Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

that’s not an option. It doesn’t take long before
a beautiful, older black lady comes to mind, Miss May Wilson—my saving grace.
My lips finally decide to tilt slightly up as her comforting image settles my
mind. Miss May is just under five foot in height and ‘bout as round as she is
tall. A hug from this woman is the only one I have ever welcomed without
apprehension—it’s a protective shielding hug. Some of my best memories were
made at my dad’s restaurant, and those were mostly due to this special lady. I
coveted the opportunity to be her shadow at any chance I got. She is pure
goodness.
    Jean may be
a culinary genius, but she lacks one important ingredient that Miss May
possesses—heart. The woman cooks love right into every blame thing she serves.
    Now I’m not
bragging here, but simply stating the facts when I tell you The Thorton Seafood
House is the best meal on the Grand Strand. There are more awards than wall
space. These awards are kept in my father’s office because there are too many
to be put on display. My dad also thought they took away from the beach house
ambiance of the restaurant. Really though, no award was needed to entice
customers through the door. The only advertisement my dad ever needed was by
word of mouth. I have never seen a time when the porch wasn’t lined with people
patiently waiting their turn to eat.
    My dad
believed in serving only the freshest seafood. If he couldn’t get it fresh
within the day, then he simply wouldn’t serve nor sell it. The local docks
supplied him abundantly. Now, many southern seafood restaurants serve a country
buffet along with seafood, such as fried chicken and BBQ. My dad didn’t believe
in that. He said seafood houses should serve seafood and seafood only.
    That’s all
fine and dandy as long as you have a gifted cook to back it up. My dad
definitely had that with Miss May. We kids would like to always be right up
underneath her. It was hard not to gravitate towards this lady. Miss May is
like a warm, welcoming place who just draws you into her comforts and somehow
soothes all the wrongs. We all adored her.

 
    ~ ~ ~

 
    “Miss May,
how come your name is the same as one of the months of the year? Ain’t that weird?”
A young John Paul asked her this one afternoon in her kitchen at the
restaurant. Yep. That’s right—her kitchen. We each had pulled a stool up to her
work counter and were supervising .
Every now and then, she would need something out of the pantry or fridge, and
we would just about fight over who would get it for her. She was such a
pleasing woman, and we all wanted to please her right back.
    Miss May
chuckled at John Paul’s question as she continued to pick through a container
of crabmeat. “’Cause my folks had so many young’uns, that’s the only way to
keep they’s birthdays straight. My older brothers are June and August. My
younger sisters are December, January, April, and September.”
    “You’re
lucky you were born in a month that’s not too weird,” John Paul commented with
a wrinkled nose and a reassuring nod of his head, causing Miss May to laugh
wholeheartedly. That woman’s laugh was contagious and we all joined in. She
laughed with her whole body and her face would light up like none other. She
could barely laugh without crying. Man, that woman could really laugh…
    She began
assembling some of her award-winning hush puppy batter. Hush puppies are a
legend around these southern coastal parts. It is said that fishermen would
come in from the sea and set up to frying their fresh catches right on the
docks. The problem was they would be hounded to no end by the local dock dogs
for their dinner. To get the dogs to leave them alone, the fishermen would fry
up balls of the fish batter and feed it to the pesky animals to shut them up,
hence the name hush puppies. Miss May called hers hush babies. Her
award-winning crab cakes are legendary, too. Just as the fishermen had to
pacify the dogs to keep them