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“That there ain’t no townie. That’s new blood come in for sure.”
There were more churches than Bobbi thought possible in such a small area, and, according to Delia, every single one of them was full to bursting on Sundays. The park near the river was lush with green grass, wisteria lined walkways, tall moss-laden oak trees and the smell of wild honeysuckle and magnolia hung in the air. Most folks were friendly and open, and it didn’t take long for Bobbi to acclimate to the heat.
So it was that exactly one week to the day she’d arrived in Belle Adair, she found herself sitting in the back garden with fresh squeezed orange juice, ham, biscuits with gravy, and grits. Out here, she could hear forever, it seemed, and the kind of quiet and solitude a person needed from time to time surrounded her like an old blanket.
It was early, barely seven on this Sunday morning, and Bobbi sat back in her chair, hands cupping a warm mug of coffee. She was dressed casually in a pair of old gray sweatpants and a thin white T-shirt. Her hair was loose and tangled, there wasn’t an ounce of makeup on her fresh-scrubbed face, and her feet were bare.
The B and B was set perfectly on a large, irregularly shaped lot, with boxwood and other shrubs and trees lining the property for privacy. There were gorgeous flower beds and overflowing baskets that hung from the gazebo where she sat. They were filled with colorful flowers, small delicate ones in yellow she had no name for, and larger ones she recognized, like pansies and petunias. She watched a small hummingbird drink its fill of nectar. So quiet was the morning, she could hear the hum from its wings.
It was peaceful, serene really, yet Bobbi was restless. She could try to pretend she didn’t know the why of it, but she would be wrong. She knew she’d never be able to fully relax until she dealt with that thing she didn’t want to think about. She took another sip of coffee and decided that today was the day she took a trip uptown to the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test.
Pregnancy. Test.
The thought made her stomach turn over, and she pushed the plate of food away, embarrassed that she’d taken so much when she knew she’d probably only eat a portion of it.
“Something wrong with the sausage and grits?”
The voice came from behind her. Bobbi turned as Coral Adelaide slipped onto a seat at the next table. The woman was dressed in her Sunday clothes. A pale pink blouse, cream skirt, and low-heeled pumps completed her look. Her silver hair was just as big and puffed up as the first time Bobbi had met her, and a respectable string of pearls at the neck and matching studs in the ear complemented her outfit.
“My eyes were bigger than my stomach, I guess,” Bobbi murmured in reply, reaching for a fork to poke at the grits and at least give the impression she’d eaten some of it.
Coral’s eyes narrowed a bit, but Bobbi chose to ignore the woman’s interest in her breakfast routine.
“You have the look of a Northerner about you,” Coral said as she dug into her ham. “Where are you from exactly?”
Bobbi hid a surprised smile. The first few days here in Belle Adair, Coral Adelaide had ignored her for the most part, but over the last few of them, she’d been more talkative, though the talking generally centered on Coral and those Adelaides from Charleston. It was nice not to be ignored, but Bobbi wasn’t so sure she wanted to engage.
“I come from a little town in Michigan called New Waterford.”
Coral slowly nodded. “I have a cousin who lives in Crystal Lake.” Her eyebrow shot up. “You anywhere near there?”
There was more than one Crystal Lake that Bobbi knew of, and she’d been to neither one of them. “I don’t think so,” she replied, forcing a forkful of grits into her mouth.
“How long you plan on staying in Belle Adair?”
Bobbi gave the woman a mental eye roll. It was way too early for an inquisition.
“I’m not sure. Awhile, I guess.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve got some things to sort through.”
Bobbi looked up sharply, the grits and fork forgotten as she turned toward Coral. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The woman eyed her over her glasses. “Sweetie, don’t go getting your panties in a knot. It doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that a young woman with your kind of looks is hi
ding out in a place where she knows no one. It’s odd, is all.” Coral shrugged, her soft Southern roll giving a melodic quality to her words. “I’m just supposing there’s a reason for it, and to my way of thinking, that reason is most likely a man.”
Bobbi’s mouth dropped open.
“Or a woman.” Coral poked her fork into a slice of ham and waved it in Bobbi’s general direction. “I’m a little more liberal than most folks my age. I can appreciate you young folks like to try new things.” She nodded slowly. “Why, I have a peculiar auntie who never married, though she sure carried on a bunch with Jake, and not one of us batted an eye either way. Live and let live. That’s my motto.”
“How is that peculiar?” Bobbi found herself asking, in spite of herself.
“Why, because Jake isn’t a Jake. Not really. She was born Jacqueline.”
“Oh.”
“I just figure God likes variety as much as the next person, and we’ve got to accept all his creatures with all their peculiarities. Besides, what business do I have poking my nose into the goings-on in Pearl’s home? I can barely keep abreast of the goings-on in my own family.”
