Beyond a rise in the road, which was bordered by seemingly endless miles of white wood fences and vast expanses of blue grass that were unique to Kentucky horse country, we came to a dirt road that led a quarter of a mile up to a two-story A-frame house. Farther back and to the left was a barn with a corral behind, and to the right was a gazebo. I didn’t see any pigs or ducks, but there were chickens, and two large black-and-tan coonhounds watching us from the porch.
As we got off the bus, the front door opened and a beautiful, willowy woman with a ruddy complexion came out onto the porch, her gray hair piled up in a messy bun. Behind her came, I was guessing, her husband, a tall Black man with scalp-trimmed hair and a warm smile directed at us.
Nick grabbed my hand and led the way to the porch, and as we stood there, all of us fanned out, looking at his aunt and uncle, I had to wonder if them being an interracial couple had anything to do with Nick’s father wanting his mother to cut off ties with them. Perhaps it had been a contributing factor.
“Welcome to Shelton Farm, y’all,” Nick’s aunt greeted us, smiling wide, giving us a nod. “I’m Gwen, and this is my husband, Efrem.”
The man in question lifted his hand.
“We’re so happy to have you, and I’d love to get y’all settled.”
Nick took a breath, let go of my hand, and took a couple steps forward. I saw the tears welling up in his eyes. “You look just like her.”
“Oh, sugar,” she crooned and rushed to meet him.
They met in a tangle of arms, and she kissed both cheeks and his hair and hugged him tight as he pressed his face into the side of her neck and hung on for dear life.
Efrem met me with open arms and enfolded me, patting my back and telling me everything was going to be all okay. I really hoped he was right.
The house was a huge sprawling place with lots of windows and wood floors, exposed beams downstairs, thick rugs, quilts on every bed, smaller ones on the walls, a small TV room on the second floor, with a love seat and recliner, and an attic that the film crew claimed for themselves, covered in pillows, and with a table where Gwen normally worked on her various crafting projects, but that she’d cleared out for them to use.
I was put in a room at the end of the hall, with Nick next door, until he explained to his aunt that we’d be in a bedroom together. Gwen smiled and nodded and said that was good, because that way her son wouldn’t have to give up his room, since he was planning to drive up later that day.
“Josie and Paul stay in Lexington on most weekends, just coming up on Sundays for dinner, but of course, with y’all visitin’, they wanted to get to know their cousin.”
And meet the band, and be in the Netflix documentary, but I was careful not to say any of that. I could be jaded; it was a terrible habit. I didn’t say much, let Nick lead the discussions, and when they all sat down together, I took a seat near the window and listened.
Gwen was patient and answered Nick’s questions, got out the photo albums and let the camera crew get into position so they could see everything she showed to her nephew. I knew there would be interviews with family members, friends of the family, high school friends of his mother’s, and a whole array of other people. The hours upon hours of footage that would be shot just to eventually edit it down to the two-hour mark was interesting to contemplate.
“Nick,” Gwen said, returning my attention to the present. “We had your mother placed in our family cemetery, so if you’d like me to take you on up there to her grave, we can do that.”
“She’s buried here?”
She nodded. “When she passed, I told your father I wanted her here, and he agreed.”
“Have he or my sisters ever visited?”
“No, sugar, they haven’t.”
“Okay,” he said, taking a breath. “Can you tell me what happened with my mother and you, and why I didn’t know you growing up?”
“Of course.”
As I suspected, when Gwen Landau married Efrem Shelton, Sterling Madison had Nick’s mother cut ties with them. And it wasn’t just because Efrem was Black. He and Gwen were just starting out, and were poor. Sterling owned a horse farm and had been born into privilege, so Cora’s poor country relations were not welcome in his home or in his life.
But Gwen was a nurse, and Efrem was a plant manager of a veneer company in Winchester, about forty minutes away. Between their jobs and the farm, they’d done well and had put both their kids through college. Over the years their farm expanded, and they now owned fifty acres of beautiful, lush land. They lived simply, but they were by no means anyone’s poor relations.