Page 17 of Kandie Shoppe

Cars zoom by. Some wave by honking while others call out our names with various invitations.

“Ayyyye,” calls Callie-Jane, leaning halfway out of her brother, Percy’s car. “What y’all about to get into? We making a barn fire if y’all want to get in.”

“Nothing, I’m just walking her home,” I toss over my shoulder.

“Uh-huh.” Then, “I see what you about to get into. Treat him right Kandie, don’t leave him hanging.” With that, the car speeds off, but not before Kandie double birds her.

“Heffa,” she mutters just as we come up to the yellow cottage. “You can set it down right here.”

Turning to look at Mama and Pa-Pete’s house, I keep the bike on my shoulder before heading up to the walkway. “I’ll sit it on the porch.”

“No,” she says so forcefully she has me pausing to turn back to her.

“It goes back here.” She nods to the back of the house. Walking like she’s headed to death row, she trudges to the sideof the house. Skirting the patio, she goes farther into the dark expanse of the huge yard.

We walk several more yards past the vast garden that’s been known to feed the community in good times and bad until it opens up to a small, almost doll-like pink house.

“You can sit it on the porch.” Not bothering to look at me, she goes up the short path lined with buttercups, daffodils, and poesies. Each side of the house has a big rose bush. The Love Rose adorns every Love residence. The story is they once planted them at every home that would give refuge to those seeking freedom. Held secret for centuries, that tale never made the official history books, but it’s common knowledge among the denizens of Shelby-Love. Many would be surprised to know we even have a bush on Shelby property, though how it got there has been lost to our side of the county. The Loves for sure ain’t telling us Shelbys which of our ancestors were on their side.

“Nice place,” I say, taking in how personalized the design is. “I didn’t think pink was your color.”

“It’s not.” She turns the knob, opening the door that wasn’t locked. “It’s Kerania’s.”

I say nothing about her using the present tense. Hell, I still do it at times when I speak about Dad. Putting the bike in the corner of the porch, I lean back against the porch railing, looking down at her small curvy form.

She leans against the door, looking everywhere but at me. Finally, her shoulders slump as she turns those pools of deep molasses on me. “You coming in?”

“Are you going to let me in?” I counter, letting her know I’m not talking just about her house.

Without a word, she turns into the dark house. Flipping on a light, the space fills with a flood of pink luminescence. Leaving the door open is her invitation. One I gladly take.

Pushing off the railing, I follow.

Stepping into the one room little house, I see it’s what my ex called dark princess core or a dark coquette core themed room. All the delicate furnishings are edged with black, pink, gunmetal, and dove gray.

“Lovely,” I say, with an eyebrow arched in her direction just as a pillow in the shape of a unicorn hits me in the face.

“Shut it,” she says with hands on her hips, standing before a sleigh bed situated against the wall so that it can double as a sofa.

“You want something to eat?” Tangling her fingers in front of her, she tilts her head to the side like she doesn’t know what to do.

You, my mind sings in a way that has me reaching behind me to lock the door.

Her eyes round in a way that has me assuring her. “Nothing happens that you don’t want. I promise.”

Visibly swallowing, she nods, her eyes losing none of their trepidation prompting me to growl. “What’s going on here, wildcat?”

“Um,” she hedges in a way I don’t like. “I just wanted to—to say, I’m sorry for what happened.”

Now it’s my turn for my eyes to round. “For what?” I’m puzzled.

“For making you lose your dad. He was good. I never said it. I should’ve said it. I know better now.” Every word, and I mean every fucking word, hits me square in my solar plexus.

“No.” Swiping the air with a forceful sweep, I shake my head. “That wasn’t on you. It’s not even on Kerania,” I say, knowing after reading the incident report that Kandie was locked in the basement with the other kids and Kerania set the fire as a distraction to set them all free. She freed her sister first, then went back to get the other kids out.

We found out later the county building inspector at the time had taken a bribe to help the home pass inspection. “The foundation was shit. Everyone knows that. That place was coming down with the first F3 tornado we had. If anything, she and her sister saved lives that night.

“Both of y’all are heroes in my book.” My voice sounds husky with the awe I have always felt for the two young girls who fought to save so many others when all they had to do was run away. They’d already lost so much.

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