The Sweetest Hallelujah. Elaine Hussey

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СКАЧАТЬ system, Alice Watkins was just another little colored girl who’d disappeared. The only thing left of her was Cassie’s story, “Avenging Angel,” which had spawned a legend. Her yearning could still be heard in the blue notes that haunted a town.

      A year ago, standing in her garden with the soulful sound of a harmonica ripping her heart out and turning her blood to an elegiac river, Cassie had known the source of her fore-boding was Alice, stripped of justice and restless for vengeance, predicting a disaster too terrible for even a sometime crime reporter to imagine. By the time Joe’s best friend, Ben, had arrived to tell her Joe had died of a heart attack while he pulled a catfish from Moon Lake, Cassie had already let go of the idea of a birthday celebration and was standing among the fallen rose petals, paralyzed with pain.

      Funny how you sometimes know a thing before it happens, how you can be going about the ordinary business of living when suddenly you feel electrocuted, shocked with the certainty that your world has just tilted sideways and you are about to fall over the edge.

      Cassie was feeling that way now. The faint strains of a blues harp crept under the windowsills, overtaking her with a truth that was both heartbreaking and inevitable. There was no escaping the past. It was stitched to the future as surely as the thick rubber soles were attached to her black-and-white saddle oxfords.

      “Cassie, before I see you again, think about finding a project that will fully engage your interest and your energy.”

      “Thanks, Sean.”

      “When you see Fay Dean, tell her I said hello.”

      Feeling the emptiness of her womb and the loss of her husband like a severed limb, Cassie left Sean’s off ice. Her car was parked under a chinaberry tree out front, baking nonetheless in the blistering heat. The summer was turning out to be a scorcher, with the temperature hovering around ninety degrees.

      Before she stepped off the porch, she checked to see if anybody was watching. Old Mr. Hanneford was walking his dog, an ugly shepherd that had lost most of his hair when Mrs. Hanneford dropped dead in front of the dog house last year. In spite of the fact that Mr. Hanneford was half blind and hard of hearing to boot, Cassie ducked back onto the front porch and stood behind Sean’s potted hibiscus till the old man was out of sight, not because she cared who saw her but because she didn’t want some busybody spreading gossip that would mortify her dear father-in-law, Mike, who believed if you had problems, you solved them yourself.

      As soon as she was back in her car—a red Ford Coupe convertible she’d helped Joe pick out last year only two weeks before he died—she felt unplugged, as if somebody had jerked her life’s cord out of its socket and left it lying on the floor for anybody who took a notion to come along and step on. She was glad she’d agreed to meet Fay Dean at TKE Drugstore’s soda fountain for ice cream.

      As Cassie drove through the dusk toward the heart of downtown Tupelo, the soulful music followed her, the blues notes whispering of love lost and lives wasted, of yearning and hatred, of a gathering storm roaring toward a town unsuspecting and unprepared.

      She parked near the courthouse one block north of TKE Drugstore on the corner of Main and Green, then breathed in the beauty of a place she loved. Magnolia trees with trunks as impressive as river barges surrounded the domed building, and a towering monument honoring the Civil War dead stood in the southwest corner of the lawn. On the east side, the town’s shoe-shine boy, known only as Tater, sat on one of the park benches, waiting to earn a few nickels from the lawyers who argued best in shiny shoes.

      Cassie got out of her car to wait. The courthouse was a convenient place to meet Fay Dean, who had become a lawyer in spite of Mike’s protests that a woman’s rightful place was in the home and the town’s gender bias that a woman was too tender and not intelligent enough.

      Fay Dean proved them all wrong. She had carved out a niche for herself when she successfully defended Cassie’s gardener, Bobo “Chit’lin” Hankins, pro bono, for helping himself to a corn patch that didn’t belong to him.

      In Shakerag, they called Fay Dean Superman in a skirt. In the courthouse, her male colleagues called her names even Cassie wouldn’t want to repeat.

      Vivid as a lightbulb, Fay Dean descended the courthouse steps, carrying herself with the supreme confidence of a woman who knew everything worth knowing. At the sight of her, Cassie’s unease faded into something manageable, angels whispering in her ear.

      “I need chocolate.” Fay Dean was the kind of woman who skirted greetings and got right down to the nitty-gritty. “A triple dip.”

      “Why?”

      “Substitute for sex.”

      “I don’t think it’s a substitute, Fay Dean. Just supposed to make you feel good or something.”

      “How’d it go with Sean?”

      “I sat there blabbering, and he essentially told me to find a project.”

      “Same thing I’ve been saying. What do you think?”

      “He could be right. I need to get my mind on something besides the inane chatter at the Altar Guild.”

      “I told you Sean would help you.” Fay Dean linked arms with Cassie. “He’s asked me out.”

      “He’d be a great match for you. Did you say yes?”

      “You know me. I’m a disaster with relationships.”

      “Fay Dean, what am I going to do with you?”

      “Feed me.”

      Heads turned as they walked under the streetlights, and Cassie knew they weren’t looking at her. She was an ordinary-looking woman who blended in except for her hair. But Fay Dean had that certain something her brother Joe had. When you first saw her, you’d think she was just another dark-haired woman wearing a tad too much lipstick. But she had a way of smiling that lit her whole face. And then you’d think she was the most beautiful creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.

      Cassie had known her since second grade when Fay Dean was the new girl in school. She had the ugliest haircut anybody ever saw. Mike Malone was the new postmaster in Tupelo and had cut it because his wife had died in a hit-and-run accident, and he was experimenting with ways to save money as well as struggling with raising a headstrong daughter and a too-handsome son.

      Cassie had been the only second grader who hadn’t laughed at Fay Dean’s chopped-off hair. When you’re seven, that’s how easy it is to become best friends.

      When you’re thirty-eight, it’s as easy as taking one look at somebody and knowing what they need without ever saying a word.

      A cool blast of air hit them when they walked into the drugstore. Cassie breathed in the familiar smells of French vanilla and rich dark chocolate. She loved this place, the embossed tin ceiling, sixteen feet high, antique ceiling fans hanging down on sturdy brass poles. It was one of the oldest buildings in town. Thankfully, the owner had an eye for keeping the best parts of the past intact. The brass foot railing around the serving counter in the drugstore was original. So were the floors, uneven oak boards that always smelled of the oil rubbed in to keep them from turning brittle.

      She and Fay Dean found two empty stools at the soda fountain and placed their orders, cherry Coke for Cassie, chocolate soda for Fay Dean.

      “How СКАЧАТЬ