Seven

The night before

G enesis stood with a crutch beneath each arm and surveyed the living room around her. The sound of Jaxson starting his truck and driving away was momentarily distracting. She’d reciprocated his kindness by being a bitch. The pain in her ankle was only partially to blame. The other reason... Never mind that. She forced her thoughts away from Jaxson and shifted them to her uncle.

Memories of Cyrus Perry were everywhere. His favorite, well-worn and cracking-leather recliner still boasting handmade throws his last girlfriend had made him. Next to it a tray table with a half-full decanter of brown liquor, a pipe and a pouch of tobacco. Genesis closed her eyes, took a breath and smelled the slightly sweet-smelling aroma still lingering in the air. The ever-present peppermints kept in a boot-shaped glass cookie jar on the large trunk turned coffee table, next to a wooden box of ivory dominoes and a stack of hunting and fishing magazines. Mismatched side tables and other accessories that surrounded a couch covered in a dark brocade fabric, jackets and other clothing items tossed across its back and a general messiness from a seventysomething-year-old man who hadn’t placed good housekeeping at the top of his list. She took in a carpet that had seen better days at least a decade or so ago, dingy, smoke-stained walls, and the overall “oldness” of everything.

Could she live out here? In the country? In this house? Difficult if not almost impossible to do, but with a jacked-up foot, no income and little savings, and a condo lease about to expire, she might end up having to do the unthinkable—becoming Jaxson’s neighbor.

With a sigh of resignation, Genesis continued to the kitchen/dining combo of the L-shaped ranch house. Here the age of the home and lack of tender loving care showed even more. The once-white appliances were in desperate need of cleaning or, even better, being replaced, as were the cabinets, counters and... Was that actually a linoleum floor? It was so cracked and worn she couldn’t tell. A faint buzzing sounded from the overhead fluorescent light. What the heck did that mean? And the plastic that covered it was yellowed and cracked. Amazing how as a child and weekend guest of her uncle she’d observed none of this. With the term “homeowner” came a new set of eyes.

Opening the refrigerator brought on another revelation and made her think about Jaxson for the first time in five minutes. The Cobb salad from earlier was long gone. The fridge was almost empty. A half-empty package of cold cuts, old takeout, a partial pack of soda, a couple of beers and a door filled with condiments was just about it. The freezer offerings weren’t much better. A quick search of the cabinets prevented total starvation. She wasn’t much of a canned chicken noodles or pork-and-beans type, but they would have to do in this crunch. The medication required she have something in her stomach and the throbbing in her ankle was sending an urgent message to take another pill. It was either canned soup or using money she didn’t have to have something delivered.

She thought about her neighbors. Hazel probably had a pantry full of goodies, but Genesis wouldn’t think of asking the older woman for more help. She’d spend her last dollar before asking Jaxson for food. She already felt she owed him and that didn’t feel good. Neither did entertaining the story he’d told her, that he’d spoken with Hank and asked about her. That Hank had threatened him. Try as she might since being dropped off, the “bad guy” she’d dissed largely due to her family hadn’t been far from her mind.

Genesis opened the soup, found a pan and set it on the stove to heat. While waiting, she ignored the fact her ankle probably needed to be elevated and walked down the hall to her great-uncle’s room. His house shoes stuck out from under the bed. A wave of sadness washed over her. Growing up, she’d found him to be the one person she could count on to make her feel special. Like she was important and mattered. Unlike home, where her football-star brother Hank and younger jokester Habari were the focus. Cyrus had always made sure that his attention was on her. She already missed him and would always cherish that final phone call. Thinking of that last “I love you” made her think of her cousins. Animosity aside, they’d lost their father. Genesis could only imagine how that felt.

Completely dependent on her crutches, she walked into the kitchen, poured the soup into a bowl and, after facing the unsolvable dilemma of carrying it anywhere, gulped it down at the counter. That done, she made her way to the couch, grabbed the pain pills, propped a pillow under the ankle and flopped back, exhausted. Jaxson was right. She should have stayed at his house. She could have used the help.

Instead of lingering on that revelation, she popped a pill, reached for her phone and dialed the number Clarence had provided. He answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Clarence.” She placed the call on speaker. “It’s Genesis.”

“What do you want, Genesis?”

The tone of his voice told Genesis that he was still upset. She understood and hoped that by the end of this phone call he could see her point of view as well.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m at your dad’s house.”

“What are you doing there?”

Genesis ignored the accusatory, non-trusting tone. She told him about the accident and being on crutches. “I’m sure someone can come get me next week, but I’m stuck here for now.”

“How convenient. Tell you what. You’d better not touch one thing in that house. I don’t give a damn what that lawyer says. It doesn’t belong to you.”

Maybe this conversation wasn’t the best idea. His comments hurt more than her ankle. Clarence being upset was understandable, but he wasn’t the only one who’d lost a loved one.

“It doesn’t sound like this is a good time. I just called to let you know what happened and to ask about funeral arrangements.”

She heard Clarence heave a sigh. When he spoke, the edge was gone. “I spoke with Daddy’s pastor before leaving town. The funeral and repast will be at the church. We’ll finalize everything else next week. Right now, Cleo and I are trying to process how Daddy could have done what he did, and how you’re going to correct it.”

“I don’t know. I’m still as shocked and confused as you. I had nothing to do with Uncle Cyrus’s decision. If he’d asked, I would have said to leave everything to y’all. But I wasn’t and he didn’t. Now I’m in the impossible spot between doing what you and Cleo believe is right and honoring Uncle Cyrus’s wishes.”

“You have any experience with a farm?”

Do you ? It took everything in her to keep from asking the question but knew it would start a fight.

“None.”

“See there? Daddy didn’t think this through. How are you, a single girl from the city with no farm experience, going to know what to do with the land, besides sell it? Cleo and I are the rightful heirs! That’s our stuff in that house.”

“What’s here belonged to Uncle Cyrus. You’re welcome to it. I don’t want to argue. At the end of the day, we’re family. I hope something can get worked out.”

“Me, too. Let me know what’s going on.”

“I will. Same about Uncle’s funeral. If there is anything at all I can do to help, please let me know. I used to work for a printing company and can get the programs done for free. I could also write the obituary. I’ve read dozens of them and written a few. Editing and proofreading was part of my job.

“It’s probably hard for you to understand, Clarence, but I truly loved your father. Uncle Cyrus was the connection to the dad I didn’t know, the only connection to his side of the family along with Tiff and Kayla. He treated me like a granddaughter. Like family. Given my father’s rejection, that meant a lot to me.”

“Well, yeah, I can understand that.”

The rest of the conversation wasn’t overly warm, but it was civil. The call ended with Clarence accepting the offer to help with the programs and agreeing to send the information she needed to write the obituary. She went to sleep on the couch thinking of her uncle Cyrus, smiling at memories of them playing checkers and smelling his sweet pipe tobacco.

The next morning, she woke up groggy and disoriented to the sound of a loud barking dog. For the first few seconds she wondered how it managed to get close to the door of her condo. Then she moved her ankle. Pain ripped through her leg. The pain-pill fog lifted. Memories from the past twenty-four hours flooded in.

Nipsey continued barking. What could possibly have him this excited so early in the morning? Another dog, maybe? The next sound caused even greater alarm. Gunshots. Several of them. She switched on the lamp beside the couch, grabbed one crutch and hopped to the window still wearing Jaxson’s sister’s warm-ups. Another shot rang out, but that wasn’t what set her soul to stirring. No, what started the flame at her gut that quickly spanned to her chest was the sight of a pair of long legs leaving an unknown truck, rounding the corner of her uncle’s house and she imagined heading up the stairs of the front porch.

A series of soft taps caused her to jump, followed by a round of louder knocks.

Jaxson!

“Hold on a minute!”

Genesis looked around for a look at her reflection. Not a mirror in sight. Did these country folk know anything about calling before coming by someone’s house? Especially before eight in the morning?

She reached the door, ran a hand through hair that refused to be tamed, and opened it.

“Sorry about the disturbance,” Jaxson said in a rush, before she could go off. “We were just dropping off your car. I sent a text. Did you get it?”

“That’s right. The car. No, I didn’t see the text. I just woke up.” If her unruly hair hadn’t given that fact away, the frog in her throat surely did.

“I figured you might be asleep, which is why I sent the text letting you know the keys were under the mat. Probably wasn’t a good idea to let my dog, Butch, ride along. That’s Nipsey’s homeboy, but I didn’t expect their greeting each other to be so loud.”

She looked beyond Jaxson’s shoulder and saw Nipsey and a beautiful brown pit romping across the yard. Jaxson dangled the keys in front of her.

“Thanks for getting my car unstuck and driving it over. That was very considerate of you. But you didn’t have to get up so early, as I won’t be driving for a while.” She nodded toward her foot.

“It was no problem. I’m up early most mornings and wanted to check on you anyway. I also had help pulling your car out from an even earlier riser.”

Genesis heard footsteps. A tall, burly man came into view and up the steps.

“Mornin’, miss lady.”

He tipped his cowboy hat. Endearing.

“Good morning.”

“I’d say I was sorry to disturb you, but it’s those dogs that need to apologize.” He held out a hand the size of a small ham. “Name’s Granville.”

“Genesis.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“You’re Hazel’s husband.”

“Don’t ever confuse me with that joker. I’m her lover when he’s out of town.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Excuse me.” Genesis tried and with effort wiped the shock off her face.

“Go easy on her, Granville.” Jaxson offered a smile and a wink that sent a squiggle through her vagina. “She’s new around here.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I’d better come clean. Hazel is my beloved wife of almost half a century.”

“I see everyone around here has jokes,” she said to Jaxson.

“And bulls.” Another smile. Another wink. With his scruffy, barely-there shadow, the man managed to look even better this morning than he did last night.

The sound of another gunshot pierced the air.

Genesis jumped. “I thought you said this area was safe.”

“It is.”

“Then what’s with all the gunfire?”

“That’s what makes it safe, young lady!” Granville laughed at a joke Genesis didn’t find funny.

“I have a little shooting range up on the mountain. Are you good with a pistol?”

“I’ve shot a gun before.” She’d been twelve and Uncle Cyrus had helped absorb the kickback, but...whatever.

“What kind is it?”

“I...don’t own one now.”

“Cyrus has a few. Did Jax tell you about the bears?”

“Jaxson! I thought you were kidding.”

Seeing her expression, Granville held up his hands, his gray eyes twinkling. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You’re new in town. In all seriousness, though, if you’re going to live out here you need to know how to shoot. Is your family moving in with you?”

“I’m...just here until my ankle gets better.”

Granville noted the boot before turning to Jaxson. “Alone and injured? Son, that’s a recipe for disaster you don’t want to get cooked. Teach your girl how to handle a firearm, pronto.”

“I’m not his girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

Said simultaneously. In harmony. With conviction. It may have been the first thing they agreed on since Jaxson found her in the mud.

Granville ignored them both. “I’d invite you to the hill, but seeing as how you’re on crutches and all, it will be easier for Jaxson to teach you down here. Don’t be like these modern women who feel they don’t need help from a man. Can’t find one better than Jaxson for firearm training.”

He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “Now, listen here. Cyrus owned several firearms, including shotguns. You need to know your way around a gun, and you need to know how to shoot.”

“Granville, I’ve offered my assistance several times. Genesis has made it clear that she’s fine on her own. She’s very independent.”

“Uh-huh. So are those coyotes.” He trained a stern eye on Genesis. “I may be retired from law enforcement, but out here my badge is still good. That means you need to pick up what I’m putting down, understand me?”

Genesis couldn’t help but like the old codger. “Yes, sir.”

He headed down the steps. Once at the bottom, he eyed her with the warmth of a beach in Jamaica. “Jaxson is one of the best shooters I’ve ever taught. You’ll be in good hands with him.

“I’d better get a move on. Hazel’s waiting. I don’t want to hear her mouth.”

Granville continued to his truck. Within seconds, they heard the engine.

“Guess that’s the end of the conversation,” Jaxson said.

Genesis deadpanned, “Bang, bang.”

Jaxson left soon after. Rather than go back to sleep, she found coffee—thank God!—and after a bird bath donned one of her uncle’s long flannel shirts and a pair of boxers from an unopened package still in the discount department store’s bag. She checked her dwindling bank account, one that wouldn’t be replenished with the usual weekend of DoorDashing, then scrolled through various social media accounts. An hour later, the early wake-up caught up with her. Grabbing the throw from her uncle’s chair, she curled up on the couch and drifted off to sleep thinking about guns. Not the ones Granville had mentioned were in her uncle’s arsenal, but the one she remembered existed between Jaxson’s legs.