Page 5 of Stronger Than Blood
Chapter five
Rory
The problem was that I didn’t know where my past was. Madam Bellamy had been insistent that I go home. Where was home? A bunch of new homes that all looked alike? Even the old house had been torn down, and in its place was some suburbanite clone of the neighbors’.
I found my grandparents’ grave and put the flowers down that I’d purchased from Dollar General on the way here.
Grandma would’ve been mad. She always said flowers were the worst waste of money ever, but I didn’t know what else to bring.
It’s not like they’d be eating chocolates or anything, although my grandma had always loved those chocolate-covered cherries you could buy in the box.
I had spent extra money on the large stone and paid the yearly fee to keep things tidy. So, I was glad to see the graveyard crews were keeping the area looking good. There weren’t even any grass clippings on the stone.
I leaned back against it and looked out over the cemetery.
I knew my people were buried all over these parts.
The cemetery was established in the 1860s, and they’d bought their plot the year the Civil Rights Act passed.
My grandpa liked to brag that they were the first Black folks to own a plot in that cemetery.
Add to the fact that he and Grandma were a biracial couple, they really were trailblazers.
I was proud of their heritage. Proud of my parents, too, since they’d been a biracial couple as well. They’d all fought valiantly for their rights. I, however, had no one left. I didn’t even have neighbors I could talk to.
I stood up, and a funny feeling fell over me. It was as if a haze covered my vision sending goose bumps over my skin. A gentle breeze passed over me and I heard, “there,” whispered on the wind. I quickly glanced toward my right where a new grave still had the tent over it.
I recognized the older woman who was standing, running her hand over the new stone.
I wasn’t sure who or what had told me to look her way, but I figured it was in my best interest to listen so I shook off the weird feeling I always got when the paranormal happened around me and walked toward the tent.
“Mrs. Cox?” I asked as I walked over.
She looked up, surprised, but smiled when she saw me. “Little Rory Jenkins, is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.
She ran her hand over the stone one last time, and I sighed. “I’m guessing this must be Mr. Cox?” I asked, and she nodded before wiping a tear.
“My daughter Emma Lou told me to stop coming here, but I can’t quite give up on him yet. I know that don’t make sense.”
I went over and put my hand next to hers on Mr. Cox’s stone. “I’m here too, you know. Sometimes, it’s where you gotta go to be close to the ones that’ve left us.”
She nodded again , but I knew my words were of little consequence.
She and Mr. Cox had been a power couple.
They’d been strong members of the AME Church, and even though we didn’t attend very often, when we did, they’d both embraced our family with open arms. Something that wasn’t always the case for a biracial couple.
“I wish I’d known. I’d have come to the service.”
Mrs. Cox smiled sadly without looking at me. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before looking my way. “Have you had lunch, young man?” she asked.
“N-no, I thought I’d grab something on my way back to Memphis.”
“Memphis, is that where you ran off to?” she said, and some of her usual vibrato returned.
“Well, you’re here now. Come on. I’m meeting Emma Lou and her son, Luke—I believe he’s just a little younger than you, if I remember right.
Anyway, we’re going over to Puckett’s in downtown. You remember it, don’t you?” she asked.
“I remember seeing it, but I don’t believe I ever ate there.”
The truth was I had never eaten there. Both my grandparents were stingy with money. They didn’t believe in eating out, and since Puckett’s reportedly served home cooking, my grandmother never understood why we’d eat someplace when we could have leftovers from the fridge.
There was no point in bringing that up, though. I followed Mrs. Cox to the restaurant and greeted her daughter and grandson, both of whom I barely remembered. They were nice enough, however, and I was enjoying having a meal that felt somewhat like family would feel… if I still had one.
“So,” Mrs. Cox said after finishing her fried chicken thigh, “what brings you back to these parts if you’re living down in Memphis these days?”
I sighed. No way was I gonna tell an uber-Christian lady it was because my Hoodoo priestess friend told me to. “I felt the need to reconnect to family, although I don’t have much left these days,” I admitted.
Mrs. Cox sat quietly for a few moments before she replied, “Well, that ain’t totally true.
You know your great-grandparents were members of the AME.
I remember them very well. Your grandpa had a brother, and if I remember correctly, he moved to some little town east’a here.
I can’t recollect the name, but he owned a pharmacy there.
Oh, what’s the name of that little town?
Pistol no… Piston Creek. I remember now because I always thought the name of that town was crazy. Who names a town after a car part?”
“Wait, are you talking about the Kennedys?” Emma Lou asked, interrupting her mother’s musing.
When her mom nodded, she smiled. “Oh, that’s right, I used to be sweet on their son Denis Kennedy. Mmm, that man was such a looker.”
“Mom,” her son said, and I couldn’t help but laugh. The guy might be in his twenties, but none of us wanted to hear about our parents' or grandparents' crushes.
She chuckled. “Yeah, so what would that make him to you? Let’s see. I reckon he’d be your dad’s first cousin, so you’d be first cousin once removed.”
I shrugged. “I guess I don’t know much about them.”
Luke smiled. “So you don’t know that Rebecca Kennedy is, like, your second cousin?”
“Rebecca Kennedy?” I asked and had to think about the name.
When I couldn’t recall, he laughed. “She’s a famous actress. How do you not know Rebecca Kennedy?”
My eyes almost burst out of my head. “Like the Rebecca Kennedy?” I asked, and all three of them laughed.
“Yeah, but don’t you go causing trouble, Luke. I don’t involve myself in gossip. The good book makes it clear we’re to resist that urge, but I do remember something being said about your grandpa and his brother having a falling out.”
I figured I probably knew what that falling out was about, now it came down to it. I shook that off. “Well, I mean. Wouldn’t it be weird if I just showed up at Rebecca Kennedy’s house and said, ‘Hey, I’m your long-lost cousin?’”
They all laughed again. “I suspect you’d be better off going to meet your first cousin once removed before meeting her. Rebecca is likely to have armed guards.”
“Maybe.”
Luckily, the conversation shifted, and we moved on to the topic of food in Memphis versus Nashville.
“Now their barbeque is good, but you can’t beat our fried chicken,” Emma Lou said, and I chuckled.
I wasn’t sure Franklyn or even Nashville was known for fried chicken, but that wasn’t an argument I was willing to have.
I said my goodbyes and hugged Mrs. Cox, telling her how sorry I was for her loss.
Somehow, I think it was providence that I’d shown up while she’d been there.
My gut told me the whisper in the cemetery had been Mr. Cox, especially now that I saw that she was smiling now, and I could tell it’d been a bit since she had.
It was a win, win situation though, cause I also had a destination in mind.
Yeah, it was a long shot. My family had split decades before I was even thought of.
I was clearly a product of not one but two biracial marriages, so if they were still upset about that, there was no way they would accept me.
But if I was really supposed to find my past, that was the only path I could move forward on. It had to be more than just a fluke that I’d met the one person who knew enough about me and my family to send me in that direction.
I checked online and found a motel in Chattanooga.
I booked a single room and loaded Piston Creek into my GPS.
Luckily, it wasn’t far, so maybe I’d have time to enjoy the afternoon and get the lay of the land before I showed up unannounced and proclaimed myself a long-lost cousin in search of family since mine were all gone.