Sit! Stay! Speak! (8 page)

T
HE ROAD TO
J
ASPER
'
S FARM WAS MOSTLY UNPAVED
. F
ELIX
stirred occasionally from his nap in the front seat to growl at the bumpy ride. It was funny to Addie that Felix liked to ride in the car. There were days when he was afraid of his own shadow, but if there was a car door open, Felix was going to jump in. It didn't matter how far they went—the second Felix was in the seat, he fell asleep.

It was the first time that Addie had seen the Delta countryside since her visits with Aunt Tilda. The land was lush and green, and miles of cotton and cattle stretched out in front of her. Here the mighty Mississippi deposited rich soils over millions of years. She remembered her aunt calling it the land of rivers.

After several miles, Addie came up on what looked like an old farm. Although the land had been tended, the buildings were in terrible disrepair. The graying boards of the barn were leaning to one side, and it looked to Addie like a strong gust of wind might bring the whole structure toppling to the ground.

The house was almost completely demolished, with only the remnants of a chimney left standing. There were pieces of the house everywhere—from what Addie could tell, a native stone house.

This must be the old Jones farm,
she thought. Bobby's accusations from the night before ran through her head. If Bobby was that upset, she could only imagine how the Jones family must feel. Addie had no desire to see Redd as angry as he'd been the night of the fair, and she wondered if the rest of the family was like him.

She didn't notice the Floyd farm until she was upon it. Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in the magnitude of the property. She turned left up the driveway, the house growing larger and larger as she approached.

The house was an 1830s mansion, which from the outside gave Addie a sense of antiquity, a farm meticulously kept over time. Addie had never seen anything like it in her entire life. The vast house, dwarfed only by the vastness of the land surrounding it, stood in the shade of at least four pin oak trees.

Addie hesitated. She considered throwing the car in reverse and flying back down the driveway before anybody had the chance to notice she was there. She didn't really need to apologize, did she? After all, Jasper
had
pushed her. He'd wanted to know.

She looked over at Felix, who panted excitedly. Addie guessed she didn't have much of a choice now. She was already here. And the pies would go bad if she didn't find someone to eat them. Rolling the windows down a few notches, she said to Felix, “Sit here. I will be right back.” She'd just drop off the food and leave. No big deal, right?

Addie opened the back door and pulled out the basket full of
food. She took a long look at the house before trudging up the front steps and up onto the huge wraparound porch.

Addie rang the doorbell, and when a middle-aged woman answered the door, panic began to rise in her throat. She hadn't thought this through. She hadn't even called first. She didn't even have Jasper's number! What kind of a person shows up at the house of someone she doesn't even know well enough to have a number for?

“Hello. I'm . . . I'm Adelaide Andrews,” Addie stammered. “I'm . . . I . . . I know Jasper. I brought him these.” She shoved the basket at the woman.

The woman looked lost for a few seconds, and then much to Addie's relief, broke out into a broad grin. Jasper's grin, she realized. She was a squat, round woman with bright blue eyes hidden behind square bifocals.

“Well, hello!” The woman had a deep southern drawl, thick as honey. “Come on in, darlin'. I've heard so much about you.”

“You have?” Addie was dumbfounded. “At church?”

“What?” The woman ushered Addie inside. “No, from Jasper, of course. I'm his mother, Artemis Floyd.”

“I thought so. He has your smile.”

“And you, my dear, look quite a lot like your aunt Tilda.” Artemis turned to wink at her. “I was quite fond of your aunt. She was like a second mother to me.”

She led Addie down a wide hallway of deep mahogany wood floors covered by vibrant oriental rugs. Addie had little time to take in her surroundings before she was standing inside one of the largest kitchens she'd ever seen in her life.

“What have you made us, Adelaide?” Artemis asked, peeking inside the basket.

“Call me Addie, please,” Addie replied. “They're fried pies.”

“Oh! I love fried pies.”

“I wanted to thank your son for helping me with the tree-in-window incident,” Addie said. “I hope they taste okay. I've never actually made them before.”

“I'm sure they're wonderful,” Artemis replied. “You must stay for Saturday supper.”

“I couldn't. I didn't even tell Jasper I was coming.”

Artemis waved off Addie's concerns. “Nonsense. He'll be thrilled.”

“I really would love to stay,” Addie continued. “But I've got my dog in the car. He'll go crazy if he's left out there for too much longer.”

“I cannot send you home on an empty stomach,” Artemis replied. “Besides, who can say no to grilled pork tenderloins, green beans, and cheese grits?”

“That sounds glorious,” Addie admitted. “But . . . what's a . . . grit?”

Artemis looked at Addie, a bemused smile forming on her lips. “Well, bless your heart! I forgot that you aren't from here. Grits are . . . well, they're a coarsely ground corn, sort of like porridge.”

“Oh,” Addie said. “I think I saw a recipe for something with grits in my aunt's recipe box.”

“You're in possession of Tilda's recipe box?”

Addie nodded.

“I can't believe that woman didn't take that box with her to her grave, God rest her soul,” Artemis replied. “That woman was the best cook in three counties.”

“I remember.” Addie winced at the thought of her aunt smelling
or tasting the sorry excuse for pies she'd fried up earlier. “I'm not much of a cook myself.”

“You wouldn't mind to let me take a look at those recipes sometime?” Artemis asked. She was staring intently at Addie.

Something told Addie that she should say no. It didn't matter to her—she didn't figure she'd get much use out of the box's contents. She probably would have showed it to Wanda, but she hadn't asked. A little voice inside her, Aunt Tilda's voice, said that Artemis knew she shouldn't be asking, either.

“A woman's recipes are like her diary,” her aunt Tilda had told her once. “They aren't meant for anyone else's eyes but hers.”

Before she could answer, Addie heard footsteps hurrying toward them from the front of the house. A man wearing a green Floyd Farms T-shirt came rushing into the kitchen. He bounded toward the women, his arms flailing. “Ms. Artemis! Ms. Artemis! Come quick, there's a rabid animal in the chicken coop!” he screeched.

“Calm down, Clyde,” Artemis said, barely rising from her seat. “I'm on my way. Grab the .22 from the case.”

Addie followed Artemis outside and around to the right side of the house, quite a ways out. She could hear the chickens before she saw them. Once she got close enough to witness the commotion, she saw a fury of black and white racing around and around the wire fencing.

Clyde was behind them with the shotgun in hand. He was out of breath. He raised the rifle to his shoulder. “Hold yer ears, ladies. Then cover yer eyes. You ain't gonna want ter see this.”

Addie squinted at the muddy mass running in circles around the coop. It looked oddly familiar. “Wait!” she yelped. “Wait, don't shoot! That's my dog! Felix! No! Felix!”

Artemis and Clyde stared open-mouthed at Addie as she ran. Neither was sure what to make of the frantic young woman in front of them.

The closer Addie got to the coop, the more she realized that Felix wasn't trying to eat the chickens. He was licking them as they squawked their protests. Each time a chicken got close enough to Felix, he stuck out his tongue and gave them a good lick. He waited in the mud, hiding, until a chicken wandered over.

He stopped when he heard Addie's voice, cocking his head to one side as she scolded him. “Felix, you crazy dog! What is wrong with you?”

Felix rolled over on his back, wiggling in the dirt and chicken poop. He licked the air, he licked the chickens, he licked the mud, and he licked himself.

“That's your mangy dog?” Clyde asked incredulously. “You're lucky I didn't shoot that thing when I first saw him molestin' them chickens.”

Addie fixed her gaze on Clyde. She put her hands on her hips and replied haughtily, “He's my dog, yes. And he's not mangy. I mean, he has mange, but he isn't
mangy.
”

“I didn't know there was a difference,” Clyde said. “I beg your pardon.”

“You can't just go shooting first and asking questions later,” Addie continued, exasperated.

Clyde gripped the shotgun so tightly that his knuckles were white. “I don't know what side of the Mississippi you think you're on, Miss, but 'round here ain't no woman tell a man what to do with his gun.”

Addie ignored him and busied herself getting Felix out of the chicken coop. Once Addie entered his space, Felix gave chase,
and the whole thing started up again. She was so busy pursuing her dog that she didn't notice that Jasper had come in for the evening and had been watching the scene unfold.

“I'm never taking you anywhere again,” Addie said to Felix, dragging him by his collar from the chicken coop. “You're staying in the house forever. Forever!”

When Addie looked up from scolding Felix, Jasper was standing in front of her, arms crossed. He was laughing.

“I'm so sorry,” Addie said to Artemis. “I guess I rolled the windows down too low and he wiggled out.”

“Oh, honey,” Artemis said, “that was more fun than I've had in weeks.”

Clyde, who was less than amused by Felix's antics, stood rigid next to his employers. “That dog coulda killed all them chickens.”

“You hate those chickens, anyway,” Jasper cut in.

“I guess Clyde loves the chickens more than we realized,” Artemis said. “Adelaide and her dog are staying for supper.”

Addie tightened her grip on Felix's collar. “That's okay, Mrs. Floyd. We're both covered in chicken poop. I think it's time to call it a night.”

Jasper cleared his throat and stepped in front of Clyde. “I'll take Felix and get him hosed off.” He looked Addie up and down as she tried in vain to wipe off the thick muck. “And you can take a shower at my place if you want. I live in the carriage house behind the main house. C'mon. I'll show you.”

Addie followed Jasper, silently wallowing in her humiliation.

“You can probably let go of that poor dog's collar,” Jasper said finally, turning around to grin at Addie. “He obviously couldn't help himself.”

Addie let go of Felix's collar, and Felix happily followed Jasper,
nudging at his hand with his nose as they walked. “I made you fried pies,” Addie blurted out. “I just wanted to apologize for last night. I had too much to drink, and I said some things I shouldn't have.”

“Forget about it,” Jasper said. “You should be apologizing to me for having to bathe your devil of a dog.”

Addie grinned. She was relieved that he wasn't angry. “I am sorry about that. I don't think Felix likes Clyde very much.”

“Nobody likes Clyde.”

He stopped at the door of a house smaller than the mansion. “This is it. Go on in and take a shower, and I'll get Felix cleaned up. I've got sweats and T-shirts in the bottom drawer of the armoire. You can wear that until your clothes are clean.”

“I don't want to put anybody out. I can just go home. I didn't mean to interrupt everybody's day like this.”

“Too late for that now,” Jasper said. “Besides, I'm not going to be the one to explain to my mother that you skipped out on supper.” Jasper whistled to Felix. “Let's go, buddy. No more chicken love for you tonight.”

T
HE CARRIAGE HOUSE WAS NEAT AS A PIN
. I
T WASN
'
T ANYTHING
she would have expected from a man living alone. Everything seemed to have its place; even the toiletries in the bathroom were lined up according to height. Jasper was the most organized person she'd ever seen, and Addie sure hoped that he never looked inside her medicine cabinet. She blushed at the thought.

As in the main house, there were beautiful rugs laid over the hardwood floors. Artemis's touch, Addie thought. There was a television, a couch, and a couple of chairs in the living room, but nothing else of substance. Off to the right, Addie could see the kitchen. She went left down a short hallway and into the only bedroom.

The bed was made so neatly, Addie wondered if Jasper had ever even slept in it. The crisp, white comforter looked brand-new. Next to the bed was a dark wooden nightstand that held several books and a pair of glasses.

In the bottom drawer of the armoire there was a pair of gray
sweatpants. Hanging above the sweatpants were several T-shirts. She took a second to riffle through them. Most of them were the plain white shirts in which she normally saw him dressed. There were a few she'd never seen before. She picked the one that had
OLE MISS
written on the front in faded, red-and-blue letters, resisting the urge to snoop through the rest of the house before heading to the bathroom and shutting the door.

It was no wonder Jasper offered to let me clean up,
Addie thought. Her hair was caked with mud, and she was covered in feathers all the way down to her very dirty flip-flops. Her mind flipped back to the night before and Harper. She wondered if she'd stayed here, showered here, woken up here this morning. If she had, there was surely no trace of her. She bet Harper wouldn't have been caught dead in a chicken coop with a practically hairless pit bull.

She didn't want to go to dinner at Jasper's parents' house. What if they hated her? The first time she'd gone to dinner at Jonah's parents' house, she'd felt the exact same way. He'd put off introducing her to them, even though they were both professors at the college she and Jonah attended in the city. She'd never taken any of their classes, as they were both high-level history teachers, but she knew who they were. Everybody knew who they were. Their home in an affluent suburb of Chicago looked exactly like Addie had pictured it—piled high with books and art and smelling slightly of pipe tobacco. However, she hadn't been greeted with the warm reception she'd expected.

Jonah's father had been admittedly more friendly than his mother, but both had been cold. Neither one of them had spoken more than three words to Addie the entire time she was there, even though she'd attempted multiple times to make conversation. She'd reached out and taken Jonah's hand under the table,
searching desperately for some comfort, but he'd jerked himself away from her, slurping his soup and avoiding eye contact with anyone. It was only later, months later, that she found out his parents blamed her for Jonah quitting graduate school just one semester from finishing. The fact that their only son was more interested in the chairs historical people sat in rather than the actual people was not acceptable to them.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, flinging mud onto the mirror. Her denim skirt and red tank top reeked of wet dog, but she forgot about everything when she stepped inside the shower. It felt the way all showers were supposed to feel. When she emerged minutes later, she found Jasper sitting on the couch with Felix snoring at his feet. “Your water pressure is amazing. I could have stayed in there all day.”

“It's not the pressure,” Jasper replied, slinging one arm over the back of the couch. “It's the showerhead. I'm guessing you haven't installed yours yet?”

“The showerhead is the least of my concerns right now.”

“You've had that thing for at least a month.”

“I don't think I've even lived here a month.”

“I'm pretty sure you have,” Jasper replied. “It's been just about a month since I met you for the first time at Doc's clinic.”

“You're the only person I know who can start an argument over a showerhead.” Addie rolled her eyes. “I guess you were probably a pretty good lawyer, huh?”

“Technically, I'm still a lawyer,” Jasper said.

“That's what Harper said.”

“Oh, yeah? What else did she tell you?”

“She told me lots of things.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” Addie replied. “She also told me that she was your partner in Memphis.”

“She's taking over the practice.”

“Why are you giving up your practice?” Addie asked. “I mean, Wanda told me a little about it, but not much.”

“I'm sure she did,” Jasper replied drily. “My father had a stroke last summer.”

“I'm sorry, Jasper.”

“I thought maybe my father's condition would improve, but the doctors say he won't walk again, and it's just too much for both of them to bear the responsibility of this farm alone, especially right now during harvest time.” Jasper looked down at his fingernails. “It's likely I won't see the inside of the courtroom again for a while.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Some days.”

“You could always practice here in Eunice, couldn't you?”

“I could,” Jasper said. “But I don't have any interest in helping Old Mrs. Johnson sue her neighbor's cat or helping my high school buddies divorce their cheating wives. Besides, I'd have to pass the bar in Arkansas. Memphis is in Tennessee, you know.”

“I know.” Addie rolled her eyes. “What kind of law did you practice in Memphis?”

“Criminal, mostly.” Jasper stood up from the couch. “I did take on a few smaller cases for some friends, but most of the time I handled criminal defense cases.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“I suppose protecting my chickens from rabid Yankees is just as exciting.”

“I'm from the Midwest.” Addie crossed her arms over her
chest. “Not everybody north of the Mason-Dixon is a Yankee, you know.”

“We better head on in to the main house.” He motioned for her to follow him. “My mother will be wondering where we are.”

Addie looked down at the clothes she was wearing and said, “Your mother is going to think I'm completely insane. First I show up unannounced with terrible food, then Felix terrorizes her chickens, and now I'm wearing your clothes.”

“I'm sure she loves you already.”

“She is going to think I'm ridiculous.”

Jasper grinned. “As long as she's not having the same thoughts as I'm having right now, we'll probably be fine.”

Addie felt her face grow warm. She wasn't sure how to respond to that. “What will I do with Felix?”

Jasper reached down to scratch the dog's ear. “Oh, he and I had a little talk while you were in the shower. He'll be just fine here while we eat.”

“Are you sure?”

“It will be fine,” Jasper reassured her. “Now come on.”

“Whatever you say, Counselor. But if he eats your bed I will not be held responsible.”

“It'll be my word against yours.”

As they walked, Addie felt someone watching her. Clyde appeared in front of them as if he were an apparition. “I'm headed home, Mr. Jasper. Been a long day.”

“Evening, Clyde,” Jasper said.

Clyde grunted a response to Jasper, but his eyes were on Addie, and she felt the hair on her arms stand up. Even after they continued on their way, she couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't like her and he wanted her to know it.

Jasper stopped when they got to the front door. “My father can be . . . difficult,” he said. “Just keep that in mind.”

Before Addie could answer, the door swung open and Artemis stood in front of them. “Come in, come in. Why are you all standing out here?”

“Thanks again for having me.” Addie stepped through the doorway.

Artemis led them down the hallway, but this time they took a right before the kitchen.

“Mom?” Jasper said. “What are we doing in here?”

“We have company. I thought it might be nice to use the formal dining room,” Artemis explained, shrugging.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Does Dad know?”

“He's already at the table,” Artemis replied, gesturing toward the room.

“We usually just eat in the kitchen,” Jasper whispered to Addie. “You must be pretty special.”

“I'm wearing your sweatpants,” Addie whispered back. “I'm not special; I'm embarrassed.”

Addie followed Jasper and his mother into the dining room. A long, wooden table lay in front of them. The food glistened under the chandelier, and Addie remembered that she hadn't eaten that day. She was famished.

At the end of the table a man sat, staring at the three of them. He said nothing, but his eyes were narrowed as if he was carefully assessing the situation.

Artemis cleared her throat and said, “Adelaide Andrews, this is my husband, Jack Floyd.”

“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Floyd,” Addie replied cheerfully as she took a seat. “And please, call me Addie.”

“I like Adelaide better if it's all the same,” Jack answered. “It's nice to meet you as well.”

Jasper mouthed, “I told you so” from across the table.

“Jack?” Artemis said. “Would you like to say the blessing?”

“Fine.” Jack bowed his head. “Dear heavenly father . . .”

Addie watched Jack through her eyelashes. If she hadn't known he was disabled, she never would have guessed it. Jack Floyd was every bit as strapping and broad-shouldered as his son. He had the same perfect teeth, and same booming voice. His complexion was darker than Jasper's—Jack's once dark hair was now salt and pepper. His forehead and corners of his eyes showed signs of age. When Jasper confessed that his father had been the victim of a stroke, she'd harbored a completely different vision.

“. . . Amen,” Jack finished. “Let's eat.”

Addie watched as Artemis picked up a large white bowl, spooning some of the contents onto her plate. “These,” Artemis said, passing a bowl to Addie, “are grits.”

Addie spooned the grits onto her plate and brought a forkful to her mouth. “Yum. These are wonderful!”

“We usually have grits for breakfast. Without cheese,” Jasper explained. “Grits are traditionally a breakfast food.”

“I didn't know what they were until a couple of hours ago, but now I'm not sure how I lived my life without them.”

Artemis laughed and pushed another steaming platter toward Addie. “Spoken like a true southerner. I think you're going to be just fine here.”

“Where are you from, Adelaide?” Jack broke in.

“I'm from Chicago,” Addie replied. “But I spent two weeks every summer until I was twelve down here with my aunt Tilda.”

Jack didn't respond and continued to eat in silence. Addie followed
suit and concentrated on her cheese grits. Neither Artemis nor Jasper made an attempt at conversation.

“You have a beautiful home,” Addie said finally.

“Yes. It is,” Jack agreed. “It was built in 1835 by my great-great-grandfather, and it's been kept in immaculate condition, as I'm sure you can see.” He gestured around the dining room.

“My father's a very humble man,” Jasper said.

“Nothing to be humble about,” Jack sniffed. “The Floyds have owned this farm since 1830.”

“That's amazing.”

“Indeed,” Jack agreed. “Floyd Farms' cash crops are cotton and soybeans.”

“Why those crops?” Addie asked. “I hear cotton and soybeans are used together all the time down here. Is there a reason?”

“Smart girl.” Jack gave Addie a wry smile. “We alternate between the two. Simply put, cotton takes the nitrogen out of the soil, and the soybeans put it back. We're on a three-year rotation.”

“Are those your only crops?”

“Those are the moneymakers,” Jack said. “We have a small watermelon patch that we open up to the public over the Fourth of July.”

“You have a celebration here?”

“We do,” Artemis said. “We eat watermelon and then shoot off fireworks. We didn't have a crop last year, so we're making up for lost time.”

“Why didn't you have a crop last year?”

From the other end of the table, Artemis quietly cleared her throat. “We had some issues pop up last year that kept us . . . busy.”

“I'm sorry,” Addie said.

“What for?” Jack demanded. “Did you put me in this chair?”

“No.”

“Then don't be sorry.”

“Give her a break, Dad,” Jasper cut in. “The nurse put you in that chair an hour ago. You want to chastise someone, go chastise the person who gets paid to put up with you.”

“Jasper thinks he's in charge since he came home to help his crippled old man around the farm,” Jack said, turning to face Jasper. “But maybe if he'd been helping years ago, his old man wouldn't be a cripple.”

“Jack,” Artemis said. “That's enough.”

“The jury's still out on that one.” Jack was staring intently at Jasper. “What do you think, Counselor?”

“I don't know, Dad.” Jasper met his father's gaze. “Maybe you should ask a better lawyer.”

Jack shifted his gaze back down to his plate and not another word was spoken. Addie had never been more relieved than she was when Artemis stood up to clear the plates.

“Let me help,” Addie said, jumping up.

“Nonsense,” Artemis replied. “You and Jasper go on now.”

Jasper was already making strides toward the door. Addie followed him out into the summer heat. The air was thick, and so was the silence hanging between them as they trudged toward the carriage house.