Page 8 of Stronger Than Blood
She looked up, surprised, but smiled when she saw me. “Little Rory Jenkins, is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.
She ran her hand over the stone one last time, and I sighed. “I’m guessing this must be Mr. Cox?” I asked, and she nodded before wiping a tear.
“My daughter Emma Lou told me to stop coming here, but I can’t quite give up on him yet. I know that don’t make sense.”
I went over and put my hand next to hers on Mr. Cox’s stone. “I’m here too, you know. Sometimes, it’s where you gotta go to be close to the ones that’ve left us.”
She nodded again , but I knew my words were of little consequence. She and Mr. Cox had been a power couple. They’d been strong members of the AME Church, and even though we didn’t attend very often, when we did, they’d both embraced our family with open arms. Something that wasn’t always the case for a biracial couple.
“I wish I’d known. I’d have come to the service.”
Mrs. Cox smiled sadly without looking at me. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before looking my way. “Have you had lunch, young man?” she asked.
“N-no, I thought I’d grab something on my way back to Memphis.”
“Memphis, is that where you ran off to?” she said, and some of her usual vibrato returned. “Well, you’re here now. Come on. I’m meeting Emma Lou and her son, Luke—I believe he’s just a little younger than you, if I remember right. Anyway, we’re going over to Puckett’s in downtown. You remember it, don’t you?” she asked.
“I remember seeing it, but I don’t believe I ever ate there.”
The truth was I had never eaten there. Both my grandparents were stingy with money. They didn’t believe in eating out, and since Puckett’s reportedly served home cooking, my grandmother never understood why we’d eat someplace when we could have leftovers from the fridge.
There was no point in bringing that up, though. I followed Mrs. Cox to the restaurant and greeted her daughter and grandson, both of whom I barely remembered. They were nice enough, however, and I was enjoying having a meal that felt somewhat like family would feel… if I still had one.
“So,” Mrs. Cox said after finishing her fried chicken thigh, “what brings you back to these parts if you’re living down in Memphis these days?”
I sighed. No way was I gonna tell an uber-Christian lady it was because my Hoodoo priestess friend told me to. “I felt the need to reconnect to family, although I don’t have much left these days,” I admitted.
Mrs. Cox sat quietly for a few moments before she replied, “Well, that ain’t totally true. You know your great-grandparents were members of the AME. I remember them very well. Your grandpa had a brother, and if I remember correctly, he moved to some little town east’a here. I can’t recollect the name, but he owned a pharmacy there. Oh, what’s the name of that little town? Pistol no… Piston Creek. I remember now because I always thought the name of that town was crazy. Who names a town after a car part?”
“Wait, are you talking about the Kennedys?” Emma Lou asked, interrupting her mother’s musing.
When her mom nodded, she smiled. “Oh, that’s right, I used to be sweet on their son Denis Kennedy. Mmm, that man was such a looker.”
“Mom,” her son said, and I couldn’t help but laugh. The guy might be in his twenties, but none of us wanted to hear about our parents' or grandparents' crushes.
She chuckled. “Yeah, so what would that make him to you? Let’s see. I reckon he’d be your dad’s first cousin, so you’d be first cousin once removed.”
I shrugged. “I guess I don’t know much about them.”
Luke smiled. “So you don’t know that Rebecca Kennedy is, like, your second cousin?”
“Rebecca Kennedy?” I asked and had to think about the name.
When I couldn’t recall, he laughed. “She’s a famous actress. How do you not know Rebecca Kennedy?”
My eyes almost burst out of my head. “LiketheRebecca Kennedy?” I asked, and all three of them laughed.
“Yeah, but don’t you go causing trouble, Luke. I don’t involve myself in gossip. The good book makes it clear we’re to resist that urge, but I do remember something being said about your grandpa and his brother having a falling out.”
I figured I probably knew what that falling out was about, now it came down to it. I shook that off. “Well, I mean. Wouldn’t it be weird if I just showed up at Rebecca Kennedy’s house and said, ‘Hey, I’m your long-lost cousin?’”
They all laughed again. “I suspect you’d be better off going to meet your first cousin once removed before meeting her. Rebecca is likely to have armed guards.”
“Maybe.”
Luckily, the conversation shifted, and we moved on to the topic of food in Memphis versus Nashville. “Now their barbeque is good, but you can’t beat our fried chicken,” Emma Lou said, and I chuckled. I wasn’t sure Franklyn or even Nashville was known for fried chicken, but that wasn’t an argument I was willing to have.
