Boston to Birmingham Ch. 03

"Yeah, but after thirty years, marrying down don't seem to bother her as much as it used to. I'll tell her you asked about her, it'll tickle her no end. Here to see a prisoner?"

Hardy's grin got even wider.

"Not exactly. I am the prisoner. Shouldn't have smarted off at your daddy in law, I reckon."

"You pissed J.T. off bad enough to land you in jail? This I got to hear. Deputy, I'm relieving you of your prisoner. I'll handle it from here.

Come on, let's go eat while you tell me what you're up to. Don't worry about J.T., he'll be tied up the rest of the day in court. I'll have you back in time for him to come by and gloat."

They spent an hour and a half at lunch, catching up. The first hour was light, full of remembrances of times gone by and people who had passed. The last half hour had a decidedly darker tone. They talked briefly about his marriage.

"Damn shame there. I know her through work of course. Great lawyer, she has the best win percentage in the office. "Bout everybody knows you're her husband, they call her 'Mrs. Hardass' behind her back, because she's so tough. Most would rather plead out than take a chance in court with her. Plus, she's one fine looking woman. You know she took the Escobar case, right? We'll watch over her when the trial starts next month, but you know how it is."

"Don't worry, Will Rob. I got it handled."

The sheriff frowned.

"Far be it from me to tell a man not to look out for his wife. I ain't asking, so don't tell me anything, okay? Just be careful. You carryin'?"

"Not yet, I got my carry conceal permit a month ago. By next week I'll have my Smith .40 on me."

What Will Rob told him next was totally unexpected.

"You know she carries? A .380, in her purse. She's a damn good shot too, I've seen her at the range."

Gwen? Guns? He had never heard her express an opinion one way or another but always assumed she was against them. Another thing he never knew about his wife.

They reluctantly went back to the jail. Hardy seemed stoic as the doors clanged shut. He was in a common holding cell with six other inmates.

J.T. came by around six, fully prepared to accept an apology and take him out to dinner. What he found was Hardy sitting on one side of the cell, four inmates sitting on the other side, and one lying on the floor, out cold.

"What the hell happened here?"

Hardy tried to grin though the swollen, split lip. His left eye was rapidly swelling closed, and a definite lump on his jaw.

"You know how it is, J.T. We had a difference of opinion over football. They were Auburn fans, and I yelled out 'Roll Tide!'. But in the end, I had to admit they had a hell of a season. To top it off, did you know the jailer went to Ole Miss? He called us all a bunch of assholes and made us talk politics. After he sprayed a whole bottle of pepper spray on us."

The judge shook his head.

"Hardy, that mouth is gonna get you killed one of these days. You calmed down yet? Willing to listen to reason, maybe do a little trading?"

His eyes instantly became hooded, his guard rising, before he managed to grunt in the affirmative.

"J.T., as much as I enjoy the company here, and I have to say the macaroni and cheese was really spectacular tonight, I'd like to sleep in my bed. That being said, you spout off to me again about twenty sessions and I'll ask what's on the dessert menu."

"Don't piss me off again, boy. That little speech this morning really got my goat. I don't remember you being all concerned about misusing the system when I pulled in favors to keep you out of jail when you were younger. If the recruiter hadn't been the son of one of my fishing buddies, you'd have done three to five in Huntsville instead of four for Uncle Sam."

Hardy was big enough to admit he was wrong.

"Sorry, J.T., I know how much I owe you and Will Rob. But, it still pisses me off to have her rammed down my throat. I just want it to be over."

"I promise you'll get it, one way or another. But you need to talk to her, get 'closure' as the shrinks say. Here's the deal. Ten sessions, you pick the counselor. After that, I'll go by their recommendation. If they say it's over, it's over. If they say you need to keep going, we'll talk it out before I make a decision. Best you're gonna get, take it or enjoy your breakfast tomorrow. I hear powdered eggs ain't that bad."

Hardy took the deal. J.T. drove him back to his truck, telling him not to dick around, have the name of the counselor on his desk by next Friday.

..................................................

Gwen was walking on air! Hardy agreed to ten sessions. He had a counselor in mind, if he could get him. Someone from his past. That was good, he would be more comfortable, more open, she hoped. He promised in an email to let her know the time of the first appointment. Seems he still didn't want to talk face to face. She could live with that, for now.

She noticed the car when she pulled into her apartment complex lot. Vintage Cadillac convertible, maybe early seventies, completely restored. It was almost blinding it was so shiny.

More interesting though, were the occupants. A black man in his early twenties, dressed impeccably in a suit, behind the wheel. A diminutive white woman, obviously of advanced age, was in the passenger seat, equally well dressed. When Gwen got out of her car the man was standing beside her. She couldn't help but admire his grace and good looks.

"Excuse me for the intrusion, ma'am. Would you be Mrs. Wilkes?"

Immediately on her guard, she nodded.

"Please, would you mind speaking to the lady in the car? She has mobility problems and is a little vain about it. We won't take much of your time, I assure you. She's been beside herself with anticipation when she found out who you were.

Just for a second, please?"

The man seemed so earnest and straight forward she agreed. The woman peered anxiously at her as she approached, finally pulling a thick pair of glasses on. She broke out into a huge smile.

"It's her, Marcus! I declare, if you had auburn hair you would be her made over. Don't you think so?"

"I agree. The resemblance is uncanny."

Gwen was lost.

"With all due respect ma'am, what are you talking about?"

She gave her a look that reminded her of displeased grade school teachers.

"You, of course! Anyone ever tell you that you look just like your grandmother?"

"You knew my grandmother? Virginia Howe?"

"Child, I'm her baby sister. Your great aunt. Aren't you going to be polite and invite us in? I know you were raised by Yankees, but my goodness! Leaving an old lady out in the sun? Marcus, help me."

He looked at her with love.

"Yes'm, Miss Daisy. I be fetching your cane now."

"Marcus! Behave! That stopped being funny years ago."

He was immediately contrite.

"Sorry, Aunt Daisy. Sometimes I can't help myself. It sure is fun doing it to strangers. You should see the face you're making, Aunt Gwen."

She was slowly making her way, leaning on his arm and the cane.

After they were seated and tea was poured[fully sweetened, she was getting used to it], she couldn't contain her interest.

"My great aunt! Please forgive me, but I didn't know you existed or I would have looked you up."

Daisy waved her hand dismissively.

"Not to worry, child, I'm here now. I blame your mother, she wouldn't let your father have a thing to do with us. Here, look at this."

She handed her an old photo, the date on the back said nineteen sixty seven. It was a young girl, maybe still in her teens. Big smile, poofy hairdo, nice dress. Gwen held it up to a mirror, she was right, the resemblance was remarkable.

"I wish I could have known her."

Daisy handed her another photo, showing a mature woman in her late forties to early fifties, holding a child of four or five.

"That's you, with her, when she came down for a family reunion. You were a handful, but you weren't mean. You followed her like a puppy, getting nervous if you couldn't see you 'gamgam', that was as close to saying grandma as you could get. She loved you with all her heart and soul."

She sighed.

"I wish I could remember her."

"You can, child, in your heart. She was very worried about how you would turn out, your mama and her never got along well. She never trusted her."

Reflecting on how her mother turned out to be, she thought her grandmother was right.

"Marcus, will you please get the books?"

He rose and went to the car, returning later with three large volumes and a Bible.

"What are those?"

Daisy beamed.

This is the end results of fifty years of research. It's your family history. You can't keep them, but Marcus has them on computer, when you access it it will tell you more than you ever wanted to know about your ancestors. Here, let me show you this."

It was a family portrait. Mother, father, son, two daughters.

"That's your great grandmother and father, with your grandma, me, and Wilkes, our brother."

"I have a great uncle?"

"Sadly child, he died young. A nasty place called Korea. He never married. You are the only grandchild in the family left."

"What about your family?" She could see the large diamond and band on her finger."

The old face showed infinite sadness.

"Sadly, we never had children. They didn't have the sophisticated tests back then they have now, so we never learned why. We adopted a boy, a child of a distant cousin. Here, this is a picture of him and his family."

A young couple with an infant, faces shining with love and hopes for the future.

"He was our life, our light. I do believe my husband loved him more than I did. He and his family were killed on an interstate highway, a twenty three car pileup in a dense fog. My husband never got over it."

The old lady wiped her eyes, the memory painful still.

"So you see, child, you're the last of the Howes.

It's sad, to see a line end, especially one as illustrious as ours."

Gwen felt an infinite sadness for this old lady. She knelt in front of her chair and hugged her, gently. The thin shoulders shook for a bit. Daisy pushed her back gently.

"Look at me! I must look like a senile, sentimental old fool. But I'm so glad to meet you."

They spent three hours, talking. Daisy delighted in showing her the heritage she was the result of.

She showed her a picture of a young man In a Confederate uniform.

"This is your four times great grandfather, Alexander Howe. He was a major, and survived the siege of Vicksburg. I have his journal, it was an awful time. There are tear stains on the page where he described having to kill his horse for food. People starved. He was commended for bravery twice before the surrender."

She held up another picture, of a Union soldier.

"This is the man who took his surrender. His name is Gregory Stowe Canaday. And yes, you're related. He's your four time great grandfather also, your daddy is his namesake. Even though he was from Boston, He was assigned to the Army of the West because they needed engineers. They struck up a friendship after the war, that's what led to your family opening a law office down here. He was sick of using his skills to destroy men, and turned to law."

Gwen felt her head reeling.

"Wow! I went from being an only child to being related to everyone I've ever heard of. It's a wonder I'm not related to my husband."

Miss Daisy smiled.

"Well, actually, Alexanders' sister married Francis Wesley Wilkes, your husbands' four time great grandfather. I'll have to add it up, but that makes you something like a fourteenth cousin, once removed."

Gwen sat with her mouth hanging open, then she burst out laughing. When she recovered, she apologized.

"Sorry, Aunt Daisy, but I just realized I'm a true stereotype of the South, I married my cousin!"

That set Marcus and Daisy off, and Gwen joined them in another round of laughter. When she recovered she asked how they had amassed so much information.

"I was a history major at 'Bama, taught high school history for forty years. Most of the older stuff I got from visits, court house records, family Bibles, and local folk lore. When Marcus came along he used his computer skills, that helped tremendously. Here, let me show you this."

It was an old family Bible.

"See the pages in the back filled with writing?

Old time Bibles were sold with empty pages so births, deaths, and major events could be recorded. They're still valid legally as proof of birth and age. Look here."

She had turned to the last page. It recorded the birth of her grandmother, her father, and her. It was the last entry in the book.

"This is the family Bible, from my father. When I pass it becomes yours. There are a few pages empty, I hope you fill them with the names of the next generation."

Gwen started crying. With a little prompting, she told them her sad story, and how she was afraid there may never be another entry.

Daisy surprised her.

"Snap out of it, girl! Not judging, but you've made some horrible mistakes. Fix it if you can, if not move on. If you want your man back, go after him with everything you have at your disposal, you need help, ask for it. Look how much family you have to call on."

She was pointing at the books.

Gwen smiled. "Thanks, I may hold you to that. Am I related to everybody in Birmingham?"

"Child, you could shut your eyes and fling a rock, and hit someone your related to."

She grinned that wicked grin only old people could get away with.

"And I'm not talking about white people either. Your cousin Marcus here could be right handy."

She looked back and forth between them.

"All right, I need to know. How did this happen?"

"It seems Alexander had a relationship with the woman who turned out to be his great great grandmother. And by relationship, I mean in the way one owns the other, and saying 'no' just isn't viable."

Gwen covered her mouth in horror.

"It wasn't that bad. Apparently he was fond enough of her when his wife died to never remarry, preferring her company. She stayed with him after the war voluntarily. She gave birth to three of his children, one died in childbirth, another of cholera. But one, his great grandfather, survived and raised seven children.

This all came to light after Marcus came to me, doing research on his own family."

"I had the journals of both Alexander and Beth.

We found an entry where she seemed to condone the relationship saying she was grateful for 'the Nigra Jess, for relieving her of her need to perform her wifely duties, which her delicate constitution couldn't handle'. We had DNA done, and it proves we're related."

She looked with pride at Marcus.

"He's half way through achieving his masters in History. I've made him my heir, for following in my footsteps, for forgiving our ancestors, and generally being a loving person to an old, lonely lady. He deserves it, and after years of fighting me, he finally gave up."

Gwen was greatly moved, reflecting how you can find love in the oddest places. They left, after extracting a promise from her to visit regularly.

She helped Daisy to the car, listening to her grumble as she went.

"I think I made a mistake when I gave Marcus this car. It was the first new car my husband ever bought. I hated it then. It hadn't run in twenty years, I didn't think he could do anything with it. It took him six years, but it looks like brand new. I'd much rather ride in my Mercedes, but if he's driving this is all he'll take."

Gwen snuggled into bed that night, thinking what a good thing family was.

She wasn't thinking about all the people she had managed to put in jail over the last ten months, Vincente Escobar, Ronnie Wilkes, or Allan Hovis, the snake. But they all were thinking of her.