Other than the bathroom, Honoree had remained in the second-floor bedroom since the night of the fire. It had to be Tuesday but smelled like Sunday. The aroma of breakfast—bacon, eggs, grits, and bread—wafted through the house. Her lungs still felt full of smoke, but she couldn’t stay upstairs forever, not with her stomach growling with hunger.
Honoree washed, put on her undergarments and the matronly green dress Ezekiel had placed on a chair next to the bed. She limped down the staircase to the kitchen, pausing at the entrance.
Jeremiah had three pans on the stove, frying bacon and ham, and scrambling eggs, and boiling grits. Bessie stood nearby, rocking back and forth, holding a needle and thread and a shirt, sewing on a button. Ezekiel sat at the head of the rectangular kitchen table, drinking from a steaming cup, and searching the pages of a newspaper.
It was a beautiful, happy scene of a family in a motion picture or magazine on a typical Sunday morning. All that was missing was her mama at the stove, fixing breakfast, and her father instructing the Bailey boys to finish their chores before eating.
She fluffed her matted hair and limped forward, navigating each step purposefully. “Hello.”
Ezekiel snapped to his feet and rushed to her side. “Honoree, you’re up. You sure it’s a good idea?”
“I’m not going to fall over.” She took his hand and allowed him to help her to a chair at the table. “I’m much better. Thank you very much.”
Bessie sat next to her. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine. How are you doing? Let me see.” Her gaze landed on the girl’s belly. “How’s the baby?”
“The bee’s knees, I guess. It doesn’t do much but jump and hiccup.”
It was the kindest thing Bessie had said about her baby. Honoree figured Jeremiah standing within earshot was the reason. “I’m glad.”
Jeremiah put a plate of food in front of her that looked like a holiday feast. “Bless your heart.”
For a few long moments, the only sound in the kitchen was the clang of Honoree’s fork against her plate and the noises she made, gulping down her breakfast.
Ezekiel chuckled. “Don’t eat too fast. You’ll upset your stomach.” He folded his newspaper. “We put your things—the things you and Bessie, and Jeremiah, saved—in the shed. We hope to get rid of some smoke.” He sipped his coffee. “I should tell you your building burned to the ground. You won’t be able to return.”
Honoree placed her fork on the side of her plate. Her home for most her life was nothing but a pile of ash and destruction. “Did anyone die?”
Bessie shook her head. “Jeremiah drove by yesterday, and folks were scrounging for what they could find in the rumble. They said no one perished.”
That news lightened Honoree’s heart. She may not be neighborly, but her neighbors were family. After living in the kitchenette for most of her life, she felt the pain wouldn’t vanish in a day. “How about my sewing baskets?”
“I got most of them out.” Bessie grinned. “Including a couple of dresses and the basket with the money.”
Honoree closed her eyes briefly. “Thank God. We aren’t destitute.”
She lifted a fork of food to her lips, but the room was suddenly quiet, and everyone was watching her. “Isn’t anyone else eating?” she asked. Jeremiah moved from the stove with two plates.
“Ready,” he said, serving Bessie and Ezekiel before sitting across from her with his meal. However, three pairs of eyes were still on her.
“What’s been happening?”
Ezekiel dropped his fork with a clang. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” he said in a rush as if a train car had fallen off the tracks.
“Tell her, Ezekiel.” Jeremiah didn’t look at his brother or eat his meal. “No reason not to. She’s staying here now.”
Ezekiel pushed his plate a few inches away and placed his arms on top of his head. The gesture lasted only a few seconds before he splayed his fingers on either side of his untouched meal.
“What is it?” Honoree asked tensely. “What happened?”
“Dewey’s a boob,” Jeremiah mumbled.
Honoree was confused. “Why would any of us care about Dewey Graves?”
“Dewey didn’t stop bootlegging when he was told to, and now he’s causing Archie—”
“And Ezekiel and me,” Jeremiah added roughly.
