only on Cooper. “Beau is your farruh , your pa?”
Cooper’s lips turn down. “Yes, ma’am. But we’re not very close.”
She shakes her head and sucks her yellow front teeth. “No, I expect you’re not. At least not now. How old are you, son?”
Cooper shoots me a quick sideways look, and I know he’s just as perplexed as I am about why the locals seem so interested in his age. “Fifteen. But only until the end of July.”
Her mouth pulls down in a sorrowful frown, and she shakes her head. “So soon.”
Cooper and I shrug in confusion.
Miss Delia unfurls the last of the bandage. Maybe my eyes are playing a trick, but I swear the blisters are bigger than they were a half hour ago. “You say this is a burn?” She holds his fingers in the palm of her hand and gently spreads them apart.
Jack winces. “Yes, ma’am. And it hurts a lot.”
She traces a blister with the tip of her crooked index finger. “This isn’t like any burn I’ve ever seen.” She purses her lips. “This will need powerful medicine. You sure you don’t want to see a doctor in town? Most buckruh don’t like to mess with hoodoo medicine.”
Cooper’s eyes expand. “You’re a root doctor?”
She cackles. “Of course, boy, what did you think I was? You came to see a Grannie, didn’t you?”
Cooper scratches his temple. “Ugh, I guess I didn’t give it much thought.”
Jack snaps his head around to us. “What the heck is hoodoo medicine? Is it like voodoo?”
Miss Delia drops his hand in her lap, making him yelp. “They are not the same. Hoodoo is for healing. It’s not my religion.”
“But do you use spells and stuff?” He pulls his hand back and cradles it to his chest.
She laughs and rocks in her chair. “When I need to. But that burn of yours doesn’t need any more magic than a few roots and plants. It’s up to you. Take what I’ve got, or get on out of here and find yourselves a doctor.”
“No doctors.” Jack’s voice is firm. Miss Delia raises her brow at his insistence, but he smiles and turns on the charm. “Because then, you know, our dads will find out about the burn, and they’ll worry about me.”
She smirks. “And you’ll have to tell them what you were doing when you got hurt in the first place.”
Jack actually blushes and nods. “Plus my friend Maggie said you were the best, so I don’t want to go anywhere else.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Be careful, Jack. Sweetmouth me like that, and you don’t know where it could end up. I haven’t had a gentleman suitor in a long time.” She winks her milky eye at me and tries to push herself up out of the seat, but the strain is too much. “Give me a hand now, boys, and we’ll go inside and see what I can fix up for that hand of yours.”
Cooper and Jack gently pull her out of the chair while I push open the front door. We follow her inside to the front room, a neat but sparsely furnished combination dining and living area. An old television with a big, fat dial runs in the background next to a slipcovered couch. The walls are tilted and cracked, but they seem sound.
I drop my messenger bag next to the door and am hit by one of the most heavenly scents on earth—fatback and collard greens must be simmering somewhere on a stove. My mouth waters as I take a deep breath. I can almost taste that salty, vinegary goodness. I love southern food. It’s one of the best perks of visiting my dad in the summer. Aside from seeing Cooper, of course.
Miss Delia reaches for a cane tucked next to the front door and slowly crosses the spring-green area rug on the way to a swinging door that leads to the kitchen at the back of the house. “Emma, could you give me a hand?”
“Sure.” I follow her toward the collard greens while Cooper and Jack make themselves comfortable on the couch.
My eyes pop. It’s a kitchen, all right. There’s an antique white porcelain stove, refrigerator, and sink, but there’s so much more. It’s got a
Cooper’s lips turn down. “Yes, ma’am. But we’re not very close.”
She shakes her head and sucks her yellow front teeth. “No, I expect you’re not. At least not now. How old are you, son?”
Cooper shoots me a quick sideways look, and I know he’s just as perplexed as I am about why the locals seem so interested in his age. “Fifteen. But only until the end of July.”
Her mouth pulls down in a sorrowful frown, and she shakes her head. “So soon.”
Cooper and I shrug in confusion.
Miss Delia unfurls the last of the bandage. Maybe my eyes are playing a trick, but I swear the blisters are bigger than they were a half hour ago. “You say this is a burn?” She holds his fingers in the palm of her hand and gently spreads them apart.
Jack winces. “Yes, ma’am. And it hurts a lot.”
She traces a blister with the tip of her crooked index finger. “This isn’t like any burn I’ve ever seen.” She purses her lips. “This will need powerful medicine. You sure you don’t want to see a doctor in town? Most buckruh don’t like to mess with hoodoo medicine.”
Cooper’s eyes expand. “You’re a root doctor?”
She cackles. “Of course, boy, what did you think I was? You came to see a Grannie, didn’t you?”
Cooper scratches his temple. “Ugh, I guess I didn’t give it much thought.”
Jack snaps his head around to us. “What the heck is hoodoo medicine? Is it like voodoo?”
Miss Delia drops his hand in her lap, making him yelp. “They are not the same. Hoodoo is for healing. It’s not my religion.”
“But do you use spells and stuff?” He pulls his hand back and cradles it to his chest.
She laughs and rocks in her chair. “When I need to. But that burn of yours doesn’t need any more magic than a few roots and plants. It’s up to you. Take what I’ve got, or get on out of here and find yourselves a doctor.”
“No doctors.” Jack’s voice is firm. Miss Delia raises her brow at his insistence, but he smiles and turns on the charm. “Because then, you know, our dads will find out about the burn, and they’ll worry about me.”
She smirks. “And you’ll have to tell them what you were doing when you got hurt in the first place.”
Jack actually blushes and nods. “Plus my friend Maggie said you were the best, so I don’t want to go anywhere else.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Be careful, Jack. Sweetmouth me like that, and you don’t know where it could end up. I haven’t had a gentleman suitor in a long time.” She winks her milky eye at me and tries to push herself up out of the seat, but the strain is too much. “Give me a hand now, boys, and we’ll go inside and see what I can fix up for that hand of yours.”
Cooper and Jack gently pull her out of the chair while I push open the front door. We follow her inside to the front room, a neat but sparsely furnished combination dining and living area. An old television with a big, fat dial runs in the background next to a slipcovered couch. The walls are tilted and cracked, but they seem sound.
I drop my messenger bag next to the door and am hit by one of the most heavenly scents on earth—fatback and collard greens must be simmering somewhere on a stove. My mouth waters as I take a deep breath. I can almost taste that salty, vinegary goodness. I love southern food. It’s one of the best perks of visiting my dad in the summer. Aside from seeing Cooper, of course.
Miss Delia reaches for a cane tucked next to the front door and slowly crosses the spring-green area rug on the way to a swinging door that leads to the kitchen at the back of the house. “Emma, could you give me a hand?”
“Sure.” I follow her toward the collard greens while Cooper and Jack make themselves comfortable on the couch.
My eyes pop. It’s a kitchen, all right. There’s an antique white porcelain stove, refrigerator, and sink, but there’s so much more. It’s got a
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