Free Nether Regions by Nat Burns Page B

attention. You’re six now. By the time you hit nine—no, Tam’s boy is smart—let’s say by the time you’re twelve, he’ll be gone. I want you to come to me on that day and tell me that you understand what I’m telling you now. Will you do that one favor for me?”
    Raleigh eyed her with some fear but still defiance. “That ain’t so. What if you’re wrong?”
    She cupped both his knees between her palms, skinny, bone-sharp knees, and looked him square in the eyes. “Then you come to me and I’ll tell you I’m wrong. In the meantime, you do what I say, you go to school and stay on that other path that your grandma and me believe in. Will you do that? Have we got a deal?”
    His gaze was skeptical, but he nodded, sealing the deal.
    “Let’s get you to class then.” She stroked his head, the coarse, densely curled hair rough against her palm. He left the room, and Sophie heard him slip out the kitchen door.
    Back in the kitchen, Myria and Kinsie hadn’t moved; it looked as though both were dozing in a warm shaft of sunlight. Reluctantly Sophie spoke, her voice soft so as not to disturb the sleeping child.
    “Myria, watch that leg now. Cuts that low on the leg need more care. Walk it every day, but not more than a quarter mile and take it real slow. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow to check on it and change the bandage. Keep it dry till then too, okay?”
    Myria nodded. “Thank you for taking the boy. There’s two jars of green beans on the counter there. You take them on. I know how Miss Beulah loves my green beans.”
    Sophie didn’t argue but only took one of the jars off the counter as she followed Raleigh into the growing early summer sun.

Chapter Twelve
    After showering, Delora pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, ran a brush through her wet hair and headed her car west along Bentley Walk Road toward Spinner’s Fen, the greenhouse where she worked three mornings each week. It was a pleasant drive. Trees, still bearing their translucent spring greenery, interlaced branches across the smoothly paved highway as she rounded a bend. Front Street was mostly residential, like the area where she, Louie and Rosalie lived, but these houses were old, maintained by descendants striving desperately to keep antebellum glory alive and kicking. They were doing a good job too. These houses were dressed in their Sunday finery every day of the week with hanging plants placed perfectly above crisp white gingerbread railings. Serene colors of house paint—pale yellows, blues, peaches—butted against lawns verdant and weed free. Expensive boxwoods, harmoniously trimmed, bordered most yards.
    Spinners Fen fell at the end of Front Street where it intersected State Route 116. There the houses were less numerous. Turning left onto Carelton, she passed the little high-dollar strip mall on her left. The centerpiece, Mannings Grocery, carried mysterious items such as almond paste, lemon curd and canned shark meat. Spinner’s Fen sprawled just behind the mall area with a large graveled parking area and two greenhouses that hid the fallow storage field behind.
    Annie Meeks was there already. Morning dew still lay heavily upon all the Spinner Fen greenery, yet she was there plucking yellowed leaves off the new stock of small marigolds that had been delivered by a wholesaler late the day before.
    “I heard you drive up,” she said, more to the marigold than to Delora. “Muffler’s still leaking. Didn’t you take it to Jerry like I told you?”
    Delora moved to hook the chain that would hold the lightweight greenhouse doors open during the business day. “Couldn’t take me,” she answered. “He doesn’t have any free time until Wednesday.”
    “Hmmm.” Annie nodded her understanding. “He has been busy.”
    They worked in silence for some time, Delora opening the doors for business and Annie arranging the new, spruced-up plants on the showroom displays. When the shop was ready to greet the public, Delora moved