Free Gotta Get Next To You by Lynn Emery Page A

good coffee. What
kind of Louisiana girl would I be if I couldn’t?”
    “I hope it’s not as strong as Gran makes it.
That first cup she gave me almost made my eyes pop. Guess I’ve been
drinking weak Yankee coffee too long.” Andrea laughed. “Gran is
something else.”
    “You mean stubborn.” Charlene sat down across
from her and flipped open a cotton napkin that matched the place
mats. “She’s got no business drinking coffee.” “She’s cut back on
the number of cups she drinks. Only one a day. And her blood
pressure is just fine.” Andrea dug into her bowl of fruit.
    “All the same, herbal tea would be better.”
Charlene sniffed. “But at least she listens to somebody''
    “Don’t start. You two are always digging at
each other.” Andrea shook her head as if she were chastising two
bickering children. “Am I going to have to referee again?”
    “Actually I’m in her good graces since I
helped you get that job and come home. She usually ignores anything
I suggest.” Charlene waved her fruit fork in the air.
    Andrea stiffened. “Yes, and exactly what did
you do to get me the job?”
    “Ahem, I know some people in state
government. We all belong to the Krewe of Ashanti. When I heard
about the clinic—”
    “How did you hear about it?” Andrea asked.
“You don’t visit Bayou Blue very often.”
    “Are you trying to say I don’t keep in touch
with Mama? I call her at least once a month.”
    “She told you about the clinic?”
    “She might have mentioned it. I don’t
recall.” Charlene shrugged and sipped from a china coffee cup.
    “You talked to that man.” Andrea couldn’t
bring her-self to say his name. “Why can’t you just tell me the
truth for once?”
    “Now, wait a minute, young lady. I may only
be six-teen years older than you, but I’m still your mother.” She
put her cup down with a sharp clink.
    Any other time, Andrea might have been
amused. Not today. A dull, thudding headache started at the base of
her skull. It was a familiar attempt to deflect Andrea from a
subject Charlene did not want to pursue.
    “This move back home was good for us all.
Yes, I missed my child. Is that a crime?” Her mother added just the
right plaintive note.
    “Oh, Charlene, please!” Andrea shook her
head.
    “Don’t call me Charlene,” she snapped back.
“I’m your mother.”
    “Only when it suits you,” Andrea retorted.
Pain flashed across Charlene’s face. Andrea immediately regretted
her words.
    “I see.” Charlene got up and went to the
window. “I suppose you think Mama really raised you, that I
neglected you.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came
out. Re-ally.”
    Andrea searched for a way to back away from
this emotional cliff. They’d never openly discussed John
Mandeville. As though by mutual agreement, one of them would
quickly end any argument that threatened to open that deep
wound.
    “Maybe I’m not the ideal mother.” Charlene’s
voice was sad and subdued. She turned sharply to face her. “But I
do care about you.”
    Andrea went to Charlene and hugged her. “Of
course. I know.” She tried to smile. “Guess I’m the latest
generation of smart-mouthed Ricard women.”
    Charlene pulled back and held both of
Andrea’s shoulders. “I only wanted the best for you, Drea,” she
said, ignoring Andrea’s attempt to lighten the moment. “You have to
believe me.”
    “I do.” Andrea smiled. “And I’m glad you’re
my mommy. Even if I do have to put up with people thinking you’re
younger than me.”
    “Oh, stop,” Charlene said with a pleased
smile. “But you’re right about me choosing when to be your mother.
I’ve darted in and out of your life like a bumble bee.” “Now,
Char—Mother, I said I was sorry.”
    “It’s time I follow your grandmother’s advice
to grow up.” Charlene assumed a matronly expression.
    Andrea looked worried. “And what does that
mean?” “Just that I plan to be here for you. I don’t want you