When Everything's Said & Done Read online

  “Okay.” Reluctantly, Cora picked up the pen again.

  “I want you to know, I love you, Michael Dawson, and always will. Now,” Annette rasped, “let me sign my name.”

  Cora watched as Annette signed it Annie, and then laid back as if it had taken more than she had. She took the letter and slipped it into the envelope. Afterwards Cora drifted into a troubled sleep.

  Morning came and found Brenda and Cora awake. Annette was weaker than ever.

  “I’ve go to do something,” Brenda said. “I’m going to go up to the top of those rocks and see if I see the supply truck coming.”

  “All right,” Cora replied. Despite a night of sleep Brenda’s face looked drawn from worry. ,

  Cora bathed Annette again, but this time she noticed a cool clamminess to her skin that had not been there before.

  “I’m cold, Cora.” The words were no more than a series of breaths.

  Quickly, Cora took the sheets and covers from their beds and placed them all around Annette. “Is that better?” “Yes,” Annette said with effort. “But I believe I’m so cold because I’m afraid.” Her weak eyes focused on Cora’s face. “I’m afraid to die.”

  Cora started to shake her head.

  “And I’m ashamed because I’m afraid. I should be happy because I’m going to see God.” Annette closed her eyes and began to breathe through her mouth. “But instead I’m afraid.”

  Tears flowed down Cora’s face as she leaned over her sister. “There’s no need to feel ashamed, baby girl.” Gently, Cora placed her hand on Annette’s face. “You just concentrate on getting well.” But Annette’s eyes were closed, and she gave no response.

  Cora turned toward the entrance to the hut when she heard footsteps. Brenda stepped inside. Her eyes were red. Her mouth trembled.

  “You didn’t see the truck?” Cora asked.

  Brenda nodded. “It’s here.”

  “It’s here?” Cora’s voice rose. “Well, where is the medicine?”

  “There isn’t any.” Brenda’s voice quaked. “The refrigeration unit broke down and the antibiotic is no good.”

  “No good.” Cora repeated the words as if she didn’t understand.

  “No.” Brenda replied.

  “No good,” Cora repeated as she walked over to Brenda. “But we’ve got to be able to do something. We can’t just let her die while she’s on a mission for God,” Cora cried.

  “What can we do?” Tears spilled down Brenda’s face.

  “Maybe I can find some herbs that will help.”

  “What? ” Brenda wiped her nose that had begun to run.

  “There’s got to be something like goldenseal or Echinacea here.” Cora brushed past Brenda. “Stay with her.”

  “Where are you going, Cora?”

  “I don’t know. But I can’t stay here and do nothing. Just wait. I’ll be back.”

  “Don’t leave, Cora. She might—”

  “I’ll be back,” she promised.

  By the light of dawn Cora searched the nearby forest for any herbs that might save Annette. When the Rain Chief found Cora there was dirt in her hair, and her face was streaked with mud created by her tears.

  Like a spirit he walked up to her. “You look for this?” The Rain Chief held out a plant.

  Cora just stared.

  “You look for this for Mis Ann-net.”

  Cora took the plant. She smelled it. “This will help Annette?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She looked at the plant and then at the man with disbelief. “Why didn’t you show it to us earlier?”

  “Reverend Pete teach faith that God will heal. Pete have the medicine of God in the needle. This—” the Rain Chief shook the plant “—we use to heal the fever before we have the medicine of God.”

  Cora was dumfounded. “You knew how too cure the fever with your own herbs but you never said anything because you thought it was against the Christian God?” The Rain Chief simply looked at her.

  She pushed herself off the ground. “We’ve got to get the medicine to Annette. We’ve got to hurry.” Cora grabbed his arm. “Annette needs this. Reverend Pete doesn’t have any more medicine.”

  When they reached the hut, there were villagers gathered outside. Cora pushed through the crowd, pulling the Rain Chief behind her. When she stepped inside the room she saw Brenda sitting in a chair. Her eyes were closed. Slowly, a sound erupted from Brenda’s throat, a sound Cora had never heard before. Cora turned toward the bed where Annette lay. A sheet covered her entire body, including her face. Cora screamed so loud the jungle went silent.

  Nebia’s Story...

  “Annette died?” Sheila asked. “Why did she have to die?” She shook her head. “You could have made up something else for that part of the story. Miss Nebia.” She sat back in her chair.

  “But Annette did die,” Nebia said softly. “This is a true story, and I must tell it as it happened.”

  Everyone was silent.

  “When did it happen?” Cynthia asked.

  “That was back in nineteen seventy-seven. Annette was nineteen years old.”

  “If she had lived we’d be the same age,” Erica said softly. “I was still in college when Annette died.” She paused. “So did they have a funeral and everything for her back here in St. Pete?”

  “Yes, they had a funeral. And everybody was there. Everybody except Cora.”

  CHAPTER7

  Laura’s knees buckled when the first shovelful of dirt splattered against the top of the coffin. If it wasn’t for Brenda and Nebia she would have fallen beside the gaping hole that held Annette’s body in an ornate box. “I didn’t want them to go no way,” she moaned. “I didn’t want them to go to Africa.”

  Brenda struggled with her mother’s grief. “Come on, Mama. It’s time to go home.” Her eyes and her voice were full of tears. “Everyone is gone now.”

  “She’s right. Miss Laura.” Nebia spoke into Laura’s ear as Laura leaned against her. “Annette is happy where she is now. You know in your heart that she’ll always be with you. That we never really die,” Nebia said as she strained under Laura’s weight.

  Laura took control of her body and nodded. She looked at the coffin one last time, and then turned away from the grave.

  Michael fell in step behind them as they headed for his car. He was proud of the deuce and a quarter that he bought right after the Nova died, but Michael had never envisioned it as a funeral limousine.

  Financially, things had begun to look up for Michael. His mother’s only brother died and, since he was childless, what little he had he left to Michael. The inheritance was enough to convince the SBA that Michael would have a vested interest in his insurance company, and they approved his loan. With the money, he bought his licenses, permits and bonds and opened a small space, Dawson Insurance.

  Michael was the first to reach the Oldsmobile. He held the door open as he waited for Laura and Brenda to climb into the backseat. Nebia sat up front beside him. There would have been plenty of space for Cora who was lithe and limber, but Cora wasn’t there.

  On better days, full of chatter, they had all walked past the cemetery on their way home, but now no one spoke as Michael drove. The only sound was Nebia’s low and mournful humming. Laura stared straight ahead, her life force weakened by the death of her youngest child. Brenda’s eyes were downcast. Every so often she stole a glance at Michael’s face through the rearview mirror. It took all of three minutes until they turned down the familiar narrow street, but it could have been three hours—and felt like much longer. Time, like reality, had been altered by Annette’s passing.

  The street was lined with cars, but a parking spot had been reserved for them directly in front of the Robinson home. Michael got out and opened the car doors. The last was Laura’s. Michael stood and waited beside it, but Laura remained inside. She stared at the house she had lived in for fourteen years as if she had never seen it before.

  “You come on out of there, Miss Laura,”
Nebia said as she placed her body between the two of them. “And I don’t just mean out of that car.” Nebia leaned inside the vehicle. “We need you here with us. We need all of you here.”

  Moments later Michael followed Nebia’s lead. He moved back as Laura got out of the car. She touched Nebia’s arm and smiled weakly at Michael and Brenda before she started up the walkway.

  Inside the house Laura went upstairs and changed her shoes then threw herself into the heart of things. She seemed to draw energy from all the people and the activity. Laura made sure there wasn’t a soul that she didn’t speak to or who was without a plate of food.

  “Don’t you overdo it now. Mama,” Brenda warned. Laura had gone off her diet while they were in Africa, and had gained a dangerous amount of weight.

  “I’m fine, honey.” Laura placed an apron around her midsection. “All of this will do me good. Keep my mind off of things.” She dumped a pile of raw potatoes on the kitchen counter and began to peel them. Laura had bolted from paralysis to not being able to be still. Both reeked of instability.

  Lucille came and stood beside Brenda. “Don’t worry,” Lucille said softly. “She’ll be okay.”

  Brenda looked into Lucille’s sad blue-grey eyes. Like her dyed ash-blond hair, they seemed so out of place in the sea of browns and blacks. At least that had not changed. It had been that way the entire time Lucille and Warren had lived in the all-black neighborhood. ‘I hope so,” Brenda replied. She squeezed Lucille’s hand.

  Brenda walked into the crowded living room. She edged her way behind a row of occupied folding chairs that Michael had brought over from the community center the night before. Despite the somber occasion the room was filled with conversation and subdued snatches of laughter. Like a distant observer Brenda watched the scene. It was surreal. They had buried Annette no more than an hour ago, and now she had only one sister, and Cora was not there.

  “Well, Miss Laura seems to be holding up pretty well, doesn’t she?” A husky voice rose from beneath a fussy feather hat.

  “Yes, child. It seems that way, doesn’t it? But you know she’s got to be hurting something awful inside. Mmm-mmm-mmm,” another woman sitting in front of Brenda sounded.

  “They’d just have to bury me with them if one of my children died before me.” The feathers quaked as the woman spoke. “And they say Miss Laura and Annette hadn’t really made up before the girls went traipsin’ off to Africa. That had to make her death doubly hard.”

  “But gir-rl, what’s even worse...” She leaned in so close one set of feathers mingled with the other. “Cora didn’t come back for the funeral.” The woman paused dramatically. “What’s she doing over there in Africa? Some folks say she’s grievin’ so hard she couldn’t come back. But I heard,” she whispered, “she may have lost her mind.”

  “Now wouldn’t that be something.” The hat followed Laura’s movements about the room. “Lawd, sometimes when it rains it pours.”

  Brenda wanted to put a stop to their gossiping, but the truth was she couldn’t. She didn’t know if Cora was crazy or sane, dead or alive. Nobody in St. Pete knew.

  She looked out the window and saw Michael standing beside his car. Making more commotion than was necessary, Brenda made her way through the chairs and went outside to join him.

  “So, how you doing?” he asked, his tone low.

  “I guess I’m doing okay.” Brenda crossed her arms in front of her. “It’s just hard for me to accept this.” “Yes. It is very difficult,” Michael replied.

  They stood in silence before Brenda spoke again.

  “I heard a couple of women in there—” Brenda motioned toward the house with her head “—^talking about Cora.”

  It was the first time Brenda had spoken of Cora to Michael since she saw them embracing through the window of Michael’s efficiency. Michael’s eyes grew intense before he looked down. “What were they saying?”

  “They were wondering why she stayed in Africa and didn’t come back home.”

  “I can’t say I hadn’t wondered the same thing.” Michael looked at Brenda again. “What did she say when you were about to come back?”

  “She wouldn’t say anything,” Brenda replied. “She wouldn’t talk to anybody. Cora wouldn’t bathe and she wouldn’t eat. There was nothing I could do to make her come back home with me.”

  “Damn.” He covered his eyes. “Sounds like somebody needs to go over there and get her. ”

  “Get her from where? Reverend Pete called this morning and said Cora was no longer in the village where we stayed. He doesn’t know where she is.” “Damn,” Michael repeated. He looked up the street. “But Nebia says Cora’s going to be alright,” Brenda said softly.

  “And how would she know?” Michael swiped at a tear.

  “She says that Yemaya, who’s under God, has things for Cora to do right here on earth. That she’ll protect her. ” “Do you believe her?” Michael asked with guarded hope in his eyes.

  “No.” Brenda looked down. “I don’t believe in that kind of stuff, but for Cora’s sake I hope Nebia’s right.” Michael put his hands in his pockets. “I’m not a believer, either, but sometimes I hear different voices in Nebia’s apartment when I know she’s alone.” He looked at Brenda. “And you and I both know Nebia’s got a good command of her senses. And I don’t think she was talking to herself.” He paused. “Have you ever heard them?”

  “No.” Brenda looked skeptical.

  “Well,” Michael looked up the street again. “Voices or not, I hope Nebia’s right.”

  Nebia’s Story...

  “So where was Cora?” Erica demanded.

  “She was taken in by the widow of a leader of a small Bemba tribe. The woman’s name was Chiti.” Nebia nodded as she recalled. “Cora told me the only reason she survived Annette’s death, the only reason her mind came back to her was because, in the beginning, she thought this Chiti was me.” Nebia looked straight ahead. “But that girl stayed gone for months.” “Months?” Sheila repeated.

  “This is the craziest stuff I ever heard,” Cynthia declared. “It just don’t seem real to me.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t seem real to you or not.” Nebia cut her eyes in Cynthia’s direction. “It’s what happened.”

  “So are you telling us that part about you talking to ghosts and spirits is true as well?” Sheila leaned forward. “I guess what I’m asking is, do you really talk to spirits?” “This story isn’t about me. It’s about the Robinsons.” Nebia searched the pocket of her shift. “But Yemaya did say that Cora was going to be alright. And at the time it was all we had to go on. To Laura, Brenda and Michael it wasn’t much, but it had to do.” She lit a thin brown cigarette.

  “I tell you. I’ve just about heard everything.” Cynthia crossed her legs and eyed Nebia with disbelief.

  “No. You haven’t heard nothing yet.” Nebia inhaled and blew a steady stream of white smoke into the clear night air.

  CHAPTER 8

  Brenda tapped on the door several times and waited. There was a rapid approach of footsteps before Michael opened the door.

  “Hey. Come on in.” He smiled before he walked back inside the efficiency. “I came back to get the rest of my stuff. You don’t realize how much you have until you move.” He motioned toward a pile in the middle of the floor. “I had no idea I had left all of this.”

  “I was wondering what was going on,” Brenda said. “I heard someone walking around up here and I thought you were over at your new house.”

  “I was. As a matter of fact, I’ve been over there all morning.” Michael faced Brenda. “The place really looks good now. You and Miss Laura got to come over and see it.” He forced some of the articles from the pile into a garbage bag. “The carpenters finished up this morning. So it looks a lot different from when you last saw it. And it doesn’t look anything like what Miss Laura saw before the work started. ”

  “You sound like a proud father.”

  “I guess I am bragging.
” Michael gave an embarrassed smile.

  “But it’s okay.” Brenda’s eyes softened. “If I were moving into my own newly refurbished home, I’d brag, too.” Michael smiled again. “So what are you up to today?” “Nothing much,” Brenda replied. “Mama, Nebia and Lucille have gone to the Saturday flea market, so I was just laying around, looking at a little television. I’d love to go over to your house with you and see it.” “Sounds good to me.” Michael’s eyes sparkled. “It won’t take me but a minute to finish up. Then we’ll head on over there.”

  With Brenda’s help it didn’t take long for Michael to tie up the loose ends, and about thirty minutes later they were pulling up in front of Michael’s new home. The freshly painted, two-story building stuck out like a new Saskatchewan dollar from the rundown houses around it. They were just as ornate, but their architectural beauty had been marred by time and neglect.

  But that didn’t bother Michael. “And this is just the beginning.” He turned off the car as he continued to talk. “I believe there will come a time when most of these houses will be restored and Roser Park will be a historic neighborhood.”

  “You think so?” Brenda tried to visualize Michael’s dream.

  “I most certainly do.” He put his arm on the top of the front seat behind her. “You see, I have plans here in St. Pete. I’m going to make my fortune and my mark, right here, even it if means opening up my own bank and loaning money to folks like us, who can’t get loans anyplace else.” He looked up and down the street. “Those kind of people will be able to get the money from me. Then they’ll be able to buy a house in a neighborhood like this and help restore it.” Michael looked at Brenda with determination. “Some kind of way it’s going to happen.”

  “I’ll bet you’ll do just that,” Brenda said, then added softly, “and I hope I’m around to share it.”

  “Of course you’ll be around.” Michael got out of the car. “Unless you plan on moving away from here.” Brenda joined him on the sidewalk in front of the house. “Nope.” She continued with a sigh, “I don’t plan to.” “Well, good. Things just wouldn’t be the same if all of the Robinsons left St. Pete.” His smile lightened his words, but still there was a remote sadness in Michael’s eyes. “Come on. Let me show you inside.”