Page 7 of Stronger Than Blood

Chapter seven

Rory

Ican’t say the town impressed me much at first glance. Some changes had taken place recently, like the little boutique hotel. It looked more like something you’d see in downtown Franklyn or Nashville, not in some Podunk town.

I quickly canceled my reservations at the Chattanooga place I’d reserved.

Thankfully, the small hotel had openings, so I dropped off my luggage.

I got directions to the pharmacy and then headed over.

It didn’t take long to spot the man who’d brought me all this way.

There was no denying him and my grandfather had been related.

They looked too much alike. I took a quick peek at the paperwork hanging on the wall. Elias John Kennedy.

I bought some odds and ends, then left and walked around town.

Now I had the man’s name, I could do some due diligence.

I was far from uber rich and, granted, Rebecca Kennedy, if indeed she was the man’s daughter—I saw no family resemblance, so I was thinking she wasn’t—was a whole lot wealthier than I ever would be.

“But one should know what they are getting into before they step into it.” My grandpa’s advice, but usually in regard to an angry bull or boar hog.

My grandparents had been diehard farmers, and considering they had to wade through Jim Crow and all sorts of untold racism to maintain that farm through the generations, I understood the attachment.

I smelled the restaurant before I arrived, and my stomach growled like I hadn’t just had a huge meal before driving. So, accepting my relatively high metabolism, I shrugged and walked in.

There was a makeshift buffet on the far side, and to be honest, I almost left. I’d been to a few buffets when friends talked me into going east with them, and the food… well, it wasn’t good.

But my rumbling stomach and the delicious smells enticed me in. An older lady smiled at me and, after glancing behind me, said, “Just one?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am, just me.”

“Well, you come on in. I’m down a server, so I’m on duty. You can call me Mrs. Kennedy,” she said, and after getting my drink order, pointed at the buffet. “We only have the buffet open for lunch, no menu items, so just make yourself at home, young man.”

For a moment, I wondered if she was somehow related to the Kennedys.

But she was a white woman, and my Kennedy family were all Black, so I doubted it.

I went over to the buffet and filled my plate.

I’d had fried chicken for lunch, so I skipped that and grabbed some ham and bean soup.

I hadn’t had that in years, and it smelled like heaven.

Of course, I also grabbed some greens and turnips to go on the side. It reminded me I needed to get back to cooking for myself. I’d gotten so bad about ordering out lately that, unless my roommates were cooking, the poor kitchen had gone mostly ignored.

I sat in a far corner so as not to stick out like a lonely, sore thumb and dug in.

The moment the bean soup hit my mouth, I knew I’d come somewhere special.

I took a bite of the cornbread, expecting it to be hard and dry, and almost bounced up and down in my seat when the moist happiness melted in my mouth.

This place knew how to cook soul food like it was supposed to be cooked. The greens and turnips were spot-on. I ate everything, and ignoring my embarrassment about overeating, I filled my plate this time. Everything was above average and delicious.

When Mrs. Kennedy came back to refill my tea and take my plates away, she smiled. “You enjoyed it, then?” she asked.

I chuckled. “What gave you that idea? The almost-licked-clean plates or my protruding belly?”

She laughed. “Well, you’re a young man. I’ve known enough in my time to know you like to eat. I’ve got a blackberry cobbler out, and it’s the last of the blackberries until fall. I get mine from a local producer, and well, this is your last chance.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t that big a fan of blackberries. My grandmother had always picked them, even getting me to help from time to time, but I didn’t love getting the seeds in my teeth, and the flavor was ho hum.

I got some anyway, mostly for the novelty of having the last of something before the next season started.

The moment I bit into it, I knew I’d made the right choice. The seeds must’ve been removed, and the flavor… Well, let’s just say they knew something about cooking with blackberries my poor grandmother hadn’t.

By the time I’d finished, I was so full I thought I might need to roll over and sleep on the bench. “So, what brings you into town?” Mrs. Kennedy asked as she put the check on my table.

“Oh, well… to be honest, looking for family. I’ve been doing some research.”

“Oh?” she said, and her smile brightened. “I did that whole DNA thing. No surprise, I’m good ol’ peasant stock. Do you know the names of your people? I grew up here. I might be able to help.”

I blushed, then thought, why not? It couldn’t hurt. “Um, well… My name is Rory Jenkins Kennedy. I’m looking for my dad’s family.”

Her eyes lit up. “Do you know their names? You could be related to my husband’s family.” I wanted to chuckle at how unlikely that was, considering she was white, and I assumed the rift between my grandparents and this bunch of Kennedys was because of their biracial marriage, but I shrugged.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I was told by a family friend that the Kennedys ran the drug store in town. I-I need to do a little more research, but I’m hoping—”

She reached over and took my hand. “Do you think Elias Kennedy is the family you’re talking about? Where are you from?”

I blushed again. “Um, I grew up on a farm between Brentwood and Franklyn.”

“Oh, that’s you then. He’s going to be so excited. He said he didn’t think any of his people were left. That his cousins had owned a farm, but it’d been sold after they passed away.”

I stared at her, speechless. Could this really be happening? I hadn’t even been a hundred percent sure it was real until now. “Um, well… like I said, I’m not totally sure.”

She must’ve seen my hesitation. “Are you staying in town, or are you only here today?” she asked.

I probably should’ve lied and said I wasn’t staying. It was becoming too much for me. I usually avoided people and spent my days in the dark recesses of Madam Bellamy’s shop. “I… well, I’m staying at the local hotel.”

She beamed. “Well, if you want, my husband is Elias Kennedy, and he has breakfast here every morning before work. You can meet him and see.”

I nodded and pulled my wallet out to pay. “So, um… well, I’ll do some research tonight.” Then I thought if he was Rebecca’s dad, he might be suspicious, so I said, “Here, let me write down my family’s names. That way, he can do his own research. If it all works out… well, then we’ll know.”

She handed me a pad and paper, and I wrote my parents’ and grandparents’ names down.

Then, I put the address of the farm, which we no longer owned, but I’d never forget that address as long as I lived.

“This is my family’s information. I’ll look up Elias’s name and then meet you here tomorrow.

You said around eight?” She nodded happily.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said and left.

I should just go home. Leave now. I wasn’t ready.

I wasn’t even sure I believed what Madam Bellamy had said.

Maybe I was grasping at straws. I went back to my hotel room, thinking I might pack and disappear, but then I remembered the look on Madam Bellamy’s face when she mentioned the evil man who wanted us dead.

Was it possible that my extended family was at risk?

The code, according to Madam Bellamy, was to do good and never look the other way.

So, with that thought in mind, I closed the curtains, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed.

I hadn’t brought anything to read, so I figured I’d watch TV until I fell asleep—if I could fall asleep after the weird day I’d had.