Sneak Peek at Waverly

Read on for an excerpt from my new novel, Waverly !

CHAPTER ONE – SARAH

June 13, 2006

I have no idea what made him open up to me that day.

I opened the creaky screen door, calling, “Hey, Grandaddy, it’s me!” even though I knew he wouldn’t hear me. I tossed my keys on the small table by the front door, frowning slightly as they landed next to a mason jar containing a haphazard collection of plastic daisies and fabric carnations. My Granny Patsy would have pitched a fit. Every spring and summer, the old farmhouse was full of mason jars of fresh wildflowers and beautiful hydrangeas from the bushes she tended along the side of the house. She loved making colorful arrangements, but she couldn’t stand artificial flowers.

When I reached the back door, I stood watching my grandfather for a few minutes. I noticed his drooping shoulders and his thinning white hair, which used to be jet black just like mine. I remembered the grandfather from my youth – one of the strongest, hardest working men I had ever met. A farmer by trade, he grew burley tobacco in the fields behind the house until arthritis and my mother’s nagging finally wore him down enough to make him stop.

Now, the old tobacco barn looked as weathered and tired as he did, and the land was leased out to younger farmers who grew rows and rows of soybeans. Spring had been a wet one, so the planting happened later than normal. Although several weeks had passed, the tiny soybean plants were just starting to inch upward.

I wonder if he somehow sensed me standing there, looking out at the fields. He glanced over his shoulder and broke into a grin. “Well, lookee here who came to see me!” he said.

I smiled and stepped over to give him a gentle hug. He squeezed me back hard, proving that he may have appeared to be a tired old man, but he still held a quiet strength inside.

“How’ve you been, Grandaddy?” I said as I scooted the old cane-backed chair a little closer.

“Oh, fair to middlin’, I’d say. How’s them classes?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m drowning in research papers and reading assignments. I don’t know what I was thinking, going back to school after all these years. It was so much easier the first time around.”

Grandaddy nodded his head solemnly while he listened, as if my classes and responsibilities were the most difficult things in the world to manage. I was painfully reminded that he had dropped out of school at the age of thirteen to help with the family farm. What did he know about graduate classes and research projects?

I took a deep breath and gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Grandaddy. Here I am, dumping all of this on you before I even said a proper hello.” I patted his wrinkled hand gently. “Mama said you’ve still been feeling sick the past couple of weeks. I’m sorry I didn’t stop by sooner to check in on you. Is everything okay?”

“Aw, I’m fine, I’m fine.” He shook his head. “I’m just gettin’ old. Things seem to take a little longer for me to get over nowadays, that’s all. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about not stoppin’ in for a visit here lately. I know you’re workin’ hard on them classes. Before long, I reckon you can quit workin’ for that Mark feller and open up your own place. I can see the sign on the door now, Sarah Harper, Attorney at Law.”

I laughed. “Well, I’m glad at least one of us thinks I’ll make it to graduation.”

He smiled and turned to stare at the tree line beyond the field. “Your Granny sure was proud of you, Baby Girl, and I am, too.”

To my horror, I felt my eyes well up with tears. Why could I not visit him for five minutes without crying?

He turned back to me. “You want some sweet tea? I forgot to ask. Got a fresh pitcher in there. There’s fresh mint leaves in the green bowl by the stove, too.”

“Aw, no thanks, Grandaddy, I’m good. I just stopped by to check on you, but I can’t stay long. I need to to go to the library so I can research for this paper I have to write. I’m such a slow writer, I need to get started on it right away. I also promised Steve I’d be back in time for dinner since he’s been gone all week.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the familiar guilt crept back in. Why did I have to make visiting him sound like a burden, like everything else in my life was so important that stopping by to visit was an inconvenience intruding in my already too busy world?

“That’s fine, darlin.’ You’re a busy gal with a lot goin’ on. I been worryin’ ‘bout you, too. You feelin’ okay? You look tired.  Doctors say everything’s all right now?” He looked out at the fields, and I was thankful he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes.

I nodded before answering quietly, “Yes, Grandaddy, I’m okay.”

“And Steve? He’s handlin’ everything okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. We’re both fine.”

“Well, I’m sure your time will come, Baby Girl. You and Steve will make mighty fine parents one day. You just gotta wait for the good Lord’s timin’. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.”

I swallowed and nodded, not trusting my voice.

“You know, I sure am glad you came by to visit. I told your mama I hadn’t seen you in awhile and was hopin’ you’d come check on your ol’ Grandaddy sometime soon,” he grinned.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, thankful for the change in subject. “I meant to stop by earlier, but it’s been a struggle this week. I’ll be so glad when Mark is done with this trial. I think I must have scheduled thirty interviews and depositions yesterday. I’m so tired after work, I barely have the energy to throw something together for dinner or straighten the house, let alone work on my stuff for school. Steve’s home now, thank goodness, so I have a little extra help, but I still haven’t even started on this dang paper for my Legal Ethics class.”

“Sounds like you sure got some plates spinnin,” he said as he took a sip of his sweet tea.

“That’s for sure. This research paper is gonna be the death of me. We’re supposed to write a paper about an ethical issue related to criminal justice that set a precedent, like something that changed a law or the judicial system. I have no idea where to even start.” I sighed with frustration, remembering the hours I had already spent researching at the library, only to find myself back at square one.

“Somethin’ that changed the system. Well, pickin’ a topic like that ought to be easy enough, I would think.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, there are tons of examples throughout history of cases that changed the system. Brown versus Board of Education. Roe versus Wade. But there are so many cases, it’s overwhelming. I keep picking an idea and then scrapping it.” I felt my words speeding up and my anxiety level rising as they gained momentum. “This professor is impossible, too. He expects us to submit a topic proposal and detailed outline by the end of this week. This paper is a huge part of our semester grade, and you know how writing has always been so hard for me.” I rubbed angrily at my eyes, hoping to wipe away the tears of frustration before they could spill over. “There’s no way I’m going to pass this class.”

Grandaddy didn’t say anything for a moment, and I wondered if he was gearing up to give me a motivational speech about how hard work pays off, or how nothing easy is worth having, or how I needed to “keep chuggin’ along” and things would work out all right in the end. I was again reminded that my grad school and office work frustrations were probably a foreign concept to him. Now the weather, the price of tobacco – those were things worth worrying about.

When he finally spoke, his words surprised me. “Well, now, maybe you should write about Daniel Porter.”

“Who?”

“Daniel Porter.” He paused long enough to take a sip of his sweet tea. “He was a colored boy that was hanged in Waverly back in ’36.”

“Really? I don’t guess I’ve ever heard of him.”

“Well, it was the last public hangin’ that happened in the U.S.” he said.

“Wow. And it happened right here in Waverly?” I asked, my eyes widening.

“Sure did.” He nodded and took another long sip of his tea before continuing. “Yep. They built a great big ol’ gallows downtown. I don’t remember for sure, but seems like it was close to where the courthouse is now. The sheriff in charge at the time was a woman. People came to Waverly from all over to see a hangin’ with a woman in charge.”

I racked my brain for any long-forgotten article or story I had read about Daniel Porter.

He went on, “The papers had story after story ’bout the crowds of people gatherin’ to watch. Made Waverly look like a town full of bloodthirsty savages. All that bad publicity meant no judge in their right mind wanted to do a public hangin’ after that. I reckon you could say it changed the system, all right.”

“And when did you say this happened?” I asked.

“Back in ’36, before your Granny Patsy and I got married. I left Louisville and moved back to Waverly that spring, matter of fact.”

“So let me get this straight. A woman was the sheriff in Waverly back in 1936? And she was in charge of overseeing what turned out to be the last public execution in America?”

“Yep, that’s right.”

“And you remember hearing about this, like when it actually happened?”

“Why, ‘course I remember it, Baby Girl.” He slowly turned to look at me. “I was there.”