Page 31 of Stronger Than Blood
I thought about it. Granny was miserable right now, and the thought of me bringing a stranger in when she was fit to be tied would probably not be a great idea. “Um, well,” I mumbled. “She’s not going to be very graciously accepting of visitors at the moment.”
Madam laughed. “Oh, I’m sure. If she’s been displaced from her home, especially as powerful as she sounds, I’m sure that’s true. However, we need as much information as we can get if we hope to overcome this entity.”
“I’ll call her, but can we go eat lunch first? My stomach is growling, and I could use a little something to calm it.”
She smiled and patted my hand. “Call your great-grandmother and see if she’d be willing to meet us this afternoon. Tell her we’ll sneak her in some of that incredible cobbler your cousin makes. That stuff is so good it should be illegal.”
I laughed for the first time since I began spilling my story. “It is good, and I’ll call her now.”
Of course, I should’ve known Granny Ida would say she’d love to have a distraction. When I told her the woman was a psychic, ’cause throwing surprises at Granny was never a good idea, she hummed, “That’s probably a good person to get involved. Probably should’ve done that ages ago.”
“So you aren’t mad?”
“Mad? Lord, no, son. If someone can help us get that… thatthingout of our lives for good and make it so you can move intoyourhome, then I’m all for it.”
“Okay, we’re going to go eat at Brenda’s. Oh, and Madam Bellamy said we needed to sneak you in some cobbler. I think that was some mystical direction, so you know we got to obey.”
Granny laughed. “You bring me two helpings; the food over here is like eating mush. Oh, and I want peach. I know Brenda thinks her blackberry is the best thing since sliced bread, but between you and me, it’d be better if she didn’t strain out all the seeds. Just ain’t proper to eat blackberry cobbler without the crunchy bites.”
I chuckled. “Yes’m. Peach cobbler it is.”
Rory joined us shortly after, dressed nicer than I’d seen him in a while. With Madam Bellamy’s beautiful outfit and perfectly manicured nails and Rory looking like some model fresh off the runway, I felt doughy and ugly. Oh well, it wasn’t about me winning any prizes for looks; I’d been driven from my home before I could get adequate sleep or even take the time to brush my teeth. At this point, I was lucky to have put on clean underwear, so I’d just go and hold my hillbilly head high.
Chapter twenty-one
Rory
Iliked Mrs. Ida Jamison the moment I met her. She scanned me with a critical eye as I walked in, and I knew she was assessing my worth. Under most circumstances, I’d have been offended, but I knew Mrs. Kennedy had been in contact because I’d heard her tell Mick on more than one occasion. I also believed Mrs. Kennedy was playing matchmaker between me and Mick.
Not that I needed any encouragement. If Mick would have let me, I’d have already made a move in that direction. At some point, I think I must’ve passed muster, as my grandparents used to say, at least enough that she could focus on Madam Bellamy.
“Thank you for letting us come by,” Madam said.
“Oh, I appreciate your willingness to meet me. I got my hair washed and combed out by this worthless staff because I told them I had company coming. Otherwise, I’d probably not have had any help at all.”
Madam smiled. “You do look quite lovely,” she said.
It was true. The older woman looked elegant in her nightgown and perfectly coifed hair. “So, what’s all this about?” she said, getting right to the point.
Mick sat down next to her and took her hand. “He’s been coming after me, even in my apartment.”
Mrs. Ida closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, she looked at Mick. “I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what else to do.”
“Can you tell us what you’ve done?” Madam asked.
She nodded. “You all can sit down on the bed and in that chair over there. Ain’t no need in you standing, and I don’t especially want this discussion to get out to others. I don’t think these old folks are above burning me at the stake.”
Mick gave his great-grandmother a pointed look, but she refused to make eye contact with him. As soon as we were seated, she began. “After the shooting, the police took the dead man, Preston Garrison, out of the house, and eventually, I was left alone dealing with the loss of my daughter. My granddaughter and little Mick were gone as well. I had to clean the blood off the walls and furniture myself. Of course, I had to throw most of it away. Once you see your child’s blood splattered all over… well, you don’t want to have that stuff in your home any longer.”
She closed her eyes and took a moment. I could tell it was hurting her to relive the events. “Once I’d disposed of all the bloodied furniture, rugs, and even my curtains, I had Joann take me into Nashville, where I bought all new stuff. At first, it was as if my sweet Abigail was there with me.” Granny Ida looked at Madam and said, “Abigail was my daughter’s name. She was there with me, comforting me as I cleaned out the destruction. Then one day, something changed, and the spirit of the place got darker. I knew it was him, and he was chasing my sweet Abigail out of the house, away from me. At first, the man scared me,but then I got mad. So angry that I took a sledgehammer to the furniture that was still sitting out behind the house, waiting for a dumpster company to pick it up and haul it off. I beat that stuff to a pulp, and when I was done, he didn’t seem as strong. Still there, and Abigail wasn’t, but he didn’t bother me much any longer.”
She turned to Mick, whose mouth was agape, and apologized. “I’m sorry, Mick, I told your school counselor that you weren’t crazy, that I’d felt that old son of a bitch myself, but she told me I shouldn’t share that with you. She said I’d just be encouraging your illusions, and that could get you admitted to the state hospital. It could also get you taken away from me. I was an old woman raising a teenager. I think she wanted to have you taken away as it was, but Joann kept her under control.”
He shook his head. “All this time, I thought it was just me.”
She reached over and took his hand. “No, but once the lie had started, I didn’t know how to pull it back. Damn that old counselor. It ain’t uncommon for Southern folks to see ghosts, especially ones that’ve done horrible stuff like that one did.”
“But,” she said, “I would gladly lie if it meant keeping you safe.’
