Chapter 12
TWELVE
LYNETTE
“Aunt Bert’s still in the ER. Mama and Justus are in the waiting room with Uncle Ross.
Aunt Pauletta’s working on getting a flight.
Half the crew are at Granny’s in case she comes home.
The rest are scouring the neighborhood.” I updated my sisters on our family’s efforts while seated in my SUV in the hospital parking lot, windows down, trying to clear my thinking.
“It’s a mess.” I leaned against the headrest—eyes closed—willing a pounding headache to dismiss itself. My skin felt hot and my chest was tight with distress.
My aunt was injured. Night was descending and our beloved grandmother was somewhere none of us knew where.
“What’re the police saying or doing?”
I breathed a deep, cleansing breath before answering Bria. “Granny’s age and condition make her high risk, so they’re starting search efforts.”
“Thank God. Will there be a mention on tonight’s local news?”
“Bria, community awareness is essential but we ain’t waiting until then to tell heaven about Terracina Braxton. Soldier up y’all. We’re praying!”
Shay was the quick-wit with an ever-ready quip, but girlfriend was also a prayer warrior who didn’t play games with Satan. I felt the presence of God as baby sis went in, calling every available host of heaven.
“We cancel the design of the enemy! Every trickery, dark plot, and plan. We bind and forbid hurt, harm, or danger and declare clarity of mind to our beloved. We ask angels and ancestors to guide our grandmother home safely and thank you, Holy One, for her prompt return in advance. In the Lord’s name we pray and praise… ”
“Amen,” we concluded in unison.
I sat quietly with the sounds of Bria’s worship and Shay’s soft cries, permitting my soul to come to stillness as I inwardly offered heaven thanks. Opening my eyes to the darkening night sky, I still felt uncertain, yet I chose to trust. Everything would be alright.
Right?
“Lemme get back inside and see how things’re with Aunt Bert. Love y’all, and thanks for praying, Shay.” Their echoed words of love filled my ears as I disconnected.
I reached for my door handle but paused rather than exit. “I can’t do this…” I was devastated.
My grandmother was an integral, and irreplaceable, precious part of my heart.
Her smile, laughter, constant encouragement, and wisdom enriched my existence.
She was cherished. An extraordinary human.
I was beyond blessed at forty-six to still have a grandparent in the land of the living.
Inevitably, one day the cycle of life would carry Granny beyond my reach.
But the thought of her being somewhere out on the streets, disoriented or in danger, made me nauseous.
“I need a moment…” I took long, slow breaths to combat fear and anxiety. I spoke aloud as if she were listening. “Granny, please be okay. If anything happens to you… I will break… into pieces… millions…”
You and your sisters prayed. Trust my grace.
Inhaling that divine caution helped me relax a fraction. Still, glancing at the entrance to the hospital’s emergency room waiting area, I wasn’t ready to go in. I needed space from antiseptic smells, sterile surroundings, and evidence of injury and pain.
Be right back. Driving around a minute.
I texted Mama and Justus, started my SUV, and headed for the nearest parking lot exit.
My cell phone rang before I could pull onto the street.
I sighed seeing Rodney’s name on my dashboard console. Our game of phone tag was at an end. A discussion regarding our son’s possibly living in California was about to begin. Or rather, resume.
Tired, stressed, I was tempted to let the call go to voicemail, but answered despite my nerves being shot to hell. “Hey.” My one-word greeting was the best I had. My somber tone clued Rodney all wasn’t well.
“Whoa… what’s going on, Lynette? Is Justus okay? Are you?”
I’d held it together since Miss Hester’s call, but the pure, palpable worry in Rodney’s voice choked me. Broke me. I was on the verge of being a weeping wreck of mess. Wide open.
“Come on, babe. What is it?” The term of endearment slipped from his lips, effortlessly. Wrapped in his rich baritone, it was reassuring. “Whatever it is, I got you.”
Nodding as if he could see, I pulled over to the side of the road and quietly cried until I was light-headed. Dizzy. Slowly, I wiped my face and took cleansing breaths before slapping a chokehold on my emotions and spilling the day’s events.
Rodney’s long, audible sigh filled the space when I brought my family’s saga to an end. “Damn! This can’t be happening.”
Our sharing a son together made him a forever part of our clan. He genuinely loved Granny, as she did him. Our relationship hadn’t been happily ever after, but we’d forever be co-parents and, thankfully, we remained friends.
He whispered another, stronger expletive and fell silent before falling back into his typical calmness. “Hey… Nette, listen… Mama T’s safe—”
“You don’t know that.” My response felt traitorous after Shay’s prayer and my spirit’s prior words of grace.
“True. I don’t know, but I trust. As does your faith.” He continued when no rebuttal was evident. “This is hard but you got this. And I got you. What do you or the family need, babe?”
“Your prayers.”
“You have that. Anything else I can help with? Say the word and I’m on it.”
“I appreciate that. For now… keep me company.” I had no destination in mind. I simply needed to breathe. To think.
My cousins had already checked places Granny frequented, but I needed to feel proactive and decided to recheck them. I told Rodney my plans as my sound system announced an incoming call. “Hold on. It’s Justus.”
My child’s duress was detectable in the pitch and cadence of his voice. “Mom, can you come get me? I don’t wanna be here. This hospital’s making my throat itch!”
The sounds he emitted weren’t simple throat-clearing.
He was stimming—intentionally, repeatedly clearing his throat to cope with sensory overload and emotional distress.
I felt immediate guilt for leaving him there.
“Your fidget spinner’s in your backpack.
Get it. Use it. Stay inside with Nana until I get there, but I’m on my way. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I pulled into traffic and executed a U-turn at first opportunity while reconnecting with Rodney. Thankfully, I hadn’t traveled too far from the hospital and arrived minutes later to find Mama and Justus waiting outside the ER entrance.
Compassion and concern danced a duet across my heart as my son rushed towards our SUV. I angled my body to make eye contact with him as he scrambled into the back and fastened his seatbelt. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better.” He half-smiled in relief. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
We fist-bumped as his father’s voice drifted through my vehicle speakers. “Hey, son. You good?”
“Hi, Dad! Yes, sir. I am.”
I lowered my window and thanked my mother while Rodney and Justus did their check-in.
Their conversation gave me the opportunity to determine next steps as I exited the parking lot and re-entered traffic.
My family had searched Granny’s usually frequented places.
I needed to see for myself like somebody’s licensed investigator thinking they’d overlooked something.
The cemetery! Maybe she went to sit with Granddad.
Our family visited Granddad on his birthday. Father’s Day. Random holidays. But a desire to sit and talk with him could hit Granny without warning. When it did one of us took her to visit her beloved Aloysius.
I added the cemetery to my mental list.
“Mom, will the police get mad if we help look for Granny?”
I smiled at Justus in the rearview mirror. “Son, you stole my whole plan. Let’s do it.”
“I have a meeting I can’t reschedule, but I’ll check in later. Be safe. Both of you.”
“Bye, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you, son. Nette, keep me posted. Please.”
“Absolutely. And thank you.” I disconnected and put our private search into action. Just me and Justus.
Church. The seniors’ center. The cemetery.
The hair salon. Our search proved futile.
Granny wasn’t in any of those places, nor had she been.
The thought that it was best to let trained law enforcement do this tumbled through my head.
I ignored it. Time was passing. The day was dipping into twilight, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of my grandmother being somewhere other than with us.
Terracina Braxton is strong. Resilient. She is safe. Protected.
I let that mantra spool through my mind while driving down I-35. It snatched my thoughts from dark places where terrifying imaginations waited. It cleared my heart enough to remember fond times. Granny’s. Not mine.
Nostalgia rolled through me as we drove and I told Justus Granny’s stories of growing up “in the pride of the East Avenue side.” Before eminent domain devoured African-American homes and neighborhoods, replacing them with the noisy, crowded interstate.
Back in Granny’s day East Avenue was ample, wide and served as a demarcation separating the “Colored” from the white side. African-Americans, Latinos, and ethnic others inhabited one side of the tree-lined avenue with its plaza-like park. Caucasians on the opposite.
“Granny and her mother moved in with a great-aunt after her father died when she was twelve. The aunt had health issues. Her mother was a live-in domestic who left for work Mondays and came home Fridays.” Granny fended for herself as well as aided her household’s adults.
“By the time she was fourteen, she was working after school to help pay the bills.”
“Is that why she started sewing?”
I glanced at my son, glad for his interest. Family history and legacy were important.
Plus, talking about Granny held fear at bay.
Sharing her story interrupted imagining the worst, tamed worries for her wellbeing, and kept her in the present.
“Yes, professionally at least. Home economics was part of the curriculum in her day.”