When Everything's Said & Done (15 page)

CHAPTER 20

All I need is a pinch of salt. You don’t have no salt in this place, Laura?” Nebia searched through the kitchen cabinets.

“Did you find any?” Laura retorted. “And what are you doing over there anyway? Why you putting that stuff in that cloth? And who’s it for?”

“That’s none of your business. I asked you for salt,” Nebia replied.

“If you didn’t find any, there isn’t any.” Laura looked at Cora. “Don’t you have some in your own place?” “I would have if I didn’t have to bring it down here for you. And now you’ve cooked up all the salt and didn’t tell nobody. Ain’t no salt in the building nowhere.” “Well you should have bought some more.” Laura turned her head.

“How could I know to buy—”

Cora burst out laughing.

“What are you laughing about?” Laura’s brow lowered.

“I’m laughing at the two of you. Arguing over salt.” A sheepish look crossed Laura’s face. “Well the truth
is, all that old stuff Nebia’s putting in that cloth, it stinks. Absolutely stinks.”

“The odor is part of the reason the bag works,” Nebia threw back at her.

“Well, whoever is going to be wearing that thing around their neck won’t only get rid of sickness, they’ll keep everybody within ten miles away from them.” “All right now.” Nebia gave Laura the eye. “You just remember this conversation when you want me to fix one up for you.”

Laura looked somewhat remorseful. She scratched her nose. “I got to admit, your herbs have helped me more than once. So maybe I shouldn’t be too harsh on you.” Nebia’s shoulders softened. “Yeah well, at the mo
ment that’s not helping me none. I can’t finish this without salt.”

Cora got up. “I’ll go see if Miss Lucille’s got any. I’ll be right back.”

Cora rounded the back of the building and came up on the other side. She arrived at Lucille’s door and tapped gently. Moments later it opened.

“Hey, Cora.” Lucille beamed. “Come on in.”

“Hi, Miss Lucille. I hope I’m not intruding on anything, but Mama and Nebia are up front arguing over there being no salt in the house.” She stepped over the threshold. “I thought perhaps you’d have some.”

“I sure do.” A bright smile continued to dominate Lucille’s face. “And I’ve got a surprise for you.” She
beckoned for Cora to follow her through the apartment, but before they could enter the kitchen, a uniform-clad Warren met them in the short hallway.

“Cora Robinson. I’d know that voice anywhere. Ma
tured or not.”

“Warren!
Is this really you?” Cora looked him up and down. “I can’t believe it. Oh, my goodness!” Cora gave him the biggest hug, then she stepped back. “You look magnificent. ” She laughed.

“And so do you.” Warren’s eyes twinkled.

Cora looked down at her worn pair of jeans and old T-shirt. “Oh, please. I don’t look like you.” She squinted toward the top of his head. “And, my God, you grew.”

“A few inches,” Warren replied.

“How tall are you now?” Cora continued to smile. “I’m six three.”

“Six three.” Cora shook her head. “I can’t get over you. Look at that manicured haircut. And it just frames your face. Well, Miss Lucille... ” Cora tore her gaze away from Warren. “This surely is a surprise. A big one.” Lucille’s hands fluttered. “Why don’t you two sit down and talk while I get the salt.”

“I can’t,” Cora said. “Nebia’s waiting. I really can’t stay. But I wish I could.” Cora smiled again.

“All right,” Lucille replied. “I’ll put you a little bit in a piece of aluminum foil.”

“That’ll be just fine,” Cora said.

“Cora Robinson,” Warren repeated when his mother left the room, “You look as wild as the day we sat on the back porch and talked about our futures.
As wild and as beautiful. I can see any man could get lost in you.” Cora could have blushed.

“You learned more than army skills in the service, didn’t you?” She looked down. “If I was wild back then, I surely have become a little more tame now.” Cora looked up again. “But I’m back here in St. Petersburg, and I’ve decided St. Pete is going to be my home until they burn this old body of mine and scatter my ashes.”

“Now you sound like some of the old folks talking,” Warren replied. “Except for I don’t know too many who want to be cremated instead of buried.”

“Do I?” Cora chuckled. “Maybe I feel like one.” They both laughed.

“You know something?” Warren cocked his head. “What?”

“All those years we were around each other in school, you never realized I was in love with you.” “No-o.” Cora tried to hold Warren’s gaze, but she found herself looking away.

“Ye-es,” Warren said. “Yes, I was. Head over heels. Crazy about me some Cora.”

They laughed again.

“But your head was too far in the clouds to see me. You were on your way to your life.”

“Oh, Warren.” Cora’s brow creased. “Was I that mean?”

“You weren’t mean, Cora. You were just yourself.”

“Just selfish, huh?”

“Not selfish. Focused on knowing there was a bigger world out there and you were going to go and find it your way,” Warren replied.

Cora nodded. “And it looks like you found it your way, too.”

“I did.” Warren’s chin lifted. “I did a lot of traveling in the service. Seen all kinds of people in different countries, and it’s been good for me. I feel like I grew there.”

“I’d say you did. Literally.” Cora rose on her toes at
tempting to see the top of his head.

Lucille came back with a wad of foil. She gave it to Cora.

“Thanks, Miss Lucille,” Cora said. “And it was so good seeing you, Warren. How long you going to be here?”

“I’m not sure,” Warren replied. “It depends on my finding a job.
If I do I’ll be around.”

“I’d love that,” Lucille said. “You’ve been away so long I’d like to spend a little time with you. You know you can always stay here.”

Warren put his arm around his mother’s shoulder. “I know. And I might take you up on that for a couple of days until I can find something else. But I need to find out if St. Pete is going to welcome me.” He looked at Cora.

“I hope it does,” she replied.

Warren’s gaze swept over her face before he nodded.

“Thanks again, Miss Lucille. But I guess I better go.” Cora went to the door. Lucille followed and opened it.

“It was good seeing you, Warren.” Cora stepped down onto the stoop.

“You, too.”

The door closed and Cora walked, slowly, toward her mother’s place. When she went inside, Cora gave Nebia the salt, as she gazed off into space.

“What happened to you back there?” Nebia took the foil.

“What?”

“You got this strange look about you now. Look at her, Laura.”

“Yeah there’s something going on, alright.”

“Really?” Cora looked around. “The only thing dif
ferent that I know of is Warren’s back.”

“Oh ye-es. Miss Lucille said her boy was coming home,” Laura replied.

“He’s anything but a boy now.” Cora exhaled. “He’s six feet three and dressed in a uniform. He was enough to take your breath away.”

“Seems like he did.” Laura’s chin lowered. She cut her eyes toward Nebia.

Cora threw up her hands. “1 shouldn’t have said a word.” Cora turned on her heels and reopened the door. “I’m going in the back to paint.”

Nebia’s Story...

“So, Warren and Cora made quite a connection,” Erica remarked.

“I’d say so, but Cora wasn’t about to talk about it,” Nebia replied. “And so there was no way for Laura and I to really know what was swimming around in that head of hers. Cora just continued to busy herself with the things she wanted to do.”

“And what was that?” Cynthia asked.

“Mostly painting and spending a lot of quiet time in the park. But then the time came when Cora decided painting over the garage and sitting in that park with those gathered ’round wasn’t enough. So she opened a business.”

“Just like that?” Cynthia snapped her fingers. “What kind of business?”

Nebia stop rocking. “It was a combination of things. She called it The Way Home. Cora sold her paintings there, and some of her African imports.” She started rocking again. “But she also opened it up to the chil
dren. Cora would let them paint, but only after they had meditated. Then she told them to paint what they saw or felt.” Nebia chuckled. “She had those kids playing those instruments from Africa any kind of way they wanted. Yes, Cora turned out quite different from anybody else around here.”

“I’d say so,” Sheila replied. “That was really differ
ent back then.”

“Around here it seemed to be. But there was quite a movement in this country with some black folks who were into their blackness, and looking for something else. A spiritual way.”

“Looking for something else,” Erica said. “But what about God? Did Cora believe in God? You’re saying she had these kids meditating and all that, but did Cora ever bring God into the picture?” Erica crossed her arms.

“The thing about t
hat, Erica, is sometimes people experience God in different ways. Cora saw God in nature. She saw having a good heart as God.”

“I don’t know about Cora.” Erica looked off.

“And me, either, huh?” Nebia smiled and looked down. “But you aren’t the only person who wasn’t so sure about Cora. She soon met opposition because of her unusual ways.”

CHAPTER 21

Cora stood back and examined the newest addition to the vibrant wall of The Way Home. The bright peach backdrop was sprinkled with the paintings of the center’s students. Cora wanted The Way Home to be a reflection of the children who came there. There was only one area that was not about the kids. It showcased some of Cora’s paintings and a few African imports there were for sale.

“I’m going to put my paintings right over here in this corner so nobody can mess with it,” the girl said. “Last time somebody knocked it over and got it all messed up. I want this one to be perfect, so when I take it home my Mama will like it.”

“It should be safe over there. We’ll hang it on the wall tomorrow,” Cora replied.

“Miss Cora?”

“Yes.”

“Is this the way you started painting?”

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Cora said.

“Well, how did you get started,
Miss Cora?” the girl pressed.

Cora raised an eyebrow. “It’s a long story, Vernecia. And it’s late, so you won’t be hearing it tonight.”

“But you will tell us?” Vernecia said with a pleading look.

“Maybe,” Cora replied.

“Alright.” She looked disappointed as she joined another girl by the door.

“But we want to know,” a second girl insisted. “So we’re going to keep asking you about it. ”

“I don’t doubt that.” Cora turned her back to put some sketch pads in the cupboard.

The door opened.

“Miss Cora! There’s a policeman about to come in here,” Vernecia announced.

“Let him in.” She straightened the pads. “Policemen can paint, too, I guess.”

“But when do they find the time and the energy? That’s what I’d like to know,” a voice said from behind her.

Cora turned around. It was Warren. “Hello-o,” she said.

“Hello.” He removed his cap.

“I see you’ve traded one uniform for another.” Cora shook the brushes and laid them on a towel.

“I see you’ve traded one home for another,” Warren replied. “The Way Home...this is yours?”

“It’s mine,” Cora said with pride.

Warren looked around. “You couldn’t have been here very long.”

Cora looked, too. “Is it so obvious?”

“No.” Warren smiled. “I say that because this is my beat. And I’ve only been off for a couple of days and before I left there was no business in here.”

Cora smiled, too. “Ohh. You’re right. I got in here early Thursday and was busy, busy through Friday evening. That’s when I had my first session, which I’m happy to say was attended by a few kids from the neigh
borhood.”

“So you’ve actually got kids interested in this?” He scanned the freshly painted paintings.

“I sure do.” Cora stood straight and tall. “It’s great, and I’m going to enjoy this very much.”

Warren walked over to one of the paintings. “What do you tell them to paint?” He leaned forward.

“Whatever they see in their mind’s eye. What they see after they’ve gone inside themselves. I tell them to paint what they see or what they feel.”

“
Sho ’nuff.” Warren walked around and looked at a few more paintings. “Well, they sure are seeing and feeling a lot.”

“Don’t we all?” Cora replied. “When we let ourselves?” Warren turned and looked at her. “I would say that’s very true.”