Halfway to to a Southern Heart

By Anthony Mays

Rebecca grew up in a well-to-do family in Memphis. For years, her father wanted her to marry the son of a family friend, but Rebecca did not love him. No sooner had she turned eighteen, she became pregnant by Vernon; a man she barely knew. Before she could share the good news with him, he suddenly left Memphis, never to return. Devastated, she had no choice but to give up the baby. Her parents sent her away to hide her growing shame, and arranged for an adoption. But Rebecca couldn’t go through with the adoption, and made her own plans. With her secret secured, she returned home and dutifully married. In time, she gave birth to another child. Life was good, until fate stepped in threatening to expose her secret. A series of events ensued that not only threatened to destroy her family, but also the lives of a family living in the fertile cotton belt of Arkansas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Mays
• Release date: Jun 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463418734

Anthony Mays

DO YOU KNOW THIS AUTHOR?Probably not, but you should. Anthony Mays, the author of the ‘Halfway to’ themed books, chose to use the ‘halfway to’ expression based on his road travels around the country. Seemingly, he was halfway to his destination when a character, plot, or location came to his imagination taken from things he saw along the way. Throughout the remainder of the trip, a strong, mental outline followed on how he planned to use those elements.HONORED to be added to the Illinois Authors Wiki, a project of the Illinois Center for the Book. It is a comprehensive resource for information on authors, photographers and illustrators who have published books and have lived in Illinois or written about Illinois.Writing books became a natural extension from Anthony’s career in the U.S. government where he wrote briefings, operating procedures, and instructional guides. His biggest challenge in making the transition was moving from writing succinct, factual, bulleted ideas to writing prose narrative for a fully developed novel.Along with his wife, Sherry, he lives in southern Illinois and enjoys sharing the experiences of their three children, their significant others, and four blessed grandchildren. Most vacations are spent near water where Anthony envisions finding the next great treasure trove. In the meantime, he is excited to take pieces of his life experiences and mold them into fictional works of art.

Book preview

HALFWAY to a SOUTHERN HEART

by

Anthony Mays

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Halfway to a Southern Heart by Anthony Mays. Copyright © 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

Cover Design: SelfPubBookCovers/Shardel

Marla S Esposito, Proofingstyle

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wife, Sherry. Without her belief in my ability to write this story and patience, it would never have been completed. She provided much needed inspiration during those times I struggled with content; she shared my tears as the characters were brought to life.

Table of Content

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Author Note

About the Author

Other Novels by Anthony

CHAPTER 1

Rebecca, come down here. I want to see you before I go to work, he said with a rushed voice while pacing the hallway and checking his watch.

Glancing again toward the top of the stairs, he added, You know I don't like to be late.

A woman entered the hallway behind him commenting, She’ll be here in just a moment, Charles. You have plenty of time to make it to the office. She put her hands on his shoulders and massaging added, relax.

Relax? Between the two of you, I don't know how I manage to get anything done on time, he replied, half glancing over his shoulder toward his wife.

At that moment, a lanky girl wearing a pink fringed dress and white socks and shoes appeared at the top of the stairs. A pink ribbon adorned the right side of her blonde shoulder-length hair. Without a word, she quickly straddled the banister and slid backwards down the mahogany-stained wood.

Young lady, stated her father looking down, what has got into you? We don't do things like that. It isn't proper for a young girl, he grumbled.

Good morning, daddy, shot back Rebecca.

Picking herself up from the floor, she moved to give him a quick hug to ward off any further criticism.

Rebecca, at fifteen years of age, was slowly becoming more independent of her father's demands. She thought with each passing year, he was growing stricter with her. And now, being a teenager, she wanted to have fun. She especially didn’t want to end up like her mother who, she believed, was obligated to put up with his growing stodginess.

That's a cute dress, Rebecca, her mother said with a warm smile, trying to smooth over their tension. But your father is right, you shouldn't be sliding down the banister wearing it. What if it got ruined? Now, go into the kitchen and Margaret will make you breakfast, she said, shooing her off.

Bye daddy, the girl said playfully tugging on his coat before going down the hall to the kitchen.

Flustered, Charles smoothed his coat with his hands, donned his hat and gloves, and turned to his wife. "I'll be home at six o'clock. You do remember that I'm bringing a business acquaintance home for dinner tonight?"

She gave a nod suggesting she knew.

Make sure that Margaret has everything ready by six-thirty. He pecked her lightly on the cheek and motioned he was ready to leave.

She grabbed a nearby shawl, opened the front door, and was the first to step out onto the porch.

When he passed by her, she patted him on the shoulder and watched to make sure he safely got into his car.

The wood planks creaked underfoot as she moved over them to the edge of the porch. She silently watched his car distance itself from the house.

Gathering the shawl around her to ward off the cold from the March morning air nipping at her neck, she glanced out into the morning sky. She suddenly became lost in thought, unconsciously pulling the mohair shawl tighter around her neck.

In the kitchen, Margaret was busy cleaning up the dishes from the Harrison's earlier breakfast. He was an early riser. And while his wife Sydney would prefer to sleep a little later, she would never think of letting Charles eat alone. And, likely it is what he expected of her.

Margaret lived in the black neighborhood on the south side of Memphis. It was quite common for the wealthy and near-do-wells to have black nannies and servants. They were good workers, and the work mutually benefitted both parties. She had worked for the Harrisons since Rebecca was five-years-old. Having successfully raised seven of her own children, Margaret was used to the task of raising a family. When her children left home, she needed something to fill the void.

The nanny looked to be in her late-fifties but the Harrisons didn’t know how old she really was, suspecting she may be quite a bit older. Sydney frequently complimented her on her looks and told her that, she wears her age well.

Margaret was especially grateful for her employment with the Harrisons. Charles and Sydney were considered part of the elites of Memphis largely owing to his position as a manager in the local railroad business. It was unspoken, but the status of the employer also tended to raise the status of black workers within their own community. Margaret was no exception, and she thoroughly enjoyed the respect she was given because of her duties with the Harrisons.

Good morning, Margaret, sang Rebecca as she entered the kitchen. Hope you have something good for me today?

Child, answered Margaret, when have I not had something good for you? she said, looking over her glasses at the skinny girl who was poking around the stove.

Child, she said again, get away from that stove before you hurt yourself. Go and have a seat over yonder, she motioned with a spatula, pointing to the table.

Rebecca seated herself, neatly placed a napkin across her lap, and then aligned her silverware. She was deep in thought for a second or two before she spoke.

Margaret, do you think my parents are happy?

Margaret carried over to her a plate of ham, eggs, grits, and pancakes. She stood there for a moment looking over her glasses at the young girl sitting before her, and then answered. "Missy, it’s not my place to talk about your parents, because I think they are good people. They have been very good to me all these years, and certainly have been good to you."

But, said Rebecca, do you think they are a happy couple?

Girl, retorted Margaret, I don’t know why the questions, but happy is just a state of mind. If you think you’re happy, then you are happy. I believe your parents are as happy as anyone. Now, your daddy maybe a little preoccupied with his work, but it’s only because he loves you and your mother that he works so hard. He only wants to provide for his family. And, that is all I have to say on the subject, so, you just eat up!

But, started Rebecca, then stopped short when she caught the glare of her nanny. She knew it was fruitless to finish her words. She had lost the momentum on the topic and thought it wiser not to pursue the conversation any further.

After finishing her breakfast, she gave Margaret a big hug and went looking for her mother.

Mother? Mother? called Rebecca from the front door. What are you doing outside in the cold? I’d like you to help me get ready for school. Today is show-and-tell day and I need everything to be perfect.

Rebecca’s interruption had broken her mother’s daydreaming. Okay, sweetie, I’ll be right there. Taking a final glance down the now empty street, she unconsciously shook her head as reality returned and went inside.

The girl had disappeared upstairs.

Margaret entered the hallway with Rebecca’s school lunch in hand.

That girl sure is excited about her show-and-tell day at school, Mrs. Harrison. I made sure to give her a good breakfast and she’s raring to go. I swear she’s got more energy than the Mississippi River.

Yes, she has become a handful of late. I guess she’s beginning to discover that she is a teenager.

Margaret’s eyes rolled toward the heavens. Oh Lordy, Lordy! It’ll be boys before you know it, ma’am.

Handing the lunch over to Sydney, she added, Don’t envy you, Mrs. Harrison. I had five girls and each one had me praying really hard every Sunday!

Thanks for the encouragement, she giggled. I only get to do it once and I’m not looking forward to it.

Sydney grabbed the sack from Margaret’s hand and quietly headed upstairs.

The nanny’s eyes followed Sydney. Under her breath she couldn’t help but answer Rebecca’s question, No child, your mama is not a happy woman.

Shaking her head as in sympathy with Rebecca, she returned to her duties in the kitchen.

Approaching Rebecca’s room, Sydney could hear a slight commotion coming from within and entered.

An excited and slightly panicked Rebecca called out as she opened and closed each of her dresser drawers. Frantically rummaging through them, she searched for the item she was planning on taking to school. Mama, I know it’s here somewhere. Did you move it? Her heart raced at the thought of not finding it and let out a whimper.

Sweetheart, you had it just last night. Think, where did you put it?

I don’t know, she gushed verging on tears.

Look under your pillow, sweetie. You always put important things under your pillow.

Rebecca leaped onto the bed and whisked off the handmade quilt and blanket covering her feather pillows. The pillows, encased in white laced cloth, soon were tossed into the air. Underneath one of them and lying right where she had put it the night before, was her school project. She suddenly remembered placing it there hoping that sleeping on it would give her inspiration to talk about it to her class. But she had slept so soundly, that she forgot she had put it there.

The girl picked it up, held it close to her chest, and closed her eyes as if praying.

Now you know why your father was so hard on you when you first found that piece. You really should be more careful with it, Rebecca, her mother chastised.

I will mama, whispered Rebecca, clutching the object tight in her little fist. Her eyes opened as she slowly recovered from the fear of almost losing it.

Here, offered her mother, taking some items from the top of a dresser drawer and handing them to her. Put it in this box and bag so it stays safe.

She passed her daughter a small, white ring box and a scarlet-colored velvet bag which could be secured at the top by pulling on a gold string.

Rebecca opened the ring box and carefully placed a gold coin onto a soft cotton pad.

They both gazed at the coin recalling the day it was found.

One day while playing, Rebecca accidentally discovered the coinage wedged in a crack in the floorboard near a corner of her bedroom. Only a small portion of an edge of the coin appeared. The girl thought it was a nail backing out of the wood. After calling her mother and showing it to her, they worked hard to get it out. Sydney was finally able to carefully extract it using tweezers.

The coin turned out to be a 1852D Liberty Head gold dollar. It was slightly smaller than a mercury dime and, although it was gold, it needed some polishing. But her father didn’t think it was a good idea to be ‘man-handling’ it as he put it.

None of them knew the value of the coin, but her father said he would have it evaluated when he had an opportunity. He tried taking it from Rebecca to secure it, but she protested loudly. With the support of her mother, she was able to convince him that she would take very good care of it. She planned to use it on the next show-and-tell day at school—and that day was today.

Rebecca gave her mother a hug, saying, "Oh mama, thank you for helping me find it. And I appreciate your help not letting father take it from me. I will be careful with it. I promise."

I know you will, dear. Now, finish getting ready for school. I’ll meet you downstairs.

She waved the lunch bag as she was leaving and said, I think Margaret packed a little surprise in your lunch today. But, you’re not to look inside until its lunchtime, alright?

Yes, mama, she automatically replied, but her mind was on her gold coin as she slipped the ring box into the scarlet bag. Then, she carefully placed the bag into a small purse, and the purse she positioned firmly in her book bag.

After donning her coat and hat, she secured the book bag over her shoulder. Giving the bag a reassuring tug, said, Now I’m ready!

Sydney met Rebecca at the front door and opened it to let her out.

Rebecca kissed her mother good-bye on the cheek.

On the girl’s way out, her mother handed her the lunch bag.

In a flash, her daughter was gone, her departure being as quick as her father’s.

Sydney slowly closed the door behind her.

As if on cue, Margaret entered the hallway and removed Sydney’s shawl from her sagging shoulders. Opening a small closet door under the stairs, the nanny hung it neatly over a wooden hanger. Then, trying to improve her mood said, It’s getting a little breezy outside, ma’am. Winter still has a little hold on us. I hear tell up in St Louis they just had two feet of snow. I certainly am glad we don’t get that kind of weather down here.

Well dear, it is only March, came Sydney’s reply. Unlike April, when you don’t know what to wear, you can count on keeping your winter clothes handy in this month.

Sydney lightly fluffed her hair with her hands and brushed the front of her dress to free the mohair particles left by her shawl as she spoke. I’m going into the parlor. Would you bring us some tea, and we’ll go over tonight’s menu one more time. I know you have everything under control, but I need to reassure myself that we don’t forget a thing. You know Charles is a stickler for details, and tonight is important to him.

Yes ma’am, be back in a few minutes, she replied.

Sydney entered the parlor. Like their house in general, the room made an elegant statement being not too ostentatious and not too casual. Everything in the room was neatly arranged, inviting, and comfortable. The red painted walls were accented at the top by ornate, white crown molding and below by wide, white baseboards which defined the room. In the center of the ceiling, a brass chandelier hung from a large, carved ceiling medallion. The room was twice the length of its width and exhibited two equally-spaced large windows adorned with rich, velvet curtains. The deep-toned oak wood floor was overlain by a sizeable rectangular oriental rug.

At one end of the room, there was a large mahogany sideboard with an equally large gild-framed mirror hanging over it. A smaller matching desk was positioned between the windows. An arranged sitting area consisting of a wood-trimmed velvet sofa, two wing chairs, a carved coffee table, and two matching end tables was located at the opposite end of the room. Tiffany-style, brass floor lamps completed the grouping.

Sydney took a seat on the sofa and, while waiting for Margaret, began to wonder if Rebecca’s show-and-tell presentation would be well-received by the other students. She knew her daughter was sensitive to criticism and hoped that she was not placing too high an expectation on their approval. Somewhat spoiled, Rebecca could easily become upset when things didn’t go her way. It might have been different for her if Sydney had had other children. Certainly, she could have benefited from having a brother or sister to share things with, like Sydney did with her brother.

Here you are, ma’am, spoke Margaret as she stole Sydney away from her thoughts. Nice and hot on a cold, winter day. I also brought us some crumpets, cause I know you like them.

That was thoughtful of you, Sydney replied.

I’ve written down tonight’s menu to make sure I don’t miss a thing, ma’am, said Margaret, as she placed a silver tray on a hand-sewn, linen doily atop the coffee table. Then, she dug into her apron pocket for the notes.

Sitting on the tray, was a silver teapot that sent smoke signals into the air through the thin spout as the tea inside steeped. There also was a silver creamer, sugar bowl, and serving spoon next to two porcelain cups. A plate of tea cookies and napkins completed their snack.

After a few minutes, they had gone over the menu. Sydney was satisfied that all the preparations were in order. Then, they shared tea, crumpets, and discussion about days gone by.

The clock on the sideboard ended their meeting when it chimed the hour.

I suppose I should think about getting ready, said Sydney. I have a few errands to run, and I want to pick up fresh flowers to put on the table tonight. I’ll leave the rest in your capable hands.

She softly patted the hand of her companion and quickly left the room.

CHAPTER 2

Sharply at six o’clock, Sydney greeted Charles when he entered through the front door as she had a thousand times before. On this occasion however, he was accompanied by Edgar Luxora, a business acquaintance and friend. Charles, like his daughter Rebecca, did not have many friends even though he was well thought of in the community and associated with the Memphis socialites.

A third person followed behind them. A boy named Robert who was Edgar’s son. Fair-haired and blue-eyed, he was a handsome lad who was only a few years older than Rebecca.

Edgar Luxora had worked with Charles at the train depot on Calhoun Street for about eight years. They had formed a bond that was almost brotherly in nature. Edgar’s loss of his wife a few years ago when she succumbed to tuberculosis probably brought them closer. Sydney had met the dear sweet woman a few times at company picnics, Christmas parties, and the like but they never socialized. Her death broke Edgar’s heart, but it