Hot Fudge Sundae Blues by Bev Marshall

Author:Bev Marshall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307415516
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2007-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

PAPAW DIDN’T KNOW ANY LAWYERS, BUT I KNEW ONE.“WHAT about Mr. Albright?” I said. “You met him. The Albrights were at the Fourth of July party at Dixie Springs Lake.”

As Miss Louise laid a bowl of chicken gumbo in front of him, she said, “I remember the Albrights. Isn’t their son the one you dated for a while?”

I held my bowl out to her. It had been a long afternoon and my appetite had returned when I smelled the gumbo bubbling on the stove. How Miss Louise had managed to make it was a mystery to me considering she’d been so busy. She had helped Mama bathe before giving her the same small blue miracle pill she’d given to me.Then after Mama was tucked into my bed, Miss Louise had taken up the rug in Mama’s room, washed the sheets, vacuumed up every sliver of glass and even cut some maroon mums for a vase that now sat on the center of the table where we sat waiting for Mama to wake up.

“Yeah, I went out with him once. He’s going steady with somebody else now though.The girl he brought to the picnic.”

“Well, if the son takes after the father, he’s got bad taste in women. I don’t know that we’d want him defending Frieda,” Papaw said, as he blew on his spoon before lifting it to his mouth. “Good gumbo, Lou. You’ve got good taste in food and men.”

She smiled and sat down with us. “Maybe we should say grace,” she said.

I looked over at Papaw. I remembered the one time Grandma had made him say the blessing and he’d said, “In the kitchen, down the hall, hope to God I get it all.” But he bowed his head and kept silent.

After a moment Miss Louise said, “Pass the butter please, Layla Jay.”

MAMA DIDN’T EAT ANY GUMBO; she slept on in my room until the next morning. After Papaw and Miss Louise left around ten o’clock, I got back into bed with her and lay with my arm wrapped across her body so that I would know if she got up during the night. Although she mumbled a few times, frowning and crying as she twisted the sheet into funnels, she never opened her eyes until the phone rang around eight o’clock the next morning.

It was Papaw. He was on his way over with Mama’s lawyer, Mr. Gordon Albright.

I threw on the clothes I’d tossed on the floor the night before, and while I made coffee, Mama got dressed. When she came into the kitchen, I was relieved to see that she’d put on some makeup, pinned her hair up in a twist, and put on our favorite blue dress with the low-cut ruffled bodice. I grinned, thinking that no matter what had changed in our lives, old habits resurfaced easily. A man was coming to our house, and Mama was going to look her best.

Papaw looked like hell. He hadn’t shaved and white stubble covered his cheeks and chin.

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