End of Summer Memories with Brother Love

Posted on by Teagan Riordain Geneviene

Saturday, August 31, 2024

Altered composite of images from Pixabay
Image Collage by Teagan

Welcome to my sanctuary.  Pull up a chair.  The sanctuary may be found in a diesel-punk train station with an outrageous flapper named Lulu.  It might also be at a steampunk submarine port, with an alchemist named Cornelis.  Or it might even be at a crossroads in a rural Mississippi town sometime in the late 1950s.  So, I also welcome you to the crossroads, because today I’m revisiting Birdie Devovo and Jinx the magpie of Brother Love: A Crossroad.

The original version was a spontaneously written, pantser story, done in my “Three Things” way of writing with random things from readers helping drive the story.  Blogger Dan Antion also collaborated with me on the story by taking a generous amount of time to let me bounce ideas and by providing photographs to help drive the story, and many of the random reader things.

Summertime always reminds me of this story, because the main inspiration, the springboard was Neil Diamond’s song Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show.  The lyric “hot August night” began the story too.  So, in celebration of the symbolic end of summer in the USA — Labor Day weekend, I’m sharing chapter from Brother Love. 

This excerpt picks up on a hot August night, when our heroine hears a strange noise outside, and then inside her house! (The reader things are in bold text.)

A Shadow

Flash cropped image Dan Antion
Flash, from one of Dan’s photos

The footfalls hesitated.  It seemed like they turned back toward me, although I couldn’t see in the dark.  Then I realized there had been a faint noise outside.  Maybe that was the reason for the pause.

I dared not breathe, but the way I was crouched under the table, I wouldn’t have been able to draw a good breath anyway.

The footsteps moved across my little kitchen to the spot where the PanAm calendar hung on the wall.  I heard the pages rustle.

Then a firm knock rapped against the frame of the flimsy screen door.

Flimsy screen door on a shabby red wall
Photo by Dan Antion

Surprise shot through me like electricity.  My body jerked and I banged my head and shoulders against the underside of the table.

The kitchen light, along with the single light-bulb on the porch flickered and then came back to life.

A shadow lurched outside on the porch, and the knock came again, harder.

“Miss Devovo, are you alright?” came the startled voice of a man.  “Birdie, it’s Reverend Armstrong.  Is everything okay?”

For half a beat I stayed under my table.  Just as I was sure someone had been in the kitchen with me a moment before, I was also certain they were suddenly gone.

The preacher sounded as spooked as I felt.  His voice had the slightest quiver.  Plus, Doug Armstrong never added “Reverend” to his name.  Preacher, or more often Brother Armstrong was how he named himself.

Fist against red Pixaby
Pixabay

His fist banged on the screen door-frame again.  I extricated myself from my hiding spot before Armstrong broke the poor excuse for a door.

That didn’t make it any easier for me to calm myself.  I opened the door, and belatedly thought to straighten my dress.

I was relieved to see anyone including the preacher, but I was too rattled to know what to say.

“What brings you to the outside of town so late, Brother Armstrong?” I asked.

Doug was a big, tall man.  A single stride took him halfway across the kitchen.  His eyes darted around the room, and he took another step, craning his neck to see the living room.

“The Lord’s work doesn’t keep a schedule,” he replied with forced joviality.

I didn’t wonder so much about why he was out long after dark.  Rather, I was curious as to why he took the road on the back side of the house.

Copiah County MS crossroads Google Maps
A crossroads in Copiah County, Mississippi, near the place from which blues legend, Robert Johnson came.

You see, my house sat in a triangle between ways at a crossroads.  There was a street in front and another road in back.  There were also any number of old trails that intersected there.

Old superstitions about the crossroads abounded.  My mother had been able to get the house because no one else would have it.  I kept it because I had nowhere else to go.

Doug Armstrong looked down at me as if inspecting my face.

“Is everything alright here, Miss Devovo?  As I was driving by,” he began but hesitated and shook his head.  “Maybe it was just a trick of light and shadow, but I thought I saw somebody moving around on the porch.  Then the lights sparked and went out.  I was concerned for your safety.”

I gulped.  I wasn’t sure why I would hesitate to tell him what had happened.  Maybe it was just the lifetime of skepticism and outright disdain I had experienced.

Communities on any side of the crossroads, on both sides of the tracks, as they would say, had whispered about me all my life.  They knew my mother would take up with any musician who came through.  After I grew up, she finally ran off with one.

Statue of woman and man kissing, World War II era
The Kissing Couple, Photo by Dan Antion

They never believed the story my mother told when we moved to Parliament, Mississippi.  I wasn’t sure I believed it myself, but she always said my father had died in the military when I was too young to remember him.  It would have been easier to believe if it hadn’t happened before the war.

Heck, maybe it was true.  A few times she got drunk and claimed the government had covered up the real circumstances of his death.  My mother had some wild stories, but conspiracies weren’t among them.

Anyhow, Doug Armstrong was probably the only person they gossiped about as much as they talked about me.

Although Doug made no secret of his past.  His whole purpose in life seemed to be a constant attempt to redeem himself.  Doug was an ex-convict.  He had gone to prison for killing a man.

He was also one of the few people who would even think about visiting the house at the crossroads.

I cleared my throat and then told him about hearing someone in the kitchen.  He asked if he could look around.  I nodded my assent.  Although I was sure we were the only ones there.  I also knew there would be no sign that anyone else had been in the house.

Men's wingtip shoes
Pixabay

Even so, it was a comfort to have Doug look through the house.  He checked every window and door.  He even looked in the closets.

Doug brought a croquet mallet out of one closet, suggesting that I might want to keep it at hand.  However, just as I expected, there was no indication that anyone had been inside the house.

“I guess it was my imagination,” I said awkwardly.

“Then it was mine too,” he muttered.  “There hasn’t been any rain,” he went on in a speculative tone.  “So, I guess there’s no use looking outside for footprints.  Even with a flashlight, it would be hard to tell much in the dark.”

I got the feeling that he was nervous.  It made me want to ask him if he was alright.  However, that seemed rude, so I didn’t.

Audience looking at stage with lights
Stage Lights by Dan Antion

Doug looked down at my hand.  I hadn’t realized that I still clutched the flyer I had crawled under the table to retrieve.  It was for Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show.

The mimeographed ad boasted of a revival meeting every night for a week, with evangelists from all over the state, and the supposedly famous Brother Love himself.  I’d never heard of him.

“Will you be preaching there?” I asked Armstrong.

“I was invited, but I haven’t decided,” he answered.

There was something strange about his voice and manner when he replied.  I had no idea what was behind it, but it gave the kind of uneasy feeling that makes you want to look over your shoulder.

Then I noticed the calendar.  I had been looking at the July picture and left that page up, because I liked it better than the image for August.  The calendar was turned back to August.  There was a smudge on the square for the coming Saturday.  The mark had not been there earlier.

***

Crow on a high pine branch
Joe Crow in the role of Jinx.  Photo by Dan Antion

Jinx back-winged in his hurried flight when he saw the lights flash and go dark.  He alighted cautiously in the upper branches of the towering spruce pine.  He looked down inquisitively as someone walked across the back porch and into the house.

Curiosity got the better of the magpie when a moment later the big man stopped his old red car and went to the door.  Jinx glided down to the southern magnolia.  He settled amid the glossy dark leaves, next to a big hairy seed pod that had previously been a fragrant snow-white flower.

He tilted his head.  Was it random chance that brought Doug Armstrong there at that specific moment?  Or did it happen by design?

***

Thanks for reading.  Wishing a happy Memorial Day weekend to those in the USA, and a generally terrific weekend to everyone else. Friendly comments are encouraged.  Hugs!

***

Here’s the obligatory shameless self-promotion.

Brother Love: A Crossroad

Jinx on rotary phone next to "Brother Love - a Crossroad" on my Kindle.
Jinx on rotary phone next to “Brother Love – a Crossroad” on my Kindle.

Kindle  relinks.me/B07V25SXFR

Paperback  relinks.me/107952309X

Universal link to my Amazon Author Page

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright ©  2019 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

Photos Copyright © Dan Antion.

All rights reserved. 

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

66 thoughts on “End of Summer Memories with Brother Love”

  3. This was long overdue so apologies if I came here late. I’m looking for a job, plus clients, plus creating my travel post and plus helping Sarah. I wanted to make sure I have enough time to read this leisurely. I think the suspense left me with questions and I’m now really thinking about crossroads superstitions, what’s that about? In India, there are so many superstitions related to what kind of house you should buy or not. I discussed some of those in my Vastu post. I hope you’re doing good. Hugs from Sarah and me. 🙂

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    1. Hi Sharukh. No worries at all. Wednesday I hurt my back, so I’ve hardly been online (or thinking straight from it). My neighborhood has unpaved alleys behind the rows of houses on each street — used for trash dumpsters and the occasional utility vehicle. The dumpsters aren’t as big as commercial ones, but they’re heavy-duty plastic, round, about 4 ft tall, and 3 1/2 ft across, plus weighted in the bottom (because it’s so windy here). One dumpster is meant to serve 2 1/2 houses. The trash collection truck uses a mechanical arm to lift the dumpsters and empty them into the truck. On the previous pickup, the truck didn’t set the dumpster down properly and it lay on its side. The truck drivers didn’t bother to get out and fix it. These things are very heavy and awkward. I’m 5’4″ and it comes up to my shoulders. Nobody else would set it back up. I wanted my trash picked up the next day so I knew I had to fix it. This kind of thing is why my back is so messed up… I keep doing the impossible, because there is no alternative. It’s not as bad as yesterday. Besides, it keeps my mind off my grief from my therapist retiring this week. I’ve had weekly appointments with her for 5 years. I feel like somebody died. My goodness, I’m just a ray of sunshine aren’t I? LOL. Anyhow, that’s where I’ve been all week. I hope your back is healed now. Big hugs to you and Sarah.

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      1. Sorry to hear that and about your back pain. I still have mine but negligible. I will pray for your speedy recovery. I completely understand your situation with your therapist. When my literature professor said she was retiring, I changed my subject and she was like why did you do that? The other professor will be equally knowledgeable and efficient. I was like yeah Ma’am, I agree, but she won’t be you. She had no idea that I respected her not only as a teacher but as a mother-figure. In 2021, my best friend called me at wee hours of midnight saying he found she passed away. I was like What? Since she was of my religion, I called up the place where funerals take place and found out it was true. So, I skipped my work that day, took an Uber and attended her funeral. I sat at a distance from the family. Eventually, they felt the urge to approach me and ask who I was because no one from the college came except a few fellow professors. I introduced myself and they were so touched by the fact that I attended the service, but I had nothing to say. She touched my life in so many ways throughout my academic years, had I not gone, the guilt would’ve stuck with me forever. The only bad thing is that I still cannot wipe the memory of her body sliding into an electric furnace. That was excrutiatingly painful. See, now I’m being a ray of sunshine like you, am not I? Hugs to you from both of us.

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  10. Thank you for this Brother Love excerpt. I enjoyed reading it. I believe it was during this serial that I discovered your blog. I may have sent in 3 things.?.

    Of course I got totally involved when The Delta Pearl came along.

    Happy Labor Day weekend to you Teagan! Have a great time, and pets fr the Scoobies!

    Hugs!

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    1. Resa, you were a big part of The Delta Pearl.
      Actually, Brother Love came along (after a short break) when The Delta Pearl concluded — the summer of 2019. You were probably busy with other things and life in general.
      Erp… Velma is trying to walk on the computer. Must obey the feline overlords. Hugs on the wing!

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      1. Was Brother Love a serial first? Was is released as a novella?
        I checked some of the posts. I’m there, so maybe my memory is … not what it used to be. I sure remember the images with the posts.

        I’m a fan and I try not to miss any of your posts.

        Anyway…GO Velma!
        Hugs!!!

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        1. LOL, Velma put herself to bed. She goes to bed early — and Daphne gears up just when I’m trying to go to bed.
          It was a serial, and I published the book right after the serial ended in the summer of 2019. I know you visited at least some. But it was summer, and people can get really busy in the summer.
          I added a lot of 1950s music to it. The Brother Love character was kind of spooky and I deliberately left him sort of undefined. The main characters were Birdie (the woman), Doug (the ex-con preacher), and Tammy (a little girl), and of course, Jinx the magpie. It was kind of “magic realism”, or “paranormal”, but the story doesn’t fit easily into a single genre box.

          Wishing you an easy week ahead. Hugs winging back to you.

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          1. Your cats sound wonderful. Never a dull moment!
            Thank you, Teagan, for filling me in on Brother Love! I do semi remember it. (2019, that was 5 years ago. That went by fast!)
            However, The Delta Pearl is etched into my memory big time.

            I grabbed the covers off your blog for the post. I hope that’s okay?

            You have a fab week too! HUGS

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            1. Of course. I’m sorry… During my weeks long freak out over car repair and Internet outage I think I forgot to send you files. I’m so sorry. I’ll look up that email and answer your question and pick some illustrations for you before lunch today. That was really thoughtless of me.

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  15. Good story! Dan tuned me in to the coincidence with his post today, so each made the other even better. The image of the bird on the phone is, at the very least, evocative. It seems its own cliffhanger!

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    1. It’s great to see you, Maureen. That really was an odd coincidence. Thanks about the image. I managed to add the magpie to a photo of the things on my end table. A ringing phone is a mysterious thread that goes throughout the story. Jinx the magpie became a reader favorite. Wishing you a lovely Labor Day weekend. Hugs.

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  18. This was fun to read again, Teagan. I remember when you were writing this. I was caught up in that story from the beginning, and I enjoyed the serial version and the book version is in my Kindle library.

    Oddly enough (true story here), yesterday, as I was on my walk, a solitary crow was calling from a lamppost in the park. I usually see them in pairs or more. I was hoping to get a good picture, but as I got close he launched. I followed him and captured a bit of video. His picture in his new perch and the video are on my blog today. I guess we were both drawn back to this story.

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  19. I wish I had been around at the time of the Flappers. The short hairstyles, the cool clothes, great music, Art Deco cars and furniture. I was born at the wrong time! (I can no longer share on Twitter unfortunately, as they will not allow me to login to my own account. They say it is ‘already taken’. By me of course, but that’s too obvious for AI bots to comprehend)

    Best wishes, Pete.

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    1. Social media accounts can be so frustrating. I’m blocked from commenting at one platform, and the person hasn’t blocked me or anybody else. Tech support just says they did block me, and they can’t do anything about it. Anyhow, thanks for the good intention.
      The Roaring Twenties is a wonderful time to imagine, so much excitement, energy, and good expectations. Enjoy your weekend. Hugs.

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