The Protectors. Beverly Barton

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СКАЧАТЬ he was born, since the day she agreed to allow her son to be raised as her brother.

      Chapter Two

      As Ashe drove his rental car up Montgomery Avenue, into the downtown area of Sheffield, he noticed the new businesses, mostly restaurants—Louisiana, Milestones and New Orleans Transfer. Come what may, Southerners were going to eat well. Mama Mattie’s homespun philosophy had always been that if folks spent their money on good food, they wouldn’t need to spend it on a doctor.

      Mama Mattie. How he loved that old woman. She was probably the only person he’d ever truly loved. The only person who had ever really loved him. He could barely remember a time during his growing up years when he hadn’t lived with her. He had faint memories of living in a trailer out in Leighton. Before he’d started school. Before his daddy had caught his mama in bed with another man and shot them both.

      The courts had sentenced JoJo McLaughlin to life in prison, and that’s where he’d died, seven years later.

      Mama Mattie had tried to protect Ashe from the ugly truth, from the snide remarks of unthinking adults and the vicious taunts of his schoolmates. But his grandmother had been powerless to protect him from the reality of class distinction, from the social snobbery and inbred attitudes of elite families, like the Vaughns, for whom she worked.

      If he’d had a lick of sense, he would have stayed in his place and been content to work at the service station during the day and at the country club as a busboy on weekend nights. But no, Ashe McLaughlin, that bad boy who’d come from white trash outlaws, had wanted to better himself. It didn’t matter to anyone that he graduated salutatorian of his high school class or that he attended the University of North Alabama on an academic scholarship. He still wasn’t good enough to associate with the right people.

      He had thought Whitney Vaughn cared about him, that their passionate affair would end in marriage. He’d been a fool. But he’d been an even bigger fool to trust sweet little Deborah, who professed to be his friend, who claimed she would love him until the day she died.

      Crossing the railroad tracks, Ashe turned off Shop Pike and drove directly to Mama Mattie’s neat frame house.

      When he stepped out of the car, he saw her standing in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, her white hair permed into a halo of curls around her lean face.

      He had sent her money over the years. Wrote her occasionally. Called her on her birthday and holidays. Picked up special gifts for her from around the world. She had asked him to come home a few times during the first couple of years after he joined the army, but she’d finally quit asking.

      She wrote him faithfully, once a month, always thanking him for his kindness, assuring him she and Annie Laurie were well. Sometimes she’d mention that Miss Carol had dropped by for a visit, and told him what a precious little boy Allen Vaughn was. But she never mentioned Deborah. It was as if she knew he couldn’t bear for her name to be mentioned.

      Mattie Trotter opened the storm door, walked out onto the front porch and held open her arms. Ashe’s slow, easy gait picked up speed as he drew closer to his grandmother. Taking the steps two at a time, he threw his arms around Mama Mattie, lifting her off her feet.

      “Put me down, you silly boy! You’ll throw out your back picking me up.” All the while she scolded, she smiled, that warm, loving smile Ashe well remembered from his childhood.

      Placing her on her feet, he slipped his arm around her waist, hugging her to his side. She lacked only a few inches being as tall as he was. “It’s so good to see you again, Mama Mattie.”

      “Come on inside.” She opened the storm door. “I’ve made those tea cakes you always loved, and only a few minutes ago, I put on a fresh pot of that expensive coffee you sent me from Atlanta.”

      Ashe glanced around the living room. Small, not more than twelve by fourteen. A tan sofa, arms and cushions well-worn, sat against the picture window, a matching chair to the left. The new plaid recliner Ashe had sent her for Christmas held a fat, gray cat, who stared up at Ashe with complete disinterest.

      “That’s Annie Laurie’s Mr. Higgins. She’s spoiled him rotten,” Mattie said. “But to be honest, I’m pretty fond of him myself. Sit down, Ashe, sit down.”

      He sat beside her on the sofa. She clasped his hands. “There were times when I wondered if I’d ever see you again. I’m an old woman and only God knows how much longer I’m going to be in this world.”

      “Don’t talk like that. You’ll live to be a hundred.”

      Releasing his hands, she looked directly into his eyes. “Have you seen Deborah?”

      “Yeah, Mama Mattie, I’ve seen Deborah Vaughn.”

      “She turned out to be a beautiful woman, didn’t she?”

      “She was always beautiful, just not…not finished.”

      “Miss Carol looks bad, doesn’t she?” Mattie shook her head sadly. “That bout she had with cancer a while back took its toll on her. She’s in remission now, but we all live in fear she’ll have a relapse.”

      “She aged more than I’d expected,” Ashe said, recalling how incredibly lovely Carol Vaughn had once been. “But nothing else has changed about her. She’s still a very kind lady.”

      “So is Deborah.”

      “Don’t!” Ashe stood abruptly, turning his back on his grandmother, not wanting to hear her defend the woman who had been responsible for having him run out of town eleven years ago.

      Mattie sighed. “I still say you judged her wrong. She was just a child. Seventeen. You rejected all that sweet, young love she felt for you. If she went to her daddy the way you think she did, then you shouldn’t hold it against her. My God, boy, you took her innocence and then told her you didn’t want her.”

      “It wasn’t like that and you damn well know it.” Ashe needed to hit something, smash anything into a zillion pieces. He hated remembering what he’d done and what his stupidity had cost him.

      “Don’t you swear at me, boy.” Mattie narrowed her eyes, giving her grandson a killing look.

      “I’m sorry, Mama Mattie, but I didn’t come by to see you so we could have that old argument about Deborah Vaughn.” Ashe headed toward the kitchen. “Where are those tea cakes?”

      Mattie followed him, busying herself with pouring coffee into brown ceramic mugs while Ashe devoured three tea cakes in quick succession. He pulled out a metal and vinyl chair and sat down at the table.

      “They taste just the same. As good as I remember.”

      He would never forget walking into the Vaughns’ kitchen after school every day, laying his books on the table and raiding Mama Mattie’s tea cake tray. More often than not, he and Annie Laurie rode home with Miss Carol when she picked up Deborah and Whitney from school.

      Whitney had ignored him as much as possible, often complaining to her aunt that she thought it disgraceful they had to be seen with those children. He supposed her haughty attitude had given him more reason to want to bring her down to his level, and eventually he’d done just that. He hadn’t been Whitney’s first, but he hadn’t cared. She’d been hot and eager and he’d thought she really СКАЧАТЬ