Sweetgrass. Mary Monroe Alice
“You can’t be serious!” Adele blurted out.
“Why not?” Morgan asked. “It makes perfect sense to bring him home. It’s even recommended by the doctors.”
Hank threw his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair in exasperation. “I should think it’s obvious why not,” he said. “The man can’t speak. He can hardly move!”
“Hank!” interjected Nan, horrified.
Mama June’s head swung toward him, speechless with disbelief.
“Why are you surprised?” Hank argued. “It may not be pretty, but it’s the truth. We can’t be romantic about this.”
“But we can be civil,” Mama June retorted.
“Mary June,” Adele said. “I thought we’d talked about this.”
“That doesn’t mean it is what I decided,” she replied. She could feel her back stiffening against the chair.
“This is ridiculous. I don’t mean to offend,” Adele said in that testy manner that informed she was about to do just that, “but everyone knows that Preston shielded you from financial decisions. You preferred it that way. Frankly, you can’t afford to bring him home. There’ll be medical costs, a decrease in family income and a rise in all of your fixed expenditures. You have to face the facts. You must consolidate and sell your assets.”
“You mean,” Morgan said flatly, “sell Sweetgrass.”
Adele turned from Mama June to look at her nephew, her brow raised at the fact that he’d entered the fray. Their eyes met and held for a long moment.
“Yes,” she replied succinctly. “Sweetgrass is your mother’s greatest asset. And it’s actually a very good time to sell.”
“How lucky for us he decided to have his stroke now,” Morgan replied.
Adele bristled.
“Adele,” Mama June said in an appeal for understanding. “This isn’t just about selling property. This is the family heritage. Preston has devoted his life to preserving it. Once Sweetgrass is gone, what will happen to us, to the family?”
Adele’s face hardened. “The family will simply have to move on.”
Mama June drew back. Her voice trembled with emotion. “I could never sell it out from under him. If the stroke didn’t kill him, that surely would.”
“Hank is right. You’re being romantic. I’m very worried about you and Preston,” Adele replied. “And disappointed in this decision.” She turned again to her nephew. “I think it’s plain irresponsible of Morgan to come home and interfere in what had already been decided by the family.”
Morgan folded his hands on the table, but did not rise to the bait.
Adele’s face tightened. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Mama June, is it so horrible to consider selling?” Nan asked. Her soft voice broke the escalating tension. “You and Daddy have worked hard all your lives. You never spend a penny on yourselves and I can’t remember when you’ve ever taken a vacation. Every dime you earn you put right back into this place. If you sell Sweetgrass, you’ll finally have a chance to take it easy. Really, Mama, won’t you have enough to worry about now just with Daddy? Why do you want to worry about trying to hang on to all this land, too? Let it go. Enjoy life a little.”
Mama June looked into her daughter’s large blue eyes, so much like her own, and felt her resolve slip. The thought of letting go of the burdens of Sweetgrass, of simply moving on to someplace easier, of not pinching pennies and worrying about money, was seductive.
Yet the guilt of letting go of the family land that Preston loved more than anything else weighed heavily on her mind.
“Won’t you miss Sweetgrass if it’s sold?” Morgan asked Nan.
Nan’s expression shifted as a soft smile reluctantly eased across her face. “Yes, sure,” she conceded. “I guess I will.”
“We all will,” Adele interjected, casting an impatient glance at her niece. “That’s not the point. We mustn’t slip into nostalgia or we’ll never be able to deal with what’s on our plate today. Besides,” she said as an aside to Morgan, “I thought you made your opinion perfectly clear years ago when you left. I believe it had something to do with dynamite and sending the whole place to hell.”
“He was angry,” Mama June quickly said. Making excuses for Morgan came readily to her.
“That was more about what was between me and my father than about the land,” he replied, the first hint of steel entering in his voice. “And to that point, this decision is between my mother and my father.”
He paused, meeting the challenge in Hank’s glare. Then, spreading his palms against the table, he said in a controlled voice that brooked no further discussion, “Mama June has listened to all of our opinions and weighed them. She’s made her decision.” He looked directly at his aunt. “I’m sure if she wants you to know something more, she’ll contact you.”
Mama June felt a tightness in her stomach as Morgan’s defense became offense. She glanced quickly at Adele. Her jaw worked at what she certainly viewed as impudence. Adele Blakely was not accustomed to such treatment and Mama June knew she’d hear no end of it.
“Well, I know when I’ve been asked to leave,” Adele said, springing to her feet.
“Adele, don’t go,” implored Mama June. Adele often felt pique and walked off in a huff, expecting others to make amends.
“I can’t say that I’m happy with this decision, but you obviously don’t want my opinion.” She shot a glance at Hank.
Hank rose and gave the let’s-go look to Nan. She promptly followed suit. Adele walked swiftly out, followed closely by Hank. Nan shrugged helplessly then followed her husband from the room. Mama June heard her calling up the stairs for the boys to hurry up, they were leaving.
Mama June sighed and pulled herself from her chair.
“Let them go, Mama,” Morgan said.
She was sorely tempted. She’d worked tirelessly for days to prepare this dinner and felt utterly spent. A mountain of dishes awaited her in the kitchen. She didn’t care at that moment if Adele agreed with her decision or not, nor whether she stormed off, not to be heard from for months, as she’d done in the past. Nonetheless, her upbringing dragged her to her feet.
“It goes against my grain to let a guest, much less my sister-in-law, leave my home upset.”
So she hurried after her, her heels clicking loudly on the polished hardwood floors. Nan was already at her car having a heated exchange with Hank. On the porch, Mama June placed her hand on Adele’s sleeve, arresting her hasty departure.
“Let’s not argue,” she said to Adele.
“I’m very upset.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But, dear, we need to come together now. For Preston’s sake. He needs us all.”
In a spontaneous rush, Adele stepped forward to hug her, tight and fierce. Mama June was swept back to long ago when they were best friends.
Adele pulled back and urged her with her dark eyes blazing, “Think again, Mary June. Before it’s too late.”
Then Adele released her and walked swiftly down the stairs to her car. Blackjack barked madly from his den beneath the porch.
Mama June heard the screen door slam behind her and felt her son’s arm slide around her shoulder. She sighed and leaned into him, relishing his kiss upon the top of her head.
They watched until Adele’s sleek Jaguar, followed by Nan’s Lexus, disappeared down the drive, then stood side by side for several minutes