Chapter One

Tapioca, Alabama

It was a bright and windy Friday evening in Tapioca, Alabama. With the wind blowing through his medium length hair, Nathan Bard knew it was a good idea to go helmet-less on the last few miles of his journey. With the breeze flowing through his button up, he felt refreshed to be back in a town he hadn’t seen since his early twenties. Back then, the small town he once called home was quieter and miles away from a single cell tower. The roads were made of red dirt and there were very few cars on the road. However, now, the small town has expanded, though still small and still very much quiet. The former red dirt roads were now paved and the town shopping center that he was currently driving through was filled with a few big chain stores like Dollar General and Subway. Though keeping its small-town charm, the Tapioca Shopping Center was still littered with small businesses, even the same small businesses he used to frequent as a young adult. Ben’s Pizza was in its original spot next to the coin laundry and Diana’s Devine Nails salon was still in business, though she seems to have had some success, for the little shop had expanded and taken over two spaces. Nathan thought it would be a good idea to give old Diana a visit and congratulate her. Nathan rode a steady 15 mph through the streets, taking his time basking in the nostalgia of it all. With a big smile on his face, he looked like a giant kid on his motorcycle. He passed by a few ladies on his way out of the mall. They were walking with their coffees in one hand and shopping bags littered their arms. They were laughing amongst themselves, but stopped when he rode by. Nathan gave them a charming nod and wave; they returned with flirtatious hellos. He winked at them and moved on, speeding onto the highway.

It didn’t take long for Nathan to pull into the long driveway of his former home. The fresh gravel crunching under his bike wheels as he rode down the long path. The last time he was down here there weren’t this many trees, but of all the times his grandfather visited him in Tennessee, Nathan remembered a few times the old man mentioned a new collection of trees. Elijah Bard had lived in Tapioca for 40 years, knows the town like the back of his hand and the town’s people loved him. With Elijah came new opportunities for the town. With his money and connections, he brought the town a more modern look, well as modern as a 1985 small town can get back then. Nathan was sure Tapioca’s new look was credited to his grandfather’s checkbook as well. Because of Elijah’s help, the town’s people loved him, and Elijah loved them back. The community even wanted to elect him mayor, but Elijah declined, stating politics wasn’t his thing.

After the canopy of trees, was an iron gate covered in vines. It was always open although it was full functioning. There was no need to shut it if he constantly had visitors. Beyond the gate was where the front yard starts. Nathan drove over the stone path, bypassing the rich green grass and shrubbery towards the back where the garage was. He pulled in next to his grandfather’s Buick, cutting the engine and hopping off. Before he did anything else, he reached for the sky, stretching his limbs before bending down to the ground to touch his boots. He made sure he took his time coming back up so that his blood circulated at an even pace. After a huff, he unclipped his side and back luggage, hefting it over his shoulder before making his way into the house. It’s no surprise to Nathan that the door was already unlocked. His grandfather never thought to lock them, stating the neighborhood was safe enough. He stepped through the threshold, stomping his feet on the mat before proceeding inside the house. Nathan looked around the foyer; everything is how he left it thirteen years ago. The room was bright from the natural lighting emitting from the skylight that also brought a soft breeze from it being opened ajar. The red brick walls, accompanied by a single pastel blue wall, blended well with the earth and wood tones of the room. Every wall was littered with painted still lives of flowers, even a still life of the very foyer it hung in. That one was new. Nathan guessed his grandfather had completed that painting not too long ago.

Elijah Bard, lover of nature and the arts, people could tell by the way he kept his home. With potted plants and flowers in every corner, to the array of patterned rugs and furniture that adorned every room, anyone who entered the home could tell who Elijah was and what he loved. “Things” were everywhere; they sat on every surface, every corner. These “things” were various sizes, shapes, and colors. Some of them had meaning, some of them didn’t, but all of them belonged. There wasn’t a single “thing” in the house that didn’t feel right. None of the furniture matched, but they all seemed to fit each other. All in all, the look of the home was all over the place, but it all came together. From the foyer to the bedrooms, in all bathrooms and washrooms, it all felt like home. Nathan stepped away from the entrance, making his way to his bedroom. He’s sure his grandfather was there somewhere. He followed his usual path to his bedroom. Up the stairs, around the corner, past the creepy toilet room, and down the hall across from the old stove he never sold. Nathan opened the door to his old bedroom. Like everything else, it was untouched, save for the fresh sheets and newly painted walls. It was the only bedroom upstairs, which he loved when he was a kid. The only rooms that were upstairs other than his room where one full bathroom, one half bathroom with just a toilet and nothing else, and His grandfather’s art room, which had to be moved downstairs due to his grandfather’s age. Now the room had become a storage room.

He sat his bags down at the foot of the bed and took off his boots. He spread his toes around before rolling his ankles back and forth. Nathan departed soon after though to go find his grandfather, but after not seeing him around the house, the garden, or the small farm off to the side of the land, Nathan gave up and assumed he was out for the day. However, he didn’t fret. He was sure he could find something to do while he waited for his granddad, something most likely in the kitchen.

It wasn’t too long before a shiny black Ram pickup truck rolled its way up to the garage, not necessarily knowing the vehicle, but recognizing the people in it, Nathan shot up from the bench swing he was sitting in on the patio. He discarded the half watermelon he was eating out of onto the seat next to him and made his way towards the vehicle. A tall man with sandy blonde hair and an abundance of freckles on his face hopped out of the vehicle first. Nathan recognized him as Thomas, Elijah’s caretaker. The man was tall, but shorter than Nathan. He was built, however, probably from all the manual labor. Nathan wiped his hands on his shirt to get rid of the watermelon juice before bringing his hand into Thomas’s awaiting one. They gave a steady shake of hands before standing back to greet one another.

“How ya doin’, sir?” Thomas said, putting his hands on his hips. Nathan folds his arms over his chest, looking down at the man.

“Well, I’m doing fine. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Yes, sir it is!” Thomas makes his way around the truck to help Elijah out from the passenger side. “Sorry we weren’t here for your arrival sir; we got stuck in the ceramics isle again.” Thomas opened the passenger door revealing another tall man, though shorter than both men due to age.

“They’re getting real creative with their pottery nowadays.” The older man boomed from the vehicle.

Nathan’s blue eyes landed on the older pair of hazel eyes, his heart bouncing in his chest at the familiar face of his grandfather. The two men had identical grins aimed at each other, both happy to see one another.

“Grandad!” Nathan exclaims. Once Thomas moved out of the way, Nathan swallowed his grandfather in a cheerful embrace before he could even step one foot out of the truck. Elijah hugged his grandson back, very amused and delighted. When Nathan had his fill, he removed himself and helped his grandfather out of the vehicle.

Once the old man was standing on his own two feet, Nathan gave him a good once over. Elijah was still a tall man at 91, even with a slight hunch. His cropped hair was snow white, as well as his beard. His eyes were still bright with life, mirroring his wide smile. Today he wore a striped blue and gray button up tucked in a pair of dark stone dress pants. On his feet, he wore a pair of dark Vans to match his pants. Thomas came around the back with a cane in his hands, handing it to the old man.

“Thank you, Thomas.” Elijah handed Nathan a white ceramic pot, beautifully decorated with recessed divots. “How was your trip? Did your ass get sore on that thing?” Elijah said, referring to Nathan’s motorcycle. He walked toward his garage door, his cane leading the way.

“Actually, no, I took a few breaks to stretch my ass cheeks.” Nathan said cheekily. That got a strong “Hah” from his grandfather’s mouth. “It’s actually not that bad to ride on for long distance trips.” Nathan followed behind his grandfather, only stepping in front of him to open the door to the foyer.

“Nathan, I can hardly believe riding for hours on that thing is even comfortable or good for you.” Exclaimed Elijah.

“It is, I’m telling you. Look, let me take you out for a ride, Pop, then you could see for yourself.” Nathan said.

“I decline. I’m not fit for it anymore, Nate.”

Nathan was a little disappointed and Elijah could tell by the man’s silence.

“Maybe. There is a little get together happening tomorrow that I would like to attend. You could drive me there if the weather permits it.” Elijah said, gaining a smile from Nathan.

Thomas entered the home a few minutes after them; carrying some bags. He deposited some of them down the hall and some in the kitchen. After a second of helping his grandfather sit in a nearby rocking chair, Nathan went to help Thomas with the rest of the things in the truck. It seemed that Elijah and Thomas came home from a trip to the local hardware store with all the soil and plants that Nathan had to withdraw from the vehicle. However, there was more than vegetation, there was spackle, grout, a hoe and shovel, caulk with caulk gun, and in the truck bed, a whole pallet worth of tiles. Seemed as if one of the bathrooms were getting ret-tiled. Nathan will be sure to ask Thomas if he could help later.

The two men returned to the foyer where Elijah still was seated, eating an orange. After throwing Thomas an orange, he rewarded his helper with the rest of the evening off. Thomas bid both men a good evening before leaving for his quarters in the back of the house towards the farm.

“Thomas been treating you well, Pop?” Nathan asked, peeling his own orange. Elijah nodded, busy with his fruit.

“A very well-mannered young man.”

“You been treating him well in turn?” Nathan asked.

Elijah snapped his head up to his grandson. “Well, I treat him quite nice, if I do say so myself.” Nathan chuckles at his grandfather’s reaction. “I gave him the ole pool house to home in. He has everything he needs in there. It’s like a mini apartment in there, full kitchen and everything.”

“You don’t have to try and convince me.”

“I’m not trying to.” Elijah whined. Nathan tried to hide his smirk, but his playful demeanor could never be hidden well. Elijah noticed quickly and put his orange down on his lap. “Nathan, your sister has informed me of the definition of ‘Gaslighting’.” Nathan burst with laughter. “I don’t appreciate it.” Elijah’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

“I’m playing, Pop.” Nathan threw away his peels. “I’m going to hop in the shower, then we can go get some dinner and talk business.” He ran up the stairs, voice getting less and less coherent.

“Yeap!” said the old man.

Yolana was not supposed to be over there. Yolana definitely was not supposed to be drinking what she was currently drinking. But there she was sipping on a spicy brown drink Mrs. Henderson handed her as soon as she ran across the street. Yolana was minding her own, transferring her drafted maze onto watercolor paper to be water colored when she saw movement in her peripheral. Mrs. Henderson, who really isn't a Mrs. anymore, was outside with a glass of wine in her hand watering her bushes. The short older woman was one of many old widowed women in the neighborhood, but she was by far Yolana’s favorite neighbor. Though Mrs. Henderson was nearly into her 80's, it made no difference to Yolana. The old woman acted no older than twenty years old. She dressed in bright colors, listened to the newest pop songs, and could out drink a frat house of men. Yolana asked what made her so vivacious, the white haired senior recalled all her years in the service as a army nurse, then eventual marriage to her late army sergeant husband. She said her years of following the rules and living under someone else are over. Now she drinks whenever she wants, talks to whoever she wants to talk to, and lives the life she always dreamed to live as a young black woman in the 60’s. Yolana couldn't lie, she was jealous. The fact that she had to sneak across the street just to see her neighbor is proof enough that she could be a little bit more liberated.

Mrs. Henderson waved her over once their eyes connected, as soon as she saw it, Yolana moved from her chair, ran down the stairs, and jogged over to her.  After that, the old lady stowed Yolana away in her home, feeding her leftovers and pouring her something strong in a rock glass. The two were sitting in Mrs. Henderson’s brightly colored living room, soaking their feet in tubs of hot water while sipping on their drinks. New York Medicine, one of Mrs. Henderson’s favorite shows was playing on the television while they sat.

“Look, at, him. He is gorgeous.” Mrs. Henderson pointed a manicured pinky at the television. The man displayed was an older man with a head of white hair and a black mustache. He was a doctor, and though he was a handsome older man, Yolana was more interested in the younger, more fit surgeon, Doctor Ogram.

“He’s good looking, but Doctor Ogram looks much better.” Doctor Ogram was a tall caramel colored man with cropped black hair and light brown eyes.

“Oh honey, he is something to look at too, don’t get me wrong, but Doctor Rowan got that sophistication that just oozes off of him. You youngling’s wouldn’t understand.”

“But Ogram has southern charm.” Mrs. Henderson could basically see the hearts in Yolana’s eyes.

“Oh, I forgot, you like Good Ole Boys.”

Yolana laughed.

“Ogram is not a Good Ole Boy Mrs. Henderson.” Yolana giggled around her drinking glass. Mrs. Henderson added more hot water to her tub. She handed the kettle to Yolana who did the same.

“He is a good ole boy, just your type. You remember that boy you had a crush on when you were in high school? Good Ole Boy. Or that son of a preacher that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of when he visited the church last year? He was a Good Ole Boy as well.” Mrs. Henderson took the kettle back from Yolana. “That’s your type!”

Yolana sat up, taking a good look at Mrs. Henderson. She wanted to say something, she wanted to dispute the old woman’s claims about her tastes, but after a second thought, she sat back. “But, when you think of Good Ole Boys, you don’t think of Doctor Ogram.”

“Good ole boys aren’t just white, Baby. That Preacher’s son was a good ole boy as well, though he was black.”

The tv turned to a commercial break, so Mrs. Henderson decided then would be a good time to steer the conversation to another subject. “How has it been over there sweetie?”

Yolana drunk the last of her glass, deciding that one glass is enough for her. She never knew what Mrs. Henderson would give her to drink, but her trust in the lady never made her question her. Yolana answered her stating that everything was fine. She noticed the look that Mrs. Henderson gave her.

“You have been cooped up in that house for weeks, you only leave for work. You never really come over here anymore.”

Yolana looked down at her empty glass. “I just haven’t been really up to going anywhere.” Yolana responded.

Mrs. Henderson sucked her teeth. “Let me try again. Your aunt has had you cooped up for weeks, she only lets you go to work. You never really sneak over here anymore.”

Yolana should have known not to try and bullshit with Mrs. Henderson.

“What’s going on over there, Honey?”

Yolana relented. “I don’t know, she’s stressed so she’s been really anal as of late.”

“She probably needs some dick.”

Yolana snaped her head to Mrs. Henderson in disbelief. “Ew! Why would you say that?” Yolana exclaimed. Mrs. Henderson cackled.

“What? Your aunt aint had none in 15 years.”

“Aunt Freda and Uncle Belvin divorced 5 years ago.”

“Yea, and your uncle aint had none in 20.”

Yolana could not believe the words that were coming from Mrs. Henderson’s mouth. Though her words were filthy, and the thought of Yolana’s Aunt and Uncle’s sex life were far from her mind, Yolana couldn’t help but slip out a few laughs at Mrs. Henderson’s silly remarks. It could have been the liquor. Yolana’s light weight nature allows her to quickly loosen up. However, it was easy to start a laughing fit around Mrs. Henderson.

“So, what has she been stressing about lately?” Mrs. Henderson asked.

Yolana shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I hear her mumbling about people calling her all the time. She looks around a lot when she steps out of the car.”

“Maybe there is a hit out on her.” Mrs. Henderson said, mouth halfway into her glass. Yolana chuckles.

“Maybe Mrs. Henderson, Maybe.”

 Yolana ended up staying over Mrs. Henderson's house for the reminder of the day. After watching their shows and playing a few games of mahjong, The two of them ended up reorganizing Mrs. Henderson storage shed in the back of the house. The time had passed quickly, and Yolana didn't notice until the house alarm went off telling the occupants that someone was at the front door. That's when it hit her and she looked down at her watch to confirm her suspicions. It was 5:10, PM her aunt was home.

"Well, shit!”  Mrs. Henderson stole the words right out of Yolana’s mouth. Though, the woman sat down the box she was holding and snatched off the gloves she was wearing and stomped to the front door. Yolana followed behind her, softly pleading to her to not cause a scene. Her pleads fell upon deaf ears. Mrs. Henderson yanked the door open staring down the woman on the other side with a heated glare.

"How may I help you?" The words were sweet but the way they were delivered was anything but.

 The woman on the other side was a taller woman and average weight for a woman of 58 years. She stood up straight showing off her stature. She had wide shoulders that lead down to tapered hips, long legs that seem to be most of her height, and her bosom was large. She had her hair styled in a way that made her look sophisticated. It was wavy with highlighted streaks with a part of it covering one eye. It added to her already intimidating aura. Mrs. Henderson didn't seem intimidated however. The woman who was far shorter than the other outside her door stood to her unfazed.

 Freda Friday flicked her hair from her face taking a step forward before crossing her arms.

 “Where is Yolana?”

 Mrs. Henderson put one hand on her hip. “I don't know probably somewhere minding her business.”

  Freda gave Mrs. Henderson a scalding look. Her lips pressed tightly eyes unamused. Mrs. Henderson saw the woman's eyes move from her own to the space behind her.

 "Yolana Humphrey get back across the street.”  Freda said nudging her head behind her. Miss Henderson heard shuffling behind her back and snapped her head back to see Yolana putting her trash away before heading towards the door. "Now Freda what the hell is wrong with her being over here? She is a grown ass woman you can't be demanding her like that!”

  "Juanita, Yolana is grown but if she's going to continue to live under my roof, I think I can do whatever I want. “

 "It must be really easy for you to lie to yourself like that. Rich, coming from you when you know she's stuck with you!"

  Once Yolana saw the older woman’s hands start flailing around in anger she knew it was time to intervene. She stepped behind Mrs. Henderson and placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders.

"Mrs. Henderson please calm down. Yolana said, softly.”

 “No! I’m sick of this!”

 "Mrs. Henderson.” Yolana reiterated. The old woman looked in her pleading eyes. Yolana could see her calm down, not by much, but just enough to step to the side to let her exit the home.

She watched Yolana pass the threshold, then pass her aunt, not bothering to even say anything to her. With a roll of her eyes, Freda turned to walk away and Mrs. Henderson, trying to calm down, just shook her head and slammed the door shut. That's not the last she saw of Yolana however, she made sure to watch over her through her side window as she crossed the street. Once she made it inside and the door shut behind her and Freda, Yolana got ready for the inevitable speech.

 "I told you to stop sneaking over there. I'm tired of telling you."

 Yolana wanted to respond, maybe tell her to stop wasting her breath then, but she knew better. Her aunt might be stressed as of late, but she's not at her worst, so Yolana can be grateful for that. She kept her mouth shut, instead opting for a silent nod.

 “I won’t be telling you again.” Freda warned. Yolana nodded her head only moving for the stairs when she saw Freda retreat towards her bedroom. "Acting just like your mother.