CHAPTER ONE HOME
CHAPTER
ONE
Home
Lee was furious at being discharged but, if he was honest with himself, a part of him was also relieved. He’d joined the army to secure a future with Cora, and now that that had been lost, he’d seen enough, done enough, and wanted to go home.
On the ship to New York and on the train down south he couldn’t help but think of the reverse journey when they’d headed for Europe: he and Green George had been full of plans for the future.
Green’s Whiskey would have made a great business, the two of them brewing side by side.
Lee knew he could have sold to the music clubs he used to play at, and Negro League players would have made distribution easy, jumping at the chance for a side income on the road.
With the Negro press on their side, they’d have been off and running.
Lee didn’t go straight home to Florida. He needed to see Green George’s momma first. He owed him that.
At the Greens’ place in Tennessee, he got a hero’s welcome, and the family’s strong appreciation for taking the time to come out there to pay his respects.
They knew all about the whiskey-business plans; Green George had written to them abuzz with the idea nearly that whole last year, barely mentioning the war but full of whiskey ideas.
His momma said it was a shame it wouldn’t happen now and wondered if Lee might still do it, to honor her son.
It hadn’t occurred to him to go solo with it, but by the time he’d traveled on to Florida, he’d started truly considering it.
Uncle Drew met his train with tears in his eyes, and he embraced Lee with a vice grip that said more than words. At home, Lee asked him about Cora.
Not writing to her when he was thousands of miles away was one thing, but now, back in Mangrove Bay where everything reminded him of her, the longing to be with her was stronger than ever.
He wanted to fight for her and win her back, but she wasn’t a prize to be won.
She was a woman who had made a choice and, although it shredded him from head to toe, she’d picked Roscoe.
Lee needed to see for himself that she was happy without him and that she’d moved on.
If he saw that, he might be able to get over her.
So, the day after he got back, he went to her house and, with his nerves dancing in his gut and his pulse pounding in his ears, he knocked on her door.
He took deep, steadying breaths waiting for her to answer.
When she opened the door, his heart stopped.
She looked beautiful. She’d grown her hair and lost a few pounds.
It suited her. So did the wash-worn apron and the tiredness pulling at her eyes. Everything suited her.
She gasped when she saw him. Then she covered her mouth with her hands as tears pooled in her eyes.
He smiled. ‘Hello, Cora.’
She made a noise somewhere between a squeal and a sob and rushed at him, barreling into his chest, squeezing her arms tight around him.
His chest clenched and his throat caught as his arms circled her, and he couldn’t help feeling he was finally home.
Quickly, he schooled his thoughts. She was Roscoe’s wife now.
‘I’m sorry.’ She spoke the muffled words into his chest between the rise and fall of her crying. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He kissed the top of her head, as a friend, but let his lips linger over the silk of her hair. ‘I’m sorry too.’ She felt so good in his arms, as if a piece of himself was fitting back together. He squeezed her tighter to keep his hands from wandering down her back. ‘If I had to do it again …’
She lifted her face to his and put a finger to his lips. ‘No. You’re alive. You’re back. That’s what counts.’
The softness of her eyes melted his heart. He felt himself bend toward her, stopping inches away from her lips, which parted at his approach, her warm breath on his hot skin. She was married to Roscoe: this was a line he must not cross.
He closed his eyes and breathed her in. She smelled of cocoa butter and mint. Even as he told himself not to, he leaned in closer.
‘Roscoe?’ came an excited shout from inside.
Lee and Cora jumped apart. From the hallway Cora’s momma glared at them, seeing that the man with his head bent to Cora’s wasn’t who she’d thought. He let his arms fall and stepped back.
‘Oh. Lee. For a minute there I thought you were Cora’s husband.’
Cora’s cheeks flushed and Lee felt the blood rush to his own face.
‘Good afternoon, ma’am.’ He ducked his head in a greeting.
‘It’s good you made it back in one piece.’ She sounded genuine, her anger dissipating.
‘Thank you.’ He clasped his hands to his front. Then, feeling awkward, he let them drop to his sides. ‘It’s good to be back.’
‘Our Benny and Cora’s Roscoe aren’t home yet. I guess if you’re here, the others won’t be far behind.’
It didn’t seem the time to explain why that wasn’t necessarily so.
‘Have you been to see Mae? To pay your respects for Jasper?’
‘Not yet.’ He glanced at Cora. ‘I came here first.’
‘Well, come on in, soldier man,’ she said smiling at him, the warmth and welcome full in her voice. ‘Cora’s got some yams and greens cooking that’ll stretch for one more. You hungry?’
‘I could eat.’ His stomach rumbled at the smell of Cora’s home cooking, then flipped and spun at the feel of her hand slipping into his to pull him inside.
One evening with Cora reminded him why he’d fallen so hard all those years ago, and in a matter of hours his plan to walk away began to fizzle and fade.
He felt happier around her, more focused, more carefree, more alert, more alive, and not having her in his life seemed like an unnecessary hardship.
Surely they could just be friends. There’d be no harm in that.
Despite Cora’s prodding, he wouldn’t talk about what happened between them and didn’t want to hear how she and Roscoe wound up together, or anything about their marriage.
Losing Cora was a wound that would never fully heal, and he didn’t have the strength to go poking around at the particulars of what went wrong, or when and why she turned to Roscoe. That was a pain best ignored.
As the months went on, Uncle Drew questioned if a friendship with Cora was healthy for him, but Lee decided he didn’t care. He found himself falling for her again and again and again, and he just wanted to be near her even if sometimes it felt like torture.