8

“Gran, I finished peelin’ the sweet potatoes. What you want me to do next?” Chad asked, using the name Mama had insisted the

boys use. She said she might never get to hear someone call her by that name, so as long as the boys were here, they could

call her Gran—the same as the grandkids called her mother.

It hurt a bit to hear her say she might never be a grandmother. Not just because I couldn’t have biological children but because

she worried that Marcus might never be well enough to be a father. That probably hurt the most. I tried to block all of that

out and focus on the preparation before us.

The house was filled with pre–Thanksgiving Day smells, and Mama had everyone working on something. Except Marcus, who was in his room with the door closed and window shades lowered. The boys and I went to say hello, but he’d barely raised his head off the pillow to speak. They didn’t take his standoffishness personally. I had warned them earlier that Marcus might not behave in the friendliest of ways, and they understood. Chad had said that he hadn’t felt very much like visiting with people when he first came to the group home. Pee Wee had chimed in that he also had struggled with talking to folks right away. I was so grateful that these boys had so much empathy in their hearts for other people.

I looked around the kitchen, and the boys and Mama were smiling. Even with the uncertainty surrounding Aaron and Marcus, we

were all trying to find ways to celebrate moments of happiness.

“Chad, you want me to show you how to clean some chitlins?” Mama asked, glancing over at me with a sly grin. “My daughter

acts like she’s dying from the smell whenever I ask her to help.”

I shook my head as I washed collard greens and turnips in the sink. I was very happy to turn that job over to Chad if he wanted

it. Mama and I cleaned the chitlins outside on the back porch, where she cooked them in the same cast-iron pot her mama used

to cook chitlins in. I had already helped her prepare a small batch of chitlins the other day. I wasn’t looking forward to

a repeat performance. Anytime I finished helping her clean them, I’d make a cocktail of different bubble baths in the tub

and soak and scrub and scrub and soak until the odor was removed from my body. Every year I prayed that Mama and the boys

would lose their taste for the high-blood-pressure-inducing delicacy. Sadly, their appetite for them only seemed to grow.

At least they only ate them on Thanksgiving or Christmas.

“I’ll help,” Chad said. “I ate ’em once before and they don’t smell all that bad to me.”

I laughed. He was trying hard to fit in and be agreeable to anything and everything Mama suggested. She could have asked him to fly with her to the moon and he would have been tracking down a space suit to wear. “Chad, one thing we do in this house is tell the truth, and you know chitlins are some foul-smelling thangs. Don’t let Mama twist your arm.”

Chad laughed. “Yes, ma’am. But I still don’t mind helping Gran with ’em.”

Mama went over to Chad and hugged him. “Pee Wee,” Mama called out. “You want to help us clean these chitlins?”

“N-n-no, m-m-ma’am,” he said as quickly as his stutter would allow, his eyes on me. I knew he wanted to make sure I was on

his side.

“Pee Wee, you are a wise young man,” I said. “Come on over here and help me wash these greens. You don’t have to be part of

the chitlin brigade.”

He got up from the table where he’d been “assisting” Chad with the potatoes and hurried to my side.

“Alright, baby,” Mama said to Pee Wee. “But you’re gone have to at least try a bite of chitlins. Don’t let my daughter turn

you ’gainst them before you even give ’em a try. Okay?”

“Yes, m-m-ma’am,” he said. After Chad and Mama walked out of the house, he stopped washing the collard leaf I’d handed him

and looked at me with a helpless expression. “I d-d-don’t have to eat the ch-ch-chitlins, do I?”

I shook my head. “Not if you don’t want to. But let me warn you: Gran will be sad if you don’t at least give them a try. Before we say no to a food, we should at least try it. They aren’t terrible. Just an acquired taste.”

His face clearly showed that he was torn. I was about to relate my first experience with chitlins, when I was around his age,

but then the phone rang.

“Excuse me,” I said, wiping my hands on a towel before I went to the other side of the room to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Kat,” the deep voice said. “This is Seth.”

My heart began to race. I couldn’t believe that at age forty I was having high school reactions to men. I took a breath before

replying.

“Hello, Seth,” I said, impressed with myself for sounding so calm while my emotions were swirling. I felt bad for being giddy

over someone who wasn’t Leon. Granted, Leon and I had never been demonstrative with our affection, but the way I was feeling

about someone I hadn’t seen in over twenty years wasn’t a good sign for my relationship with Leon.

“I wanted to see if this is a good time for me to come by,” he said.

Earlier, I’d talked to Marcus about Seth coming over, and my brother had shrugged. Thankfully, he wasn’t singing that awful

cadence, but he definitely wasn’t my good-natured little brother. He was broken, and short of his twin coming home, I wasn’t

sure if anyone could get him back. But I was sure willing to try.

“Come by anytime,” I said. “We’re cooking for tomorrow, so if you don’t mind the usual Thanksgiving scents wafting throughout the house, you’re welcome to drop by. I told Marcus you might come to see him.”

“All of my folks went to Birmingham to visit family for the holidays. I have too much work, so I stayed behind. I welcome

those good scents,” he said. “And I’ll keep our talk as light as Marcus wants it to be. One thing I’ve learned is that every

man heals at his own speed. My old commander used to love to quote Ecclesiastes 9:11. When we’d begin to grow weary, he’d

say, ‘The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.’ Then he’d follow up on his pep talk with some expletives

telling us to get our butts in gear.”

We both laughed. Then, before I could stop myself, I invited him to Thanksgiving dinner. After I said the words, I wished

I could take them back. Leon would be here tomorrow too. How would I keep myself from being moony-eyed over Seth in Leon’s

presence? This was a bad idea.

“Thank you, Kat. I appreciate your hospitality,” he said before I could pull back the invitation. “I was going to make do

with some Vienna sausages and some Ritz crackers. Mama promised to bring back some food, but I’m afraid that right now the

cupboards are pretty bare at my house.”

“Well, that would never do,” I said, trying to sound decisive. “We always have way too much food. You’re welcome. To come

over, I mean...” I wasn’t used to feeling awkward and uncertain, and I was both at the moment. This man had me in a dither.

“Excellent,” he said, then paused. I wondered if he was feeling as uncomfortable as I was. I was suddenly forty going on fourteen.

Finally, he spoke again. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Absolutely,” I said. As soon as I hung up, I glanced down at my water-splotched clothes. I looked over at Pee Wee, who was still washing that same piece of collard green. “Pee Wee, I’m going to run and change. Will you be okay in here by yourself for a few minutes?”

“Yes, m-m-ma’am,” he said. “You w-w-want me to w-w-wash another c-c-collard green?”

“Yes, please,” I said. “You keep washing and I’ll be right back. If you need anything, Gran and Chad are right outside the

door.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but his attention had already returned to washing the greens. I’d given him a step stool and he was

concentrating on each leaf. I’d told him we had to look for bugs, and he was turning the leaves over multiple times. No bug

would get past his watchful eye.

I went to my bedroom and started searching through my closet. Lord, I needed to go shopping. I was never a fashion girl. I

always focused on neat and comfortable clothes, not clothes to catch a man’s attention. Then I groaned at that thought.

“Girl, you have a man,” I said, trying to sound convincing to my own ears, even though saying those words in connection to

Leon didn’t fit. He was more of a “male friend” than “my man.” Seth was “a dream,” as my cousin Alicia would say, but I knew

he wasn’t the dream for me. He’d want children and I couldn’t have any. Me having designs for him would be unfair to both

of us. “Just put on something clean, Katia, and stop making a fool of yourself. That man ain’t thinkin’ about you. He’s just

being nice. That. Is. All.”

But I still decided to clean up and wear something nice. It couldn’t hurt. I settled on a brown, long-sleeved cotton dress with a V-neck and a gold tie belt in the front. I put on leaf-shaped gold earrings and a matching necklace. Then I freshened up my hair, sprayed it with oil sheen, and picked it out so it stood up in all its natural glory. I tried my best to channel the sass of Miss Nina Simone. I wasn’t bold enough to believe that, like Nina, I could put a spell on anybody, but I at least wanted her onstage confidence. I wanted to believe I was beautiful and desirable as much as I believed I was talented and smart. I wanted desperately to believe that even though I couldn’t bear any children, someone was out there who could, like my cousin Alicia said, “curl my toes.”

After I was done dressing, I went to Mama’s room and borrowed some of her Elusive Red lipstick by Avon, and then I spritzed

myself with her Here’s My Heart cologne mist, also by Avon. I went to the bathroom mirror and stared at my reflection. I looked okay, but the lipstick was

probably a reach.

“You look desperate and ridiculous,” I muttered, wiping off the lipstick with a tissue and tossing it into the garbage can.

I still had the lipstick in my hand when Mama came up behind me.

“You don’t look desperate or ridiculous,” Mama said. She grabbed the lipstick and began to reapply it. “You look beautiful.

I wish you dressed up like this more often. Is your friend coming over now?” Mama looked at me knowingly. I blushed and turned

away.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “He’s coming over to see if Marcus would like to talk.” I wanted to make sure she knew I wasn’t inviting Seth over for me. “And, Mama, I invited him to Thanksgiving tomorrow. He’s going to be all alone. I didn’t even think about it—I just invited him. I can uninvite him when he gets here.”

“No. Let the invitation stand. Ain’t no harm inviting someone to break bread on Thanksgiving,” she said with a smile. “Just

make sure you don’t disrespect Brother Leon. If he’s not the one for you, let him know that. Don’t lead him on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. Breaking things off with Leon was complicated. He wasn’t just my “gentleman caller.” He was also a good

friend of Mama’s. I didn’t want to take her TV buddy away from her.

The doorbell rang and my heart jumped again. I closed my eyes to steady myself.

“You better go to the door,” Mama said.

I looked at her staring at me and again I felt embarrassed, but I took a deep breath and walked as calmly as I could out of

the bathroom. As I went to the front door, I heard the boys laughing in the kitchen. When I opened the door, once again I

had to mentally settle my nerves. Seth was wearing his Marine uniform and had never appeared more handsome. He stood with

a confidence that belied a man with a prosthetic leg who was dealing with demons from the war. I forced a smile.

“Hello, Seth,” I said. “Come on in.” He removed his cap. I turned and saw Mama standing right behind me. I pulled her close. “This is my mama, Mrs. Heloise Daniels. Mama, this is Seth Taylor. He owns Big T Construction. He and his crew are going to be doing some work at the group home and he’s here to talk with Marcus. That is, if Marcus is up to it and...” I realized I was babbling, so I stopped talking midsentence. I felt sweat beading above my lip.

“Afternoon, Mr. Taylor,” Mama said, extending her hand. He shook it gently.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Daniels. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Come on in,” she invited, stepping aside. “I’ll go see if I can get Marcus to join us in the living room. Katia, you offer

Mr. Taylor something to eat or drink. God knows there’s plenty to eat in that kitchen. Mr. Taylor, I was happy to hear you’ll

be joining us tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, stepping into the house, which seemed very small with his large frame filling up much of the entryway.

The space was so cramped, his arm and mine touched. I tried not to shrink away.

“The living room is this way,” I said, thankful that my voice didn’t break. I led him to the living room and then asked him

if he’d like something to drink or eat.

“No thank you, Kat,” he said, taking a seat on the couch. I sat in the recliner opposite him. “I had a big lunch, and in the

truck I have a gallon jug of water I’ve been drinking on all day.”

“Miss K-K-Katia,” Pee Wee called from the door, causing me to jump.

I turned. “Yes, Pee Wee? But before you tell me what you need, say hello to Mr. Taylor.”

“Hello, Mr. T-T-Taylor,” he said and then went over to shake hands like I had taught him.

“Nice to meet you, Pee Wee,” Seth said as they shook hands.

Once the pleasantries ended, Pee Wee turned back to me. “Th-th-the greens are w-w-washed. Ch-Ch-Chad helped. We didn’t s-s-see any b-b-bugs. Come check, p-p-please?”

“Okay,” I said. “Excuse me, Seth.”

When I got to the kitchen, Chad was cleaning up the mess. I smiled at them both.

“Thank you, boys. You have done such a good job helping Mama and me with the preparation for tomorrow. Why don’t you take

a break?” I said. “In the storage room out back, there are some footballs and basketballs that used to belong to my brothers.

The key to the room is hanging by the door. You can go outside and play until dinner. Chad, make sure you bring the key back

and hang it up for me.”

“Is that your man?” Chad asked abruptly.

I looked at him curiously, my cheeks growing warm. “No. He’s a friend. He’s here to see my brother. Hopefully he can help

him feel better.”

“Then he’s a doctor?” Chad’s question startled me—not the words but the tone, but then it dawned on me what was happening.

Because I was one of the few people in Chad’s life who was a stable presence, he worried I might somehow stop being that person

on a whim or, in this case, because of a man. Right then I needed to establish clearer boundaries with him. I had allowed

us to become too close. That was my fault. But I had to be the one to make sure Chad and I didn’t cross a line. Chad was not

my son, and we couldn’t pretend like he was, even for these next few days.

“Those are personal questions, Chad,” I said in a firm voice. “Don’t overstep. You and Pee Wee should go outside and play. I will check on you shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered. “Come on, Pee Wee.”

I watched as the two of them left out of the kitchen door. So many broken men and boys underneath this roof today. All I wanted

to do was heal them and take away their pain. But all I could do was what I was doing, and it felt hopeless at times. I’d had that dream again last night. Leeches. Everywhere I turned. I woke up just in

time to stifle a scream. Maybe I needed some therapy myself, but who had time for it? My life was filled with one thing after

another. Looking after myself wasn’t at the top of my priority list.

When I went back to the living room, Marcus and Mama were entering from the other direction. I scanned my brother’s face.

He looked absent from this world. He seemed to be barely hanging on. He wore a pair of camouflage pants and a white T-shirt.

Both hung on him like he was a scarecrow.

I watched as Seth stood. He, too, gave Marcus a once-over. I wondered what he was thinking. Was Marcus typical for the men

Seth saw at the group sessions he ran, or was my brother so far out into the deep waters that no lifeboat could save him?

If I could plunge my body into those waters and swim out to where my brother was, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I didn’t know

the first thing about reaching him. It pained me that I could help so many boys at the group home yet couldn’t do the same

for my own brother.

When Daddy died, Marcus and Aaron had allowed me to be their anchor. Maybe because they were so young and I, their big sister, was a giant slayer in their eyes. Now all Marcus knew of the world was that it could rip away the other part of his soul—his twin and best friend—and no one could do anything about it.

Seth walked over to Marcus, the limp more noticeable now than when he’d entered the house. Seth stood at attention and saluted

Marcus. Marcus pulled himself up into a stiff position and saluted Seth back.

“At ease, my friend,” Seth said. “At ease.”

Marcus’s body seemed to crumble, as if that salute took everything out of him. He wasn’t quite stooped over, but Mama leaned

into him to support him. She guided him into the recliner, where he sank like a stone.

“Mama,” I said. “Let’s give Seth and Marcus some privacy.”

Mama looked at Marcus like she used to when he was a child. I knew she didn’t want to leave him alone with a stranger, but

I trusted Seth. I didn’t think he’d do anything to hurt Marcus. In fact, I had planted all of my seeds in that garden of hope,

trusting that Seth might be able to pull my brother back from the abyss.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Daniels.” Seth smiled at her reassuringly. “We’re just going to visit. That’s all. I lost my leg in the Battle

of Ia Drang on November 16, 1965. But I lost a lot more. Sometimes we war veterans just need to bear witness to each other’s

stories. That’s all I’m here to do, if that’s what Marcus wants. Otherwise, we’ll chat about whatever—maybe the Alabama–Auburn

game coming up in December. Or maybe the sharp rise in the price of lumber and plywood. Or maybe the fact that Nina Simone

released three studio albums in one year.”

My head jerked up at the mention of Nina Simone, but I was more interested in my brother’s reaction.

He looked up sideways at Mama. “I’m okay, Mama.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard something—something that

sounded a bit like my brother. And for that, I was willing to entrust him to Seth.

“Okay,” Mama said. “But if you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Mama and I walked out of the room arm in arm. She looked up at me and I smiled at her with as much assurance as I could muster.

“Seth is a good man,” I said, and somehow I knew that to be true. I had no hard evidence to prove that claim, but I believed

it with everything in me. Maybe because I had to. We needed to get Marcus back on his feet, and my fervent prayer was that

Seth could help with that. “They’re just going to talk. Let’s you and me go and get started on those sweet potato pies. Okay?”

A tear trickled down her face. “I can’t lose him too.”

“I know.” I hugged her tight, hoping to pour some of my hopefulness into her empty cup. I wanted her to believe that Marcus

would be alright, for both of our sakes.