The Langston's

In the year 1961 $20,000 would make a world of difference to a newly made widow. Bills were piling on the kitchen counter of Mrs. Langston’s quaint cottage home on one of the quietest streets in Delroy, Mississippi. Mr. Langston left a line of debt in his place five months after his passing. His death was still a mystery to Mrs. Langston. One moment he was standing by her outside of their favorite diner on 3rd St., Willaminas. A split-second later Mrs. Langston’s scream rang out on the busy street as her husband, fell to the ground next to her feet gasping for air. Blood leaked from his mouth and covered his white tee-shirt as well as her periwinkle stilettos. He took his last breath on the way to the hospital, all alone. It hurt Mrs. Langston that she was unable to ride with her husband in the ambulance. She wanted to hold his hand, the same hand she held since she was fourteen. She wanted to let him know she was by his side, just as she promised. She took that vow over twenty years ago where I love you’s were exchanged, in front of that same diner. Most importantly, she wanted to ask if he saw who was responsible for putting him on his deathbed. He was all alone and now so was she.

“Gots’ a package for you Mrs. L” said Denny Hays, the mailman and neighborhood gossip king. “You want me to leave it on the porch here?” He said curiously as Mrs. Langston was kneeling in her garden attending to the cilantro. “No, no that’s alright” she said as she got up, gently removing her red gardening gloves. “Who’s it from Denny?” said Mrs. Langston, placing her gloves in the chest pocket of her worn overalls. “Says here Stanley ‘Shaky’ Langston. I’m guessing one of Williams kinfolk. Funny though, looks like he addressed it to William. Guess news travels slow up there to the big city.” She reached to grab the package from Denny Hays’ callus hands. She said with a raised eyebrow; “Shaky was at the funeral.” Mrs. Langston looked over the package that was addressed to her late husband from Washington D.C., thinking maybe the package was lost in the mail awhile back and was just making its way down to Mississippi. “How are you Mr. Hays? How’s the family? I saw Mary Ann and the babies at the sto’ last week. They not babies no more huh…” She said, walking to take a seat on the steps of her porch. “Oh yeah! Youngest turns 12 next week. Oldest on his way to high school. Can you believe it Mrs. L? High school.” Denny said shaking his head with a smile that declared pride. “No Denny, I can only imagine” she responded with a gracious smile. “Yeah, well you take care Mrs. L. Stop by the house sometime, I know Mary Ann would love to catch up with you.” Mrs. Langston waved as Denny turned away and continued walking his route.

Mrs. Langston stared at the small package wrapped in brown paper for a few minutes. Memories of her husband grazed her mind and blushed her cheeks. With tears in her eyes, she began to open the package. A letter fell from the package and it read..

“Nadine,

I’m sorry to have left you the way I did. Remember a few years back when I went up to DC for the weekend? Well I got into some trouble with some unforgiving folks, baby. Some folks that claim to be your friend, ain’t always what they seem. That’s what you used to tell me, and baby you were right. I know times are tough, but you are a strong woman you will make it through. With this letter I’m sending you my journal. I wrote in it everyday since we've been married. Every time you find yourself missing me, I want you to read a page from this little black book. I asked Shaky to send this to you if anything were to happen to me. I love you more than words can say. With all my soul,

Willy”

Mrs. Langston felt her heart shatter and she found herself gasping for air. She thought to herself this must be how Willy felt laying in that pool of blood on the ground, she too felt as if she was dying. She sat on the front porch of the home that once was shared with the love of her life. She sat there and she sobbed.

A few days later Mrs. Langston brought herself to open Willy’s journal. She had been missing her husband for five months now, of course she wanted to read his words. She opened to the first page and began to read.

“Monday, November 17, 1941

I saw my life right before my eyes today. Her olive eyes were brighter than they’d ever been & her smile took the breath from my chest. She stood in front of me with her knotted crown glowing for the whole block to see. Yeah, she was a sight. Her bare almond shoulders shimmered in the warm light that peaked through the windows of the church. Every man, woman and child rose in astonishment to take in the beauty that was her. She blessed every eye with her grace & me with her trust. I saw my life and she became my wife.”

“Nadine!” an unrecognizable voice aggressively shouted from the front door of Mrs. Langston’s home. She immediately shut the little black journal and rose to her feet from sitting at the kitchen table. “Nadine! It’s me, Shaky! Shaky Langston. Willy’s big brother. I need to talk to you.” Said Shaky, bringing his tone to a lower volume but still holding belligerence. Mrs. Langston walked up to the door from the kitchen. As she passed through the living room, she stumbled over her feet out of hesitance. “Shaky? I didn’t know you were in town. What brings you all the way down to these parts?” she said nervously. “Open the door Nadine, please.” Mrs. Langston made it to the front door with one hand on the top lock and one sweaty palm wrapped around the doorknob. “You in some kind of trouble Shaky? You sound agitated.” she said trying to get more out of Shaky before welcoming trouble into her home. Shaky didn’t come around often but when he did it was likely problems to follow. Mrs. Langston couldn’t help but remember the note from the package. It was in DC that her husband was caught up with bad folks, likely bad folks of Shakys. “No, no Nadine. Now why would I bring trouble to my little brothers’ wife? I just wanted to talk to you, I’ve been thinking a lot about Willy. About the weekend up in the city he spent with me. I’ve been feeling real guilty Nadine, real guilty. I just need to talk to somebody.” said Shaky. Mrs. Langston could here the sorrow in his voice, so she unlocked the door & welcomed him in.

Shakys dark brown hand was wrapped tightly around a stainless steel revolver. Mrs. Langston for the first time in her life, found herself looking directly into the barrel of a gun. “Nice to see you Nadine.” Shaky said with a solemn glare. “You and Willy planted a tree, the favorite one. Take me to it, now.” demanded Shaky. Mrs. Langston grabbed the first shoes by the door, never removing her sight from the gun that was pointed at her head. She timidly walked out of the door and down the steps of her porch. They headed behind the small yellow cottage, into the field where the magnolia trees blossomed.

Twenty years ago, on November the 17th Mr. & Mrs. Langston purchased seeds at a market by the diner on 3rd St. They planted them in the field behind their home. They wanted trees to grow as their love grew. Strong and sturdy, withstanding all storms and the unbearable Mississippi heat. They would watch as the trees blossomed every May and they would celebrate another year of endurance. On this warm day in June Mrs. Langston was only walking the straight line of deep green leaves and creamy white petals, to avoid painting the lawn red with her blood. “What’s going on Shaky?” said a trembling Mrs. Langston. “Please Nadine, just walk. I’m sorry to be doing this to you, it’s just… well my brother, your husband, he left without paying me what I was due.” said Shaky. “We don’t have any money Shaky. You should see the bills that are stacking. If he had any money, I know he would’ve told me.” Mrs. Langston pleaded to the man holding a gun to her head. Shaky remained mute until they made their way to the second to last tree in the row where Mrs. Langston paused. “This here is it. Its blossoms are the boldest because of how the sun hits it from the west at sundown.” Shaky placed the gun on the back of Mrs. Langston’s head and said to her firmly; “Dig.”. “How? Where?! Shaky please!” she said no longer able to fight back her tears. “On the west side where the sun shines the boldest, use your hands and dig.” He said pushing her to her knees.

Mrs. Langston dug for what felt like hours, when she uncovered what looked to be a shoe box. Shaky Langston pushed her to the side, grabbed the rectangular box, and brushed off the dirt. “I guess your husband wasn’t just dishonest with me.” Shaky said with a sarcastic smirk as he removed the lid and shook the neatly wrapped twenty-dollar bills in Mrs. Langston’s face. Her eyes welled up with a new set of tears, this time filled with betrayal. Shaky rose to his feet, gave Willy’s widow a pat on her shoulder with his hand gun, and made his way back through the field. Mrs. Langston waited until she could no longer see Shaky before rising to her feet. Just as she got up, she heard a gun shot “POOM”. She stood still in shock, that was until she saw a figure walking towards her. Her heart dropped, as did she back to her knees. She knew that walk anywhere, from any distance, at anytime of any day. “Willy!” Mrs. Langston wailed out as she gathered her limp body and made it back to her feet. She ran to the open arms of her husband. Her tears were now filled with pain, joy, and amazement as she held her dirt covered hands to the coffee complected cheek of her only love. He looked into the sunburst of her eyes and her into his pools of maple as they smiled. “You...” Mrs. Langston muttered. “I’m here.” said Mr. Langston with his thunderous voice. “But you were gone.” She said taking in the familiarity of his comfort. “I promise you I’ll always be here.” He responded with reassurance. Just as he was there, he was gone. Mrs. Langston looked to her right and saw Shaky Langston laying on the porch with a gun wound to the head. It appeared he had shot himself. Mrs. Langston felt her body shutter and she fainted.

When Mrs. Langston woke, she found herself laying on the sofa in the living room. She noticed on the coffee table was the little black journal sitting on the top of the shoe box filled with money. The journal was opened to February 2, 1961, 3 days before Mr. Langston’s death.

“My own brother, I don’t trust him much these days. He says that he is hopelessly in love with Nadine. That he’ll do anything to have her. I told him over my dead body.”

The police sirens rang closer and Mrs. Langston held her husband’s journal close to her chest. William Langston was her protector & provider even in death.

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