Page 85 of The Deadly Candies

Carmelo roared with laughter. “You can’t put a baby on a motorcycle.”

Carmelo's arm slid around his older brother's shoulders, pulling him close."Fratelli. We do this together."

Nino grinned, slapping the table so hard the soup bowls jumped."Fratelli!"Nino echoed, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beyond the kitchen's warm light.

“He’s a Ricci! We raise him together,” Carmelo agreed.

Butts, Mississippi - 1949

Kathy blinked against the pale dawn light, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms before throwing off the covers in one determined motion. The chill of early morning raised goosebumps on her bare skin as she sat up. Though it was just Monday, a quiet joy warmed her chest - she and Janey had the day off thanks to their new Saturday shifts.

Today promised stolen pleasures: experimenting with new hairstyles, braiding Janey's hair, poring over the glossy magazines stacked in their room. In their small world on the Jensen farm, such days were rare treasures to be hoarded like sugar during rationing.

Wrapping herself in a well-worn robe and sliding her feet into soft slippers, Kathy padded down the creaking hallway toward Janey's room. Normally, she'd slip under the covers beside her aunt, nuzzling her awake with whispered pleas to join her for church - a weekly ritual that inevitably sparked Big Mama's temper when Janey scoffed at "the Lord's foolishness." Kathy's gentle persistence usually smoothed the tension between the women.

Theirs was a strange relationship. Related only through marriage, Big Mama didn’t have to take Janey in. But Big Mama walked around mumbling and cursing because Janey was her child. That is how she would say it to the other women. The one child she couldn’t raise right. Kathy knew there was something deep between them that brought Janey home from time to time.

But when she pushed open the door this morning, no comforting scent of lavender and cedar greeted her. Instead, an unnatural chill hung in the air, the kind that settles in abandoned spaces. The bed stood neatly made, every surface orderly and bare. Kathy's stomach dropped as she checked the bathroom - empty. Her pulse quickened as she hurried downstairs, flying past the kitchen where Big Mama sat at the worn table, morning light catching the silver in her hair as she cradled a steaming mug of chicory coffee.

Room after room yielded no sign of Janey.

"Janey!" Kathy's voice cracked with rising panic.

From the kitchen, Big Mama's rich contralto answered: "Hush that hollerin'. Come here, child."

A cold dread settled in Kathy's bones. Since arriving in Butts, her only friend had been Ely - a friendship that had sparked tense letters from Carmelo, especially after she mentioned Ely's suggestion that she become a teacher in her last letter. She understood Carmelo's fear of her turning to another man and wished the miles between them didn't feel so impassable. But Janey's arrival had changed everything. Her aunt embodied life's vibrant possibilities - with Janey here, Kathy hadn't needed Ely's fragile comfort.

Big Mama gestured to the chair opposite her without breaking the rhythm. Rising stiffly, she shuffled to the stove and poured coffee into a chipped mug, stirring in sugar with deliberate care before setting it before Kathy. The rich aroma did nothing to calm the questions buzzing in Kathy's mind. In this house, when Big Mama spoke, you listened - but the silence only made Kathy's unasked questions scream louder. Where was Janey?

"Got home yesterday when you were in town with Janey and Ely," Big Mama began, her voice softer than usual. "Ms. Jensen left word for me to call my son up at the big house."

Kathy's hands tightened around her mug. "Daddy? Is he?—"

"Not that son," Big Mama corrected with a look that carried generations of hard truths. "My oldest. Petieboi.” She fixed Kathy with a steady gaze. "Turns out my baby Debbie wants to get married. And they done decided it for her."

The words hit like a bucket of ice water. "What?" Kathy gasped.

Big Mama took a slow sip, steeling herself. "Now drink your coffee, 'cause this gonna burn going down. Petie says Debbie's pregnant." She exhaled heavily. "Never heard my boy cry till he told me that. He's tough - tougher than your daddy - but Debbie's his princess, even if he ain't one for pretty words. I had big dreams for that girl, the same as Henry once had for you. But this world..." She trailed off, the unspoken truth hanging between them: dreams were a luxury Black folks couldn't afford.

Kathy's words tumbled out in a stammer: "Preg... from who—how?"

"Boy name José. From some place call Porta Ricun." Big Mama's mouth twisted around the unfamiliar words. "And he ain't no white-fella neither. Brown like us, but different. Island boy.”

Kathy's eyes widened until they stung. Nothing made sense. José - sweet, gentle José who wrote Debbie passionate letters about truths they couldn't speak aloud. José, who everyone knew preferred the company of boys or men.

Big Mama continued, her voice dropping to a murmur: "When you went up to nap yesterday, I told Janey. She just laughed, like it was some joke. I got hot and slapped her - regret it now, 'cause you don't lay hands on an Elliot woman. And Janey my child. My baby. She done ran away hundreds times form her sisters to come cry on my bosom. For me to care for her. That’s the promise I kept for Brenda. Still what hurts Janey my loving and craing can’t cure.” Big Mama’s expression turned grim. "Janey stormed off, and dinner passed in silence, thick as molasses. Could see the storm in her eyes even while you chirped away, trying to lighten the mood. Late last night, I heard music from the kitchen. Jazz.You knows I don’t play Jazz or de blues in dis house!Found her there, fiddling with the radio while making her special sweets."

"Sweets?" Kathy echoed.

A wistful smile touched Big Mama's lips. "Elliot women, they cook their feelings. Angry? They bake a pie so tart it'll pucker your soul. Heartbroken? Cookies sweeter than first love. But Janey... when she's mad, she makes these little candies. Says they're best sucked slow like secrets." She met Kathy's gaze. "I knew a man who ate one once. He ain't here no more to tell secrets.”

Big Mama eyes dropped to the counter. "Your aunt left a letter over yonder. Knew she was gone when I saw her drifting 'round the kitchen like a ghost. Still don't know why she came here in the first place. If’in only to get my hopes up that she’d stay for longer than a spell. That girl keeps breaking hearts, and as I can see in your eyes, she broke yours too.”

Before Kathy could process the news, Big Mama delivered the final blow: "One more thing. You, me, and Ely - we going to Harlem in two days, maybe a week. Doc coming to visit to see when I fit to travel.”

Kathy's mouth worked soundlessly. "Wha?—?"

A determined smile cracked Big Mama's stern face. "We got a wedding to plan and attend, sugar. Told Henry he cain't cast you out my family. You my blood - born of me. No woman getting thrown away on my watch. We'll take Ely, borrow Mr. Jensen's car. If’in he let us. If not, I got enough saved to get us train tickets. Mr. Jensen’ll get us traveling work papers too. Know all the backroads and safe place—just a caution for Tennessee. Like I said, leave in two days. Stay just long enough to see Debbie married, then come straight back."

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