Beyond Molasses Creek by Nicole Seitz Page B

me. “Right nice to have me over. Ain’t every day a man gets an invitation for supper . . . with old friends.”
    â€œVesey, you are a sight for sore eyes! I just can’t get over . . . I declare, Ally, he hasn’t aged a wink! And for us, we have to work so hard to look this good.”
    Vesey is uncomfortable with this talk. Always has been a little uneasy with Margaret’s forceful nature. I feel protective of him and take him by the arm. “You are my guests for the evening, so I want you to relax, have some ginger ale or sweet tea, something cool to drink. We’ve got pot roast, you know. I hope you brought your appetite.”
    â€œAnd homemade gravy?” asks Vesey.
    â€œEven homemade macaroni and cheese.”
    â€œLawd, I died and gone to heaven.” A look flashes between us, and I plead with my eyes, then mouth the words, “I’m sorry. About the whole heaven thing.”
    â€œNot at all, Miss Ally. Not at all. And who is this?” Vesey puts out his hand for Graison, who is standing quietly in Margaret’s shadow, taking us all in.
    â€œThis is my granddaughter, Graison. Say hello, Graison.”
    â€œHello, Graison,” she says.
    â€œGraison is staying with me . . . for a while.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” says Vesey.
    â€œI’m preggers,” says Graison, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. My eyebrows rise.
    â€œGraison!” says Margaret.
    â€œWell, it’s true. They’ll know about it soon enough. Not like you can hide it forever. Mr. Washington, I’m staying here with my grandmother until the baby is born. Then I’ll be headed back home to Memphis. Back to school and all, I guess.”
    None of us knows what to say. The child is what, sixteen? A child having a child. Something aches inside of me and I brush it off. “Alrighty then, how about we go on in and eat some supper? I’d like to take a little boat ride before the sun goes down. If you feel up to it, Graison.”
    â€œOh, I’ll be fine.”
    â€œThat okay with you, Vesey? Dinner and a boat ride?”
    He nods. “Don’t have to ask me twice. Here, let me lead the way.”
    â€œAs you can see, I have a long ways to go,” I say, pointing to the kitchen behind me. We never did have a proper dining room, just a screened-in patio out the back of the house with a concrete floor and aged wood walls. The table is new to the patio, teak, with fruits and little details carved into the legs. “Got this table in Hawaii nearly twenty years ago,” I say, patting the wood. “It’s turned a little, sitting in the warehouse.”
    â€œI think it’s lovely out here,” says Margaret, stretching back in her chair and crossing her legs. “Love how you can sit here and feel the breeze and watch the water dance.” She looks over at Vesey. “You still live across the river there?”
    â€œSure do.”
    â€œHow quaint. To still be this close, after all these years.”
    â€œVesey was kind enough to look after Daddy over the past—”
    My throat catches and I grab my glass of tea. After a sip I say, “Would anyone like some more macaroni?”
    â€œDon’t mind if I do,” says Vesey, holding out his plate. I offer some to Graison.
    â€œNot for me,” she says. “I’m stuffed.” Margaret looks at her granddaughter and at this moment I can see the resemblance, somewhere in the eyes and the forehead. Margaret seems concerned she’s not getting enough food for two.
    â€œGraison, have you thought about what you’re going to do once the child is born?” I hear the words come out of my mouth with such ease and familiarity; I don’t know what’s come over me. Obviously I’ve ruffled Margaret. She grabs her glass and swigs her ginger ale.
    â€œI’m going to adopt, I guess. We’re working with a lady to find a good