P. Parrish - South Of Hell

It was Sunday. He realized they were all on their way to church. But Grandma Alice’s eyes held no benevolence.

“Hello, Louis.”

He turned.

Lily had stepped out from behind a rack of hats.

His first thought was of a baby chick, a ball of precious yellow fluff. She wore a dress of some kind of filmy material, the stiff flounce of a skirt topped off by a little white fur jacket. A yellow straw bonnet held her curls back from her face.

Her face…

Already he was trying to memorize it, because no photograph would ever do it justice.

The solemn gray eyes met his, and there was a single thought in his head. It was a very forgiving world that allowed a guy like him to play any part in the creation of something so perfect.

Kyla suddenly appeared from the back room, and a step behind came Channing. Kyla wore a peach-colored suit with a matching hat. Channing’s suit was dark blue over a starched white shirt topped off with a perfectly knotted turquoise tie. Grandma Alice moved to them, completing the family portrait.

“Don’t we all look pretty?” Lily asked.

His heart gave. “Yes, you do.”

“We’re going to church,” she said.

“I kind of figured that.”

She brightened suddenly. “Do you want to come with us?” she asked.

“Well, I-”

“You can come like you are. God doesn’t care if you don’t have a tie.”

Louis smiled. Then he caught Kyla’s eye over Lily’s head. She wasn’t smiling.

“I can’t come with you, Lily,” Louis said. “I just came by to tell you goodbye.”

Lily blinked. “You’re going back to Florida?”

“Yes, I have to get home.”

Questions, all those questions there in those gray eyes. But before Lily could say anything, Kyla stepped forward and put a hand on Lily’s shoulder.

“We’ll wait for you outside. Don’t be too long, okay?”

“Okay,” Lily said softly. Then, head down, she went to a bench by a full-length mirror in the corner. She sat down, taking off her hat and holding it in her lap.

Kyla watched her, then pulled Louis away. “Please don’t make any promises to her that you won’t keep,” she whispered.

He nodded. Kyla started to say something more, then just shook her head. She linked her arm through Grandma Channing’s, and the two women left without looking back.

Channing had been watching Lily and turned to face Louis. He pulled a folded paper from his breast pocket.

“Before I forget, a woman named Daphne Mayer called me yesterday looking for you. She wants you to call her.” Channing held out the paper, one eyebrow cocked. “The African-American Cultural Center?”

Louis took the paper. “It’s a long story,” he said. He hesitated, searching for just the right words. “There’s no way I can ever thank you for doing what you did, Sergeant.”

“Yes, there is,” Channing said. He tilted his head toward Lily. “Just do like Kyla said.”

They shook hands, and Channing left. The bell tinkled, and the store was quiet. Louis went to the corner.

“Lily?”

Her face came up. Tears glistened on her cheeks. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. “I don’t even know you yet.”

She lowered her head again, picking at the yellow ribbon on her hat. He knelt in front of her.

“We have lots of time to get to know each other,” he said. “And I won’t be far away.”

“Florida’s a long ways away. I looked on the map. And I’m afraid you’ll forget about me again.”

“I have the picture you gave me, remember? How can I forget somebody so pretty?”

She suddenly came off the chair and threw her arms around his neck, smothering him in rabbit fur and soft curls. It surprised him, and for a second, he froze. Then his arms closed around her, crushing her to him.

Lily broke away first. He was grateful she made the move, because he had no idea how she would have read it if he had. Her eyes were brighter, the tears dry.

“So, are you going to do it?” she asked.

He knew what she meant. Was he going to look for his father? He had no answer for her that didn’t sound wrong. Maybe he had no answer at all. Because, suddenly, that familiar and resounding no was not the first word that popped into his head.

“I can’t promise you that yet,” he said gently. “Can I give you a maybe?”

Disappointment colored her eyes, and she dropped her head. He touched her chin to bring her head back up.

“How about I let you know September second?” he asked.

“On my birthday?”

“Yeah,” he said. “On the ferry on the way over to Mackinac Island. If your momma says it’s okay. Is it a deal?”

She stuck out a white-gloved hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it. Then she looked to the door.

“I need to go,” she said. “If we get there late, I won’t get any of the M amp;M cookies before service.”

He pushed to his feet. “You go ahead,” he said. “Tell your momma I’ll call her when I get home.”

Lily grabbed her bonnet from the floor and hurried out of the store. He walked out behind her. Channing and Kyla were in the front of a silver Lincoln idling at the curb. Grandma Alice was waiting for him to leave so she could lock the door.

She gave him a final stern look and grunted a goodbye. She ushered Lily into the backseat and got in beside her.

The Lincoln pulled away. Lily waved from the back window. He stood on the sidewalk watching until the car disappeared.

The air smelled of lilacs. The smell was so strong he stopped to look for the source, but the bushes beneath the windows of the Law Quad were still brown and bare. He walked on, the sun warm on his back.

You sure you won’t come with us?

I need to get home, Joe. Maybe…

Maybe. That seemed to be the word they said to each other most often lately.

Maybe. That’s what he had said to Lily, too.

Maybe. Suddenly, it seemed like the most pathetic word in the world.

Daphne Mayer was coming up the street carrying a cardboard tray of four coffee containers as Louis rounded the corner onto Main Street.

She saw him and smiled. “You got my message.”

“Almost didn’t,” Louis said. “I’m flying back to Florida tonight, so I thought I’d stop by.” He lunged for the door. “Sorry! Let me get that for you.”

He followed her inside. The place had been transformed since his last visit, most of the boxes restacked against a wall and the bar cleared. Some of the old cocktail lounge’s booths had been turned into desks, topped with computers. Three young black women greeted Daphne, gave Louis a glance of curiosity, and went back to their work.

Daphne delivered a coffee to each of them and came back to Louis, holding the fourth cup. “Want to split it?” she asked.

Louis shook his head. “No, thanks.”

“Mr. Coffee died this morning, may he rest in peace,” she said. “And nothing gets done around here without a lot of caffeine.”

Louis tried not to let his impatience show.

She sensed it and set her coffee down on the bar. “I guess you want to know why I called.”

“Your note didn’t say what this was about,” Louis said.

“I know. Because when we first found this, we weren’t sure it would be helpful to you,” she said. “Wait here.”

She went over to speak to one of the students, who handed her something. She came back to Louis and held out a slender book. The red leather was faded to brown, the edges rounded with wear. There was no title.

“Go ahead, open it,” Daphne said. “But be careful. It’s very fragile.”

Louis took it. The spine gave a gentle crack as he opened to the first yellowed page.