Southern Charm by Destiny Miller (distant reading txt) 📕

Ignoring the soreness from the long car ride I watched the Taxi slowly disappear down the road. Staring through the sheets of rain thinking that I made it, I finally made it to South Carolina. Just that one thought helped ease the bite of the wind that refuse to be cooperative.
This is the place where people showed up on the porch steps with flowers on birthdays, birth in the family, were the women bake goods to to help their neighbors on hard times, or a death in the family. This is the place where southern charm wasn't just a word but a way of living.
The down pour that was brutal on the way into town, was settling into a light summer drizzle making it easier to gaze at the old fashion homes; some had neatly trimmed gardens or lawn ordainments that decorated the yard, while others yards had bicycles abandon on their sides like their owners were in a rush, probably trying to make it inside before getting drenched or maybe in hopes of making it before the streetlight came on.
The colorful boutiques shops had plaques and signs that proudly declared their professions, big bay windows spotlessly clean. Old Victorian street lamps silently guarded the streets. Their light emitting a soft fiery glow that made the rain on the streets a cozy golden sheen.
Adele, South Carolina was exactly how I remembered it. Even though she stayed here only one full summer it was as close to a home as she ever had.
She remembered when her and her friends would drink from the hose that summer, or when it was a scorching hot day they raced to the creek were an old rope hung from a even older willow tree, or when they rushed home when the street lights flickered on.

Crossing the street I headed over to the towns park. It wasn't much of park, mostly filled with trees that were older than your great-great grandparents and a small pond that was home to a number of ducks, but it had enough swings and slides to keep the younger kids entertained and more than enough room for the older kids to play some football or tag.
Picking a wooded bench a few feet away that was settled under one of the oak trees, I sat on the harden wood while the coldness from the bench shot chills into my legs. Leaning back I took what it seems like my first breath of fresh air. Allowing myself to think about Grandma Lou, for the first time since my escape from Him

.
Even though she passed away after a year into my four year marriage to Reed, I could still hear her scolding and pleading with her vibrant southern drawl 'That Reed is just another rich thug who gets excited over pretty things he doesn't have, and once he has you, your old news honey bee. Or having a young wife, who one day is gonna be rich might also be a reason why he's so gung ho about marrying you.'
'He loves me

Grams, not your money'
'Of course he does, he asked you to marry him after you told him you'll inherit millions from me!'
'Grams, I don't wanna fight anymore, please? I love you.'
'I love you so much I don't want nothin bad happin to you Honey.'
I didn't listen to her. Reed put on an impressive show. Courted me for almost a year- he may not have been around for the whole year because of 'business' but when work was done he would always come back bearing flowers with skillfully said compliments and dinner plans to the most romantic restaurants.
Believing if a guy who called you every night while away on business and who would travel across the U.S just to see you the next day, had to be a keeper right?.
I should have seen that as a big ass red flag waving in my face. No

guy is that perfect.
Soon as Reed proposed and I said yes, things started to change.
The calls from him grew more frequently, being over obsessive in wedding preparations and his green monster seemed to always being hovering over his shoulder controlling his every thought. I couldn't even pick out my own wedding dress or bride maids for goodness sakes. It was so bad, I began to think he

might have wedding jitters and everything would settle down after the wedding.
I wished I believed Grams before I made the biggest error of my life. I wish I could tell Grandma Lou that she was right and that I was sorry, but as she always use to say with her sparkling deep green Scotland eyes that I inherited from her 'Catherine honey, why don't you put 'want' in one hand and 'shit' in the other and tell me which one you would feel first.' Without taking another breath she would launch into another speech telling me to get off my ass and out of this damn rain. Goodness gracious I sure do miss her.
Just thinking about her brought on another flood of tears. Hopefully the rain and the tears would wipe away the dirt and grimyness that resided there from my quick dash from California.

Heaving a sigh, I slowly rose and left the shelter of the oak tree, to set out to find the Bed N' Breakfast Grams use to take me to when we would go to The Bucking Bronc Rodeo fair when I was little.
Being the only one out at seven thirty at night should have been eerie but oddly it felt like the most normal thing I've done since leaving. But no matter how relaxing it was, it seemed I'm always plagued with thoughts of the impending divorce from Reed or The Trial. Knowing Reed, he'd kick up one big dust storm once the FBI approaches him with the news of going to prison.
The Feds told me to come up with a good enough lie to convince Reed to let me go away for a couple days, but instead I would be finding a hiding place in the country. Then the FBI could actually start the procedure on approaching Reed.
With the divorce paper being sent to Reed any day now, if he hasn't got them already. He'd connect the dots between divorce papers and the Feds attention on him and probably realize I'm not really away at the charity convention. Instead, realizing that I was the one who turned over the shocking evidence that will put reed and his buddies in prison for their drug organization. Reed will be- taking a quote from grandma Lou, 'A pig fit to be tied'.
Before I left California the Feds wanted to know if I would be willing to testify against them, the case is strong because of all the evidence, but having me testify would be icing on the cake. I guess in a way I could react some kind of revenge when Reed sees me on the stand testifying against him, while I get generations of my family homes back in our divorce settlement, unless he refuses. If so then I take more than half of his money. No brainer which one he will pick specially when he probably would need all his money to bribe and pay people off to get into a nicer prison.
Thinking about the case and the trial, I almost missed the cursive, hand carved oak plaque, that hung on a fairy tale white picket fence. In a deep honey gold painted bold loops it said, 'Sally's Bed N' Breakfast'. Jackpot.

Facing the Inn I could see the top balcony that ran the whole width of the house with sunny yellow draped windows that looked over the quite street. While the bottom half of the house had a wrap around porch with a pair of rocking chairs that sat proudly in the corner. Light slipped through the lower level bay window announcing it was still open. Looking at the familiar soft pink grand house, a pang of longing for Grandma settled in the middle of my heart, refusing to let go.
Releasing a pent up breath that I didn't know I was holding, I opened the gate that made a happy creak, almost as if it was welcoming me. Making my way steadily up the brick path and slowly onto the wooden porch I stood for a moment to finger brush my hair, and straighten my jacket. I wanted to at least look a little presentable. As soon as I reached to ring the door bell the door was swung open. A small white hair lady stood in the middle of the doorway, being haloed by the light streaming around her.
Being knocked off guard I started, "Do you have a room open?" Realizing how rude it sounded as soon it came out my mouth.
Ignoring my comment, the old lady fixed her liquid blue eyes on me, "Would you like some hot coco and cookies, sweetie?" Holding out her weathered hand the lady asked so kindly, it brought a sheen of tears to my eyes, while gently pulling me into the house.
She looked like an all American grandmother with her baking apron on, so different from my shoot first ask questions later Grams.
No make-up tried to conceal her laugh lines at her eyes nor was their any attempts to die her hair, soft silver hair was still proudly shown. She had an aura around her that just made you want to be a five year old again eating chocolate chip cookies and listen to her telling you bed time stories until you finial drifted into sleep in her arms.
Finally finding my voice, "I would like that, Thank you Mrs...?"
"You can just call me Sally, no Mrs or any of the other gibberish. You can go on in to the livin room to your right and go snuggle up in one of those afghans. I just made a batch of cookies that are just heavenly. The washroom is down that hallway." Even though she looked petite, she said it with the power of a women in charge. With that Sally glided through a beautifully white hand carved arch way, maybe she isn't so different than Grams than I thought, I reflected with a smile.
Following her orders I began to walk down the sky blue hall leading to the wash room. I didn't get very far until I noticed that the walls was nicely packed with new photos since I last visited. Some were groups of people laughing together, or couples smiling grandly at the camera, and some were just singles shots of people fishing or walking on the beach but in every single picture everybody was smiling and was as happy as it was their wedding day.
I never noticed until now, that in my house down in Malibu didn't have pictures hung up anywhere. Not even of Reed and I on our wedding day. Most wives should have pictures of their wedding day everywhere in the house because that's a date almost