Under the Sassafras (20 page)

Reporters had met them at the airport, but they managed to escape after only a few questions. So different from Joelette’s warm welcoming home. He thought of the front porch and the family full of such love and fun. That seemed like a life-time ago but he missed them and the life he’d had with them.

As he and Sara sat in his giant living room with all pristine white furniture that Marion had spent a small fortune on, William knew he remembered nearly everything now. The reason he ran, and why his wedding ring was in his pocket and not on his finger. The only thing missing was what had happened between Marion and Tony the night William had left.

“I was trying to get to Georgia to Sid Lawson. You remember him don’t you, Sara. He handled all of Dad’s legal matters, and Dad told me a number of times if you every need help he’s the man. That night, I knew I had to get to him fast. I tried to reach him by phone but couldn’t get through and with time running out I jumped in the car and took off.” William laid his head back. “Not the smartest move I’ve ever made.”

Sara took his hand. “We both know that something must have happened to you that night so let’s get at why and what you can’t remember about that night.”

He shot Sara a grateful look. She was right. There was no point in berating himself anymore. Not when there were still so many things he had to figure out. “Okay,” he said.

“Let’s start by reconstructing that night. There was a party.” Sara picked up the pen and tablet. “Take it slow.” Sara sat back and waited.

“I remember coming home tired to find Marion was having another one of her parties. You know the type, Sara, where it starts out as a small dinner party and ends up being a full blown event with lots of booze, and people I didn’t know.” William cleared his throat, as the next memory felt stuck. “I stepped out of the shower and picked up the house phone in our bedroom. I’d forgot to lock my inner office and wanted to have Tony take care of it. But as I lifted the receiver to place the call I heard Marion and Tony on the phone. I was about to hang up but something she said made me listen.”

He took a big drink out of his glass, and slouched back into the couch. “It wasn’t so much what she said but the tone of her voice. She called Tony, ‘sweetheart.’ I never suspected they’d have an affair. I listened to them talk about things they had done together for the last year. My best friend and my wife.”

“I'm so sorry, William.” Whatever Sara had been writing, her pen had stilled on the page and she looked at him with a mixture of pity and regret. “I suspected she had someone, but I never thought it would be Tony.”

“You suspected an affair?” He turned to his sister. “Why?”

She shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. “Just because of who she was, William. You know for yourself that she was never satisfied with anything for more than a minute. You even told me right after the two of you got married that you didn't think you would ever be able to please her.”

“I've been a fool.” He thought of all the heartache from jumping through Marion’s hoops. How much easier his life would have been if he’d given up years ago. “I never wanted all of this.” William waved his hand to encompass the room.

He was quiet for a moment, before continuing. “I can still hear Tony saying, ’You're the best, princess. I love you.’ After that I only remember getting in the car and leaving. I planned to call you, Sis, when I reached Georgia, but we both know what happened next.

“I drove straight through. Angry, tired, hurt, and betrayed, I remembered falling asleep at the wheel and almost hitting a car. The road turned into a dirt road and I must have fallen asleep again and must have driven off into the swamp.”

Neither he nor Sara talked about the gaps in the story, the gaps in his memory. Because something had certainly happened between the phone call he’d overheard and the drive to Georgia. Something else he’d heard, but his mind had locked out.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

Possum's cousin gave her such a great price, she had to agree to it. He’d start the work in the field tomorrow. Joelette felt better. At least those plans were going accordingly.

She dialed the number to the hospital business office. She could do this, get on with her life and eventually she’d stop thinking about him. She would just commit to her work. And the more work she did, the less time she had to think about him. 

The person on the other end of the line answered and Joelette gave her all of her information, then waited while the woman pulled up T-Boy’s file in the computer. She came back on the line and gave Joelette the information, then disconnected the line.

Confused, she turned to her mother-in-law. “MaeMae, the strangest thing just happened.” Joelette hung up the receiver and sat in a chair at the table. “T-Boy's bill has been paid in full. The business office wouldn’t give out a name but said it was a gift to a brave young boy. Can you believe that?”

“Yes,
Cher
. There are good people in the world.”

“But who?” As if someone had turned on a light, she felt her face flush. “Do you think it was him? If it was, I have to see that it is returned. I don't want to be beholden to him.”

“Joelette, take a breath. Why would it matter if Mansir paid or a stranger? This might be his way of trying to repay us and release some of the hurt.” MaeMae shook her head. “Let it go, Joelette. Don't allow pride to take this away from T-Boy. Think how pleased he will be to think Mansir paid his bill.”

“You know how this galls me, MaeMae. But I'll let it rest for now. I'm sure this is just pocket change for him.” She examined her fingernails a moment. “I saw an interview with him and his wife last night on the news. Their house looks like the White House.” Joelette walked to the sink and washed her hands then splashed cool water on her face. “I think I'll go read a little to the boys. I need to remember what's important in my life.”

“It's nice to see you on your way back, Joelette, but don't let all of this harden your heart to whatever life may bring.”

“Don't worry about me. I don't plan to hang my heart out for easy pickings again. Our life will soon return to normal.”

###

William slept in one of the ten bedrooms upstairs. He knew he would never sleep in their bed again. Marion was dead.

Early that next morning he walked barefoot downstairs to the kitchen. Upon entering the kitchen, the cook turned toward his footsteps and dropped the cup she held.

“I'm am sorry, sir.” She rushed to pick up the pieces of shattered ceramic. “It's early I didn't know you would be down this time of the morning. You must be starved.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm used to getting up and getting work started. All I need is a good cup of coffee now and my breakfast in the sunroom when it's ready. No rush.”

William felt sorry for the woman who'd been their cook for what seemed like a short time. He didn't even know her name. He watched for a second as she dusted off her hands and then pulled another mug from the cabinet.

“I apologize, I've forgotten your name.”

The kitchen smelled of stainless steel and cleaner. Nothing like the warm kitchen he’d left behind.

Startled, the woman tipped the cup over spilling coffee. “My name, sir?” Wiping up the coffee, she poured him another cup. “Mable, sir. That's my name. I'll bring your breakfast out shortly,” she said trying to settle her shaking hands.

Out in the sunroom, William took a seat in a white wicker rocker and looked out over the early morning fog that covered the garden. There was the fog he’d remembered. But it didn’t carry the sweet smell of the many plants, nor did it hold any of the mystical beauty of the swamp. The view was not the same.

He took a sip of the coffee and smiled. Possum would have nothing good to say about this coffee.

Mable returned with a serving cart full of large crystal glasses set in crushed ice and filled with fresh fruit, and with enough to feed an army. This was all for one person? Before the accident, he never would have thought twice about this meal, nor leaving half the food on the tray to be tossed in the garbage. However, his life could never return to this way of living. Something had to change.

“Hey, big brother,” Sara called as she let herself into the sunroom. “Mable told me where I could find you.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek and then glanced down at his feet. “Did Cinderella lose her slippers at the ball?”

“Help me eat all of this food so I don't feel so guilty. Why are you up early?”

“Through sleeping I guess.”

“He drank his second glass of orange juice and searched his sister's face. “How did you know Mable's name?”

“Whoa, I think you picked up another habit. You sound just like Ozamae with his questions.”

The thought of Ozamae brought an instant smile to William's face. “He’s something of a question box. I sure miss him.” Shaking his head to clear the memories, he concentrated on Sara. “I'll ask slowly this time. Please eat. Did you ask the cook her name, too?”

“A long time ago, when I came and stayed with you a while. Didn't you know her name?” Sara took a bite of toast and stabbed a melon ball with her fork.

“No. I don’t know if I ever knew her name. I've been so wrapped up in building an empire that I forgot how to be a person.” He popped a melon ball in his mouth as well. “Tell me your plans today.”

Sara cocked her head to the side and leaned toward her brother. “Do you need me to go with you somewhere?”

“No I need to handle this on my own. My lawyer called last night and filled me in on some things. Marion’s family took care of her memorial, but I need to go to her gravesite and say a few things to the women I was married to for ten years. I also need to try to visit Tony, the police said he lost it and is in a bad state.” William rubbed his face. They ate in silence for several moments.

William studied his sister. “If you could do anything you wanted to do, what kind of career would you choose?”

“I love this game. Can I choose two things? Since we are just playing a game, I think I should get to choose two things.”

Amused at his sister's animated face, he agreed.

“I would first be an artist. Not painting, but drawing. You know I wanted to take art in school, but dad said I could never make a good living drawing pictures. So I took up business instead and look at me now, an unemployed waitress.”

“What's the second?”

“Writing. Children stories. I have at least a box full of finished and unfinished stories under my bed.”

William put his fork down and looked at Sara. “How can I love you and think I know you so well and not know your two desires? When I complete this plan I'm working on, we'll have this conversation again.”

She raised her eyebrow. “What are you going to do, pay me, to write children’s books?”

He smiled at her. “Everyone should get to live his dream at least once in his life time.” Then he excused himself from the table and kissed Sara on the top of her head. “I have to finish dressing and get to the police station. The police chief and I talked last night and I have a meeting first thing. Then I hope to make it to the office before the regular work force. I have a lot of catching up to do today. And I’m working on the best decision I’ll ever make.  See you later.  Wish me well.”

###

“Mr. Matherson, what a surprise. It is such a pleasure. Good to have you back.” The security guard continued to pump William's outstretched hand in a strong handshake.

“Good morning to you.” Carefully, William eased his hand out of the guard's grip. “I want to surprise everyone else, so would you see to it that no one knows I'm here yet.”

“Yes, sir.”

A few minutes later, William let himself into his office for the first time in months. He was still reeling from the meeting with the Police Chief. Tony had turned himself in but in the process had a nervous break down. He would visit Tony later today.

He sat in his plush leather chair at the ebony crescent desk that announced, 'Person in Charge' and turned around. He peered out the wall of windows on the top floor of The Matherson Building. The skyline of San Francisco loomed impressive with the Golden Gate Bridge emerging majestically to his right. Fog hung on the cable tops painting a post card of the mighty bridge. His memory towered right in front of him.

He brought up his personal computer with his handprint and the machine responded with a greeting of “Hello, Mr. Matherson.” He smiled at the machine. T-Boy would get a kick out of all of this.

Okay old boy you have work to do. He pulled up the figures he searched for and printed the pages, a feeling of resolve settling his nerves. This would work nicely. It had taken the better part of the night, but he’d come up with a good plan. He gathered the rest of the necessary papers, and stacked them in a new briefcase he'd picked up on the way to work. Just one last job to accomplish this morning.

His watch showed that all the staff should be at their workstations by now. Pushing the button on his intercom, he said. “Good morning Mary, would you step into my office, please.”

He heard something drop on the other end of the intercom. “Mary, are you alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Matherson, I just didn't know you were back at work. May I come in, sir?”

“Of course.”

A very flustered Mary came rushing into his office. Eyes full of tears she flashed a wide grin. “It’s so good to see you with my own eyes Mr. Matherson. We all thought you were dead. Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Mary.” William frowned at the woman who served as his right arm in the office. He remembered she knew little things about him. What pens he liked. She even kept a collection of ties stored in her bottom drawer of her desk. Just in case the tie he wore to the office that day didn't warrant the right look for that special meeting.

“How long have you been with this company, Mary? Four or five years?”

“No sir, more like seven.” A worried look crossed her face and she added. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all, Mary, you’ve always done everything right. I think it’s time you call me William. After all I do call you by your given name. A name is very important, Mary, something we take for granted.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Matherson, I will try to call you William.”

William turned around and once again gazed out his large wall of windows. Today he would give all this up, something he thought should have been done years ago. All that work and long hours to make this company flourish, had come with a curse. He had so much, but yet had lost everything. A wife he thought was loyal and someone he vowed to love and grow old with, not only betrayed him but now she was gone. If he hadn’t run would she still be alive. He knew he didn’t love her as he once thought he had but he didn’t wish her any harm. It was time to stop running and do things right.   

He picked up the phone and asked Mary to return to his office. He motioned her to sit. “Mary, I'm going to ask you to take care of something for me, and I would like for you not to question my actions or my motives. Let's say they are things that are way overdue, and by no means does anyone need to read anything into them. It's my way to say 'Thank You' to everyone. Now down to business.”

William looked down on the tablet and checked his list. “I’m authorizing you to have pay roll issue bonuses to all the employees in this amount.”

“Sir, are you sure you feel alright?” Mary asked with a worried look on her face. “This amount is double the Christmas bonuses.”

“I have never felt better, Mary. After you take care of the checks for the employees take the rest of the day off so you and your husband can decide where in the world you would like to travel in the next two weeks. All-expense paid vacation, on me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

###

Joelette spent every waking moment working the field, and tending to her small seedlings.

“MaeMae, did you see how much the Mamou plants are growing? I can't believe my dream is coming true.” Joelette washed the dark, rich soil from her hands.

“
Cher,
you are losing so much weight. Why don't you stay out of the field the rest of today? And one can hardly see those seedlings yet.” She handed Joelette a dishrag to dry her hands. “The boys are still moping around the house. They need you to give them a spark.”

“You know, I thought about that on my way back from the field. Joelette propped her hip on the counter beside the sink while slowly drying her hands. “Maybe I'll take them over to Mrs. Broussard's. She called last night and wanted to see me. Maybe it's time for another dress order. More money would sure be nice about now.”

She thought for a moment, then frowned. “Although I don’t know why she’d need any more clothes. Last time I was there she had me get her shawl for her and when I looked in her closet all those dresses I’ve made her for special occasions she’d never worn, and I know they fit. I don't understand. Unless her memory is going.”

“You know, Joelette, I don't think it's such a great mystery. Maybe it's as simple as she is lonely.”

“You think that's it? Loneliness? But why would she not just call us to go visit her or come by here?”