Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter Four

“Come sit with me and watch a little TV
before your mother returns from all of her
chores
,”
Evan said sarcastically, rolling his eyes for effect. Julia and I just giggled
happily at being a part of his inside joke. He knew how we felt about Jean and
her spoiled ways.

He beckoned
us to join him on the cramped couch. It was one of those stupid antique couches
that seemed to be made for petite people. It’s funny that a family full of
above-average height members would have such a piece of furniture. It never
made sense to me.

Evan sat
sprawled out in loose jogging shorts and a snug tank top. He patted his lap as
I stood there, trying to figure out where I wanted to sit. “Just sit in my lap,
little miss.” He grinned mischievously at me.

I hesitated
long enough for Julia to jump at the opportunity. We both had schoolgirl
crushes on Evan. With me being only ten, I had a hard time trying to understand
those feelings. Julia was fourteen and more comfortable with them, I guess.

We sat
there watching music videos for a while. I kept glancing out the corner of my
eye to Evan and Julia with uneasiness. He had started out rubbing her
shoulders, but had moved to her lower back. I guess there was no harm in that,
but what I found a bit weird was his hands were under the back of her shirt.
This continued until Evan couldn’t sit still any longer and decided it was time
to dance.

Grabbing me
by the waist, he murmured, “You’re dancing with me first, little miss.” We
walked like an Egyptian before a slow song took over. He pulled me close and
whispered in my ear with his humid breath uncomfortably hot. “I saw you
watching earlier. Don’t be jealous.” With that, he placed a soft kiss on my
neck, causing my gut to twist in discomfort. Evan plastered my unwilling body
tight against him. His invasion was wrong. In that moment, my innocent crush on
him crashed to the floor and shattered to millions of sinful shards. At only
ten years old, I didn’t like his groping hands trespassing where no grown man
should on a child, or his probing lips. It felt gross, as though each touch
tainted me. I wanted no part in it.

I tried to
wiggle free that horrible day, but Evan seemed to only get more worked up—heavy
breaths and continuously pressing body. I hated the feel of him, and my skin
crawled with disgust. My chest felt like it was being pinched in a vice grip,
and I could hardly breathe. It all felt dirty. I was scared and confused. As I
stood in my family’s den, life began to descend a dark, slippery slope, and I
began to lose myself.

~ ~ ~

Tap, tap, tap…

Tap, tap, tap…

The tapping
on my driver’s side window startles me out of the nightmare and brings me back
to the now. I try to focus on what’s causing the tapping, but it takes me a
while to regain my composure. The tap picks back up, and I finally notice a
police officer peeking through the window at me. Looking around, I notice I’ve
parked on the side of the interstate without really realizing it. Thank
goodness, I got off the road…

“Ma’am, are
you okay?” He taps again when I don’t respond. “Ma’am?”

I finally find
enough sense to power the window down, but say nothing. The humid air rushes in
and caresses my cheeks.

“Do you
need some assistance?” the concerned officer asks.

I clear my
throat. “No sir.” My throat feels constricted, and I try to clear it again. He
stands cautiously with his head slightly bent towards the open window, waiting
for more. “I’m heading to South Carolina for a family emergency. I think it
just all got the best of me. I… I just need a minute to pull myself together,”
I stutter. I try to reassure him with a smile, but can’t. My lips fail me and
continue to grimace. I see my dazed weariness reflecting off his aviator
shades.

“Please be
careful.” He tips his hat in a courteous manner. After a lengthy moment of
hesitation, he finally leaves me alone.

I press my
head to the steering wheel and force deep breaths in and out. I don’t have the
gumption to get back on the road just yet, so I sit a while longer and work on
conjuring up a good memory—something that will encourage me to keep moving forward.
If I don’t, I know I will be heading back to Rhode Island and the comfort of
Lucas. And deep down, I know that’s not an option. It doesn’t take long before
a beautiful, older black lady comes to mind, Miss May Wilson—my saving grace.
My lips finally decide to tilt slightly up as her comforting image settles my
mind. Miss May is just under five foot in height and ‘bout as round as she is
tall. A hug from this woman is the only one I have ever welcomed without
apprehension—it’s a protective shielding hug. Some of my best memories were
made at my dad’s restaurant, and those were mostly due to this special lady. I
coveted the opportunity to be her shadow at any chance I got. She is pure
goodness.

Jean may be
a culinary genius, but she lacks one important ingredient that Miss May
possesses—heart. The woman cooks love right into every blame thing she serves.

Now I’m not
bragging here, but simply stating the facts when I tell you The Thorton Seafood
House is the best meal on the Grand Strand. There are more awards than wall
space. These awards are kept in my father’s office because there are too many
to be put on display. My dad also thought they took away from the beach house
ambiance of the restaurant. Really though, no award was needed to entice
customers through the door. The only advertisement my dad ever needed was by
word of mouth. I have never seen a time when the porch wasn’t lined with people
patiently waiting their turn to eat.

My dad
believed in serving only the freshest seafood. If he couldn’t get it fresh
within the day, then he simply wouldn’t serve nor sell it. The local docks
supplied him abundantly. Now, many southern seafood restaurants serve a country
buffet along with seafood, such as fried chicken and BBQ. My dad didn’t believe
in that. He said seafood houses should serve seafood and seafood only.

That’s all
fine and dandy as long as you have a gifted cook to back it up. My dad
definitely had that with Miss May. We kids would like to always be right up
underneath her. It was hard not to gravitate towards this lady. Miss May is
like a warm, welcoming place who just draws you into her comforts and somehow
soothes all the wrongs. We all adored her.

~ ~ ~

“Miss May,
how come your name is the same as one of the months of the year? Ain’t that weird?”
A young John Paul asked her this one afternoon in her kitchen at the
restaurant. Yep. That’s right—her kitchen. We each had pulled a stool up to her
work counter and were
supervising
.
Every now and then, she would need something out of the pantry or fridge, and
we would just about fight over who would get it for her. She was such a
pleasing woman, and we all wanted to please her right back.

Miss May
chuckled at John Paul’s question as she continued to pick through a container
of crabmeat. “’Cause my folks had so many young’uns, that’s the only way to
keep they’s birthdays straight. My older brothers are June and August. My
younger sisters are December, January, April, and September.”

“You’re
lucky you were born in a month that’s not too weird,” John Paul commented with
a wrinkled nose and a reassuring nod of his head, causing Miss May to laugh
wholeheartedly. That woman’s laugh was contagious and we all joined in. She
laughed with her whole body and her face would light up like none other. She
could barely laugh without crying. Man, that woman could really laugh…

She began
assembling some of her award-winning hush puppy batter. Hush puppies are a
legend around these southern coastal parts. It is said that fishermen would
come in from the sea and set up to frying their fresh catches right on the
docks. The problem was they would be hounded to no end by the local dock dogs
for their dinner. To get the dogs to leave them alone, the fishermen would fry
up balls of the fish batter and feed it to the pesky animals to shut them up,
hence the name hush puppies. Miss May called hers hush babies. Her
award-winning crab cakes are legendary, too. Just as the fishermen had to
pacify the dogs to keep them out of their fish, so did Miss May to keep us out
of her crab cakes. No matter how busy she would be, she would always take the
time to whip us up a fresh batch of her mouthwatering treats. Those sweet balls
of cornmeal batter would melt in your mouth.

That
afternoon, with the name history lesson complete, that little lady set out to
hush us up. We all stood around watching and patiently waiting as she drained
the fried dough on a paper towel, transferring it all into a carryout tray
along with a cup of honey butter. “Here now. Take ‘em and let this here ole
woman with a funny name get back to work,” she said with a wink to John Paul.

She handed
him the container then proceeded to give each of us kids a kiss on the top of
our heads as we filed by her to the back door of the kitchen. The restaurant
and seafood market are backed up by the inlet, and we enjoyed spending the
afternoons exploring at low tide. To visitors, the smell is a bit unpleasant.
Some people would describe it as a putrid smell, but we locals are born with an
immunity to the low tide stench.

Once Jean
roped Evan into helping her out, our days at the restaurant became limited. As
I grew closer to my eleventh birthday that dark year, the more lost I seemed to
get. Miss May became my only ally in those days.

My first
disappearing act, albeit unsuccessful, was one afternoon that early spring.
Evan was becoming progressively weirder to be around, always wanting me and
Julia to sit in his lap or wanting us to lie on the couch with him. Always with
wandering hands and stolen kisses.

I tried to
deter him by not washing and wearing some of the boys’ outgrown clothes. This
won me no friends at school, but that was the least of my problems in those
days. In my almost eleven-year-old mind, I thought I could gross him out enough
that he would only want to pay Julia attention. She seemed to not be bothered
by his wandering hands that much, so I thought it was okay. And once Evan grew
strange, a peculiar filth seemed to embed in me anyway. I felt I could never
wash it off.

After
school that day the disappearing act began, I did a mad dash inside to grab my
fishing pole. The boys had reluctantly agreed to let me join them. I was in the
washing room where I kept my pole, and that’s when Evan cornered me.

He slid his
hands around my waist and eased me against the corner, out of sight. “Just
where are you running off to now, little miss?” His pale eyes held mine captive
and bile rose in my throat. My body always reacted with sickening dread when he
touched me.

“I
umm…fishing…”
 
Before I could continue,
he ducked his head and brushed his lips against mine.

“You don’t
have to be jealous over Julia Rose. You know I’m crazy about you too.” He then
tried to nudge my lips apart with his own, but mine became like stone. I tried
to squirm out of his grasp, with him looking offended by that.

“Please let
me go.” I squirmed some more, but he still wouldn’t release me.

“Did that
make you uncomfortable, little miss? I’m sorry.” He pulled back slightly with a
look of repentance painted carefully across his handsome features. “That’s how
my family expresses love. That’s all I was doing. Julia Rose likes it. Says she
wishes your family was more loving.”

I knew our
family was different. Love? I didn’t even know what that word meant, but I
surely didn’t think it was supposed to make you feel sick to your stomach and
scared.

The front
door banged open abruptly and Evan quickly freed me, so I took advantage of the
moment and burst out the back door. I started off in a run and didn’t stop
until I made it to the kitchen of the restaurant. I scooted in the door and
stopped to catch my breath with my entire body trembling. Miss May stood by her
worktable preparing something I can’t remember. I was bent over with my hands
on my knees, feeling as though I was about to pass out. She began, “What…” but paused,
taking in my demeanor. I looked up and shook my head, not being able to speak.

Miss May
wiped her hands on her apron as she started over towards me, but stopped when
she noticed I took a cautious step back. “What in the world got ahold of you,
young’un?”

I darted to
the back corner and hunkered down without saying a word. I didn’t think I could
if I wanted to. I was totally freaked out, and that fear had somehow stolen my
voice. I thought if I was just near her, I would be okay. She checked on me once
as I hid behind a large stack of bread pallets but didn’t say anything else. An
hour or so passed before my dad stormed through, looking for me.

“Miss May,
have you seen Savannah? I just got a phone call that she’s missing.” I could
hear the panic in my dad’s voice from where I hid.

“Yessir.
She been ‘round here for a bit. I’ll send her to yo’ office in a minute.”

My dad must
have agreed because I heard him step back out of the kitchen.