“Why is a great-niece caring for her?” Brooke asked. “What about her own children?”
“Varina never married,” Josephine said. “Bad luck and bad decisions have haunted that family. There were three brothers, and all of them had their problems. Drinking, gambling, bad women, and of course, the damn diabetes. It killed Omar and Otis before they turned fifty. Varina helped raise her brothers’ children and then their grandchildren. Oh yes, they all love their auntie Vee, as they call her.”
“And you’re on good terms with her?”
Josephine coughed violently, startling the sleeping dogs, who jumped down from her lap.
Brooke waited.
“That pushy Felicia has put all kinds of wild ideas in Varina’s head,” Josephine said, dabbing at her lips with a sodden handkerchief. “When she came to see me, back in February, I assumed it was strictly a social call. But I was sadly mistaken. Shocked, really.”
“What did Varina want?”
“Varina never would have thought of it on her own,” Josephine said. “That girl—Felicia—she’s just like all the rest of this generation. Think they’re owed something. Always looking for a handout.”
Brooke waited.
“Can you imagine? She wanted me to deed over Oyster Bluff to the families living there. Just give it to them! Land I bought and paid for. And paid a fair price, I might add, when I could just have easily waited and bought it for next to nothing on the courthouse steps for back taxes.”
Josephine’s indignation sparked another alarming spasm of coughing. Brooke glanced toward the door. Should she call Louette?
A minute or two later, after the coughing subsided, Josephine’s face remained pink with remembered outrage.
“What was your answer?” Brooke asked, her face deadpan.
“I refused! And I let Varina know I was disappointed that she would ask such a thing of me, considering all I’ve done for that family over the years.”
“I thought the land at Oyster Bluff originally belonged to those Geechee families after the Civil War. Wasn’t the land given to the freedmen by the government?”
“It was, but as I said, the Shaddixes and the others chose to sell their land. In fact, they came right to this house and begged me to buy, because they needed the money. Nobody made them sell it, and I paid a very fair price.”
I’ll just bet, Brooke thought. “How much land are we talking about?”
“A little over twenty acres. When Papa was alive, it was a nice little community, with a schoolhouse, a commissary, and a church, but then, over the years, all the young folks moved off, and the families that stayed are either too shiftless or sorry to keep up with their property.”
“Don’t Shug and Louette live at Oyster Bluff?” Brooke asked. “Do they rent from you?”
“I wasn’t referring to them,” Josephine said. “What I mean is the others.”
“How did Varina take it, when you refused to deed the property to the residents of Oyster Bluff? Did you quarrel?”
“What could she say? She was embarrassed. I tell you, that pushy niece put her up to it. Varina never would have been bold enough to ask such a thing, in the light of our friendship over the years, which is what I told Felicia, right to her face, when she tried to pick a fight with me that day.”
“Did you fight?”
Josephine drew herself up as best she could in the sagging recliner. “We had words. She called me some very unpleasant names and accused me of taking advantage of Varina and their family. Can you imagine? Finally, I’d had enough. I told her to leave. And I haven’t seen or heard from Varina since that day. It makes me very sad, but what could I do?”
“It seems to me you could have done as Varina asked, if you cared as much about her as you say. It’s only twenty acres—and you have what? Twelve thousand? It’s not like you need that land. Or what little income you derive from the rent,” Brooke said earnestly. “Think of it, Josephine. Varina’s people were slaves. Abducted from their homes in Africa, then shipped here where they were bought and sold and worked and treated with less regard than mules or chickens. The government meant for them and their heirs to have that land as restitution. Why not give it back to them?”
“My family never owned slaves,” Josephine shot back. “Anyway, it’s the principle of the thing that I object to. Felicia has no right to make demands of me. That girl has no sense of gratitude, no idea of propriety. I’m afraid she’s poisoned Varina against me.” The old lady’s hands shook in her lap.
“You told me earlier you want to keep the state from taking your land and to make amends with your friends, including Varina, isn’t that right? So why not go ahead and deed Oyster Bluff over to the heirs of the original Geechee families, including the Shaddixes? Wouldn’t that go a long way toward repairing your relationship with your old friend?”
Josephine brooded over the suggestion, shaking her head. “I resent being backed into a corner like this. It makes me furious.”
“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Brooke suggested. “For one thing, if you deed the land over to those families, you’ll reduce your own tax burden. Right?”
“I suppose.”
“And you’d be doing a really good thing. You’re fond of Louette and Shug, aren’t you? Think of what it would mean to them—to own their own home again.”
Brooke paused, then reached out again and touched Josephine’s hand. This time the old woman sighed loudly but did not shake her off.
“Look, Josephine. You called me over here because you said you want to make things right, because you’re not sleeping. You said yourself, you don’t have much time left. If that’s true, why not start by returning Oyster Bluff to those families who still live there?”
“It’ll be a big mess,” Josephine grumbled. “Lots of paperwork.”
“That’s why you have me,” Brooke said. “I can get started on it right away, if you’ll get me a list of your tenants. My assistant can look everything up in the county tax office.”
“Fine,” Josephine said, throwing up her hands in surrender.
“Do you have contact information for Varina’s niece in Jacksonville?” Brooke asked.
Josephine motioned to the corner of the room, in the general direction of a huge antique mahogany Chinese Chippendale secretary. “There’s an address book in the top drawer of the desk. It has a blue leather cover. I might still have the last birthday card Varina sent me tucked in there somewhere.”
“What about a phone number for Felicia?”
“I don’t know. Just look in the address book.”
“While we’re on the subject, if I’m going to try to track down your friend Ruth’s family, I’m going to need whatever information you have. Old correspondence, anything like that with her last known address.”
Josephine’s eyelids drooped, first one, then the other, and she leaned her head against the back of the recliner. “Dear Ruth. She always had the cleverest Christmas cards. She was a wonderful writer, Ruth was. That was one of the things I missed, after our quarrel. Those damn Christmas cards.”
“Josephine?”
Brooke leaned forward. Her client was perfectly motionless. She gingerly touched her bony wrist. Her skin was cool, the skin dry as paper and brown-splotched. Brooke wrapped her fingers around the old lady’s wrist, watching her face for any reaction. There was a surprisingly strong pulse.
Josephine snored softly. Not dead. Just napping.