His Third Wife

There was a pause. And then, “You’re picking again.”

“I’m not picking. I’m just asking. It’s an obvious question.” She held out the picture to Val. “This him?”

“Yes. Him and his raggedy-ass mama,” Val snarled. “Hate that old bat.”

“At least you’ve met her. I can’t say the same about her son. Don’t seem right neither. Got to read about him in all those articles you send me. Can’t tell enough about a man just by reading about him. Words don’t make a man.”

“Damn, Mama Fee! What’s that supposed to mean? Because you’ve never met him, something’s not right? You don’t trust me?”

“I didn’t say that either, girl. It just means I would like to have known him first—before he married my youngest daughter. Known what kind of man he is. Stuff your daddy would’ve done.”

Both mother and daughter paused at the mention of a daddy. He’d been long gone. Had been a good man. But had disappeared one evening after leaving a bar following a fight with one of his white coworkers. Everyone had cursed him for leaving Fee alone to raise three girls. They’d never eat right again. There had been rumors of another woman, another family in Kentucky. Soon, Fee had believed these rumors, but then his body had floated to the top of a forgotten old swimming hole at the back of town. There’d been a noose tied to his neck. No genitals left on his body. No one had ever been interviewed, interrogated, or charged.

“A rich man. A powerful man. That’s what kind of man my fiancé is. That’s what you need to know,” Val finally said in a voice so vindictive it promised some secret punishment for a private vendetta.

“A man who works on his wedding day?” Mama Fee asked.

“God, would you just leave that alone? Look, Jamison didn’t want anything big. He just got elected to office. I’m his former assistant. I’m pregnant. The press, they’ll run all over it. They’re still running pictures of his first wife in the newspapers here. ‘Kerry Jackson.’ Fucking press.”

“The press?”

“The press. Yes, the newspapers. The fucking websites. I have to think about that. We have to think about that. I’m marrying the fucking mayor of Atlanta, Mama Fee. Jamison Taylor. Not some jailbird like Patrice did.”

“I know, baby. I heard you a million times before.”

The sound of the beautiful stones and pebbles cracking beneath tires in the driveway announced a new arrival.

Val jumped up from her empty champagne flute with amazing ease and stepped quickly to the mirror over the fireplace. She puckered her lips, cleaned her teeth with her tongue, smiled, and was out the front door.

Mama Fee looked back out the window in time to see the soon-to-be son-in-law she’d never met close his car door and lean into Val’s open arms with a stiff back. He was carrying a laptop in one arm. Had a gym bag draped over the other shoulder. Was wearing sweats. Mama Fee looked from him to the picture in her hand. Alone in the silent room, she looked over her shoulder for the maid and then slid the picture into her purse.

“You’re late, Jamison,” Val said outside. “We’re going to have to hightail it downtown if we’re going to do this today.” She paused, but he didn’t say anything. “We are doing this today. Right?”

“Jesus. A million questions. I just got here.”

“My mother’s here.”

“I know,” Jamison said. “I bought the bus ticket.”

Val stood in front of him with her feet firmly planted in the pebbles and stones like a little girl about to cry.

“So, we’re doing it?” she repeated after recovering with a hand on her hip.

“Yes.”

“I’m just asking because we were supposed

to go before the judge earlier and—”

“We’re going to Forsyth.”

“Forsyth County? Why? That’s too far away.”

“It’s just far enough. I can’t risk everyone knowing about this.”

“They’re all going to know soon. Right?” Val asked, setting off a conversation they’d had most every day since she’d announced she was pregnant.

“Yes. I just need to keep this quiet now. Until we’re married. Then I can release a statement about you and the baby. I need to control the situation. Get in front of it. I’m still dealing with Ras’s shit. And Jeremy with those hookers in Biloxi. I need some time out of the headlines.”