Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die…
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Prologue
Deputy Zita Rocconi found her way to Mama Cheche’s old home and sat in one of the rockers on the new front porch. It replaced the old porch ripped off by a tornado last year. It had taken a while and cost quite a bit, but now, the house, a Delta landmark, was returned to its original state. In fact, it was in better shape than it had been for years.
It was a cold March morning, but the police-issued jacket, wool pants, and boots kept the deputy warm. She rocked back and forth, across the newly planked floor- boards, but it wasn’t the same. She missed the rhythmic creaking sound the rocker used to make as she shared her thoughts and feelings with Mama Cheche. Zita wished the old lady were here now, because she wasn’t sure what her next move should be. Mama would know. She had the Mojo.
It was surprising how Sheriff Hunter Harley, Shannon Brown, and her two children brought so much change in a short time to the small Delta town of Cleveland, Mississippi. Shannon had taken good care of Charles, her half-brother, and Karla, her half-sister left in her charge. Glancing down towards the Sunflower River, Zita saw the Tollar Plantation House and the cotton bin off in the distance to her left. No car was there, so she surmised that Shannon and the kids were not home when she drove by the house. Probably taking the kids to school, she thought.
She wasn’t sure how things were going to turn out when Rapier Fogg, aka the Dallas Devil, had come to town and attempted to kill not only Charles and Karla, but Hunter as well. When Hunter’s life was in danger, it scared her far more than she let anyone know. If she lost him, then she would lose a piece of herself. Before he came to Cleveland things were normal, well, her version of normal.
Zita liked getting up every morning in the small apartment behind her family home. Most days, she had a cinnamon roll and coffee for breakfast, and then headed off to work at the station. She also volunteered with Catholic Social Services, cooking food for the needy on holidays and delivering it. She drove older parishioners to doctors’ appointments and enjoyed the stories they shared. She enjoyed doing all those things, but often wondered what it would be like to have someone do them with her. Like Hunter. He invited her to parties and was the type of man who didn’t mind giving her a hand in personal matters, but he maintained a certain distance, a professional stance. She longed for more. I wish he would hold my hand.
Thinking of finding love, she then glanced towards the three headstones on a small rise to her right and her mood became somber. There stood the graves of Shannon’s grandmother Eleanor, her mother, Ellie, and the grave of Goldie…but not quite. Rapier Fogg stole the urn with Goldie’s ashes during the memorial ceremony. She died before telling where she’d put it. The entire police force was still keeping an eye out for its hiding place, but no luck so far.
Goldie and Eleanor sacrificed everything for love. They professed their love for each other, but it didn’t work out. What if she told Hunter how she felt, would he give up his position as Sheriff in Cleveland and take off? Worse yet, what if she didn’t share her feelings and kept it to herself? Then he and Shannon might start dating and get married.
Zita didn’t have anything against Shannon, but she was a threat to other women. Men tended to be attracted to her confidence and take-charge attitude. She and Hunter were eating lunch at the Delta Dinner the other day and when Shannon walked into the room; she noticed how all the men suddenly sat up straight and glanced towards her. It was hard to compete with that.
Oh, Mama, I wish you were here. Zita thought, You know how to handle things. You have the mojo, with its supernatural power. You also sacrificed a lot and took chances. It looks like I am going to have to do the same.