CHAPTER 6
From the kitchen, which was positioned directly in back of the house and in clear view of the living room, stood Ginnie Mae. The Leigh children addressed her as Auntie Ginnie Mae, although she was not a blood relative of the family. Still, she mixed like family for as long as anyone could remember, having grown up with Gertrude and her sisters; she now lived in a neighboring town with her two pre-teen daughters.
Time and again Ginnie Mae peered into the living room to make sure everyone was accounted for. At other times, she strolled through the living room to the front screen door and looked out on Fred and the twins, who were still sitting along the porch, quieter now and undisturbed by anyone inside. Mary Jane and Mary Jean were leaning into their dad, on opposite sides of him, holding on to his arms as their heads rested there.
Ginnie Mae thought back to a few weeks earlier when Gert appeared sickly, but she never expected this tragic ending. On a few occasions Gert admitted to feeling “a little tired” or having some kind of discomfort, but Ginnie Mae never felt any real alarm. She recalled telling Gert that she needed to slow down a bit, she even suggested that she see a doctor for some iron pills. Gert always responded, “Oh, it’ll go away” or “It’s nothin’ to worry about.” When Ginnie Mae thought about those times, her eyes filled with tears; she thought of a million different things that she should have said or could have done for her dear friend.
Back in the kitchen, Ginnie Mae had already begun an early afternoon meal. She realized the family and friends must be hungry, especially the children. A breeze blew through the back door, carrying aromas of nutmeg, sweet potatoes and smothered chicken throughout the house, causing the children to stir about.
Mary Jane came in from the front porch, sucking her thumb as she headed for the kitchen; her baby brother followed close behind, having scrambled from Aunt Debbie’s lap as soon as he saw Mary Jane enter the house. Junior was already seated near the kitchen table, having a casual conversation with Ginnie Mae while enjoying the smell of food simmering all around him. Ginnie Mae was thrilled to see the children come alive, even if it was just for the sake of food.
Around this time, Mary and Bernice walked into the front yard. At the same time, Uncle Ned, Fred’s older brother, pulled into the dirt and gravel yard, carefully steering his new yellow Jaguar. All eyes were on him momentarily, or rather all eyes were on his shiny car. For one brief moment, Fred smiled as Ned settled his fancy car into a safe spot near the side of the house.
Mary Jean left the porch for the first time in hours when she saw her Uncle Ned drive up.
By the time he climbed out of his car, Mary Jean was already jumping up and down near the passenger’s door. Uncle Ned walked around to where she stood and swooped her up; she giggled loudly, as if she knew he would do just that; it’s what he’d always done with her and her sister from as far back as her young mind could recall. He then propped her onto his shoulders and walked toward Fred, Mary and Bernice.
For the next several minutes, Fred, Ned, Mary and Bernice were entangled in hugs and kisses, smiling with one another and talking small talk, as if no one wanted to be reminded of the real reason they were there. When Ned finally reached the front porch, he lowered Mary Jean to the ground and proceeded to sit on the edge of the porch. Fred returned to the porch near Ned, as if it were the only place that offered any solace.