Tangled Web

By Marietta G. Cobb

Quincy couldnt believe the words on his paternal twin sons birth certificates. According to the legal documents, the boys had two different fathers, Quincy just one of them. His wife, Madge, has betrayed him, although hes not surprised. She cajoled him into marriage through drugs and sexual assaultan assault that created the twins.

Now, Quincy is resolute in discovering the identity of the second father. Imagine his horror when he finds it to be Adam Collier, his own best friend. The betrayal is twofold as his wife and friend were once lovers. To make matters worse, Adam has asked Quincys sister, Olivia, to be his wife; how can Quincy break the news to Olivia without breaking her heart?

With the terrible truth out on the table, Quincy is unwilling to let Madge anywhere near their children. He will raise them himself, but to do so, he must move beyond incredible past pain and become the father the boys need, even if only one of them is his biologically. He will give them a good life, but first, Quincy must remember how to live again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491779002

Marietta G. Cobb

Marietta G. Cobb was born in Bridgeton, New Jersey. In order to recover from the death of her husband, Cobb and her three daughters relocated to Georgia, where she started writing. She holds certificates in freelance and creative writing and is the author of Strong Child and Devil’s Workshop.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Q uincy jerked awake, gasping for breath. His heart raced. Sweat soaked the pillow and sheets. He stared up at the ceiling, the bedroom almost in complete darkness. Only the slightest hint of dawn shone through the open windows of the farmhouse, the home his father had built and the home he’d worked hard to make a happy place for himself and those he loved. Although the nightmare was gone, vanishing back into the dark void in his mind and soul, he couldn’t shake the vivid image of his papa’s lifeless body. It was covered in blood. The crimson soaked through his father’s brown herringbone topcoat and streamed onto the sidewalk.

Oh, God, he whispered, clutching the sheet close under his chin. He suddenly felt cold, despite the warmth of the summer breeze that gently billowed the curtains. Why can’t I forget?

The murder had happened long ago, back when he was only eight years old. It was a day he’d never forget, even though he’d tried for decades. The shooting had occurred on his birthday. For quite some time afterward, the violence of that day had ruled every waking hour. He’d kept seeing the horror on his papa’s face. He’d kept hearing the earsplitting crack of the guns. The men, the faces of the killers—he’d kept seeing them too. He tried to forget but couldn’t.

Yet, as the years passed, the trauma of that day had eventually faded. It didn’t disappear. Quincy knew it never would, but the pain and anger diminished. It no longer occupied his thoughts as much as it had in the past.

Now, though, the nightmares were back. He wasn’t sure why they’d returned. He only knew that they were plaguing him once again. His first haunting had come a week after the funeral. Many nights he would cower in his bed with the covers over his head. He would see the faces of the men who’d killed his papa right in front of him. He knew there was more gunfire happening at the same time his father was hit. He never looked to see who was shooting, because he was trying to get his father off the cold ground.

Many times, he tried to determine what the dream was telling him, but nothing ever came to mind. It was an ordinary day. Papa told him to get ready for their weekly trip to town. Since it was his birthday, Quincy knew there would be a special treat for him at the ice-cream parlor. As Joshua and Quincy were walking down the sidewalk, two men walked out of the alley between the bank and the ice-cream parlor. One man approached them and asked, Are you Joshua Bryce? His father replied, Yes. What may I do for you?

The man straightened his tie before answering. We’re interesting in purchasing some land around these parts. We would like to purchase the land over by the old pond.

Gentlemen, that’s my land you’re talking about. I’m not interested in selling.

The man doing all the talking pulled a document out of his packet and shoved it into his father’s face. You better sign this document, if you know what is good for you!

I’m not selling my land! His father’s body stiffened.

Quincy felt his father tighten his grip on his hand as he tried to put his son’s body behind his right leg. Quincy watched in horror as the two men threatened his father about selling the land, saying something about how he’d been warned. He moved closer to his father. He blinked his eyes once before hearing the gunshots. The tightened grip his father had on his hand was gone, and his father was lying face down on the sidewalk.

Quincy stood paralyzed as the two men ran back toward the alley. He wanted his father to get up so they could go to the ice-cream parlor. When his father didn’t move, he began yelling, Papa, please wake up! Somebody, help us! Papa, please wake up! That’s when he’d heard the additional shots, but he’d never been able to figure out where they’d come from. Bloodcurdling screams came out of his mouth when he saw blood dripping from his father’s chest.

As Quincy lay in bed, the scene replayed in his mind’s eye. Just as it had nearly every night for the past month. Just as it had shortly after he’d seen the undertaker lower his father’s coffin into the ground.

Why am I back there now thirty-five years later? he wondered.

After the horror, pain, and grief had gradually lessened, Quincy had been able to move on. He was almost able to block out the trauma altogether, something his sister Olivia said wasn’t healthy. He ignored her, even after he was diagnosed with a heart murmur. Bottling things up inside was his way. His chest stabbed with pain, and he took a deep breath to calm down. He needed to get a handle on his nervousness. His heart specialist, Dr. Steven Forbes, had assured him that he’d live a long life, providing it was stress-free.

Fat chance of that, he thought.

Quincy was suddenly aware of the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. He eased off the bed as droplets of blood ran down his chin. He turned on the lamp on the nightstand, went into the bathroom, and switched on the light over the mirror. He opened his mouth wide, exposing perfect white teeth, and saw he’d badly bitten his tongue. He spat out the blood and rinsed his mouth. He bathed his face in cold water, put both hands on the sink, and looked at himself in the mirror as though he were seeing a stranger.

You look like hell, he said, his voice full of anger and just a dash of fear. He grabbed a hand towel hanging on a rod next to the sink and dried his face and close-cut Afro. He hung the towel back up and continued to look at himself in the mirror. He considered the crazy irony of life, how strange living could be, especially as a man of color in the sleepy Georgia town of Back Forty. The late 1970s were still mired in the same prejudices that had blocked his father’s success, at least in part in the beginning, but against all odds, Joshua had carved out a good living as a farmer, and so had Quincy. The irony, though, wasn’t in the success he currently enjoyed, in spite of the efforts of some to keep him in line. Rather, it arose from the strange fact that as his memories of the bloodshed and violence of his eighth birthday had inexplicably reemerged, his mother’s memories of Walter Calhoun had also arisen anew out of the confusion and befuddlement of the dementia that had sadly overtaken her in years past. Of all the things she could remember, it had to be memories of that odious man.

Yes, he thought, if life is anything, it’s ironic.

He switched off the bathroom light and went back into the bedroom, where he sat down on the edge of his bed, knowing he would sleep no more.

CHAPTER 1

Y ears pass as inexorably as the sun inches above the eastern horizon and sets to the west or as the ocean tides ebb and flow. The passage of time in a life is like that. It’s as inevitable as the earth’s orbit, and yet there are years that stand out from others. For Quincy, his eighth year remained one of the most memorable and painful. And, it seemed, his thirty-third year was shaping up to be one he would not soon forget. The nightmares came more frequently as the summer moved into the dog days of August, when the Georgia heat made even the hogs lope around in lethargic torpor. He worked the farm, ate quiet dinners with his mom and sister, and kept mostly to his own business, trying to deny the turmoil that had risen up so unexpectedly. Perhaps it was his mother’s deteriorating mental capacity that triggered whatever was churning the old emotions. Quincy wasn’t sure. All he knew was he had to toe the line, and he did that by following a routine that was familiar to him. In the morning, he arose at dawn and went to work. In the afternoons, he took a break to spend time with his mother. He knew Queen enjoyed their conversations. He did too. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to talk with her.

On a particularly hot day in mid-August, he left the barn and went inside the house. He washed up and strode purposefully to Queen’s bedroom. Before he sat down, Quincy looked around, almost as if he were seeing his mother’s bedroom for the first time. He noticed Queen always had a picture of The Last Supper above her four-drawer dresser. A silver, framed picture of his father rested on top of it. His mother had kept the last bottle of bay rum he purchased the day before his death. The liquid inside had long since evaporated. He could almost smell his father’s scent each time he lifted the bottle to his nostrils. Nothing in his mother’s room had changed since he was a child. The beige, floral-patterned wallpaper had faded, but it still brought a sense of peace to the entire room. I can’t believe that woman is at it again, said Quincy, sitting by his mother’s bed. With her memory fading, he didn’t know whether she’d remember him or not. To keep her memories alive, he wrote down some important events that happened during her lifetime. Oftentimes, he used the logs to help her recreate those precious moments in her life.

Queen Bryce looked at her son and smiled. What woman this time? Even though she was ailing, her mind going in and out depending on whether she was having a good or bad day, Quincy knew she often heard tidbits of conversation about the people who lived in Back Forty. She’d lived in the little community for sixty years, so she knew practically everyone. I don’t have enough time in the day to tell you about all the scalawags who have come and gone from this area, she said, repeating one of her favorite lines. Now, what woman is doing what?

Quincy smiled. Did you know Madge’s Speakeasy got raided last night? She was selling bootleg liquor again to get out of paying the taxes. The fool. You’d think she’d have learned by now that the law is the law, and that’s it.

Queen laughed, her eyes sparkling. That woman don’t know what’s good for her is all. No surprise there.

No, I suppose she doesn’t, Quincy said.

Well, look where she come from. Her people are just no dang good. That Walter Calhoun. With a daddy like that, she had no chance to start with, Queen said.

No, I suppose not, Quincy said. He sighed.

Everybody in town knew Madge and her daddy had lots of criminal connections in Chicago. They knew some pretty bad men.

I can’t believe how the men in this town react each time they see her walking down the street. They follow her like dogs in heat. It’s downright disgusting, Queen said.

Yes, I suppose it is. She is right pretty, though. You got to admit that, Momma.

I don’t got to admit nothing.

Madge had a notorious reputation around town, and in a way, her wild doings intrigued Quincy. They always had. Her latest brush with the law in selling shine just added to her bad-girl appeal. Queen had told him Madge had always been a spiteful child who acted badly in church. She didn’t have any respect for God’s house or anything else for that matter.

I knew she’d grow up to be the kind of woman a man should avoid at all costs, Queen said. You need to stay clear of her kind.

I understand, Momma.

I hope so. For your sake. Queen got a far-off look in her eye. She leaned back in the bed and seemed to think on something, but Quincy had no idea what it was. It pained him to see her like this, here one minute and gone the next.

Queen yawned. Then she coughed.

You okay, Momma?

No, but there’s not much either of us can do about it.

I know, Quincy said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You know, Queen said, don’t be too hard on Madge, because her father was also the talk of the town. That man had his hands in all kinds of corruption. There’s an old saying—contempt breeds contempt.

But you just told me to steer clear of her. Now you’re saying don’t be too hard on her.

Nothing’s black or white in this world.

I know, Momma.

Although the Calhouns had lived in the county as long as Queen had, Quincy didn’t know much about them, except for the gossip, which he seldom listened to. I guess the old saying—an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—should fit Madge’s personality, he said.

Just like you’re like your daddy, Queen said.

She went quiet again. He thought about letting her nap, but he was curious about Madge. It was strange; he’d never paid much attention to what people had said about her, but everything was mixed up these days. Nothing seemed quite right.

Momma, what do you know about the Calhouns? I mean, I know the usual stuff. Who doesn’t? But you know pretty much everything there is to know about this town.

Queen nodded. Uh-huh. I sure do.

So tell me, Quincy said. I’m curious.

Be careful of what makes you curious, son. Queen sat up straighter and leaned forward, looking Quincy straight in the eye. For a moment, he felt as though she was her old self. She began to talk, and the details came one after another. She told him about how it was common for blacks to own land even as far back as the 1940s. Others were sharecroppers, but there was always work. When Calhoun came to town, everyone thought he was another white man cheating people out of their land. When Madge was born, the midwife who assisted in Madge’s birth said the baby looked like a fly in a bowl of milk. Madge’s parents were fair-skinned, and their baby was dark as the night. That revelation was the talk of the town for weeks. That’s how the Calhoun race-mixing secret came to light.

Queen paused briefly, and then she continued telling the story. No one knew the story behind old man Calhoun’s birth. Tall tales were flying all over the place. Once I heard Calhoun’s biological mother was white, and she fell in love with a man from Louisiana. When his grandfather found out, he threatened to disown her if she didn’t break off the affair. Calhoun’s mother was white, and the father was a fair-skinned man passing for white.

Quincy raised an eyebrow. He shook his head and said, So Calhoun isn’t white, and Madge isn’t all black.

Like I said, son, nothing is black and white in this world. Everything is mixed up real good.

I’d say so, by the looks of it.

Looks can be deceiving.

Quincy nodded. So then what?

Calhoun’s mother returned home in disgrace and pregnant. Since Calhoun was his only grandchild, her father raised him in Chicago. He didn’t do it out of the kindness of his heart; he wanted to keep people from finding out about his grandson’s ancestry. According to Judge Masters, Calhoun’s grandfather was a very powerful man. That was how Calhoun had so many criminal connections in Chicago. That’s why he still does. Walter Calhoun is every bit as nasty as his granddaddy. I don’t know for sure whether any of the tales are true, but I reckon they are. Seeing Madge strutting around town, she’s most definitely like the fly in the ointment. In her ancestry, there was some colored folks for sure.

No harm in that, Quincy said. People are people.

Some people don’t see it that way. Queen coughed again. She whispered, Old man Calhoun has a dark side. Folks often gossiped about his ‘forbidden tendencies.’ To date, I’ve never known the extent of his illegal propensities. He’s a strange man who people avoided. Madge’s father has been in and out of trouble with the law. He reminds me of a reprobate soul. The Bible speaks often of people with reprobate minds. Calhoun will be the first one in church on Sunday and will profess he knows God, but in the whole kit and caboodle, he denies the Lord. Calhoun is repulsive and disobedient. In Titus 1:16, it tells you a reprobate mind is one that is corrupt and worthless. That describes old Calhoun to the letter. All I can say is this: Stay clear of Madge Calhoun. That woman reeks of a reprobate soul.

Queen closed her eyes for a brief moment. Folks around these parts often talked about Calhoun for his unsavory loaning practices.

What kind of loans was he offering? asked Quincy.

Calhoun would loan some farmers money to purchase seeds during the spring planting season. In prime real estate areas, he would call in the notes before the harvesting season. If the farmers didn’t have the money right then to pay him, he’d force them to sign their land over to him until harvesting was completed.

That doesn’t seem fair, said Quincy.

It wasn’t. But, then again, not much is. Old man Calhoun usually went after land that had streams or some other water rights on it, said Queen. If farmers were experiencing drought in their own areas, he would charge them to have water delivered to their property. He even installed an irrigation pipeline to keep people from stealing. Now, let me get back to the land problems. When the farmers did harvest their crops, and they delivered the crops or the cash to him, he would accuse them of breaching the contract.

Queen went on talking, saying that she knew Calhoun had altered the signed loans. She told Quincy that most of the farmers never received a copy of the contract agreement. After Calhoun had all the loans in his possession, he must have added more money to original loans. None of the farmers had a leg to stand on, because they didn’t have any proof of the transaction. Quincy had heard some of these stories before but never in such a clear and concise way. He shook his head and said, Sounds like that man is so crooked that, when he dies, the undertaker is going to corkscrew him in the ground to keep him in the grave.

Serve him right.

What happened to the farmers?

They became tenants on their own farms. He would charge them room and board, plus take control of half of all their harvested produce. The farmers could never get ahead enough financially to buy back their farms. Then on a whim, he’d evict them without cause, just to get control of their land.

You tired, Momma? You keep yawning.

Getting sleepy.

Quincy stood up, ready to leave. He looked down at Queen, his tall lanky frame casting a shadow over her as the sun shone through the open window. The summer breeze was heavy with humidity. She’d lived a hard life, particularly after Joshua’s murder. After his father’s funeral, Queen moved herself and her kids out of the main house into one of the smaller cabins. Quincy had not wanted to leave his home, but he was too young to voice his opinion about the decision she made. When he thought about it, which wasn’t often, he figured the main house was just filled with too many ghosts for Queen to handle. Every time she came out of a room, she’d expect to see Joshua in the hall, his bright smile and twinkling brown eyes the very essence of vitality.

But when Quincy turned eighteen years old, he’d decided to air out their old home and move into it. Once the place was renovated to his satisfaction, he’d approached his mother. Momma, Adam and I have restored the old house. Everything inside is brand new. I would love if you and Olivia moved there with me. I believe Papa would’ve wanted for you to come back home.

Even though the house had been abandoned for ten years, Quincy had always found a sense of peace there. Sometimes he’d snuck inside when Queen wasn’t looking. He’d just sit in the dusty living room and think about those happy days before the murder. Joshua had done well as a farmer because he’d been well liked. The whites bought from him. The black folk did too. Nobody could say a bad word about Joshua. Even the law let him be. Quincy knew as long as the good Lord blessed him with a new day, he’d always care for his mother and baby sister. He’d stand strong and keep his papa’s farm going, no matter what it took.

When he’d asked Queen to move back into the main house, he was astonished to hear her say, By all means, let’s all go home!

Queen and Olivia had lived in the house with him ever since. Now, considering Queen’s worsening dementia, Quincy was glad his mother had agreed to stay. He wondered how long he and his sister could care for her, but he tried not to think about that. Like other painful thoughts, he did his best to put this one in a box and close the lid.

Queen cleared her throat. What?

You tired, Momma? Should I leave you be? Let you rest some?

Judge Masters might shed some light on Calhoun’s life.

What?

Judge Masters. He knows everything about everything, don’t you know? Queen asked. Her voice was weak. Her breathing was getting heavy.

Quincy knew it was time to stop talking. He pulled the covers over her, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. Don’t you worry about Judge Masters.

You know, he had a mad crush on me when I was just a teenager.

Quincy laughed. What? You never told me that.

That’s right. Never told you. Never told your daddy either.

You’re full of surprises today!

Quincy turned to go.

I knew a relationship with a white man who was fixin’ to be a lawyer would mean nothing but trouble. But I always loved him like a big brother and nothing more. He was always a true southern gentleman with impeccable manners. He continuously said yes ma’am and opened doors for me when we were together.

Okay, now. Hush, Momma.

Oh, hush yourself, Quincy Bryce!

He could tell she was slipping into the past even more than she had been before.

Sadie Jamison—known her since I was a girl—

I know.

She always did tease me about the judge having a hankering for me.

Let’s forget about them for now. You need to rest. Is there anything you need before I leave?

You always run off on me, she said.

No, I don’t.

Queen’s eyes closed. As she drifted off to sleep, she whispered, All the men in my life run off on me.

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The days of August slipped by. Queen’s condition worsened. She lived more in the past than in the present, and it hurt Quincy to see her losing her hold on reality. She often repeated stories he’d heard a thousand times. But he indulged her, pretending everything she said was new and interesting. One of her favorite stories to tell was when she’d met his father for the first time.

Did I ever tell you the story how I met your father?

Tell me again, Momma—how’d you two meet? He settled in to hear the details of the story he’d heard a thousand times.

She patted down her quilt and ran her hand across the patterns. When I go home to Jesus, I want you to give Olivia this handcrafted quilt. My mother made it. She gave it to me on my wedding day.

Let’s not worry about going home right now, said Quincy.

Get the old photograph album out, so I can tell you about the pictures inside it. It all goes along with my story about your father. God rest his old soul!

Quincy got the photo album and laid it across his mother’s lap. He sat quietly beside his mother’s bed. He noticed the now-familiar far-off look settling on his mother’s face. How did you meet, Daddy? he asked to get the conversation going. Quincy knew his mother had early-onset dementia. Her condition had worsened after she fell and hit her head on the big boulder down by the fishing pond. She’d suffered from brain damage of some kind.

Queen smiled. Sadie and I grew up together and went to the same church for years. We were in the same Sunday school class too. She smiled lovingly as the memories seemed to flood back into her mind.

Quincy smiled too. He was glad Queen had a friend like Sadie. His mother’s girlfriend still lived close, and Queen had relied on her heavily during the months of grief that had followed Joshua’s death.

I didn’t meet your father in Georgia. We met in a small coastal town, Elizabeth City, North Carolina. The local people often called it the Outer Banks. After we got married, he bought this farm in Georgia. Joshua always aspired to become a farmer, so this farming community was ideal for all his plans. After church, we would meet up by the beach and make sand castles. Even though Sadie and I were young ladies, we were still children at heart. Other girls our age were looking for husbands, but we more interested in creating the best sand castles. We made the best ones too, because Sadie had a very vivid imagination.

Quincy noticed Queen’s facial expression change. Momma, are you all right? He didn’t want to drain her strength.

I’m fine, but I better get this story told before I forget again. Queen caressed each picture in total silence.

Her whole conversation centered on his father, sister, Miss Sadie, and him. He noticed she was struggling with the events, and her facts were all over the place.

Quincy spoke softly. Do you want me to record this conversation? He walked to the china closet. He retrieved a cassette tape recorder from the top shelf. He walked back to the bedside, placed the recorder on the nightstand, and plugged the cord in the wall socket. I’m ready to record.

Quincy had two reasons for recording the conversation. He thought if he heard the stories enough, it might jog his memory about the events that had led up to his father’s death.

Queen smiled. Now, where was I? she asked for a second time. Joshua Quincy Bryce wasn’t the church-going type at all. He did believe in God, but he’d rather be at the fishing hole trying to catch the lone, big bass in there. That fish ate the bait off the rods and never got ensnared in the hooks. During the spring of 1923, that fish had become a legend throughout the area. Fishermen from all over the Outer Banks would come to the pond. Fishermen called it the fish from hell—Devil Fish. That fish lived longer than most of the residents in this area. Queen paused for a moment. Judge Masters’s father was considered to be the best fisherman in Georgia. When he heard about the legendary Devil Fish, he brought his family to the area. He wanted to try his luck in catching the fish. His father knew if he was successful, he’d have bragging rights. Joshua had tried on numerous occasions but had failed miserably. Tobias and Joshua would sit on the docks for hours watching the fishermen casting their rods in the water. After all that time together, they became steadfast friends.

Queen took a breather before she took up the tale again. One summer, Tobias’s cousin Ambrose Masters came out for the summer vacation. Ambrose was a handful too. He used to wink at me all the time. Tobias and Ambrose would fight like cats and dogs. Joshua would watch them and just laugh.

Quincy chuckled. Did anyone ever catch the Devil Fish?

No. Queen coughed. I grew up in the Outer Banks. It was a two-hundred-mile-long string of narrow barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina and a small portion of Virginia, beginning in the southeastern corner of Virginia Beach on the east coast of the United States.

I know where it is, Momma, Quincy said. He squeezed the bridge of his nose with the fingers on his right hand, feeling a headache coming on.

Queen kept talking without acknowledging him. "The land mass covered most of the North Carolina shoreline, separating the Currituck Sound, Albemarle Sound, and Pamlico Sound from the Atlantic Ocean. The Outer Banks was a popular tourist attraction and known for its temperate climate and wide expanse of open beachfront.

In a small town, nothing slipped by Sadie. People thought she wasn’t paying attention when she heard the church sisters talking with her mother outside the church. That girl had super ears. She knew all the local gossip firsthand. Queen laughed softly.

Quincy asked, If Miss Sadie grew up in North Carolina, how’d she end up in Georgia?

After Joshua bought the land, he named the homestead Back Forty. Once he’d built the main house, he built a couple of cabins. We decided to offer Sadie one of the cabins as her new home. She accepted the offer, and we’ve been together ever since.

Quincy smiled. He knew Queen loved talking about the past. It was very sad that some events were lost, but others stood out like a beacon. How did she hook you up with Daddy? Quincy asked, hoping to keep her on message. It was good for her to talk, even if it was sometimes hard for him to hear her repeating the same stories over and over again.

Queen turned to face Quincy. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. It’s funny now, but during that time, I was extremely upset with her for orchestrating that blind date without my consent.

Quincy smiled.

It was the strangest introduction on record. I was riding my bike down Summer Street and heard someone yelling at me. I didn’t look back but put on my brakes. I heard someone cursing to high heavens. Once I reached the bike rack, I chained my bike to it. Queen giggled and shook her head. Joshua crashed into the rack and fell on the ground. He was trying to put his bike in the same spot. But I got there first!

Queen’s laughter was like music in a silent movie. It came alive instantly as she remembered that infamous day.

Did anyone get hurt? asked Quincy, humoring her.

Joshua’s pride, because I was just a slip of a woman who had outmaneuvered him. After he found a spot, he rushed toward me madder than an old rooster. He was furious because he had a date waiting for him in the movie theater. I was meeting Sadie there too.

Quincy could almost hear his father shouting, "How dare you force your way into my spot!"

"I bet he put emphasis on the word my."

Yes, he did. Queen nodded vigorously in agreement. I left him fussing by the bike rack. As soon as I walked through the door, I got the shock of my life. You should’ve seen the shocked look on Joshua’s face when he found out that I was his blind date.

I bet that didn’t go over well with Daddy. You had just taken his place, and now you were his blind date! Quincy smiled broadly.

"True! We both tried to leave the theater at the same time and ran smack into the door. It was a real mess. Heaven knows how we got everything sorted out, but we did.

When Joshua asked me to marry him, everybody thought the marriage would be doomed from the start. Your father pestered me for months after that. Finally I did marry him, just to get him to stop bothering me!

Quincy took Queen’s right hand in his. I’m glad you said yes, Momma. Otherwise, Olivia and I wouldn’t be here.

Queen went silent for a long moment. "You know, I didn’t love him at first, but I learned to love him. After we were married, we moved to Georgia, bought this property, and then built a couple of houses in