Minerva's Ghost

Amanda stepped from her scented bath and dried herself with a luxurious white terry towel. She rubbed her curly red hair as dry as she could with another towel, dropping both of them into the washer on the way to her closet. Since it was barely spring she chose a silk and wool blend fitted black dress, sheer black stockings, garter, bra and slip and finally black pumps. She dressed carefully in a futile attempt to look “respectable”, something a woman as beautiful as she found completely elusive. Her legs were too long, her waist too tiny, her breasts too full and high, and her hair too long and wildly curly. Men looked at her and saw a body. Women looked at her and saw a rival. Few people of either sex saw her as a person, and an accomplished one at that.

She dabbed on a little makeup with sunscreen to protect her fine white skin and twisted her heavy hair into a neat twist that began to resist the taming almost immediately. She highlighted her big brown eyes with discreet touches of shadow and mascara and attached her Aunt’s diamond and ruby earrings to her earlobes. By the time she reached the front hall her red corkscrew curls were already escaping the pins.

Minnie had recently hired a consultant named Gabriel Hall to help her with some work related issues. She had introduced him to Amanda but not really given her much of the background of the issues she had him investigating. “He’s going to be helping you learn about accounting controls, the kind of stuff that keeps companies from being robbed blind by their employees,” Minnie said. Amanda knew she needed to know about what he could teach her, but Amanda had been so attracted to him she had not even questioned Minnie as she would have normally. He was tall and dark and built and she lost her train of thought every time he walked through the building. It made her nervous being that attracted to a man and she had deliberately avoided him.

But then things started happening that brought them together. Minnie had an accident. It had been serious. She was hurt when her truck ran off the road. Gabe had been the one to tell her after his friend, the local sheriff had come to the administration building. She couldn’t believe Minnie would not recover, but wishing didn’t always fix things.

Her Aunt Minnie, Minerva Godwin was dead and buried. Now it was time for Amanda to stand without her. The woman who had been her anchor and her strength through her difficult adolescence had expected a celebration for her passing with not one minister in attendance or standard religious rhetoric mentioned. Minerva had been a strict adherent of the old religions, being part Welch and part Cherokee, and had little, if any contact with the usual male dominated, power and money driven churches of modern life. Amanda was no different. It infuriated her relatives, but she was well prepared for the lonely path by Minnie.

Minnie explained that many men feared the idea, much less the reality of a woman who would be more a partner than a possession. “A woman wasn’t made to be an ornament. She’ll start to think for herself at some point. She’s got a brain no matter how young she may be when a man finds her, and she’ll start to think for herself no matter how many times he tells her she’s stupid. Find a man who can handle the concept that you’re his partner in the fullest sense. Any other kind will make you miserable. If he doesn’t view life as a celebration and isn’t sweet to you and respectful, don’t fool with him. He’s not worth the time of day, much less your heart.”

Minnie believed implicitly in the whole concept of having fun, of taking life head on and not compromising. She’d been married just once but had countless male friends and lovers. Her one serious love seemed irreplaceable. She was terrifyingly intelligent, too passionate, and most men were intimidated by her outrageousness and financial success. She was kind to all, but a straight talker, none-the-less, and she never forgot her life lessons. If someone proved untrustworthy, she always remembered. She said it saved confusion, if you managed to remember whom you could trust and whom you could not. “It’s easy to forget in the rush of justifications that people make for doing others dirty. It’s all just excuses. People do what they want. The trick is to know which way they’ll jump and why. You pay attention, Baby Girl. They’ll show their true colors if you pay attention.”

Well, today she would be paying careful attention. There would be some vipers at the lawyer’s office. She was wearing the rubies as a talisman against arguments.

Amanda drove Minnie’s ancient 70’s vintage Caddy, also candy apple red, to the lawyer’s office. It was a growling, souped up hot rod of a car that her Aunt had modified endlessly with Ben Foster, one of her lovers. The monster engine sounded out of place for street use. High performance exhaust headers, chrome tipped dual stainless steel exhausts and little muffling produced a discreet roar that was recognizable a good mile away. The engine had been blue printed and balanced, had a street legal racing cam and big twin Holley carburetors.

No other car sounded like Aunt Minnie’s. It was actually modified for drag racing, but too heavy to be competitive. Minnie had loved it and by keeping it in good repair had avoided spending money on cars. It was just one of the ways she managed to build her nest egg. “It’s a pleasure to drive a vibrator.” Minnie always said with a wicked grin. On the lower part of the dash was a small toggle switch, a secret weapon Minnie had only recently added. All the modifications were far cheaper than the smallest cumulative car loans.

Minnie’s lawyer was also one of her boyfriends. Tom was a good ten years older than Minnie had been when she died, but their acquaintance went back a to Minnie’s childhood. He had been her first lover after her husband’s death. Minnie had been married at 17 and a childless widow 25. She had never married again. She said she had too much to do to cater to a man full time any longer. She was sweet to her lovers but not marriage minded. Strangely enough she had many proposals through the years, but believed there was little reason to marry since she could not have children.

People did not believe she really meant she would not marry again. Neither the men she met nor women who considered her too much competition believed her when she said it. Minnie was independent and successful in her own right. She had made money on her own, making and selling herbs, creams, scents and talismans locally at first and then internationally. Her very eccentricity was the basis of her financial success. Her strangeness was her fortune. The most devout Christian, or anyone else for that matter would buy a love potion.

Amanda wondered what she would hear at Minnie’s lawyer’s office. Minnie’s lawyer, Thomas Harold Martin, Jr. was a good corporate lawyer, still cagey enough for the fight and experienced in matters of probate and succession planning. Amanda knew some of Minnie’s plans, but her aunt never told anyone everything. It wasn’t her way. Minnie had been a master of distracting trivialities in conversation. She had an upper crust southern accent that sounded elegant all the time, even when she was discussing business or cars or delivering a reprimand. It was strange in such a free spirit, but Minnie was one of a kind.

Amanda parked the car and went inside. Most of the other times she had been to Tom’s office Minnie had been with her. She fought for control as she walked toward the building. She could not afford to show any weakness in this encounter with the opposition. Her only ally would be Tom, and his support was for Minnie, not for her as though he really knew her or cared for her in a real sense. Her father was Minnie’s husband’s younger brother, Ray. Tom disliked Amanda, blaming her, justifiably or not, for Minnie’s reluctance to marry him. He had never been able to hide his resentment of Amanda. Minnie told her no man wanted to raise another man’s child. Minnie explained it was something about them needing to be first, before anything else in a woman’s heart. According to Minnie, for women children came first, as was necessary for the survival of the species.

Amanda’s father died young in a car accident, a case of cosmic bad luck Minnie said. He was driving to work, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Amanda’s mother died bearing her, so they had already been living with Minnie. Tom’s intolerance of Amanda was a bad character flaw as far as Minnie was concerned.

Amanda expected lots of problems with Minnie’s in-laws. Uncle Moon, Minnie’s husband’s other brother, was a divorced drunk who was supported by Minnie along with his four children and ex wife. All his children were older than Amanda. He’d married young after his girlfriend, Gena got pregnant, not by him it turned out, but the marriage limped along for nearly ten years until Gena got fed up with Moon’s ways. 

Minnie said it was ironic that Ray and his wife had died young after being so careful, and Uncle Moon was still alive after grabbing every risk, both chemical and life threatening with both hands and was still around…and still not having fun.

He spent his life moaning for his ‘put-upon’ state and how unfair the world was to him. Maybe it was true. No one wanted to be around Uncle Moon. He was depressing on his best days. The rest of the time he was stoned and flying high on drugs and/or alcohol. His family was her concern today. Her cousins Heather, Rory, Michael, and Pete were like the Friday night fights every day. Their mother Gena was the former Gena Wadkins, of the more respectable branch of Wadkins, the ones who did not live down by the landfill. She had been as beautiful as Amanda when she met Moon, but almost totally lacking in anything except animal cunning under her big hair…no morals, no brains and no parenting skills.

Michael was the only one of Moon’s children who looked like him. The others all looked like Aaron Whitfield, Gena’s steady boyfriend through high school and beyond. The resemblance was so obvious that everyone in town including Moon’s three Whitfield offspring knew who their real father was. Even Moon knew and apparently did not care. He treated all four of his children like crosses to bear.

Gena was a few years younger than Minnie, but aging far less gracefully. On the downhill side of fifty, she looked like a coarse cartoon of her younger self. The lines of dissatisfaction were etched deeply and she was 100 pounds overweight. Worse, she was still chasing Aaron Whitfield who was unmarried and living with a girl half his age with whom he was working on another big family, not counting several other children born out of wedlock. He was youthful, still, unlike Gena, with curly blond hair and a good body even in his middle fifties.

Minnie had always admired Gena for finding a father for her children, even if it was poor Moon. She kept hoping Aaron’s one-man baby boom would come to an end, but he was still finding silly young girls who believed he had potential as a husband if they could trap him into marriage. Minnie said the foolishness of young girls was incredible in a modern world.

They were all present when Amanda pushed open the door, even Moon. He was apparently sober. He and his ‘sons’ Rory and Pete waited for her in the lobby of Tom’s building. They were always waiting for her somewhere, making stilted conversation that made her feel awkward. They wanted an intimacy with her but they had no clue what made her tick, and really had no genuine interest in her above the neck. Of all the people she knew, they were the ones most likely to make her feel of no account. It made her irritable and intolerant of their limitations. That always made her feel guilty and bend over backwards to be polite. As usual she hid her feelings and said a general hello to everyone.

Tom stood in the middle of the reception area with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He wore a linen, tie dyed tie that Amanda recognized as Minnie’s work. Minnie had loved sunrises and sunsets and had made many wildly colorful garments like the one Tom wore with his navy sports jacket. He did not look comfortable, and the tie looked new, as though it had rarely been worn. It was not his style, being unfashionably wide and fringed elaborately. Amanda realized he was wearing it in memory of Minnie. Minnie had been a flower child of the sixty’s. She made her clothing out of tie dyed natural fibers in linen, cotton or raw silk and had worn floating romantic fringed dresses all her life. The dresses looked like something one would wear with big hats, but Minnie never wore hats except in her gardens. Minnie’s whole life had been about being natural, down to earth and chemical free.