in the parade just see me and Preston after the meeting.” He went back to his seat.

The next business item also hadn't been on the official agenda. Trent called up Devon. Seeing him in his suit and clip-on tie always drew smiles, and that evening was no exception.

“I'm having church on Sunday at Ms. Roni's house,” he told the assemblage. “Zoey's playing the piano and Ms. Roni is going to sing. You are all invited.” Turning back to Trent, he said, “Thank you, Mr. Trent.”

“You're welcome, Devon.”

Devon walked back to his seat. Zoey patted him on the back and the meeting continued with the Mayor's Report.

Trent gave an update on the ongoing construction projects, and then reminded everyone that the Power Plant and the rec center were the town's designated tornado shelters. From spring through late summer, Kansas was right smack-dab in the middle of Tornado Alley, where the deadly twisters often sprang to life in the blink of an eye. Bernadine had yet to experience such destructive weather and she prayed neither she nor the town would be subjected to it any time soon.

Finally, the main event. The naming of the school.

Trent said, “Floor's open for nominations.”

Murmurs filled the room as people debated the pros and cons of their personal choices.

Agnes Jefferson stood and said in a strong voice, “I nominate the name Cara Lee Jefferson.”

Trent nodded and wrote it down.

Everyone knew Cara Jefferson had been the town's schoolteacher during Henry Adams's golden age back in the 1880s. She was also one of Agnes's ancestors. Her in
novative teaching methods and tireless devotion laid the foundation for the schools that followed.

Bernadine scanned faces for reactions to the nomination. No one looked particularly gung-ho, but she did see a few thoughtful nods of agreement.

“Anyone else?” Trent asked.

Tamar called out, “Olivia July.”

Bernadine saw the disapproving look Agnes shot her old friend Tamar and the way Tamar rolled her eyes in response. Bernadine hoped this didn't turn into an ancestral catfight.

Malachi stood up and announced, “No disrespect to the Ancestors, but I want to nominate somebody who's living. Somebody whose dedication to this town has been proven, and has given her life's blood to this place and its kids. I nominate the name: the Marie Jefferson Academy.”

All hell broke loose. People jumped to their feet applauding, whistling and cheering. Marie dropped her head into her hands and her shoulders shook as she cried. Bernadine noticed that Agnes didn't appear to be totally down with the choice but she did applaud. However, Tamar was on her feet clapping wildly.