“I heard. Lovey Porter, resident bee charmer.”
“For Pete’s sake, does Sam tell you every little thing?”
“Sam and I have no secrets.”
“I can see that.”
“Nor should we.” Grace crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave Royal a you best behave look.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I think he can keep a secret. I might as well just tell you my own damn self.”
“As if you have any deep dark secrets that I don’t already know, Royal Duval. Such a big talker you are.”
Royal scraped the last crumbs of crust onto her fork. “Man, that was good.”
“I guess so. You hardly took a breath.”
“What I’ll never know is how you stay so thin while eatin’ your momma’s cooking all these years.” Royal pushed the plate forward and leaned her elbows on the table.
“Worrying about you keeps me thin.”
Royal laughed. “Stop worrying about me, Grace. I’m gonna be fine.”
“Not if you’re planning on spending a lot of time with Miss Lovey.”
“What do you mean by that?” Royal felt a knot in her stomach at the mere mention of Lovey in the same sentence with trouble.
“Well, she’s her father’s daughter ain’t she? And he don’t like your kind one bit.”
“Methodists?”
“Don’t make jokes. You know what I mean. Moonshiners.” Grace gave Royal a stern look.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” Royal grinned and held her empty plate out as a clear plea for a second serving.
❖
Lovey checked the clock. It was just a little past the lunch hour. She’d restlessly waited for time to pass the entire day, moving from room to room dusting, cleaning, rearranging, settling to read for a little while, and finally now she was kneeling in front of an old hope chest tucked in a corner of the spare bedroom.
She lifted the heavy lid and pushed the hinge into the locked position so that it would remain open. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited her mother’s things. A black-and-white photo rested on top of her mother’s wedding dress. Lovey fingered the white detailed stitching on the bodice of the dress and then reached for a linen handkerchief, delicately embroidered with small yellow and pink flowers. Remembering the details of Royal’s handkerchief in contrast to the florets made her smile. She replaced the small piece of folded fabric and reached for a silver brush.
Tucked next to the brush were letters written by her father and mailed to her mother while he was away at seminary. The cursive was bold and sure on the front of each ivory envelope, and each one had been neatly undone with a letter opener so that the edges were practically smooth.
Her mother had died while Lovey was still in her teens. Probably the time when a young girl needed her mother most. Influenza had been an indiscriminate killer that winter. Her mother hadn’t been the only individual to fall in their community.
There were so many things Lovey still longed to share with her mother. Never would she have the chance to seek her mother’s advice about dresses or boys or first kisses or whatever was happening now with Royal.
Lovey’s father had tried his best to keep her at home after her mother’s death, but with the demands of pastoring a large congregation, he was too often called away. He’d enrolled Lovey in the Brenau Academy, the only residential, all female college preparatory program in Georgia at the time. When Lovey began attending the academy in ninth grade, she was part of one of its earliest classes, the school having only been established in 1928. She was a year younger than most of the other girls in ninth grade and still mourning the loss of her mother. Lovey found support and friendship in the sisterhood at Brenau. She remained there for college, training to be a teacher. She’d met George at a school mixer with the University of Georgia her sophomore year.
She sat back on her heels, reflecting on her time at Brenau.
Her roommate, Dottie, had ended up becoming her closest friend over the years that they both studied there. They’d seen each other through the tumultuous years of late adolescence and college. Many a night they’d huddled under the covers, cuddled together, discussing friends, crushes, and the events of the day.
Lovey had seen Dottie only sporadically since their graduation. For women, the choices after college were limited, either graduate school or marriage. Since Lovey wasn’t from a family of means, she’d chosen marriage. She knew that the congregation had given her father additional support so that she could attend the private school in the first place, for which she’d been very grateful.
Dottie had also married after graduation. Richard was a classmate of George’s, so during their courtship they’d double-dated quite a bit. They had a daughter now that Lovey had not even met. With George’s decline and illness, Lovey had been unable to visit Dottie after the birth. She felt the sudden urge to write her a letter. It had been too long, and it would probably do her some good to reach out to such an old and dear friend. Richard had accepted a job in Charlotte, North Carolina. He was a banker, and the last time she’d heard from Dottie, was doing quite well in his job.
Lovey closed the lid of the large walnut chest and stretched out across the bed, looking at the ceiling. She’d felt so different since she and Royal had kissed, almost as if she was a little outside her own body, looking back at herself. This afternoon she would see Royal again, and the anticipation was making her stomach twitch into knots of nervousness. What was happening to her? She was becoming a creature she hardly recognized. She
