Who Took the ''G'' out of Glademore?

By Cissy Brown

WHO TOOK THE
G
OUT OF GLADEMORE

Who Took the G Out of Glademore is a story that encompasses family; and all its conflict, a grandmother that dabbles occasionally in the Gifts, the intimacy of first love and the trials the close-knit families in a rural town endure to survive.

The story takes place in the fictional town of Glademore, Alabama during the late 1950s segregated south. Dramatically, we are taken through and become a part of the heroine, Honey Halls journey, from an inexperienced young girl to womanhood. Along the way, she learns the value of true friendship, a friendship that carries heavy-laden conflicts on her heart. She is there for her best friend, Cora Ann, who is easily persuaded by an unscrupulous, bootleg selling boyfriend; his friend who is determined to be more than a yes-man; and the notoriety of Joe Boy, our protagonist, whose hard-knock experiences in life make him the man he is, a man long before his time. We share the unpredictability of love, the boundaries Honey is willing to cross in a controversial relationship and the vagaries of human nature.

You just dont know Honey. I love Joe Boy. You dont know bout love yet, but when you find out, you gonna know its misry, pain, beatins, murder, robbin folks, drinkin hard whiskey, gamblin, its all them things that you caint walk away from when you loves somebody. - Cora Ann

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 4, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465315939

Book preview

Who Took the G

Out of Glademore?

Cissy Brown

Copyright © 2009

Cissy Brown

All Rights Reserved

All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations used in reviews, articles or other

media, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by

any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by

information storage or retrieval system, without permission of the publisher.

Who Took The G Out of Glademore is a work of fiction. The characters in it

have been invented by the author, and any resemblance to actual persons, living

or dead, is purely coincidental.

For information or to contact the author, address correspondence to:

Cissy Brown

1800 N. Broom Street

Apt. 412

Wilm., DE 19802

[phone]

E-Mail: [e-mail]

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

58513

Contents

Dedication and Acknowledgements

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

EPILOGUE

Dedication and Acknowledgements

This book is dedicated to my daughter Robin and my two granddaughters, Nychole and Brittney.

I would also like to thank my friends that were very supportive in this endeavor to complete this book. My good friend, Anthony Hicks and his patient family, who was with me from the very beginning as well as his support with my last book. His input has been invaluable through it all. My friend, Rosalie Suber, very supportive, very encouraging, pushing me to the edge to complete this book and always looked forward to reading each chapter when completed.

Even though she joined the project after it had already started, my confidant, Jerri Cherry did a good job in keeping everything moving. There were times when I put the book on the shelf and Jerri would dust the manuscript off and make me jump back in the race. She has been my second set of eyes in editing, did an outstanding job with the accuracy of the book, helped me in developing the concept for the cover design, I could go on and on.

My last is my beginning. I thank God for the talent he has bestowed upon me. He has guided me throughout my life and I know he is not finished with me yet.

CHAPTER 1

Honey Hall moved, carefree, through a field of tall grass. She looked back several times to see how far she had traveled from her grandmother. With the sun beginning to set, she had to run quickly before it became dark, knowing she had at least a half mile more to go before reaching home.

Once I get over the bridge, I’ll be okay, she thought to herself as she moved from a casual, playful skip to a brisk trot. A disturbance in the weeds made her break into a fast run, and she didn’t stop until reaching the old rickety bridge. Once on the bridge, she sat for a moment to catch her breath.

During her frantic dash, she caught several pebbles in one of her shoes. She removed the shoe, looking for the pebbles, shaking it until they fell into her lap. Honey removed her other shoe to give her feet a rest.

Looking at her worn, comfortable old shoes, she swore she would throw them away as soon as she reached home. She remembered her mother’s advice to put a piece of cardboard in the bottom to protect her feet from stones that might sneak in, but she didn’t.

A loud noise jolted her out of thinking about shoes and tired feet. Frightened again, she took off running with a shoe in each hand. As she sprinted across the old wooden bridge, splinters stuck to her feet. By the time she reached the safety of home, the pain was unbearable.

Limping to the back door, she screamed for her mother. Momma, Momma! I hurt my feet! They’re bleedin’ bad. Her mother ran to the back door, and the first thing she noticed were Honey’s shoes.

Girl! What are you doing with your shoes in your hand? Didn’t I tell you to put cardboard in those ol’ shoes? Bring your hardheaded self in this house. Never listen . . . never listen to anything I tell you, but you will one day, I promise . . . you will one day!

Honey sucked her teeth, careful not to let her mother hear, knowing that would bring an instant smack in the mouth. She’d felt the wrath of her mother’s hand once and didn’t want to experience that pain again.

Who you runnin’ from this time? You always runnin’ from somethin’ or somebody!

Nobody, Momma. She really didn’t know what she was running from, never turning around to see. All she knew was that something in the field had frightened her.

Let me see your feet. Lawd, chile! You all cut up with splinters.

Hearing their mother’s excited voice, Honey’s two brothers, ten and eleven, ran into the room. Dewey, the older of the two, stood trying to see what all the panic was about.

Dewey, get me the big tub! They could see their mother was clearly upset as she filled the tub with hot water for Honey’s feet. She approached Honey, holding a knife that had been held over the fire long enough to turn red at the tip. Honey covered her eyes with the towel.

Child, take that towel from your face. I ain’t goin’ to use this on your foot, hot as it is.

Honey reluctantly peered over the towel as her mother put the knife down to cool. She dreaded having the splinters removed, remembering what happened with Dewey.

As Peachy was removing a splinter with the same knife, Dewey suddenly jerked, and the knife cut into the bottom of his foot.

It bled so much they had to go to Doc Peters, where he got fifteen stitches; and to this day, Dewey sometimes walks with a slight limp. Honey didn’t want that to happen to her.

Momma. I’m fifteen, almost sixteen. I think I’m old enough to take the splinters out. Can I please, Momma, she begged.

There you go again, thinkin’ you know. You want to be grown—here, do it yourself, but if you cut your foot, no doctor and no stitches. You hear me, gal?

Yes’m, Honey said as she took the now-cooled knife. Dewey and Worth stood around laughing and poking fun at her. Girl, you don’t even know how to hold a knife, Dewey teased.

I’ll show you, Honey, but first, you have to make it hot enough to burn your foot, make it turn black, Worth chided.

Momma! Dewey and Worth are teasin’ me again, telling me to burn my feet and all.

You boys go find somethin’ to do. Get away from her!

On their way out, the boys teased her again. Peachy walked over to see how Honey was doing, shook her head, and continued cooking dinner.

Honey looked at the knife again. She knew she couldn’t close her eyes and remove the splinters at the same time. She had to look, but felt afraid.

Maybe I should let Momma take them out, she thought to herself. Slowly she took her foot from the tub of hot water, crossed it over her other knee, and picked up the knife. The water had softened the skin. Now it was time to start.

Honey didn’t realize she had so many splinters—big ones, little ones, long ones, and short ones.

If only I’d kept my shoes on, I wouldn’t be doing this.

She shuddered as she pierced the skin on her foot, immediately feeling the pain. She tried to pinch the splinter with the tips of her fingernails. She tugged on it desperately, but it didn’t budge. She began to cry as she cut deeper with the knife, thinking thoughts about what her mother told her about wearing the old shoes and the route her mother had told her not to take home. A trickle of blood oozed into the tub of water along with Honey’s tears. She wiped them from her eyes with the towel, finally finishing her painful ordeal. It had taken more than an hour to get at all of the splinters.

Peachy had heard her sobbing several times, and as much as she wanted to remove the splinters quickly herself, she stayed in the kitchen, wanting to teach Honey a lesson about trying to be grown.

Now she looked at Honey’s botched-up job. She was alarmed at the sight of blood swirling in the tub, but said nothing, just emptied it and brought in a fresh pail of hot water, this time adding a soothing salt to remove the pain. Honey’s feet did not require stitches, but they would be sore for a while. After hobbling to the table to eat dinner, Honey immediately went to bed.

Her bedroom was a small area off the kitchen, concealed by a curtain. It was big enough for a small bed, a small dresser, and a few hooks on the wall that held her clothes.

Dewey and Worth had a similar room on the other side of the kitchen, but theirs had a door.

CHAPTER 2

It was six in the morning, and her mother shouting to Dewey and Worth to get out of bed awakened Honey. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t sleep late. They’d worked their grandmother’s farm all summer, with only a few weeks left before school started again, and she didn’t see the need for getting up that early.

Honey thought about their summer routine. Three days a week, they walked to their grandmother’s house, arriving by 7:30 a.m. There was always a light breakfast of biscuits and honey and two pieces of slab bacon, and then off to the field to clear away all the remaining end of the season vegetables. By 9:00 a.m., they would break for a glass of cool sassafras tea and continue until 11:00 a.m. At noon, they would eat a hearty lunch, a piece of cake and a big bowl of homemade ice cream. By early afternoon, they were finished with their work and walked home.

She heard her mother calling Dewey and Worth again and decided to climb out of bed herself.

Now that they’d finished the summer fieldwork for Gramps, there were chores to be done at home. The windows had to be washed, the yard cleared, along with other odds and ends.

This usually took a few days each end of the summer. Then Honey would go back to stay with Gramps for a couple of weeks before school.

She longed for her visits with Gramps. She thought about the special pact she and Gramps had made with each another when she was eight years old, staying overnight one weekend in the fall. It was the night she accidentally discovered Gramps’s secret.

One cold and windy night, Honey awakened to discover that Gramps was not lying beside her in the huge bed that sat more than three feet off the floor. The wind howled outside, and some of it managed to creep through the cracks of the old house. Honey could hear loose pieces of clapboard slapping back and forth, making an eerie sound against the house. She listened to the rhythm of the sounds, afraid to get out of bed.

On the floor at the foot of the bed lay Old Blue, a hound dog, almost as old as Honey. He too had awakened to the sounds of the wind.

Where’s Gramps, Old Blue?

The dog whimpered and slunk around the bed to the side where Honey sat.

Old Blue, where’s Gramps? I’m scared of the wind, she repeated, hugging him closer to her.

The moon shone enough light through Gramps’s white lace curtains for Honey to move furtively through the dark room. With Old Blue ahead, she found her way to the kitchen, where she saw Gramps sitting in front of the fireplace. The fire blazed so high and fierce that Honey thought her grandmother was being consumed by it.

Gramps never heard Honey and Old Blue come into the room and continued what she was doing.

Um do, um do, um do. Take these evil spirits with you, Satan. Into the fire I give you these evil spirits. Um do, um do, um do, her grandmother chanted. The closer Honey came toward her grandmother, the louder the chants became. Old Blue paused, afraid to come any closer. Honey moved nearer to her grandmother without disturbing her.

In Gramps’s hand was a bag containing three pouches that she had cut from an old flour sack and carefully bleached, stitched, and dyed in three different colors.

Each color represented the power of the pouch. She reached into the red pouch and took out a handful of dust, and with each chant, she moaned and threw the dust into the fire, causing it to rage like a mini-inferno. Terrified, Honey turned to run back to the bedroom. She would’ve made it had it not been for Old Blue being behind her and tripping her to the floor.

Gramps heard the noise and called out, Who’s there?

Honey lay still on the floor with her hand covering Old Blue’s mouth to smother his whine. Who’s there, I say?

Honey knew she must get back to the bedroom without Gramps finding her. Sit, Old Blue, stay, she whispered as she inched her way on her knees.

Old Blue whined but sat as commanded. Crawling until she reached the bed, she quickly climbed in, hiding her face under the covers, petrified.

By this time, Gramps was up from her chair, her bags tucked safely away in her large apron pouch. Oh! It’s you, Old Blue. You wanna go out? Come on, boy. Old Blue didn’t move.

Gramps walked to the door to let him out. Come on, she called, opening the door. Old Blue sat still.

Come on, dog! she said angrily, feeling the chill from the wind as she stood at the opened door. Old Blue barked and ran back to the bedroom, hiding under the bed. Crazy dog, Gramps said, closing the door and returning to the kitchen.

On her way back to the chair by the fire, she noticed a piece of cloth on the floor. She picked it up. It was Honey’s nightcap. Gramps held the nightcap and looked around the room for Honey. She now realized that Old Blue had not been in the room alone. I wonder if that child saw me, she muttered, heading for the bedroom.

Honey heard the floor creak as Gramps approached the bed. She lay still, pretending to be asleep.

Honey. Honey, baby. Wake up. Gramps wants to talk to you. Honey didn’t move.

Honey, Gramps knows you ain’t asleep. I got somethin’ for you. Now come out from under them covers, Gramps said as she slowly pulled the covers back. Honey sat up in bed.

Gramps just wants to give you your nightcap that she found on the floor so your head don’t catch cold. You wasn’t in there peepin’ on old Gramps, was you? she asked as she placed the nightcap on Honey’s head. Honey dropped her eyes, avoiding her grandmother’s. Was you, Honey?

Honey had never lied to her grandmother and knew she had to tell the truth.

Yes’m, Gramps. The wind woke me up, and I couldn’t sleep. I was scared when I didn’t find you in bed next to me. Me and Old Blue came looking for you.

Tell Gramps what you saw.

You sitting in front of the fireplace like it was gonna swallow you up.

Is that all?

No’m, Honey said, dropping her eyes again. Edging her on, her grandmother asked what else she had seen.

I see you . . . well, you were chanting and saying things . . . and putting something in the fire, she said hesitantly.

Did you hear what Gramps was sayin’? Her eyebrows arched as she waited for an answer.

Just something about some old evil spirits. Then the fire flew up. I got scared and ran back to bed.

Gramps put her arms around Honey. You never have to be ’fraid in Gramps’s house—never, you hear? Now what you see and hear tonight is our secret. We don’t want to tell no one, not even yo’ momma. This is our secret from now on. When you get older, Gramps ’a tell you why she do these things.

Yes’m, Gramps.

Now move over and let Gramps git in bed.

Honey thought about her and Gramps’s secret as she lay cuddled in her bosom. She always felt safe in her grandmother’s bosom and shortly fell asleep.

*     *     *

Honey! Didn’t I tell you to hurry and dress? her mother said, startling her from her secret of eight years ago. Now almost sixteen years old, she and Gramps silently shared a bond about that night.

Honey slipped her plaid cotton pinafore over her head and went to eat breakfast. Dewey and Worth were already at the table fighting over the biscuits and molasses.

Out of the dozen baked, they’d left Honey only two and a strip of slab bacon. She knew she had better not complain. Her daydreaming about Gramps had made her late coming to the table.

She slowly ate the food and drank a glass of buttermilk. After breakfast, they went to do their chores.

They’d only worked two hours when Honey’s mother wanted them all to take some sewing over to Gramps’s house. Honey was glad to get away from cleaning the yard.

Dewey and Worth were heading out the door when their mother called them to wait for Honey. Peachy looked down at Honey’s feet.

Girl! Didn’t I tell you to throw them old shoes in the trash? Peachy said angrily. Go change yo’ shoes.

Yes’m, Honey answered, thinking about what had happened to her feet the day before. She grabbed her other shoes, which felt so tight on her sore feet, as she rushed to catch up with her brothers.

Come on, girl! You slowin’ us down, Worth said, running far ahead of her.

Honey tried to keep up, but her feet were aching even more. She sat down next to the creek to take the pressure off. Worth and Dewey continued on toward their grandmother’s house.

Honey took her shoes off and gently slid her feet into the cool water. The water was soothing, and she felt so relaxed she didn’t hear the person walk up behind her.

Hi, gal. What you doin’ here by yo’self, he asked. Startled, Honey turned around.

What you doing sneaking up on me like that, Joe Boy. I told you about that!

Gal, you always ’fraid of somethin’. I tried to talk to you yesterday, but you took off a-runnin’. I just let you go.

That was you? The thought of how afraid she’d been, and the splinters she got, made her angry. She put her hands in the water and filled them up. Turning around, she threw the water in his face. Joe Boy laughed and wiped his face with his red bandanna.

Can I sit next to you? he asked.

I don’t care where you sit, just don’t scare me like that anymore.

I passed Dewey and Worth. Ain’t you s’posed to be with them? he asked, looking around to see if they had come back.

I don’t need them. I’m old enough to go to my grandmother’s by myself, she said defensively.

Joe Boy moved closer to her. She dried her feet with the bottom of her dress and put her shoes on. Joe Boy put his arm around her shoulder, but she pulled away.

Don’t leave, Honey. Look, I got lots of money. Look! he begged.

Joe Boy pulled out a handful of bills from his bib overalls. Honey’s eyes widened.

That’s not yours, Joe Boy. I know whose money that is. It’s King Lloyd’s money. The money he makes from selling that old corn whiskey, she said, teasing him as she got up.

Ain’t not. Dis is what I makes. I gets paid for workin’ for him. He began counting the money. Ten, twenty, forty, sixty—it’s all mine, and I can buy you anythin’ yo’ wants. A pretty dress, new shoes, gal. You want some of this money?

I don’t want any of your old money. Anyway, my grandmother’s buying my clothes for school, she said, walking coyly past him.

Gal, you sure is pretty. You knows I wants to court you. Why you keep teasin’ me? And why you wear that old dress? Let me buy you a new one.

You can’t buy me nothing, Joe Boy. This is my old work dress anyway. Besides, you’re courting my best friend, Cora Ann. I know all about you two. I hear you acting like a grown man and woman, going to bed and all.

Joe Boy shuffled his feet in the dirt, dropping his head.

Honey, Honey, where you at? Worth and Dewey called. They had come back for her. Joe Boy! What you doin’ here with Honey? Dewey asked, looking at both of them.

Just talkin’ to your old ’fraidy sister. She scared of everythin’, even me. Dewey and Worth looked at each other. Joe Boy knew what they were thinking and had to take the thoughts out of their heads.

You boys want a dime apiece? he asked.

Yeah. What we got to do for it? Dewey asked suspiciously.

Nothin’. I got lots of money. He showed the boys the money.

Their eyes danced with excitement. Joe Boy knew after giving them a dime that he didn’t have to worry about them telling on Honey. He looked at Honey and smiled, putting the money back into his overalls.

See you, Honey, he said, smiling as he walked away. Honey was mad. Dewey and Worth had a dime each, and she had nothing. They would save their money for Saturday when they went to town and would be able to buy something, whereas she would not. She heard Joe Boy whistling nearby.

Joe Boy! Joe Boy! Wait up for me, she called.

Wha’ cha want, gal? You already told me off. Honey circled her foot in the dirt. Joe Boy paid attention.

Wha’ cha want? he teased. You want me to buy you a new dress or somethin’? Honey didn’t want him to buy her a new dress. She would never be able to explain that to her mother. She wanted something smaller. I want a dollar, she blurted out. I want to buy some hair ribbon, lipstick, and a picture book.

Shucks, gal, that all you wants, an old dollar? Joe Boy thought for a moment, then said, I give you a dollar, you give me a kiss.

Honey wanted the dollar real bad. She looked around to see if Dewey and Worth were around. Not seeing them, she stood on tiptoes and kissed Joe Boy on the cheek.

Uh, um, here on my lips. He pointed, waving the dollar in the air. Honey closed her eyes and kissed him on the mouth. Joe Boy held her close to him and kissed her firmly, slightly parting her lips. Honey had never been kissed and didn’t know how to react. She pulled away, wiping her mouth in disgust.

You like that, didn’t you, Honey? Here, gal, take this dollar. You know you can git more, he said with a big smile on his face.

Honey snatched the dollar and caught up with her brothers, safely tucking it inside her bra so they wouldn’t see. She thought about the kiss Joe Boy had given her and no longer felt disgust. She felt a tingle on her lips, a feeling she had never experienced before, something that made her feel good inside.

Honey could smell the sweet butter cake aroma coming from the house. She checked her bra to make sure she hadn’t lost the money.

You children over here pretty early. I’m glad your momma sent the sewing for me to do ’fore it got too hot. Yo’ all sit down and rest yo’self. Later on, I’ll fix some lunch. By that time, the cake a’ be cool and you can have a piece. Honey, fix a cool glass of buttermilk for you and your brothers.

Worth and Dewey finished their buttermilk and went outside to play.

Honey sat on the porch, preoccupied with her thoughts of Joe Boy: how grown he had become since quitting school and working for King Lloyd.

Joe Boy was a handsome, athletic seventeen-year-old boy full of ambition. He liked money, the fast life, women, and intimidated most of his friends. He was romantically fantasized about and admired by a lot of the girls at school, especially her best friend, Cora Ann.

Joe Boy quit school in the eleventh grade, but he still came to the school dances. The fellows admired him, wishing they could make the money he was making with King Lloyd, running his corn liquor. They looked forward to his coming to the school dances, knowing he would bring a bottle with him.

She remembered the last dance just before school let out for the summer.

It was so hot inside the gymnasium that she decided to go outside and cool off from dancing. She heard voices behind the school.

Come on, Cora Ann. I ain’t gon’ hurt you. Just a little bit.

No, Joe Boy! I cain’t. I’m still a virgin, and I won’t do it ’til I’m married, she heard Cora Ann say.

Oh girl, here. Take a sip of dis and relax, Joe Boy said firmly.

Honey crept closer to them. She could see his hand inside Cora Ann’s blouse.

Let me suck on your tits, then, he asked.

Honey couldn’t believe what she heard. She moved closer to see. Joe Boy was kissing Cora Ann’s breast, and she wasn’t stopping him. She seemed to be enjoying what he was doing.

You like this, don’t you, girl? he said as he maneuvered Cora Ann down to the grass. Here, take another swig of this.

The big swallow was too much for her, and she gasped to catch her breath, her insides burning from the heat of the corn liquor. She patted her chest as if to make it go away, not even noticing when Joe Boy delicately removed her panties.

Let me put a little bit in, Cora Ann. I won’t go all the way. Just a little bit, he begged, already inside of her.

Cora Ann felt warm inside from the corn liquor and Joe Boy halfway inside her. All right, Joe Boy, but not all the way . . . not all the way, Joe Boy, you promised, she said, spreading her legs wider for him.

You like dis, don’t you, girl? I’m good, ain’t I? You want all of it? Huh? Huh? he said as he forced himself all the way in.

Cora Ann let out a scream. Joe Boy covered her mouth with his hand as he moved violently inside her. She tried to push him off, but he never missed a stroke.

Honey heard her scream and ran over to help. Joe Boy had just finished and had rolled over on the grass.

Joe Boy, what are you doing? Leave her alone, Honey shouted, turning to help Cora Ann. Cora Ann searched in the grass for her panties.

You lookin’ for these, Cora Ann, Joe Boy gestured, holding them in the air. I’m gonna show these off to the fellas. I told ’em I could get you, and dis is proof.

Joe Boy, I hate you. You’re nothing but a dog! Honey shouted.

I hate you too, Joe Boy, Cora Ann said with a slight slur while trying to fasten her blouse. Honey reached out to help her up. Cora Ann fell back to the ground. Honey held her up again, and this time, Cora Ann balanced herself.

Cora Ann! You’re drunk!

Joe Boy made me drink that old corn liquor, Honey. I didn’t want to, but he made me. Honey looked at Joe Boy with disgust. He was lounging on the grass, laughing and teasing them while circling Cora Ann’s panties in the air.

Cora Ann leaned on Honey for support. Suddenly Cora Ann held her stomach, gagged, and threw up. Joe Boy couldn’t move in time and used Cora Ann’s panties as a shield to protect his face.

Now show your proof to your friends, Joe Boy, Honey