Authors: Susan Gabriel
Tags: #Southern fiction
“He probably had someone watching the house, too,” Old Sally says.
Max extends his hand and Old Sally shakes it. The last time she saw him was the Christmas after he and Rose married.
Some men be afraid of them hugs
, she thinks.
But give me time. I’ll win him over.
Regardless, she can tell he is a good man.
“Mama, when we were fleeing the fire, I heard you talking to me in my head,” Queenie says.
“I know you did, baby.”
“But how is that possible?”
“There be all sorts of mysteries playing out all the time,” Old Sally says. “Besides, you may have more of me in you than you think.”
“Maybe I do.” Queenie says.
Violet and Jack arrive, winded from running from where they parked their car. Violet gasps when she gets close, as though swallowing a scream. Then tears begin and Queenie pulls her close. To see Violet hurting makes Queenie cry, too. Old Sally is so happy they get to be mother and daughter again.
“It be alright, Violet,” Old Sally says. “Important things can’t be destroyed. They be yours forever.” Now it’s her turn to give Violet a hug. The four women stand witnessing the sacred flames, while the men talk.
“My shoulder predicted this was going to happen,” Violet tells Old Sally. “After I got home it got so painful I walked into the emergency room. But the doctors couldn’t find a single thing wrong and now it doesn’t hurt at all.”
“That shoulder kept you safe and sound,” Old Sally says.
Violet agrees.
“I’m sorry about the house, sweetheart,” Queenie says. “But Mama’s right. We haven’t lost the important things.”
Meanwhile, Old Sally pictures all those secrets going up in flames with the Temple ghosts and the Temple house. The fire purifies and wipes clean all the sins and secrets of the Temple family.
A blessing can often be found in the center of a tragedy,
she thinks.
Despite the firefighter’s efforts, the blaze continues to burn through the early morning hours, fueled, she imagines, by a century’s worth of lemon oil massaged into the ancient wood of antiques. Some of that polishing coming from her. She can still smell that lemon oil on her hands sometimes, like a ghost at her fingertips.
A fire always draws people to it. It seems all of Savannah is here to watch the Temple house burn. Iris Temple spent most of her life trying to leave a legacy that people would respect, but she also saved secrets to threaten people with if she ever needed to get her way. With the Temple secrets purged and the house destroyed, the Temple family might be able to rebuild on a new foundation.
Old Sally senses her mother and grandmother watching the scene, their spirits finally liberated from the past. Both women worked at the Temple house, their tears and sweat embedded in the history of this place. Meanwhile, the scene holds them all captive, as they are called to witness the end of an era.
“I think Edward was in the house because he was looking for the key to the safety deposit box,” Queenie says, the first to break their silence. “Maybe he found it and started the fire. Or maybe the fire was an accident. But that safety deposit box held the
Book of Secrets
, as well as a bunch of other things that would make people nervous.”
Old Sally startles at Queenie’s words. Could there be more in that box than the
Book of Secrets
? Things Old Sally doesn’t know about? She forces herself to believe that it is finished. She doesn’t have the strength to do more. Either way, her part is over. She is certain of this. Only one ritual remains.
“Was the key somewhere in the house?” Rose asks.
“Nobody knows,” Queenie says. “Iris died without telling anyone where she kept it. At least as far as I know.”
Old Sally remembers where the key used to be kept. She found it one day while she was cleaning probably thirty years before. Among the old objects on the dresser, there was a new box there. She had opened it to see what was inside. The key was there on a small gold chain.
“But why would a key be so important?” Rose asks.
“The keeper of the key has the power,” Old Sally says. For everyone’s sake, she hopes that key is never found.
“Mama, did your dream show you how the fire got started?” Queenie asks. “The fire alarms attached to the security system didn’t work, even though I just had them tested last month.”
“It be Edward,” Old Sally says. “With the encouragement of Iris.”
“You mean on purpose??” Violet asks.
“Yes,” Old Sally says. “I don’t have proof, but I think Edward be a prisoner to the old ways, too, and needed things to change.”
Old Sally stands between Violet and Queenie near the old oak that holds court in the Temple garden. Like the houses nearby, it remains untouched by the fire. A slight breeze blows from the east, carrying the smell of the sea. The crowd has dwindled, leaving only a few firemen and family behind.
“Old powers claim people every day,” Old Sally says. “The Temple house burning to the ground be a fitting end to the old way. Now the cycle can be broken.”
Her words are soft and everyone leans closer to listen. It’s times like this when Old Sally becomes the elder of her clan, chosen to pass on messages from the ancestors. As if anticipating the final ritual, Violet asks everyone to hold hands and they form a small circle. Moonlight scatters at their feet.
“Now the dance between the masters and slaves can end,” Old Sally tells them.
“May it be so,” Violet whispers, and encourages the others to repeat it.
Old Sally feels no need to rush. She’s waited a century to fulfill this task. The task of letting go of the past. “Now all that hurt between us and the Temples be turned into ash,” she begins again. “That old way be gone. Now something new be coming.”
“May it be so,” they say together, and it is Jack who adds an “Amen.” She is glad Jack and Max are part of the circle, too. If they are uncomfortable in any way they don’t show it, which speaks well of her granddaughter and Rose’s choice of mates.
Silence follows. Still holding hands, Violet begins to hum a Gullah melody that Old Sally taught her, and that her Grandmother Sadie had taught Sally. The tune sounds sad and haunting at first, but then it rises and lifts on Violet’s pure tone, as if carrying a moment of grace for each of them. Old Sally rubs the goose bumps on her arms. Goose bumps tell her Spirit is close. As she sways with the rhythm, she looks up through the tree’s branches. A lone star peaks through. She has waited a hundred years for this one moment—the moment when her life follows the full circle of the moon. Gratitude fills her. There is nothing more powerful than knowing that you did with your life what you were meant to do.
They stand together until dawn. An orange sun, the same color as the dying flames, rises behind the Temple house. The scene is oddly beautiful, as a new day rises above the smoking ruins.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
One Year Later
Rose
Rich green moss grows where the Temple house once stood. Palm trees have been planted and dozens of camellias. A color palette of pastels spreads before her. Rose wants to come back and paint this scene. Sunlight pours through the garden, the only part of the Temple property that remained untouched by the fire. In the months afterward, Violet donated the land to the city of Savannah and city planners extended the original garden over to where the house once stood. A gold plaque that reads
Temple Garden
hangs on the wrought-iron gate that opens into the small park in honor of the Temple family. No posters or protestors are anywhere to be seen. It is as if the burning of the Temple mansion satisfied everyone’s need for revenge.
Rose opens the gate. She likes to think that all the Temple ghosts are buried here, along with all the secrets. The investigation into the cause of the fire was inconclusive. Arson was not ruled out, but there were questions about some of the wiring in the basement. After the fire, the leaking of secrets from the Temple book stopped. Did the person releasing them take pity on the Temples? Or was there another reason?
Shortly after the fire, Rose remembered something from her childhood. When she was maybe seven or eight years old, she came home from school one day and Old Sally wasn’t in the kitchen. When she went looking for her, she found her sitting at the Temple desk, a huge ledger in front of her that she had been reading for some time. Old Sally had told her that it was the
Temple Book of Secrets.
This was when it was still kept in the bottom drawer of her father’s mahogany desk that had been Rose’s grandfather’s desk before that and her great-grandfather’s desk even before that. Her mother would like that Rose remembers the history of it.
Old Sally hadn’t scolded Rose when she found her, but had said something peculiar that Rose can still remember, because it was like a riddle she could never figure out. Old Sally said:
There will come a time, Miss Rose, when this old book will spill all its secrets and then the Temples will be free.
Would Old Sally be capable of revealing those secrets if she thought it would release the past? For all she knows, Old Sally might have copied out every secret in that book in all those years she worked there. Yet this makes no sense either.
As Rose steps into the garden, her memory jumps to the night of the fire and the transformative moment with Old Sally under this same tree. The melody Violet sang plays again in her mind. That night marked a beginning for Rose. Although, if pressed to explain, she isn’t sure she could express what she means by that. Perhaps it wasn’t a beginning at all, but the ending of her exile from Savannah.
Something moves in the shadows. At first, Rose wonders if it might be her great-grandfather haunting the old tree, but it is someone else, someone alive. The well-dressed African-American woman is statuesque and is dressed like she might work on Wall Street. She stands underneath the live oak that has been in the garden for as long as Rose can remember. When the woman sees Rose she looks away, but not fast enough for Rose to miss the sadness in her eyes.
Rose calls across the garden: “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“It’s very beautiful here,” the woman says, as if this might somehow explain her sadness.
Rose agrees. The garden, now a mixture of new and old, has never looked more scenic. She wonders if it approves of its new purpose. The crepe myrtle that stood outside her bedroom window was scorched by the fire, but it came back the following season with the most astounding blossoms she has ever seen. Like the phoenix rising from the flames, the garden has risen to a new level of beauty. No longer in the shadows of the house, every plant and tree appears to have new growth.
Should Rose leave the stranger alone? To answer her question the woman walks over to her and introduces herself as Regina.
“It’s my first time in Savannah,” she says, “though I’ve wanted to come for years.”
Rose notices a gold ring with a red stone on her left hand. Her eyes widen as she stares at it, because the ring is just like Edward’s, except smaller.
“I’m wondering if you knew my brother,” Rose says. “Edward Temple?”
The woman looks at her, as if to determine her level of trustworthiness.
“I’m Rose,” she says. “Edward’s sister.” She extends her hand and they shake. The woman’s handshake is firm, confident.
“Your brother and I were very close friends.” Regina places the emphasis on
close
.
Rose tells her how sorry she is for her loss. “Were you friends for long?” she asks, although from the rings she is thinking they are much more than that.
“Twenty years,” Regina says. “We met on one of his trips to California and then I moved to Atlanta.” She pauses. “Actually we’ve been married for ten of those years,” Regina adds.
Rose tries to hide her surprise. Edward was married? The knowledge of her brother keeping someone he loved a secret for so many years, causes a poignant throbbing in her little finger. At that moment she wonders if she ever knew him at all. She can only imagine what her mother might have done if she knew that Edward was married to a woman of color. She might have required Edward to get a divorce before he received his inheritance.
“We didn’t know about you,” Rose says.
“Edward insisted that we tell no one in his family,” Regina says. “He was always afraid that his mother would disown him. I never even met her.” She hesitates and offers an awkward smile like tears might come next. Tears she doesn’t want to shed.
A breeze rattles through the Palmetto palms as Rose recalls Edward’s insistence at their mother’s funeral reception that he was married to his work. How sad it is that Regina wasn’t included in the gathering.
“It’s hotter here than in Atlanta,” she says, as she rolls up the sleeves of her blouse. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“People like to say you get used to it, but I don’t think you ever do,” Rose says. “I suppose it’s the price we pay for living in paradise.”
Regina nods, as if she likes the idea of paradise. “Oh,” she says. “I almost forgot. Actually, I was hoping to find you.” From her purse, Regina pulls out a small priority mail envelope and hands it to Rose. It is addressed to Edward and has their mother’s name as the sender. “I found this the other day and thought you might like it.”
Rose thanks her. She glances at the envelope and sees that it is postmarked the day before her mother’s stroke.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go seek out some air conditioning,” Regina says.
Rose turns toward her, not wanting their meeting to end. “We’re in the process of moving, or I’d invite you over for dinner,” Rose says.
“Oh, that’s all right,” Regina says. “I’m just passing through. I wanted to see, you know, where it happened and where Edward grew up. I had no idea the neighborhood was this lavish, but there was a lot I had no idea about.” Regina pauses and steps closer. “By the way, I didn’t think Edward should publish those secrets in the newspaper.”
Rose gives a half-gasp, half laugh. “It was Edward? But why would he release the secrets?”