Mattie's Call (20 page)

“U
rsula, you are a godsend. I don't know how I would have gotten through my day's running around without you.”

“Maude, I am at your service. All we have is ourselves back here. I'm starting to think old man Phillips doesn't want to be bothered with us.”

Mattie gazed at the winding trail to his property. “I don't think anyone lives there. He's a ghost.”

“That old coot is back there. He's cheap and stubborn. From what I was told by the previous owners, he's never been one to socialize.” Ursula unpacked the trunk of her car and placed Mattie's bags on the porch. “Do you want these inside?”

“I've got 'em. They aren't too heavy. Besides, I need the exercise.”

Ursula eyed her watch. “You joining me for the evening news?”

“You know how I feel about that idiot box.”

“Come on, Maude. I'm not for all the reality shows, but it's good to know what's going on in the world.”

“Don't try to hold me hostage all night, Ursula.”

“Well, at least a good ransom would be paid for you. You're the other person I know who shops with cash only in this day and time.”

Who needs the paper trail?
“Don't take offense to this Ursula, but there was a time we couldn't get a credit card, mortgages, or anything having to do with a bank. We weren't considered trustworthy. Banks felt we wouldn't pay anything back.” Mattie put her groceries away and fanned herself with an old-fashioned church fan. Grateful she'd stockpiled the safe in the cabin with cash, she felt blessed that she'd remained self-sufficient. The last thing she needed was to be tracked down after withdrawing money or making a debit purchase. She was sure Gigi sent her death certificate to credit card companies so she wouldn't have to pay the small but outstanding balances.

Ursula bristled at the word “we.” We? Moments like this crystallized their differences. Ursula avoided the topic of race like the plague. Maude was one of many black people she'd befriended and she genuinely enjoyed their camaraderie. If her mother knew how close she'd gotten to Maude, she'd tsk and tell her she'd gone too far. Because of her mother's racist rants growing up, she and her husband taught their son not to see race, but growing tensions with police brutality and murders made her extra-sensitive during their conversations; she watched her tongue during their excursions. Race really didn't matter to her as a child, and certainly not as an adult.

“How long are we going to be at your place?”

“We can watch the news,
Wheel of Fortune,
and
Jeopardy
. I'll walk you back down. I'll even whip up some of my popcorn.”

“You and your popcorn.”

“Admit it, air popped is better.”

The ladies trudged to Ursula's cabin and sat in front of her huge flat-screen. Mattie loved the coziness of her place and the way she made her feel at home. Guilt inched its way in her heart again. Her end of their friendship was make-believe. She wanted to admit her crime to Ursula, but she wouldn't understand. Lately, she tossed and turned at night, wondering how her children were. She stopped opening mail from the private investigator; it was painful reading how they'd gone on with their lives. Their situations were rocky, but they were moving on. Twice she dialed Joshua's number but hung up on the second ring. No words could adequately describe the hole she felt without her family.

Ursula set a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and squirted cherry syrup in their glasses of Sprite.

“Which news program tonight, Maude?”

“CNN. We always alternate between
Nightly News
and CNN.” Mattie's bladder swelled. “Headed to the little girl's room. I'll be right back.”

Mattie settled in with a magazine from Ursula's rack. She flipped a few pages of
More
and froze when she heard, “She should be stoned leaving her family like that!” She clutched the towel rack, unsure of how she'd explain herself. The story had died down months ago. Who brought it back up again? She cleaned up and rejoined Ursula.

“Maude, can you believe this?”

Mattie breathed a sigh of relief when she sat down. The breaking news story read “Missing Pennsylvania Woman Reappears 11 Years Later in Florida Keys.” She looked at the woman's photos placed side by side: the one on the left showed a vibrant, attractive housewife. The photo on the right showed a woman who appeared destitute and homeless. Her distant, cold eyes begged for something. Ursula's full-blast air conditioning made her tuck her legs under a small blanket.

“You wait eleven years to turn yourself in?” Ursula asked the TV. She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

Immediately, Mattie homed in on the broadcast details. She noted the irony of the missing woman's last name: Heist. She'd stolen eleven years of her family's life. Finances and a pending divorce made her walk away from her family, her life, and her problems.

“Brenda Heist should be ashamed!” Ursula's irritation grew. She flipped the channel to TV Land.

“Turn it back!”

Ursula did as Mattie asked but shook her head as more details emerged. Ursula munched popcorn and spoke to Brenda as if she could hear her. “Denied housing assistance, my ass! You don't leave small children.”

“Maybe she was scared.”

“You make it work. Do you know how many single mothers use the system for its intended purpose until they get on their feet? She didn't try hard enough.”

“I think she—”

“Shhh. The husband is talking.”

Riveted, they watched Lee Heist explain his mixed emotions about authorities finding his ex-wife.

“He definitely has no desire to talk to her. I don't blame him, Maude. And look, her daughter said she hopes she rots in hell.”

Images of Gigi, Joshua, and Alice wishing her the same fate crowded her mind. Her prank had gone on for months, but she couldn't admit her mistake. What would her family say? What would Ursula think of her?

“Do we have to keep watching this? You seem disturbed, Maude. Looks like you've tuned out completely.”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Seems like she was under a great deal of pressure. Raising children, working, and juggling life gets hard. Add a man wanting a divorce and it can be dicey. May I ask you something, Ursula?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Do you have any regrets? I mean, about decisions you've made in life.”

“A few. I regret not being more forgiving toward my husband. He was a workaholic and I didn't appreciate his sacrifices to make our family comfortable.” Ursula surveyed her comfortable digs. “He made this all possible. I also regret not learning more skills. I've been doing wonderful things since moving back home. My husband left us well off, but I wish I'd learned different things to pass on to my son and grandkids. Keeping up family traditions is a big thing in the South.” She paused. “Any regrets on your end?”

Mattie's days in Savannah flashed before her. She couldn't divulge honest regrets since she hadn't been forthcoming with Ursula. “I have lots of regrets. At times I feel like a fraud. Maude the fraud. I can keep a secret 'til Judgment Day, and there are things about myself that make me ashamed.”

Ursula chose not to push the matter. She'd give her time to spill her secrets. “I guess I did sound judgmental. I can't understand what would make anyone, especially a mother, leave her children. Then again, I only had one child, a loving husband, and extended family to help me out.”

“Life is hard. People like you have it made.”

“White people like me?”

“People with support systems like you. My thoughts had nothing to do with race.”

Ursula took a deep breath. “Maude, I want to tell you something, but I don't want you to think less of me.”

Afraid of what she might say, Mattie asked, “You're not hiding anybody in the backyard, are you?”

“Of course not. You said race wasn't on your mind, but it's on mine.”

“Go on.”

“Before my finance career, I worked briefly for a fashion magazine in the sixties. During the days of Herm
è
s Kelly bags and expensive lunches, I wrote stories and had photography assignments. A dynamic young lady joined us after a big affirmative action stink. She carried herself with grace and style, came from a well-to-do family, and could turn out copy like no one I'd ever seen. But she was black, and the sentiment was she didn't belong with us. The sandbagging began the moment she arrived. Her stories mysteriously disappeared, and when her stories ran, the editors made her print smaller. Someone poured urine in her coffee. The final straw came when she was given an assignment she couldn't possibly accomplish since she was sent to a country club to cover a story.”

“She was denied entry, wasn't she?”

“Not exactly. The gatekeepers assumed she was hired help, so she went with it. It was an amazing story about the event and a spot-on piece about the traditions of the women's group involved.

“When the editor-in-chief read it, he couldn't ignore her talent. However, that story vanished as well. I saw him rip it up and accuse her of not turning it in on time.”

“What does this have to do with our conversation?”

“I confronted him about RayAnne and didn't get far. I told him she was so exceptional. He was a good old Southern boy who'd migrated to the North. He looked me dead in my eyes and said, ‘She is an exceptional nigger, but she's still a nigger.'

“A vote was taken amongst the staff as to whether she should stay. I was the lone holdout. I felt she should have been given a chance, but her presence made everyone uncomfortable. My job was threatened if I didn't go along with everyone else. The decision had to be unanimous. A tremendous amount of guilt overwhelmed me because I wish I'd done more to help her.”

“You did all you could.”

“When you said ‘we' earlier, meaning black people, I thought of RayAnne and how talented she was. I also wanted you to know that I value you as a person and I didn't befriend you with any ulterior motives.”

“Whatever happened to RayAnne?”

“She went on to start her own publication. She did well for herself. I reached out to her once and she never responded.”

Mattie eyed the door. “I'm going back down to my place. My stomach's not doing well.”

“Did I upset you?”

“No. I need to get some rest. All that grocery shopping and action tuckered me out.”

“Let me grab my jacket to walk you back.”

“I'll be fine. I need some time to myself.”

Ursula linked arms with her friend and walked her to the door. She worked hard at curing her foot-in-mouth disease, but she found herself offending Maude more than comforting her. She couldn't explain it, but the closer they got, the farther away the friendship felt. She would work harder at strengthening their connection.

“Call me if you need anything, Maude.”

She nodded and headed home.

31

A
lice swatted Robert's arm and sipped her coffee. “This location is fine. I didn't want to run the risk of someone seeing us.”

“We're getting closer. The last sighting of Kenny Graves was in Chattanooga, Tennessee. That's his real name. He has more aliases than the law will allow. If we can get the authorities to close in, we stand a chance of getting the money back.”

Nestled in back of Gary's Place, Alice took in the abstract paintings and enjoyed the cozy atmosphere. She'd never heard of the quaint spot in Pooler, but she relaxed as he gave her updates.

“How did you find him?”

“We're not the only congregation he swindled. I've been in touch with several other pastors in Georgia and surrounding states.”

“This is still surreal. At this point, I don't care about the money. I want him caught so he doesn't take advantage of anyone else. Several of our members invested their life savings with him.”

He cupped her hands. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

“About thirteen of the members are suing me. I want you to get in on the suit with them.”

She snatched her hands back. “I can't do that. Our original plan was to track him and get our money back.”

“This is how we'll do it. With your name in the suit, it makes our dealings less conspicuous. You'll be another member getting her just due. Since the suit is personal, you'll get money from me in addition to the funds you recoup from Graves in the suit.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Because you deserve it. You're still with Beryl, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“How is he treating you?”

“We are getting along. He's eased up a lot, but I'm sure it's because of what happened with Davina. I went back home in an attempt to get back at him, but I don't feel the same anymore.”