Cleo’s Lies

By Betty Miller Buttram

Cleo's Lies: Accompany her on a journey filled with jealousy, rejection, revenge, greed and obsession. She lies to a couple who befriends her and a husband who loves her. She lies to her best friend about the man she loves. Cleo spreads gossip about a woman who stands in her way of getting what she wants. She lies to a young man about the true identity of his birth mother. Her tangled web of lies, secrets and deceit is revealed when three women band together and carry out their revenge against Cleo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669864196

Book preview

PART I

Chapter 1

Cleo Peyton stood under the large oak tree across the road from her house meditating on her impending plans. The crisp autumn evening had a chilling nip in the air. A brisk breeze shook loose a few leaves, and they landed near her feet. She glanced down at the fallen foliage and smiled. They would eventually be swept away by the season’s swirling wind. They were free from their mother’s hold to go dancing with the wind.

Cleo cocked her head to one side as she listened to the distance rumbling of the approaching six o’clock evening passenger train. The engineer blew the whistle three times as the railroad cars rode the tracks passed her house on its way to Savannah. The blasts of the rolling sound played upon Cleo’s ears. Coming through. Passing by. Follow me.

Cleo had lived all of her seventeen years in Little Creek, Georgia, a small hamlet clustered behind the only major highway leading to other places. The road and the train were her tickets out of there. Cleo had to get away from this place where the sameness of everyday life had become habitual, mechanical, and sometimes monotonous. She was tired of the boring routine. She had plans on leaving and had no intentions of letting anyone stop her from doing it.

Cleo had set her sights on Savannah and the anticipated excitement of that city life. She was thankful for the information she heard from visiting friends and relatives of the people of her little community about the world beyond Little Creek. She listened to their stories regarding the new sounds of music called be-hop jazz played by Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, and Thelonious Monk and the swing music by the big bands like Glen Miller, Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Count Basie, and Duke Ellington.

Ida Mae and Eddie Joe Peyton, Cleo’s parents, lived in their own world surrounded by peanuts, chicken and hog farmers, peach growers, and churchgoing folks. They were somewhat oblivious of the real world outside of their humble surroundings expect for their ecstatic behavior about Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s reelection to a third term.

Ida Mae and Eddie Joe had told Cleo of the scheme that sent her out to meditate under the oak tree. They decided it was time to pawn her off to a farmer who had the good fortune to own his land. To do that, they wanted to kindle her interest in him.

Cleo inhaled and exhaled the brittle air. It was time to confront the issue and get out of town. She left the refuge of her tree, walked across the road up the four porch steps, opened the door, and faced her father.

It’s about time you got yourself back in here, gal, Eddie Joe snapped at Cleo as she made her way to the dining room table.

I’m not interested in that farmer, so stop doing your manipulations, Daddy, Cleo fired back at her father and sat down to face him. A kerosene lamp was in the middle of the table, adding heat to their conversation and illuminating their faces with its light.

Shut your mouth, gal. Don’t you talk to your father that way, Ida Mae shouted from the kitchen. She came out, wiping her hands with a dishtowel and sat down next to her husband.

Cleo eyed them with dislike, disgust, and disrespect. You two act like you come from money or better still have some money. She flung those words at them from her place across the dining table.

Listen here, gal, her father said and waved his hand in front of him as if he were swatting away a fly. Nobody’s rich in this family, but we’ve managed to survive.

Well, I’ve got news for you, Daddy. I’m not for sale! I won’t ever consider that fool of a farmer you think would make me a good husband. I’m not going to grow old and tired planting seeds in the ground and in my belly! When that time comes, it’ll be my choice!

Gal, you better shut your mouth and listen to us, Ida Mae started to say.

Stop telling me to shut up! Call me by my name! It’s Cleo! This is my life not yours!

Ida Mae ignored Cleo’s outburst and kept on talking. We’ve done a lot for you, and now it’s your turn to give it back.

Give what back! Both of you, for all my life, have been so wrapped up in each other that you hardly ever noticed me. I guess in all the touching, hugging, and loving of each other, I slipped up on you! Cleo’s words circled the air between them and then spat her parents in their faces.

Don’t you dare speak to us that way! Ida Mae pointed her finger and leaned across the table at Cleo. She was stopped from saying another word by the loathsome expression on her daughter’s face.

"You gave me the name of Cleo, not Cleopatra, just plain Cleo. Some people call their dogs by that name. I was like the family pet—touched when the mood stimulated you and fed because I was your responsibility. Did either one of you ever think I could have used some hugs, kisses, and loving? Don’t bother to answer that question. I know you saved your loving for each other!"

Cleo, whereabouts you getting these thoughts? We’ve always been good to you, Eddie Joe pleaded his case.

Good to me! Ha! That’s a joke. Did you ever love me? We appeared to these folks around here as a perfect little family. You never touched me. You never hugged me, she said through clenched lips and stared at both of them.

Ida Mae let out a whine, Lord, Lord, Cleo, why do you need so much attention? We gave you a good home because that was our duty to you. What more do you want from us?

Duty? Was that what I was to you two lovebirds? A burden! Cleo continued with her hurtful memories. After church services and other social gatherings, she said and dug her verbal knife deeper, I was discarded like a toy that had lost a child’s interest. Well, I’m grown-up, and I want nothing else from you. If you think I’m going to pay you back for your ‘duty’ by marrying that idiot farmer, you’re wrong. It’s time for me to get away from this backwater town!

Ida Mae suspiciously eyed Cleo. How do you propose to leave when you don’t have a penny to your name?

All those little pennies, nickels, and dimes people gave to me when I was smaller because I was a cute darling to them, finally added up, Cleo answered her with a twitch of her nose and an air of secrecy. She folded her arms against her chest.

They didn’t give you that much, Cleo. Ida Mae rose from her chair and walked back to her bedroom where she kept the family-hidden money stash. She opened the closet door, reached up, and pulled down a doll she had kept as a child. She unhooked the snaps of the dress, put her small hand inside, and felt for the wad of bills. It was gone!

Ida Mae rushed back into the dining area and grabbed Cleo by her arms, pulled her up from her chair, and shook her. I know you stole that money, you ungrateful gal! Where is it?

I’m not telling you! Cleo tried to wrestle herself away from her mother. I’m getting away from here—you, Daddy, and things I don’t want to do. Ida Mae shoved Cleo from her, and they stood facing each other as bitter enemies.

Look here, gal, Eddie Joe interjected as he stood beside his wife, we’ve done arguing in this household. Give it back!

I’m not giving you anything! Cleo shouted at them.

Ida Mae’s arm grew in length, and her hand slapped Cleo hard across her face and sent her crashing to the floor. Cleo got up and pushed the round dining table with the kerosene lamp in the center toward both her parents. The lamp toppled over igniting the tablecloth in flames before falling on the rug underneath the table. The flames shot up the wooden table and grabbed hold of Ida Mae’s light cotton dress. Eddie Joe tried to help his wife, but the flames latched on to him. Cleo made for the door, ran down the porch steps, across the yard, to the road, and hid under the tall oak tree.

Ida Mae and Eddie Joe were trapped inside as the fire began to rapidly devour the wooden structure.

The fire aroused the neighbors, and they screamed in horror and desperation as they tried to reach Cleo’s parents.

Cleo watched and marveled as to how the fire had taken over in just a matter of seconds. She vowed to herself that wherever she went in her lifetime that she would be the keeper of her destiny. She would be like that fire raging in front of her, in control and having all the power.

Chapter 2

Cleo peered at the people who had been her parents’ friends and neighbors through eyes filled with an impatient desire to be gone from them and everything in Little Creek, Georgia.

She had played the part of the grieving daughter well after the fire of three days ago. The burden of this pretentious performance lay heavily upon her, and she longed for fresh air in which to breathe. There hadn’t been much left of her parents in that house, and these people considered her homeless. She chuckled quietly to herself at that thought. She had retrieved the money and her clothes satchel buried beneath her precious tall oak tree the previous night. The time had arrived for Cleo to let these folks know her intentions before she became entrapped by their generosity. She needed an opening, and Bea Adams provided it.

I know it’s too soon to talk about a wedding, but, Cleo, dear, you’ll have a home with George as soon as you feel better again, Bea Adams stated confidently as she held Cleo’s hand in hers. They were seated closed together on a sofa in the living room, combined with dining room and perhaps as sleeping quarters for visiting relatives and friends. It was all too cramped for Cleo’s taste; too close and confining.

Bea cast her eyes on her son, George, for his comments. Cleo focused on him too. What she saw in his eyes was a man looking at her as if she were a fluffy light biscuit ready to be dipped in molasses for a sweet taste. His tongue came out of his mouth and ran itself over his wide and full lips.

Cleo knew there was no way that she would stand for that hog of two hundred and fifty pounds flatting her slender body to a bed and impregnating her. George was all about farming, eating, and sex. She could tell about the latter by the way he drooled at her whenever they happened to be in the same place at the same time. For Cleo, it was all the time because people in Little Creek couldn’t help seeing each other on a daily basis. It was the way of life in this forgotten hamlet.

I’ll not marry your pig of a son, Cleo declared to Bea. That proposition was between you and my parents. They’re dead. The house is gone. The land you can have. Pay me the price, and I’m out of this godforsaken place.

Bea let go of Cleo’s hand and stood up. You uncaring brat! I can see why your parents wanted you out of the way.

Well, they’re out of my way now. I’m alive.

Where in the hell do you think you going, gal? George chimed in. You ain’t got no other folks.

I’ve got no other folks, and I don’t plan on making you mine. Cleo raised her voice to him. I don’t want you touching me!

The rest of the guests at the repast stared at the young woman with skin the color of a walnut shell and tight curly hair as black as coal dust. Her eyes were what drew people to her. They weren’t dark brown or black. If was as if nature reached back in time, mixed the black and brown with a little gold dust. Her eyes were beautiful and her main attraction. At that particular moment, they were as hard as a piece of peanut butter brittle.

These friends and neighbors of Cleo’s parents had never seen this side of Cleo’s personality. Who they saw in front of them at that moment was a pretty young thing that had just turned into a picture of ugliness. The grumbling started as they expressed their displeasure at her conduct.

Why don’t we all calm down here, Preacher Nicks pitched in to quiet the storm. Sister Cleo is still in mourning and don’t mean what she say.

I meant every word of it. I’m getting out of here, Cleo snarled at all of them.

Sister Cleo, I don’t understand. You seemed liked a nice young woman. Why you talking this way? Preacher Nicks was dismayed and disappointed with this new person in front of him.

I’m catching the next train out of here as soon as I can and going somewhere.

The next train leaving from here heads north, George snapped at her. You don’t know nobody up there.

You don’t know what I know, George. Cleo twisted her lips into a tight curl and shot back at him. She looked up at his mother. You want that piece of land, then pay for it, Bea Adams. I don’t want it, and I’m sure as hell don’t want your son.

A few weeks after the fire, the burial of her parents, and the sale of the land, Cleo Peyton boarded the train headed for Savannah. She had no job and no place to stay. What she did have was the name of a distant relative of Preacher Nicks and the money to support her freedom.

Chapter 3

The train pulled into the Savannah station stop, and Cleo stepped down from the car to the platform with a pretense that she knew exactly where she was going. She gathered her precious courage and stood surveying the crowd as people greeted the arriving passengers and said farewell to the departing others. Despite the fact it was late autumn, the ride had been stuffy and cramped with other colored folks confined together in their allotted spaces.

The fresh air was a welcome relief to her. The train pulled off after a few minutes, and Cleo walked to the doors of the train station, walked in and back out again. She gathered her belongings to her. She didn’t have that much, a suitcase, her satchel, a purse, and the light coat she was wearing.

Somebody meeting you here, came a demanding voice behind her. Startled, Cleo turned to face a short robust woman with a reddish brown complexion and a silly hat that resembled a bird’s nest.

You can’t stay here on this platform and take in the sights. Shuck, gal, anybody can see you ain’t from here, said the woman.

Well, I’m waiting for someone. I don’t see them, Cleo said. She might have been off the train, but she wasn’t stupid. She might have been from a small town, but she had heard the folks talk about girls being picked up at train stations, befriended, and then led into a life of prostitution.

Well, they ain’t coming, and you know it. You’re standing here trying to look like you know what you’re doing, the woman chuckled at Cleo.

Thank you, but I’ll be all right, Cleo said as she lifted her head a little higher while managing to stare down at the short lady.

Don’t take offense. You can’t stand here forever. The woman extended her hand to Cleo. I’m Rita Richards, and I live in this city. Your first time in Savannah, ain’t it?

Yes, Cleo replied.

Got folks here or not? Rita pressed.

No, I mean, yes. I guess they got the time wrong.

Look, I don’t mean you no harm, but you look as if you came off the farm with no more sense than a lost calf. Now, do you have folks here?

No, I don’t have anybody. Cleo considered the woman in front of her. Rita had a commanding manner about her and seemed genuinely concerned about her predicament. I need to get a start with my new life, and perhaps she can be of some help.

I’m Cleo Peyton, she said as she shook Rita’s hand. Do you know of anybody willing to rent a room? Cleo had the slip of paper with the name, address, and phone number that Preacher Ricks had given her. She didn’t want to use it because it tied her to her old life.

Come with me, I’ll see what we can come up with. My brother and I own a restaurant here on the colored side of town. Folks bound to know of something there. Rita looked at the apprehension on Cleo’s face. Don’t worry, don’t nobody want to use your body. She turned her attention to the Ford pickup that was pulling into the station. Come on, there’s my ride. It’s my brother, Otis.

Otis got out of the truck, and his height was the equal of his sister’s. Cleo was at least five inches taller than both of them.

Otis, this here’s Cleo Peyton. She just got off the train pretending she had folks. We can’t have her wandering the streets. She looks harmless, so let’s take her home.

What we got, Rita, a little lost puppy, Otis grinned at his sister.

Otis took their bags and put them in the back of the pickup truck. He got behind the wheel; Rita pushed Cleo inside and took the window seat. Cleo felt sandwiched in again, but at least she was being touched.

We own a restaurant, and sometimes on Friday and Saturday nights, it becomes a little juke joint. You ever heard of a juke joint, little lady? Otis asked Cleo.

Back home, it was just a place where folks could go to have a good time.

Rita found an opening and jumped right in. Where’s your home, Cleo?

I’ve from a little town farther down in Georgia.

What’s its name? Rita pressed.

Well, it’s so small, you probably never heard of it.

What’s its name? Rita persisted.

Rita, quite pestering the girl, Otis intercepted as he drove through the balmy autumn night thinking about the holiday season approaching them. It don’t matter much. Thanksgiving ain’t even here, and before we know it, it’ll be time for Santa Claus. Leave the girl alone!

Rita ignored her brother and continued with her questioning. Where is your folks?

Cleo inhaled deeply to tell a story to stop the questioning. "My folks are dead. Mama died last year, and Daddy couldn’t bear being without her. He passed away