Hollister House:

{Legend of the Banyan Tree}

Copyright © 2008 by Joani Lacy

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and

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ISBN: 978-0-595-42631-7 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-60962-8 (cloth)

ISBN: 978-0-595-86958-9 (ebk)

Contents

PROLOGUE

PART ONE EVE

CHAPTER ONE BACK TO THE GARDEN

CHAPTER TWO OLD GLORY

CHAPTER THREE MUSK

CHAPTER FOUR TEMPORARY INSANITY

CHAPTER FIVE JONATHAN

PART TWO THE VPs

CHAPTER SIX JOEY AND MARY

CHAPTER SEVEN NEIGHBORS

CHAPTER EIGHT ALLISON

CHAPTER NINE MONSTER HOUSE

CHAPTER TEN FRIENDS

CHAPTER ELEVEN THE CLUB

CHAPTER TWELVE ANNA’S PAINTINGS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN BLOOD OATH

CHAPTER FOURTEEN THE ALTAR

CHAPTER FIFTEEN MARY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN THE LETTER

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN APPARITION

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CANCER SPREADING

CHAPTER NINETEEN LOA

CHAPTER TWENTY MIRACLE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CONCERT

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GLORY HALLELUJAH

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE POPS AND GRAM

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR REUNION

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE THE PARTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX THE MEETING

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN THE SÉANCE

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT COMA

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE JUNIPER HIGH

PART THREE SIPPIE

CHAPTER THIRTY THE NURSE

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE MS. SIMS

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO THE VISIT

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE THE WORLD IN BETWEEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR BAD ENERGIES

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE DECISION

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX PAGAN DANCE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN SIPPPIE’S SÉANCE

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT POCKET OF POWER (THE STORM)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE THE JOURNAL

CHAPTER FORTY JOEY

EPILOGUE

BIBLIOGRAPHY

FOR LEVAN,

WITH GRATITUDE AND LOVE …

And Special Thanks:

To Mom, who is my biggest fan. |

To Lacy (my Knees), who helps me believe in myself by always believing in me.

To Pippa Anderson, who gave me my first and best written review.

Also, to Tony Blum, Steve & Patty Cagney, Tim & Trish Keller, Kathy Balzhiser,

Carol Leabhart, Chris Sebron, Robin Lacy, Jan Perry and Lainie Boberschmidt, for

encouraging me by taking the time to read the various versions of my book.

To Joe Polen for scoring Loa’s Melody.

To Mark Palkovic, music copyist for Loa’s Melody.

To Jan Perry, whose professional advice was as inspirational as she is.

To Tim and Donna Lucas of Video Watchdog fame for their invaluable help with

this book.

To ErmaJean, who helped get me started. I miss you.

To my Robin, who loves me best by letting me be me.

In loving memory of Robert L. Lacy, Sr., Papa Bear,

for all the love and inspiration.

Eve. Something sounding more like a gentle wind than a voice awakened her. She willed her eyes to open. There, suspended delicately in the air in front of her, was a glowing, transparent vision that closely resembled her grandmother, Anna. She blinked rapidly in an effort to clear her sight, but it was still there. Eve swallowed hard, forcing back the bile that was rising in her throat…

PROLOGUE

The Indian Ocean

1799

The American merchant vessel listed dangerously close to the water’s surface as the squall beat relentlessly at its masts and rigging. Mountainous waves pum-meled the ship’s already battered hull with a deafening fury, as it struggled to contain its weighty cargo. Captain Grayson Aloysius Hollister wiped the stinging salt water from his face, and worked tirelessly against the wind to tighten the ropes securing his prized possession. The voyage had been one catastrophic event after another, and his crew of mostly Haitian natives and conscripted labor were convinced the strange tree was their albatross. It stood in the shadows of the stern of the ship; its tangled roots immersed in a huge crate of fresh water and mint leaves picked from the grassy lowlands of India. Captain Hollister had found it there, a sacred banyan tree, where legend had it the beloved Indian master, Sid-dhartha, would rest himself after long, wearying journeys. It was said that the banyan was a holy place of the Buddha, and it was a tree of great magical powers.

Captain Hollister had commanded his slave workers to uproot a section of the magnificent fig tree and transport it to his trade ship, where he placed it in the fresh water and secured it to the deck with heavy hemp rope. He watched over it with an obsessive desire to bring it to America, where he would sail it up the Mississippi, finally moving it inland by wagon to his colonial settlement.

The storm thrashed the decks, and the Captain was left alone to protect his precious tree from being washed overboard, while the drumming and voodoo chanting coming from the belly of the ship cut through the wailing of the high winds. Grayson Hollister was oblivious to his crew’s superstitions. He would beat the storm and bring his tree home, come hell or high water…

PART ONE

EVE

CHAPTER ONE

BACK TO THE GARDEN

Southern Mississippi 1999

" We are stardust, we are golden, we are billion year old carbon, and we got to get ourselves back to the garden.’" The classic rock station cut through the high whistle of the wind whipping Eve Hollister’s hair against her cheeks, as the Chevy pickup truck sped down I-55. God, she loved that Joni Mitchell lyric. It brought back so many memories; some good, some not so good, of nights on stage playing her violin, covering top-forty hits.

Eve yanked her silver-gray hair back out of her face for the hundredth time, and cursed herself for not having an automobile with air conditioning. She had only been on the road thirty minutes, and she was already clammy, and wishing she had worn her sundress instead of the jeans. Glancing in her rear-view mirror, she noticed the fine lines around her eyes seemed more pronounced than they had that morning, and the dark circles were a reminder of how little she was sleeping lately. With another glance in the mirror, the skyline of Jackson, Mississippi faded and finally disappeared.

The pickup started to shimmy as she moved into the high-speed lane. She was attempting to keep up with the small U-Haul truck whose cargo was her whole life, which didn’t amount to much.

But all that’s about to change, she thought. It’s just got to!

A shiver of anticipation ran through her as she turned onto State Route 98 towards Hattiesburg. She turned up the radio and relaxed, letting the warm air blow over her.

JUNIPER, MISSISSIPPI, 31 MILES, the sign read, as she drove over the two-lane highway.

Suddenly, the blandness of gas stations, fast food restaurants, and motels gave way to a quiet ribbon of road lined with giant oak trees draped in Spanish moss. The massive trees created a deep green archway as their thick branches touched overhead.

Eve turned off the radio, focusing instead on the serene beauty that she was passing. She kept averting her eyes through the trees for glimpses of swampy fields, catching an occasional snow-white egret in its graceful flight. God, it’s so beautiful, she thought to herself, and was letting her mind drift, when suddenly she slammed on the brakes, squealing her already bald tires. The U-Haul had stopped in front of her and she had nearly plowed into it.

Damn, Tom, what are you doing? She chided the muscular, gray-haired man as he approached her driver’s side door.

You mean, what are you doin’, Ms. Hollister? I seen you takin’ your eyes off the road. But listen, I stopped because we’re here. The next turn gets us right into Juniper, so why don’t you take the lead. I don’t know where the house is.

Okay. I’ll swing around you.

Looking again at the directions, Eve pulled the Chevy truck in front, and led the way into the small city that was to become her home. Juniper was a picturesque, antebellum town, and Eve found herself softly lulled by its tranquil, tree-lined streets. It was so much like she had imagined it. Oh, my God, I’m really here. I’m really doing this. Suddenly, her mouth was uncomfortably dry, as nervous anticipation made the heat rise to her face in a hot flash. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and took a deep swallow from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag on the front seat.

Slowing her speed, she stared at the street signs until she came to MANDALAY. Making a right turn, she drove a couple blocks and then pulled up in front of a large, overgrown lot enclosed in six-foot, wrought-iron railings. A massive, dreary house sat buried so deep in the shadows of twisted vines, tall weeds and drooping tree limbs, that it was barely visible.

Eve parked and got out of the truck. She walked over to the gate, her heart racing as she approached the crusty wrought iron. Putting both hands on the railing, she pulled her face close and peered at the infamous boyhood home of her father.

The decaying Victorian sat far back from the street, fronted by an expansive shaded yard, overgrown and tangled in winding wisteria and untamed shrubbery. Crumbling concrete cherubs and gargoyles strained to peek out of the bushes and tall grass. The house itself looked lifeless and strangled, as if it had choked from creeping vines, and slowly suffocated from decades of no sun. Its sad exterior walls and windows cried from peeling paint, rotting wood and loose-hanging shutters. What had once been a charming veranda now sagged after years of shifting ground, and its floorboards were riddled with holes, letting thick vines snarl through, roping around the faded wooden balusters. The massive front door was broad and arched, and constructed of a heavy, dark-brown oak that had, remarkably, withstood the ravages of time, seeming almost incongruous with the shabbi-ness surrounding it.

Cracked stone steps led off the veranda to a long, uneven walkway lined with tall, misshapen evergreen bushes. At the end of the walkway crouched two weather-beaten lions on battered haunches, wearily guarding the house atop concrete pedestals on either side of the rusted entrance gate. A great banyan tree in the front side yard completed the grisly motif, its monstrous limbs dipping and then rising again out of the ground, creating ominous serpent-like tendrils.

So, Ms. Hollister, you want me to start unloading the truck? Tom’s gruff voice brought Eve back, and she forced herself to turn away from the gate.

You know what, Tom? It’s getting pretty late. Why don’t we call it a night and get started first thing tomorrow? Dad told me there’s a hotel right in the heart of town. Here, you go have a nice dinner and a room on me. And quit calling me Ms. Hollister. It sounds like you’re talking to my mother. Eve handed Tom a hundred-dollar bill.

Tom smiled. Well, I am an employee, you know. But, c’mon, Evie, you can’t stay in this old place tonight by yourself. You come into town with me, and then we’ll come back in the mornin’ and unload your stuff, if you’re still set on movin’ in. Tom’s suggestion was more of a plea, as he looked at the uninviting sight beyond the gate.

Eve grinned at the childhood friend her father had hired to move her from Jackson.

Look, Tommy, you know Evie here does just fine in strange and exotic situations.

Tom looked past her at the Jim Beam label sticking out of the brown bag sitting on the passenger seat. Eve saw the disappointed look on his face; then her eyes met his, and she knew he understood.

Okay, but not a word to your old man about this. I’m supposed to be lookin’ out for you.

It’s a deal. Besides, we’re not in Jackson now, and if I get the jitters I’ll come right over to the hotel, I promise.

Well, that’s all fine and good, but what about some dinner? You gotta eat, Evie.

Hey, I’ve got that covered, too. I’ve got a bucket of chicken and a side of coleslaw in the truck. Honestly, Tom, go ahead, and I’ll see you first thing in the morning. Just follow Mandalay back to Main Street and head to the right. The Drake Hotel sits right in the center of town.

She didn’t wait on a response, but just kissed Tom on the cheek, and grabbed her canvas backpack out of her pickup. Tom shrugged his shoulders and got behind the wheel of his truck. He knew Eve well enough not to argue with her.

Waving as the U-Haul pulled off, Eve threw her bag over her shoulder, pushed the creaking gate open, and headed cautiously down the walkway to the house she had heard about all her life.

She dodged the heaviest limbs, using her right hand to keep the brush out of her eyes, as she made her way to the front door. Her father had told her she didn’t need a key. He had never locked up the house and, sure enough, there was no evidence of anyone having recently crossed its threshold. Eve pushed with her shoulder as hard as she could three times trying to budge the door. On the fourth try, the heavy door finally swung open, causing her to lose her balance as she nearly fell into the huge entrance hall.

Her bag created a resounding echo as she dropped it and then stood, staring at the cavernous space. Her eyes traveled eagerly everywhere, and looking up, she was immediately fascinated with the large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was veiled in layers of spongy cobwebs, giving it the appearance of a crystal cocoon. To the right of the chandelier, a long, winding staircase seemed to disappear from sight altogether as it curved and stretched into the darkness. The house smelled of mildew, and the dank air was heavy and oppressive. A faint whooshing sound, like a distant wind blowing through the rafters, lay on top of an eerie silence, and fluttering noises came now and then from the deepest shadows.

Out of nowhere, manic flapping wings buzzed by Eve’s ear as a small bat flew past her up the staircase and nearly got tangled in her hair. Repulsed, Eve frantically waved her hand around her head, rubbing her ear roughly.

Suddenly, the stale air became colder, blowing an icy chill over her body. She had an overpowering sense that she was not alone. In the next instant, the tepid air returned, and the presence was gone. A bead of sweat broke out on her forehead.

Now, what the hell was that?

Eve looked around at the musty, abandoned house, while shivers ran up her spine, partly from fright, but mostly from a strange excitement.

Allison is going to kill me for sure, she said out loud, as she took another look around the gruesome foyer before heading back outside for some fresh air. She stood on the veranda, being careful to avoid the jagged holes in the floorboards. Soon enough, the old familiar feelings of doubt and insecurity washed over her.

God, what am I doing? I’m too old, and I don’t have the strength for this. Allison is never going to understand why I’m dragging her here to this God-forsaken house.

She sat down as an overwhelming exhaustion took her, and she had an irresistible urge to sleep. She felt drugged almost, as she stretched out on the veranda, letting her head rest on a pile of ropy vines and leaves. Staring at the dusky sky, she tried to still her mind, until her lids became heavy and she closed her eyes. She quickly fell into a troubled sleep there on the rotting veranda that hadn’t been touched by anyone for sixty-some years.

An hour passed, and as Eve opened her eyes, the comforting light of twilight had given way to night. Her body was stiff and achy from lying on the damp, rotting boards. She struggled to her feet and stretched, twisting a couple times in an attempt to loosen her cramped back muscles. Rubbing her tired eyes, she gazed upward. Here in this small town the sky seemed so close, larger somehow, and the stars clustered in brilliant formations of cut diamonds. She breathed deeply for the first time, noticing how the air was fresh and fragrant with honeysuckle and magnolias. Feeling her strength renewed, Eve decided to walk over to the banyan tree.

She let the starlight guide her as she pushed through the dense evergreen toward the banyan, tripping over large roots as she made her way to the core of the tree. She stopped deep inside the thick limbs where, hidden from the night sky, the pale glow of fireflies dancing through the leaves provided the only glimmer of light. The tree seemed to absorb all sound, except for the occasional rustling of blackbirds and bats high overhead.

Eve stood still as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she studied the heavy continuous branches twisting above her head and under her feet. She had never seen a banyan tree, and it was far more impressive than she had imagined. In its heart she felt strangely protected by it, loved almost. It was as if the ancient tree had been expecting her. Eve crouched down, resting her back against the largest trunk, giving into the sweet feeling of total acceptance, while tingling warmth spread through her arms and legs.

Everything is going to be all right, she kept thinking over and over to herself, as all the nagging doubts drifted away, replaced by an uncanny sense that she was home, really home for the first time.

Eve closed her eyes and her mind stopped its usual chatter. She knew she was still awake, so why did she feel like she had entered some kind of dream world? She opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. The long, slender fingers that she trusted to entice intricate melodies from her violin now looked almost chubby, the fleshy edges blurred. Her reality had shifted somehow. Eve cocked her head to listen to the rustle of the branches overhead that were changing in tone and intensity. Her musician’s trained ears picked up a slight melody. A woman’s voice, it sounded like, deep and sensuous, humming the same refrain over and over. Eve knew that she should be frightened, but instead, she listened to the throaty voice and was lulled into a rare calm. She fell into a trance-like sleep, as the tree seemed to fold in on her, its branches like woody blankets, comforting and warm. Eve dreamt of her grandmother, Anna Hollister.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeee! The high-pitched call of a blackbird overhead woke her. She jumped up, bumping her head on a limb.

Damn!

She rubbed her forehead and watched, as hundreds of blackbirds and bats scattered in confusion. She had never seen so many birds. Her immediate reaction was to duck and cover her head in defense, as she waited in a silent panic for the loud riot of wings to settle down. At last, the manic cacophony stilled to a soft rustling.

What was I dreaming. As hard as she tried to focus, she couldn’t get back to the dream. Brushing off the back of her jeans, she looked around her at the innocuous tangle of wood. She sensed that the banyan tree had opened up somehow, as though a spell had been broken. Aware of being unusually relaxed and calm, Eve felt like she had been hypnotized and then snapped back by the blackbird’s call. She looked behind her at the snaky root where she had been sitting, and wondered at how much time had passed. Shaking out her arms and legs, she ran her fingers through her hair and made her way carefully back to where her truck was parked.

Eve climbed into the driver’s seat of her old Chevy and munched on the cold chicken her parents had insisted she bring, just like she was a kid going off to school. It made her smile, thinking of the worried look on Ellen and Jon Hollis-ter’s faces as they helped their only daughter pack up her truck for her crazy move to Juniper. Well, God love ‘em, at least somebody cares. Looking out through her bug-stained windshield, she took notice of Mandalay Street for the first time.

It was wide and lined with large oak trees, and the houses were mostly colonial style, fronted by large shaded yards. It was a lovely street and so quiet. Eve wasn’t used to quiet, and for a moment she wondered what her neighbors would be like.

Looks pretty conservative, she mused, as she ate a spoonful of lukewarm coleslaw. She considered just stretching out on the front seat to sleep, but looking again at the house, she decided she would brave her first night inside. She was so exhausted and any kind of bed would be better than the truck. She certainly knew the layout of the first floor from her father’s descriptions, and she also knew it was still furnished from when he had lived there as a boy. She hesitated for a minute, picturing sharing a bed with any number of furry creatures. She reached for the bottle of bourbon from the brown sack and took a deep swallow.

Oh, what the hell. She closed up the food containers, took the bottle and a flashlight, and locked the door to the Chevy pickup.

Walking up the broken concrete pavement once more to the house, she glanced again at the banyan tree, awed by what she had experienced while sitting in its center. In one instant she allowed herself to marvel at the undeniable power the tree had held over her, while in the next second she dismissed what seemed to have been a magical phenomenon, to merely being the result of an over-active imagination brought on by too little sleep and too much stress.

Inside the house, Eve picked up her backpack and turned on the flashlight. The wide beam cut through the dust and thick cobwebs, as she made her way out of the entranceway and down the hall. She walked too quickly past the kitchen toward the back of the house, and stumbled, causing a colony of bats to scatter overhead. She threw her arms up to ward them off, just as something hairy brushed up against her ankle and scampered across her foot. Jumping, she dropped the flashlight. It crashed to the floor, the bulb breaking into several pieces, throwing the house into total darkness. She could still hear the scurrying of small feet all around her, but she couldn’t see through the pitch black, and had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then the scurrying stopped, replaced by a deathly silence. Her heart leapt in her chest as she fumbled in her pocket for a matchbook. She tried to light the matches over and over, but her hands were shaking too much and she kept dropping them. She stopped then, in the darkness that surrounded her, and tried to calm her nerves as she listened to Hollister House. She swore she could hear inhalations and exhalations, like the house was breathing. Nothing else moved, and even the fluttering overhead stopped. Eve stood in the hall, listening. She was convinced now that she heard breathing, and just the faintest moan, low, and resonating from somewhere behind her.

Son of a bitch!

Cursing out loud, she tried to diminish what her ears were telling her, but what she knew couldn’t be true. She brought the Jim Beam shakily to her lips, drinking deeply from it. She wanted a cigarette, and tried the matches again without any luck. A blind panic overtook her. Forcing her feet to move in the dark, Eve groped and felt her way down the endless hallway. Finally, she knew she was standing in the doorway of the room that would be hers, her grandmother’s room.

Moonlight leaked through grimy French doors, and she could just barely make out the overgrown courtyard through the filthy glass. She took another drink of the Kentucky bourbon and felt her body relax. But in the next instant, Eve’s head started spinning and it took all her strength to make it to the bed. She lay back on the musty mattress, and her skin grew clammy against the dampness of the old, worn sheets and quilt where her grandmother had slept.

Eve was overcome, then, with a grievous sorrow and a profound sense of loneliness. Grandma Anna, it’s you, isn’t it? I’m feeling you, she mumbled the words as she blessedly passed out.

CHAPTER TWO

OLD GLORY

In the morning, the smeared French doors let in just enough diffuse light to warm Eve’s face. She squinted, rapidly blinking her eyes, and her mind raced as she tried to make sense of where she was. Something scampered across the floor, and her first reaction was to cover her head with the dank quilt, but just as quickly, she shook off the mildewed cover in disgust.

God! Eve thought of herself as pretty tough, but even she had her limits, and the idea of sharing space with any number of hairy rodents was really pushing it. Reaching for her bag on the floor, she took out her cigarettes and jerkily lit one. She took a deep drag, letting the comforting smoke fill her lungs. She realized she was still dressed from the night before, as she got up and walked over to the French doors.

Anna’s garden, Eve whispered reverently, as she looked out at the overgrown weeds and broken concrete that existed now where her grandmother’s private garden had been. She tried to pry open the doors, but they stuck, and she decided not to push it.

I better get Tom to look at that.

Next, she tried the plumbing in the old water closet, as she had heard her dad refer to the bathroom in the corner. To say the pipes were rusted would have been generous.

Eve reached for a pad and pencil to start making a list, when she caught her reflection in the old mirror haphazardly hanging onto the vanity. She had been a striking girl when she was young, with deep blue eyes and thick, wavy blonde hair that tended to frizz too much. Her father always told her she looked a lot like her grandmother, but Eve knew she was too big-boned to be like Anna. However, the eyes, yes, the eyes were most definitely hand-me-downs, she was sure, from pictures she had seen of her grandmother, and they were her best feature. Eve looked pretty good to herself in the dulled mirror. I just need to drop a few pounds, she thought, as she patted the unfamiliar roll of fat around her waist that seemed to have appeared overnight. She brushed her hair and braided it, and made her way out of the room and down the hall.

Her heart sank as she saw the condition of the house in the harsh daylight. Thick cobwebs covered everything, and clouds of dust hung in the air like suspended mesh curtains. Covering her mouth and nose to keep from breathing in the dirt, she walked into the study and, at first glance, was relieved to see the furniture still there. But as she stepped closer, her heart sank again to see that the once beautiful silk fabric on the chairs was now faded and threadbare, punched with holes.

Oh, man, what am I doing? She reached for another cigarette, when a pounding on the massive front door made her jump, and she dropped the matches again.

Lord, Eve, get a grip.

Evie, you in there?

Over here, babe.

Tom Jordan walked to the left of the vestibule into the study, his large frame filling up the doorway.

Oh, well, this is great, Evie. Nice place you got here. So, are you ready to go back to Jackson? I’ve got the truck running.

No, smartass, I’m not ready to go back to Jackson. Hey, so the place could use a little work? Well, couldn’t we all.

She gave him a once over, taking in his wrinkled T-shirt and torn blue jeans and his unshaven face. He still looked good to her, though, and there was no mistaking the muscles straining against the shirt, making it appear one size too small.

Okay, Eve, whatever you say. But I’m staying long enough to help get this place cleaned up. You don’t have much to move, but I can’t really see hauling it in here until we clear some of the dirt.

Well, you’ve got a point. Hey, I’m starving. You wanna grab a bite downtown, and then we can load up on cleaning supplies?

Sounds good to me. Ma’am? He tipped his ball cap to her, as she hookedher arm in his, and they walked out into the bright morning light.

* * * *

Tom drove the pickup truck, and parked in front of the first hardware store they came to. It was on Main Street right at the edge of town, and across the street was a café that caught Eve’s eye. The sign over the door stated boldly in green and gold lettering: GLORY’S DINER. And below that: Best Catfish in Juniper, or Anywhere Else South ofthe Mason-Dixon Line! Tom and Eve took a look at the yellow-brick front and grinned at each other. They crossed the street, and Eve pushed through the scratched plate-glass door.

Inside the diner, an old Bessie Smith recording was playing through tiny speakers mounted on the highest shelves. There were no tables in Glory’s, only booths along one wall and stools at the counter. A thin, elderly black man with a sparse beard smiled broadly at them as they walked in. He told them to take any seat in the house, and they chose the booth farthest from the door. They both ordered eggs and grits and chicory coffee, and Eve had to admit the homemade food made her feel like a new woman.

Lighting a cigarette after her third cup of coffee, she noticed a black woman seated alone in the booth closest to the door. The light had obscured her from view before, but she had shifted and now Eve could see her clearly. She looked to be very old. She wore a faded housedress and was smoking in a leisurely manner, tapping her slippered foot to the music.

I’ll bet that’s Glory herself, Eve spoke in a whisper.

Tom started to look.

No, don’t look. She’ll see. Man, oh, man, I bet that woman is a trip to sit with. The things she could tell us.

Oh, no, you don’t. We have work to do.

Party pooper! Eve stuck her tongue out at him, as they rose to pay their bill.

Excuse me, but is that Glory, by any chance? Eve asked the cook, pointing to the old woman.

Yes, ma’am, that’s my great-grandmama, Gloria Sampson. This here been her place since 1923. I does all the cookin’ now, but Glory, she still the boss. I’m Sheldon, by the way. Is you folks new to Juniper?

Yeah, Sheldon, I just moved into the old Hollister House on Mandalay. My name is Eve Hollister and this is Tom Jordan. It’s so nice to meet you, and we wanted to say that the food was delicious, and I just love the old blues. We’ll be back for sure.

Well that’s just fine, Ms. Hollister. You feel free to stop back any time. We’ll be here. Catfish special on Fridays. He smiled warmly, as he handed Tom the change and went back to his grill. Tom left a tip on the counter and they turned to leave.

Just as they passed the old woman, Glory lifted her head and made eye contact with Eve, stopping her dead in her tracks. Eve nodded, but didn’t move. Tom had to nudge her to get her going again. She pulled her eyes away, but an invasive uneasiness found its way to the pit of her stomach. It was as though the old woman had seen right through her to some secret, closed-off place. A chill blew over her as she walked out into the warm spring sunshine.

Did you see that? Eve put her hand up to her eyes to block the sun. That woman gave me the creeps.

Yeah, well, 100-year-old people tend to be pretty creepy, Tom replied, as hepushed Eve towards the hardware store.

* * * *

So, tell me, Evie, seriously. What are you doing here? I don’t get it.

Eve and Tom were leaning against the wall in the front hall. They had been cleaning all day. Eve had scrubbed the kitchen and her bathroom down while Tom had worked on the floors and windows. They had made a major improvement, but there was still much to be done. Now, they were sipping on ice-cold beers from Tom’s cooler, taking a cigarette break.

Well, babe, I know I’m nuts, but I have this plan, see. You know how I haven’t exactly been the ideal mom …

Tom rolled his eyes and she punched him in the arm.

Hey, I know, all right? But I want to change all that, I swear. And you know I can’t go back to New Orleans, and I sure as hell can’t stay in Jackson where Allison would be so close to my parents all the time. So, this just seemed like the logical place. Hey, Juniper’s a nice town, and how much trouble can I get into here? She met his grin, and continued. Besides, to tell you the truth, I have always been fascinated by Dad’s life growing up here. He didn’t talk about it often, but there were times when he would go off and really describe his childhood with my grandparents, and in those brief moments, when he would tell the stories of Hollister House, well, I was just captivated. Why he didn’t sell the house, I never understood. And truthfully, I don’t think he ever understood himself. So, in some ways I feel like I was meant to come here, and this is my only real chance to get my daughter back. I want to try, Tom, I really do.

Eve stopped talking and stared off into the distance through the smoke drifting up from her cigarette. Tom looked at the profile of the woman he had known his whole life. She wasn’t young anymore, but he still admired the way her nose turned up just slightly and the way her full lips pouted when she was deep in thought.

Well, Evie, I wish you luck. I really do. I know it won’t be easy because Allison likes her life in Jackson. How did you convince her to do this?

"Well, that’s the thing. I haven’t really convinced her. I just gave her no choice. But I have been totally honest with her about my past and about my hopes for the future. And we made a deal that if she will give me one year, and I mess up, then she can go back to Jackson and pick up where she left off, and I’ll go back to being the same old part-time mom I’ve always been. Believe me, she doesn’t like anything about coming here, but Mom and Dad have agreed to bring her when school lets out. So at least that gives me time to get this place cleaned up.

And what are you going to do all by yourself in this freaky house until she gets here?

Well, I’ve got a whole list of contractors to start weeding through to hire for the renovation. I have to get the original plans for the house and try to find the best restorers. Then there’s going to be endless hours of shopping around for the right antiques and furnishings. All that stuff takes time. So believe me, I’ll be plenty busy.

Okay, then. It sounds like you’ve got a plan. I’ll be here for you, Eve, if you need me. You know that.

Thanks, Tom. You’re the best. She pushed a lock of graying hair off his forehead and smiled affectionately at him. He was so familiar to her. They had been romantic many, many years ago, but now their relationship had settled into a very comfortable friendship.

Okay, big guy, finish that beer and let’s get back to it.

* * * *

By the time the light had dimmed, most of the downstairs was cleared of the dust and debris that had lain undisturbed for decades. There was room now to bring her boxes in. Tom started to unload the truck, and then thought better of it.

You know what; I think that’s enough for one day. He looked tired, and the lines in his rugged face stood out in the filtered beams of light.

Yeah, you’re right. I’m bushed. Do you mind if I share that hotel room with you tonight? No funny stuff, just a clean bed sounds like heaven until I can get my things unpacked tomorrow.

Sure, babe, but I wouldn’t mind the funny stuff, if you wouldn’t? Eve smacked him in the arm, and gave him a push out the door.

Downtown Juniper was quiet as Tom Parked the U-Haul in the hotel’s parking lot. There was a bar off of the lobby, and George Jones’ country twang could be heard coming from the jukebox.

You want to get a nightcap before we go up? Eve’s blue eyes pleaded.

Okay, old girl, but just one. I want you feeling strong tomorrow. We’ve still got lots to do.

You got it. Just one, I promise.

The song ended just as they grabbed seats at the bar. Eve reached into her pocket for some quarters, and asked the bartender to play some Bonnie Raitt and whatever else he wanted. Soon, one bourbon turned into three and then four, until finally Tom had to almost lift Eve off the stool to get her upstairs, where he helped her partially undress before she fell into the bed. She giggled as she rolled over, and then she was snoring loudly.

Oh, Evie. Why do you drink so much? We could have had some fun tonight. Tom sighed as he crawled in beside her and turned out the light.

They woke early the next morning and ordered coffee from room service. Eve nursed her headache with aspirin and a cold washrag, and called her parents to tell them she was okay, and that Tom would be spending more days helping her. Then she called the telephone company to get a phone line installed at Hollister House. By the time Tom finished the morning paper, she felt good enough to try some food.

They had another breakfast at Glory’s. The old woman was sitting in the same spot as the day before, only this time Eve avoided making eye contact with her.

Eve was sipping on her