“Speaking of Oklahoma,” I said. “There’s something you need to know about Alice Cavanaugh.”
Chapter Eight
Grace
I spent the morning helping Maureen in the kitchen. I liked Colleen. She didn’t look like her mother, but their personalities were very similar.
I wondered if people would think the opposite about me. I was the spitting image of my mother. But we were night and day. Sometimes I wondered if my memories of her were real. Ever since her death, I had built her up in my mind. After meeting Maureen, I wondered how much of it was real and how much was my mind wanting to remember who she could have been rather than who she was.
I loved my mother. My whole life it had been her and me. Being a single mom couldn’t have been easy. Uncle Stephen was there when I was young, but not consistently. We never knew when he would show up.
I remembered the last few times he was there; things seemed to be tense. They argued a lot. Then we moved and I never saw him again. I loved Uncle Stephen. He was fun, and he wasn’t there just to visit my mom. He took us places like the zoo and the aquarium. Places that were fun for me. I remember wishing he weren’t my uncle.
I wanted him to be my dad.
I had flashes of memory of my father. I didn’t know he was my father at the time, but he was the opposite of Uncle Stephen. He wasn’t friendly. He didn’t spend time with me. Or his other girls.
“Shit!”
“Grace?” I looked up at Maureen.
“I have sisters.”
“What?”
I shook my head. “I forgot all about them. I need to talk to Nav.”
The kitchen door opened, and a man I didn’t know walked in. I had met all the brothers in the club that were here visiting, but this man wasn’t one of them. His cut was different.
“Ma’am, King said to come see you about some food? I know it’s past lunch time,” he said.
“Nonsense, have a seat.” Maureen moved slowly around the kitchen.
The man looked at Maureen’s belly and said, “I can make something myself. You should sit.”
I pulled my lips between my teeth as Maureen spun around, moving faster than I had seen her do in months.
“Excuse me? Do I look like an invalid?”
“N-no, ma’am.” He looked at me for help, and I shrugged.
He was on his own.
“Is there a reason you think I am not capable of making you food?” Maureen crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on her protruding abdomen.
“Mom, be nice,” Colleen chastised as she entered the kitchen. “Can’t you hear his accent? He’s a Southern boy, Mom. Not a Neanderthal from Boston who thinks women are weak. He has manners.”
Colleen winked at him, and he grinned, lowering his eyes.
“I mean no offense, ma’am.”
“Enough with the ma’am bullshit,” Maureen scoffed, waving her hand at him. “My name is Maureen.”
“Jackson, ma’am.” When Maureen cut her eyes to Jackson, he winced. “Sorry. It’s bred into me. Nothing I can do.” Thistime his smile was wide. Maureen just shook her head and made herself busy making Jackson a sandwich.
Maureen placed the meal on the table in front of Jackson and sat down across from him. She tilted her head to the side as she stared at him. “Your eyes are very interesting.”
“Thank you?” he said, though it sounded more like a question.
