Drawn to Troubled Waters

Chapter 13: The Mom

        We stand outside the door to McAllister House. Sawyer hands me the picnic hamper. “Tell Vesta thank you for lunch, and especially the cupcake.”

         I have one hand on the latch. “You’re not coming in?”

         He gives his head a shake, a swath of brown flopping over an eye. “I gotta catch up with some things at home.” He takes a step down the pathway but turns to give me a grin that is all dimple. “But don’t you worry Miss Bobbie, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily. I’ll be back tomorrow. Pack your supplies and I’ll take you right down to the bridge.  If you’re up to it, that is.”

         The picnic hamper bumps against my thigh as I put a hand on my hip. “That sounds like some sort of challenge. Don’t you go thinking you scared me off today, ‘cause you didn’t. I’ll be ready by eight.”

         He gives me a mock bow. “Eight it is Miss Bobbie.”

          I let the door bang softly behind me and head for the kitchen. The smells wafting from the room tell me that Vesta is already prepping for dinner.

         She gives me a wide grin when I enter. “Hey hun, did you youngun’s have a good day?” She peers over my shoulder. “Where’s that handsome man gotten off to?”

         The blood rushes to my cheeks and I wonder if she has some insight into what we’ve been doing on our picnic. “He uh, he uh said something about doing stuff at home.” I put the picnic hamper on the island. “Oh, but he did tell me to say thank you, especially for the cupcake.”

         Vesta face lights up with an even wider grin if that’s possible and her hands return to her food prep. “I imagine his Momma has something special planned.”

         “Something special?”

         “I knew I shoulda said sometin’ this mornin’. Today’s Sawyer’s birthday. That boy is a quarter century. Don’t seem hardly possible. Why just yesterday he was toddlin’ ‘round here after his Momma.”

         That’s what the cupcake was for. I wonder why he didn’t say anything. Of course I’m not too keen on celebrating my birthday either.

         “Does his mother work here too?”

         Vesta continues to bustle around the kitchen. She opens the oven and I get the heady aroma of fresh baking bread full force. Despite the large lunch, my stomach gives an appreciative grumble.

“She did. Had a smart head on those shoulders, Sawyer’s Mama did.  Went off to some fancy school and for God only knows the reason why, came on back to Money. The older woman’s shoulders slump with disapproval. “But she did, used her business degree by becoming a personal assistant.  Miss April and… well she had this place running like the changing of the guards at the Tomb of the Unknown.” 

         I settle on one of the tall stools around the island, leaning my elbows on the smooth granite surface. “Vesta, why all the mystery? I know that there must be a Mr. McAllister here at McAllister House.”

         “Sure ain’t no mystery to that I suppose.”

         “So Mrs. Oakes worked here. Does she still?”

      “No Missus chile. Just plain ole April Oakes. Well, shortly before Sawyer started school her and Mr. McAllister had a big fight. Never heard two people argue like they did.” She shakes her head again. “Don’t think she’s been back in this house since.”

         I know I’m probably overstepping protocol but now I’m really curious about Sawyer and his Mom. I let my feet dangle and kick at the rungs of the stool. “What about Sawyer’s Dad?”

         Vesta gives a non-committal shrug and lets the oven door close with a heavy thud. “Nobody’s business, certainly not mine. April’s done notin’ but right by that boy. Ain’t no Mama prouder. And rightly so.” She turns back to face me. “And so, what’d you think of the bridge? Can’t wait to see some of your sketchin’. Figure it must take one or two tries to get it just right.”

         In other words it’s time to change the subject. That’s fine by me, because it leads into today’s other puzzle. “It definitely is a sight. Of course, I’m going to need to get a little closer to do the actual sketching.” I manage to keep my voice from trembling too much at the thought of being off the ridge and on the banks of the Tallahatchie. “Sawyer’s going to take me again tomorrow.” 

         A large smile crosses her features, the age lines a soft brown against her darker skin. When I first met her I thought Vesta was in her late fifties but now I’m guessing she’s closer to late sixties.

         “I knew our boy would take right good care a ya.”

         I slip down from the stool and stand with my palms flat on the island’s granite top. “Oh, he’s been very helpful. He even told me about the bridge’s curse. Is that why I’m here Vesta?”

She takes a moment to wipe her hands on the faded apron around her ample waist. “Lord sakes chile, you don’t hold nothin’ back do ya?”

“So…” I prompt.

Vesta opens her mouth as if to say something, shuts it and then says, “Not my place chile, not my place. I’m just here for housekeeping and meals.” She mutters more under her breath than to me. “Don’t know what that man was thinking. Well, ‘course I do. I’d do the same thing I s’ppose.”

I try a different tact. “Do you believe in the curse?”

This stops her. She comes around to lay a work worn hand on my arm. “A lot of mumbo jumbo, that’s all it is. Nothing you should worry that pretty head about. You just get that bridge drawn, hop on the next bus out of town and don’t look back.”

Like that was ever going to happen. I was in too deep already for me to walk away that casually. There was so much going on below the surface I wasn’t sure where a bubble might rise and pop. Vesta was not going to be the one to give me answers that much was clear.

I give her my best disarming smile. “Can I help you with anything?”

She pats my arm as if to say; ‘I knew you were a good girl and one that listens to reason.’ “No, why don’t you just go on up and relax. Take a look at those supplies and make sure you have what you need.”

I push back from the counter and give her an expression of total compliance that I use on my parents all the time. “It was quite a hike.”

Her eyes narrow just enough to let me know that I haven’t really gotten away with anything. “Mmmhmm. I ‘magine you ain’t used to all this clean country air. I’ll give you a call when dinner’s ready.”

In the upstairs bedroom I give a cursory glance at the art supplies stacked neatly on the desk. There is a sketch pad and charcoal, which is all I need for tomorrow.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed I pull my laptop from its traveling case and boot up the server. I wonder if Money has a library or even a newspaper with archives. The local people probably weren’t very helpful to strangers poking around where they shouldn’t be anyhow.

I type in Tallahatchie Bridge, Money, Mississippi.