Free The Lost Choice by Andy Andrews Page A

Mae Mae sat quietly as the Chandlers told her the story of the relic their son had found. They showed her pictures of Michael and their home. Finally,Dorry removed their object from her purse. She unwrapped it from a handkerchief and saw Mae Mae’s eyebrows raise as Dorry placed it in her hands.
    Neither Mark nor Dorry had gotten a close look at the item from Mae Mae’s shelf. Mark was hesitant to be too pushy. Years of training and experience as a detective had convinced him that it was a mistake to move too quickly. It often caused a person to close up, even become frightened— though he wasn’t sure anyone could frighten this woman.
    He put his arm around Dorry’s shoulder and eased her back as Mae Mae examined the two pieces. Easy . . . slow down, he directed his thoughts to his wife.“Mae Mae? Can I get you some more coffee?” Mark said as he purposefully stood. “I know Dorry could use some.” He shot Dorry a look that said, be careful , and walked to the kitchen after both women gave him their cups.
    The silence from the living room was deafening as Mark poured the coffee. Returning with the now filled cups, Mark smiled at Dorry, sitting stiffly on the couch. She was watching the old woman’s every move. Mae Mae had a habit of rolling her dentures around in her mouth when she was deep in thought. Mark had noted the tendency earlier, but now, the plates were clicking audibly. Her concentration appeared to be absolute as she turned the pieces first one way, then another. “What do you think, Mae Mae?” Mark said softly as he sat back down.
    She jerked her head up as if she had forgotten they were there. “Sho look like another food stone,” she said and reached toward Dorry to pass the objects to her.“See what you reckon, baby.”
    Dorry took the pieces, but before she gave them the barest glimpse, Mark asked the obvious question for both of them.“What did you call it, Mae Mae? A ‘food stone’?” “Tha’s right. It look just like my granddaddy’s food stone.” Dorry examined the two objects, which, as far as she could tell, were almost identical. The only difference she could discern was a degree of variation on the edges—one side was rounded, curled over as if one had folded a piece of bread—and a slight alteration in the script. And, of course, there was the attached leather cord. Dorry could see that in the corner of the object, a small opening—a natural one, she assumed—had been bored completely through to the other side, creating a tiny tunnel through which the cord ran.
    â€œDid you get this from your grandfather?” Mark continued gently.
    â€œNo,” Mae Mae said taking a sip of her coffee. “I got it after my Uncle Gee passed on. It was left to him by my granddaddy. He had it ’round his neck when they brought him over from Africa.”Dorry started to ask a question, but Mark nudged her, urging silence in hopes that the old woman would continue to talk. She did.
    â€œMy daddy was called James. He was from Missouri and died with the smallpox when I was a baby girl. Not a lot of paper on black folk back then, but he was ’posed to been twenty-one or two when he passed. What with Daddy gone, Uncle Gee took that place in my life. He stood up for me when I married Jerold. Uncle Gee was there for me till he passed on hisself in nineteen hundred and forty-three.” Mae Mae paused, remembering. She nodded to herself and squinted as if examining the image in her mind’s eye. As Mark and Dorry waited, she finished her coffee and then, seemingly struck by a recollection, Mae Mae leaned forward and motioned for the object.
    Taking it from Dorry, she draped the cord over her wrist and held it up to the light. “I ain’t nevah changed this string,” she said.“Tha’s the same strip of leather my Uncle Gee wore. Might be the same one my granddaddy wore. Uncle