Page 139 of Charmed, I'm Sure
“You too.”
“Well, I’m gonna skedaddle. Don’t wanna take up too much of y’all’s night. Y’all have a Merry Christmas.”
“You too, Ms. Geraldine,” Taylor and I responded in unison—his tone chipper while mine still carried the weight of confusion.
We watched as she made her way back to her car, and once she was safely inside, Taylor asked, “What was that about?”
“She brought us étouffée.”
“That was nice.”
“That was… confusing.”
“Either way, it smells good, and it’s cold out here. Let’s go back in.”
I nodded slowly, my eyes still glued to the taillights of her car as it disappeared down the driveway. Never in a million years did I think someone from town would willingly show up at our house, let alone bring us food—despite that being a deep-rooted Southern tradition when someone in the community was sick or struggling.
Andyet, here we were.
As I stood there, something warm settled in my stomach.
Maybe there was hope for this town yet.
The rest of the night was full of laughter and games, and a lot more people showing up at the house with dish after dish until our fridge and freezer looked like we were stockpiling casseroles for the apocalypse.
I was floored.
Flabbers completelygastedeach time the door swung open to reveal another neighbor bearing food.
Pies and cakes littered the counters. Jambalaya, gumbo, and breakfast casseroles had been packed into every available cold space, and what didn’t fit got divided up between the Jacksons and Taylor.
Needless to say, no one needed to cook for a while.
As midnight rolled around, we all huddled by the front door, slipping on coats and contributing to the Southern goodbyes that always took thirty minutes longer than they should.
They started somewhere in the house then transitioned out the door, where another ten to fifteen minute conversation would commence. Then they moved to the porch.
Then someone insisted on walking you to your car, and the process would repeat until someone finally caved and left.
So far, we’d only made it to the foyer, and we’d been there for about fifteen minutes.
“Well, Evie, I think you’re set on food for a while,” Josie—Jaelyn’s mom—laughed as she slipped her arms into her coat and stepped through the door that Mr. Bill was holding open with an impatient look on his face.
“Too much food. You and Bill sure you don’t want to take anything else home?” my aunt asked, her voice taking on a pleading tone as we all followed them out onto the porch.
“Honey, our ice chest is already full, and so is the icebox at home. But I’m sure Doctor Hallows over there would love to take more.”
Josie arched her brows at Taylor.
I watched as he fumbled over how to respond—we’d already filled an entire ice chest with food for his place, and I wasn’t sure his fridge could hold much more.
Taylor palmed the back of his neck, his face flushing. “Uhh… of course… sure. I’d love to take some more off your hands.”
The women erupted into laughter, my aunt clutching her slinged arm closer to her chest as she shook with mirth.
When they finally calmed, Josie kissed Aunt Evie’s cheek, embraced each of my sisters, then turned to me.
She wrapped me in a warm hug before grinning up at Taylor. “You’re a sweetheart,” she cooed, patting his cheek as she passed on her way to the front door.
