aide to stay there. I’ve patched up a few leaks in the roof, put in a window air conditioner in the bedroom, new screens on the windows and now I’m finishing up a fresh coat of paint. You know,” he said, scratching his jaw, “it’s looking pretty good. I’m thinking maybe I should move in, instead.”
“Oh, no you don’t. That girl’s going to want her own space. So’s your mama. You just be a good boy and finish fixing that place up for Miss…what’s her name?”
“Kristina Hays.”
She acknowledged this with a nod. “Well, I’ve got things to get done before Miss Hays arrives, too.”
“I hope she works out.”
“You and me both.” She looked over to the house. “Seems quiet in there.”
“Mama’s sleeping now, or was last time I checked.”
Her brows rose. “Your mama’s still asleep?” She glanced quickly at her wristwatch. “She always rises with the sun. She’s not sick, is she?”
He shook his head. “Just exhausted. I didn’t bother her, and frankly, I’m glad she’s catching up. She’s been going non-stop.”
“That’s just her way. When she’s got herself a project, she gives one hundred percent. And given that this project is your daddy, she’s straining all her gears.”
“Yeah, but she’s sixty-six years old.”
“I’m sixty-eight! What’s your point?”
Morgan laughed. Nona was one of those people who was ageless. She seemed to him today to be the same woman she was when he was a boy. She still stood straight-backed and full-breasted, like some Wagnerian princess. Her hair still gleamed, too, though more like the black-and-white osprey’s wing than a raven’s. She wore it in much the same, short-curled style. Most of all, her spirit had not aged one whit.
One of his first memories of Nona was when he was three or four. Her finger was wagging and her eyes were flames as she scolded his older brother, Hamlin, within an inch of his life. Ham was much older, around thirteen. Yet there he was with his head bowed, filled with remorse. Up till that time, his big brother had seemed to him like a prince among men, a hero beyond reproach. Certainly his parents had never laid down the law like that. Morgan never figured out exactlywhat it was that Hamlin had done to rile Nona so, though he knew it had something to do with Hamlin taking Morgan out on the boat. Ham had taken him out lots of times without permission, but Morgan was too young to understand why Nona would be so upset about that. Only in retrospect did he see that it was an omen. Nonetheless, his earth had shifted that day as he witnessed her power over his brother.
Morgan put his hands up in mock surrender. “No point made.”
Her dark eyes gleamed in amused triumph. “She’ll get herself up before too long. You eat yet?” she asked him.
“Grabbed some orange juice and a Pop-Tart.”
Nona wrinkled her nose in disgust. “It’s no wonder you’re looking like a scarecrow. I’m amazed you managed to live so long all alone.”
“Who said I was alone?”
That caught her off guard and her face showed it. She quickly recouped, delivering a no-nonsense glare at his smirk. “Don’t you just wish. What woman is gonna hitch her star to someone as dog-ugly as you? Come back inside in about half an hour. I’m fixing to roll out some biscuits and fry up some bacon. And coffee,” she added, her body yearning for her beloved brew.
Morgan smiled as he watched Nona climb the stairs to the house. It wasn’t often he could render Nona speechless.
Hours later, Morgan was applying the last coat of Charleston Green paint to the kitchen house front door when he heard a car pulling up to the house followed by Blackjack’s gruff bark of alarm. The dog’s arthritic legs strained under the effort of rising. Feeling like an old dog himself after a long morning of painting, he slowly straightened with one hand anchoring the small of his back. His gaze followed Blackjack’s rush toward the sound of
“Oh, no you don’t. That girl’s going to want her own space. So’s your mama. You just be a good boy and finish fixing that place up for Miss…what’s her name?”
“Kristina Hays.”
She acknowledged this with a nod. “Well, I’ve got things to get done before Miss Hays arrives, too.”
“I hope she works out.”
“You and me both.” She looked over to the house. “Seems quiet in there.”
“Mama’s sleeping now, or was last time I checked.”
Her brows rose. “Your mama’s still asleep?” She glanced quickly at her wristwatch. “She always rises with the sun. She’s not sick, is she?”
He shook his head. “Just exhausted. I didn’t bother her, and frankly, I’m glad she’s catching up. She’s been going non-stop.”
“That’s just her way. When she’s got herself a project, she gives one hundred percent. And given that this project is your daddy, she’s straining all her gears.”
“Yeah, but she’s sixty-six years old.”
“I’m sixty-eight! What’s your point?”
Morgan laughed. Nona was one of those people who was ageless. She seemed to him today to be the same woman she was when he was a boy. She still stood straight-backed and full-breasted, like some Wagnerian princess. Her hair still gleamed, too, though more like the black-and-white osprey’s wing than a raven’s. She wore it in much the same, short-curled style. Most of all, her spirit had not aged one whit.
One of his first memories of Nona was when he was three or four. Her finger was wagging and her eyes were flames as she scolded his older brother, Hamlin, within an inch of his life. Ham was much older, around thirteen. Yet there he was with his head bowed, filled with remorse. Up till that time, his big brother had seemed to him like a prince among men, a hero beyond reproach. Certainly his parents had never laid down the law like that. Morgan never figured out exactlywhat it was that Hamlin had done to rile Nona so, though he knew it had something to do with Hamlin taking Morgan out on the boat. Ham had taken him out lots of times without permission, but Morgan was too young to understand why Nona would be so upset about that. Only in retrospect did he see that it was an omen. Nonetheless, his earth had shifted that day as he witnessed her power over his brother.
Morgan put his hands up in mock surrender. “No point made.”
Her dark eyes gleamed in amused triumph. “She’ll get herself up before too long. You eat yet?” she asked him.
“Grabbed some orange juice and a Pop-Tart.”
Nona wrinkled her nose in disgust. “It’s no wonder you’re looking like a scarecrow. I’m amazed you managed to live so long all alone.”
“Who said I was alone?”
That caught her off guard and her face showed it. She quickly recouped, delivering a no-nonsense glare at his smirk. “Don’t you just wish. What woman is gonna hitch her star to someone as dog-ugly as you? Come back inside in about half an hour. I’m fixing to roll out some biscuits and fry up some bacon. And coffee,” she added, her body yearning for her beloved brew.
Morgan smiled as he watched Nona climb the stairs to the house. It wasn’t often he could render Nona speechless.
Hours later, Morgan was applying the last coat of Charleston Green paint to the kitchen house front door when he heard a car pulling up to the house followed by Blackjack’s gruff bark of alarm. The dog’s arthritic legs strained under the effort of rising. Feeling like an old dog himself after a long morning of painting, he slowly straightened with one hand anchoring the small of his back. His gaze followed Blackjack’s rush toward the sound of
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