Page 3 of Stronger Than Blood
There were potatoes, some kind of bean thing, and a pile of green something. I tasted it all, and each had a distinctive, odd flavor. All completely foreign to me.
Pushing my fears to the back of my mind, I let my hunger take over and I ate everything on the plate. When you never knew when food would be available, you sure didn’t spend time being picky. If it didn’t have maggots or smell rotten, you ate, and you ate fast.
The old woman sat down across from me, watching, but not touching her own food, and when I finished, she leaned back in her chair and laughed. “Lordy be, child, I ain’t seen someone eat like that since my little brother Eddie was around.”
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and apologized. “I’m… I’m sorry,” I said in the quietest voice I could manage without whispering.
“Sorry for what? Eating the food I prepared for you? Ain’t you been around any womenfolk? Ain’t one compliment so great as a young boy enjoying the fruits of yer labors.” She chuckled and said, “Well, I ain’t gonna wait on you again; you’ll run my legs off. Go on over there and fix yerself another plate. I’m gonna enjoy what I’ve got on mine.”
I debated whether I should, but not knowing if or when I’d eat again, and knowing she was busy eating her own food, I decided to take her up on her offer and filled my plate with the same amount she’d given me before. I figured if she’d given me that much once, she might not get mad if I ate the same again.
She rattled on and on throughout the meal, talking about people I didn’t know and had never met. My cousin so and so, or my aunt this or that. Those people had never been a part of my life. I had never heard their names mentioned before, and to be honest, I couldn’t have cared less one way or the other.
What I cared about was that this stranger in front of me wasn’t mad, she didn’t have her gun with her, and she’d fed me so much I felt like I might puke. But my stomach was full for the first time in a long time and I was thankful for that.
If I hadn’t been so freaking scared of her from my last visit here, I’m sure I’d have felt something akin to happy… but “happy” wasn’t something I trusted. No, you watched your back, and you watched it every moment you could. Otherwise, you might as well accept the fact that somebody was about to put a knife in it.
Chapter two
Present Day – Mick
“Mick, did you hoe out those beans?” Granny Ida asked.
“Listen, old lady, if you weren’t so blind, you’d see I did.”
“I swear to tarnation, child, I might be ninety, but I can still take a switch to that behind of yours.”
“Yeah, so you’ve said,” I responded as I walked past and kissed her cheek. “The rows are all hoed. I’ll till them tomorrow, though. It’s gettin' too hot to do it today.”
“Lord, yes, come on inside. I almost got lunch done.”
“I’ll be in in a sec. I need to clean off this old hoe and sharpen it. I swear them weeds get thicker and tougher every year.”
“Well, there’s truth ta that, ya know. I was over at Lilly and John's the other day, and John was sayin’ all that poison them big farmers have been sprayin’ have just turned the weeds into Frankensteins.” She chuckled. “He called them Frankenweeds.”
“Well, I think this dull hoe is a good sign that’s true,” I said as I walked over to the outbuilding, found the file, and sat on the upturned bucket to file the hoe before putting it up.
Granny Ida went inside to tend to the meal, and I couldn’t help but smile. She was seventy-six when I arrived all those years ago. Had taken a scared, damaged kid in and nurtured him back to health. Now, at ninety, she was tough as an old rooster and would’ve been out in that garden hoeing and tilling if I hadn’t put my foot down and told her I’d do it.
I still thought it was half a miracle she let me. I’m guessing Doc Riley’s threat to have her put in a home helped. Whatever it took, she was a pill when it came to yard work. She was convinced that being ninety shouldn’t prevent her from, and I quote, “getting on with it like I always have.”
My phone rang just as I hung the old hoe back on its rack. “Hello.”
“Hi, Mick, it’s Jenna Stewart. Sweetheart, I’m in a pinch. I have to go visit my sister this weekend, and I promised to bring a pie and a cake to church on Sunday. Is there any way you could fit one into your schedule?”
“Mrs. Stewart, you should call the store, not me. You know I’m not supposed to take orders from customers.”
“Oh pish posh, how would they know? And besides, you’re the only one in that store who knows how to bake anything.” I heard her sigh. “Everyone else’s stuff tastes like plastic.”
“I’m happy to help, but don’t you breathe a word to my boss, and you won’t pay me. It’ll be grandma’s and my contribution to the luncheon.”
“Oh no, I have to pay.”
“No, ma’am, that’s not an option. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” I said, knowing I was pushing the boundaries. These older Southern women would not hesitate to give me a going-over if they thought I was being disrespectful.
“Well, I reckon I’ll take it. But I do feel like I’m taking advantage.”
I looked up to make sure Granny Ida wasn’t within earshot. “Well, I do have ulterior motives. You and Mr. Stewart still plan to go to town next week, right?”
