No Daughter of the South Read online

  They came in the kitchen door. Sammy first, looking great, looking wonderful, looking like sex and love and food and good times, just like I remembered. And Daddy right behind her, carrying her suitcase, smiling.

  I hugged Sammy right there, before I said a word. I tried hard to make it the perfectly appropriate hug. When it was over, I was exhausted from the effort of trying to keep the balance right.

  Momma had still more food ready, and she sat Sammy right down at the table, and fixed her a plate. To my surprise, instead of escaping to the living room to watch TV, Daddy sat down at the table, too. The two of them asked Sammy questions about her daughters and her profession. They seemed honestly interested in the answers. Sammy fished her picture album of the girls out of her purse, and handed it to Daddy. He and Momma oohed and aahed over them while Sammy finished her banana cream pie.

  Afterwards, Sammy accepted my mother’s suggestion that she “freshen up.” After she left the room, Daddy said to me, “That’s sure one fine-looking woman.” I blushed. Then I worried that perhaps he was expressing his own interest in her, not complimenting my own. I hoped not. I’d made a lot of progress this trip to Port Mullet, but I wasn’t yet ready to accept any suggestion that my father and I were turned on by the same woman.

  I ran after Sammy and caught up with her in the hallway right outside my bedroom. We kissed again, more passionately this time. I was carried away by the sweetness and familiarity of Sammy’s lips and mouth and tongue, and yet I was aware of the tingle in my stomach, the danger. After all, this was my parents’ house, and someone could walk in on us any minute. And I’m telling you, that added a fizzy kick to the kiss that made it that much better.

  When I forced myself to pull away, I asked her how she’d been able to take a break. She told me she had arranged for another midwife to take her calls for a few days, so that we could spend some time alone together. She said that while I’d been gone, Rachel had finally been weaned. Sammy attributed that occurrence to the security Rachel had felt in not having to share her mother with me for a few days. Now it was my turn to have Sammy to myself. But should an emergency arise, with the patients or with the girls, we’d be on the first plane out.

  While she was explaining, I pushed open the door to my bedroom. For a moment her face reflected the dissonance between the flowered and ruffled decorating scheme and what she knew of my taste. Then she said, “Your father must have put my suitcase somewhere else, it’s not in here.”

  So much had happened since I woke up that morning that I hadn’t even spotted the mine field that we now had to cross. “Uh. Well. I bet he put it in the guest room. Really Momma’s sewing room. Next door.”

  I backed out of my room and opened the next door. Sammy followed me, a knowing grin slowly taking over her face. “Yep,” I said, “here it is. Right here in the guest room. Next door to my room.”

  Sammy walked over, reached down and put her hand on the handle of the suitcase.

  “Uh, Sammy…”

  “Yes,” she said, sweetly.

  “I have something to tell you,” I began.

  “You didn’t tell them,” she said. She didn’t look angry. She was still smiling.

  “Nope. I meant to, you see, but—”

  “You went and told my mother. And my aunt. But you didn’t even tell your own parents. Who you’ve been staying with all this time. I tell you, you’re one courageous girl detective, Laurie.” But she was still smiling.

  “Well, you see, it’s like this...”

  “No,” she said, picking up the suitcase, and heading for my bedroom. “It’s like this. You tell them now. Right now. Or I’m taking my suitcase right back to the airport and getting on the first plane north.” She swung her suitcase up on my bed and snapped open the latches. She looked at her watch. “I need a shower and clean clothes. So you have, let’s say, twenty minutes. That ought to be long enough. Have fun.” Then she started pulling things out of her bag. I had clearly been dismissed.

  I left Sammy and went back into the kitchen, determined to engage in mature conversation with my parents. I had a plan designed to prevent me from taking off on some piece of impulsive bad behavior, however momentarily satisfying it might be. My plan was to take Sammy down to Sanibel Island, for two days and nights of beautiful solitude. I figured we could leave in the morning for a holiday of swimming, and beach combing, good seafood and wine, along with long, frantic nights of sex. I was going to keep this delightful prospect in mind, the carrot I dangled in front of myself to ensure my own good behavior.

  Now was the time. I was a grown-up, wasn’t I? I couldn’t just hide my lover away in New York, and fail to acknowledge her in front of my family. If I did, I was still a kid, still running away from being Coach Coldwater’s little girl, instead of moving towards who I wanted to be.

  “That’s one nice girl, that Sammy,” said Daddy.

  “I’m glad you like her.” I stumbled on, opting for immediate disclosure instead of graceful build up. I was afraid that if I took my time, I might chicken out. “She’s my girlfriend. My lover. And her little girls, Annie, Sarah, and Rachel, they’re special to me, too.”

  Momma’s expression was frozen. Daddy looked shocked for a long moment, and then he laughed. “Well, if that isn’t the craziest thing I ever heard tell of. This has got to be another of those phases you keep going through.” He shook his head, acting as if the whole prospect was amusing, but nothing he could take seriously. “Good Lord, Baby, that woman is a mother. What could you possibly be to her girls? You can’t be their mother, and you damn sure can’t be their daddy. It’s no wonder Johnny Berry divorced you. You act like you don’t have good sense a lot of the time.”

  The kitchen door opened and my brothers, without Walter, who had gone off on a camping trip, or so he had told Momma, came piling in with some of their friends. “Hi, Baby. Hi, Daddy. Momma, is there anything to eat around here?”

  As the boys sat down, and Momma started carrying bowls and platters of food to the table. She still hadn’t commented, but at least she hadn’t cried or screamed or called Johnny. I started thinking about the girls’ summer vacation. I ought to take them swimming in the Gulf. They should really know what that was like. And fishing, out in the Gulf, and down the river, too. Sammy might have a hard time getting away, but I could bring Annie and Sarah down for a visit, and maybe even Rachel, too. I had a feeling that Rachel and I were really going to get along now that we wouldn’t be competing for Sammy’s breasts. Hey, I thought, we could go visit Etta Mae and Sapphire, and then stop at Weeki Wachee on the way back. Those city girls had never seen anything like the underwater mermaid show, I was certain of that.

  For a moment, I had a flash of what the girls would look like, sitting around the table while Momma brought them plate after plate of food. She had been awfully taken with the photos Sammy had shown her. Hadn’t she said often enough how she wanted grandchildren? I was absolutely certain that her daughter’s lover’s black children was not at all what she had in mind, but I hoped I could win her over. After all, it looked like they might be the only grandchildren she was going to get from me, maybe from any of us.

  Sammy walked back into the room then, swinging her hips in that wonderful way she does. Big brother Seth looked up in surprise. The others were concentrating on the food and the conversation, and hadn’t noticed yet. Seth winked at me, and gave the thumbs up. I walked over to him, draped my arm around his shoulder, and ruffled his hair in gratitude.

  My brother, Paul, said, “Baby, introduce us to your friend.”

  “Baby?” said Sammy.

  We were up early the next morning. I hoped to avoid anymore discussions with my parents about Sammy and me. My emotions had been stretched in all directions the last few days, and I felt the need for some recovery time, first on Sanibel Island, and then back home in the city. I figured that the interval of time before my next visit would give my folks time to adjust their thinking. Here they’d always thought I was a man-cra
zy slut, and then they discovered that actually I was a woman-crazy slut, too.

  It was no surprise that Daddy had gone fishing. But Momma was waiting with grits and eggs and bacon and a determined look in her eyes. She clearly meant to have one serious talk. After breakfast, Sammy gracefully excused herself, and there I was, alone with Momma.

  “Now, I’ve got something to say, and for once, I don’t want you interrupting or talking back until I’ve said my piece.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Baby. I know it’s my fault. I failed you. I didn’t give you enough guidance. Didn’t manage to teach you all the things a girl should know, though Lord knows I tried. How to fix your hair, wear your clothes, get along with a man. If your daddy and I had been stricter on you about that kind of thing, you would have been able to keep a nice man. Like Johnny Berry. And you wouldn’t have to fall back on this kind of thing.”

  I wanted to jump in right there, turn back the flood of misunderstanding and misplaced guilt, but it was too late. There was no stopping Momma.

  “Now, I think right highly of your friend Sammy. She seems like a fine girl, and she’s always welcome to visit here with you. But I have something real important to say, something I never want you to forget. You just say the word, anytime, and I’ll send you the money to get the professional help you need.”

  Then she turned away and started packing an amazing number of sandwiches in the cooler for Sammy and me. It took a short while for me to catch her meaning. For just a second there, I thought she meant she’d pay for a professional hair styling. It hurt to know she thought my love for Sammy meant I was sick. There were a lot of things I wanted to set her straight about. But she had been good to Sammy, and she hadn’t tried to stop us from sleeping together under her roof. I figured Momma and I had made enough progress for one visit. We’d already covered more emotional ground in the last few days than in all of my life up until then.

  An hour and a half later, my love and I were headed south in a rented convertible. Sammy was driving, we had the top down, and the wind was in my hair, my feet up on the dash, and my left hand on Sammy’s thigh.

  Suddenly I pulled my feet down, sat up straight, took my hand off Sammy. Two signs had caught my eye at the same time. The first one was small, metal, rectangular. It said, “This section of the highway adopted by the Port Mullet Rotary Club.” The second was a large, commercial billboard set back from the road. It read: Miller Groves Development, Beach Site Homes and Condominiums.

  The image of Elijah Wilson’s mutilated body, surrounded by smiling men with guns, flashed into my mind. And in the trees behind, a dark native girl, arms and legs covered with tattoos, watched me. Then they were both gone and the sun was bright, and the sky cloudless and blue. I touched Sammy’s leg again. I knew that beyond the palm trees was the Gulf, warm and salty, that Sammy’s flesh was sweet beneath my hand, and back in the city, three terrific little girls were waiting for us to come home.