Little Buckets Of Blueberries

Author's Notes: This story has been posted to Literotica.Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

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Mary Elizabeth Boudreaux wasn't feeling well, but at first just put it down to something she ate that didn't agree with her. Then she put it down to being seventy three years old. When she finally decided to go to her doctor's office and have it looked at, he immediately called for an ambulance. She died before the ambulance could get to St. Elizabeth Trauma Center.

"Ka-ching!" Albert Boudreaux laughed out loud when he heard of his aunt's heart attack.

Eighteen year old Maryse Elizabeth Boudreaux was heart-broken to hear of her great aunt's passing; she had dearly loved the old, funny, gentle woman that she'd been named after. Even after Peggy had left Albert and had taken Maryse back home to Burstyn, Mississippi, the highlight of her weekend visits to her bitter, complaining, constantly drunk father was when he'd decide he needed some time for himself and would drop Maryse off at 'Crazy Old Bat' Aunt Mary's house. For the month long visits during the summers, Maryse would spend the majority of the time at Aunt Mary's house.

"Crazy old bat's rich; why the fuck she lives in that run-down old piece of shit house?" Albert would say every time he dropped his daughter off at his aunt's house.

"God can hear you," Maryse would say.

"See if you can find out where she hides all her money; sure as shit don't spend it on this shack," Albert would growl, even as he smiled and waved at the old woman as she labored in her flower bed.

Even if Aunt Mary had shown Maryse where her supposed millions and millions of dollars were stashed, Maryse would not have told her father. She'd witnessed more than a handful of drunken beatings Albert had delivered to her mother. She'd heard the hateful, hurtful words. She'd heard her father's declaration of bitterness that God had cursed him with a 'useless God damned daughter' instead of a son, a son he could be proud of.

A few neighbors and acquaintances did come to the funeral to pay their respects to Mary Elizabeth Boudreaux. Peggy was civil to Albert as she joined her daughter in the pew at the front of the small visitation room.

"So, now that I'm going be rolling in the money, you come crawling back to me?" Albert gloated.

"Good God, Albert," Peggy snapped. "It's not even ten o'clock yet and you're already drunk."

Albert denied being drunk. He did not deny having had a few drinks, but he was far from drunk. Maryse ignored her parents bickering, sobbing as she tried to say a rosary for her aunt's soul.

From the Labbe Funeral Home, the casket was brought to St. Richard's Catholic Church. After Father Brighton celebrated a short Mass, the gravesite services were held. Maryse tried, unsuccessfully, to tell her beloved Aunt good-bye. Peggy hugged her daughter, attempting to console the girl.

"Mr. Boudreaux," I am sorry for your loss," Donald Pellichet offered.

"My loss is my gain," Albert chortled drunkenly.

"Hmm. Yes, yes sir. Your aunt did ask that her will be read the day after her services. Would you be available at eleven thirty tomorrow morning?" Donald said, trying and failing to keep his face impassive.

"Brother, for that kind of money? I will make myself available," Albert crowed, almost falling over as he patted Donald on the shoulder.

Peggy and Maryse agreed to be at the attorney's office the following morning. Donald offered the girl his sincere sympathies and Maryse thanked him for his thoughtfulness.

"Momma, I, I was going go to ULD because of Aunt Mary," Maryse suddenly realized as they drove to the DeGarde Inn.

"Sweetheart, you can still go to the University," Peggy said. "Just, instead of putting Aunt Mary's address down, you'll just put your Daddy's address down; that's all."

"I really don't want to," Maryse muttered.

"I cannot believe..." Peggy said, thinking of Albert's drunken state. "And then to have the nerve to think I'd come back to him?"

"You, you're not, huh?" Maryse asked, worried.

"Maryse, I'm stupid, not crazy," Peggy smirked as she opened the door of their hotel room.

"Momma, you're not stupid," Maryse said, wiggling out of her black dress.

She held her knee length dark brown hair off of her neck with one hand and fanned the back of her neck with the other hand. It had been unbearably hot and humid at the gravesite.

The five foot one inch tall girl did not look at her reflection in the full length mirror on the small closet as she hung her dress up. She knew what she looked like. She had a round face, deep brown eyes, doe eyes her Aunt Mary had called them. She had a slim nose; thank God she had her mother's nose and not the 'Boudreaux' nose. Her lips were full and when she smiled, they revealed her small white teeth.

Her breasts were small; she wore a 26A bra. Her waist was small; her one and only boyfriend used to delight in trying to put his hands around her small waist. Invariably though, his hands would either go to her small breasts and he would make a disparaging comment about how small her titties were, or they would drop to her compact buttocks and he would claim that she had no ass at all.

"You know what? Bad enough I got to put up with my Daddy being like that," Maryse finally told herself. "I really need me a boyfriend like that too?"

The young man had been truly mystified when Maryse let him know she would no longer tolerate his misogynistic behavior. He grew defensive and accused Maryse of not having a sense of humor. Her disinterested shrug angered him and he called her a 'cunt' and a 'stupid bitch.'

The following morning, Peggy and Maryse put on the same clothes they'd worn for the funeral. While Maryse put their suitcases into the trunk of Peggy's 2005 Toyota corolla, Peggy checked them out of the motel. Peggy was not surprised that Albert was already well on his way to a monumental drunk when they arrived at the office of Richards, Pellichet, Jones & Associates. Maryse was disgusted by the fumes coming off of her father, and ignored him when he asked her why she was crying.

"She is crying because she lost her beloved aunt, you drunken buffoon," Peggy hissed at her ex-husband.

"Momma, I really got to put his address down for college?" Maryse whispered as she dabbed at her eyes.

"Twelve hundred a semester," Peggy reminded her daughter how much more an out-of-state student had to pay for the University of Louisiana at DeGarde.

Finding out that his inheritance from his last living relative was the family Bible and fifty thousand dollars did sober Albert somewhat. He stared stupidly when his ex-wife, related only to Aunt Mary by marriage to himself was given several pieces of Mary's jewelry.

"Why's she, why you get that? You ain't even related to her," Albert demanded angrily of his ex-wife.

"Baby because I spent time with Aunt Mary? Maybe because I actually got out of the car whenever I picked our daughter up? Spent a few minutes helping her move stuff?" Peggy snapped.

The home, 812 Frontier Trail in DeGarde, Louisiana and its contents were left to Maryse. She was also given the keys to Aunt Mary's 1985 Cadillac El Dorado custom convertible.

"That, that tank still runs?" Albert laughed derisively.

"Well, yeah it still runs," Maryse answered. "We'd take it all the time to Clark's."

"Maybe you'd spent a little time with your only living relative, you'd know that," Peggy said to Albert.

"So, you going sell the house? Tell you what; it probably ain't even worth it, but I'll give you fifty thousand for it," Albert offered, waving the check Donald Pellichet had given to him.

"What? Sell...Dad, my swing set's in the back yard," Maryse said, offended. "I'm not selling my house."

Albert was disappointed; he knew the house was worth at least eighty to ninety thousand dollars. He had intended to dig up every square inch of the home, looking for the cache of money he just knew the old bat had been squirreling away over the years. Then, once he'd located the riches that were rightfully his, he would sell the home.

Driving home in her new, new to her, 1985 Cadillac, Maryse put the top down and drove along Highway 52. She laughed out loud when her mother buzzed past in her Corollas they took the shortcut up Highway 467.

As had been their custom ever since the divorce and moving back to Peggy's hometown of Burstyn, Mississippi, they stopped at the Stepping Stone Diner. It was no longer the Stepping Stone Diner, having been renamed the Double-J Diner But it was tradition, no matter what the name of the place might be.

"Hey, y'all are back?" the beautiful brunette waitress greeted them as they entered the diner.

"Yes," Maryse agreed, letting her mother proceed her to the restroom. "Diet coke for her and know what? Give me a sweet tea; no lemon."

"Special today is the hamburger steak; comes with smashed potatoes and our very own skillet gravy. Your choice of green beans or sugar peas," the waitress said as she sauntered to the drink fountain.

Maryse looked at the menu and decided the special sounded good. Peggy came out and sat across from Maryse and Maryse scampered to the bathroom. Then they enjoyed the special of the day.

Stepping out of the diner, they saw an old man admiring the Cadillac. He smiled as Maryse unlocked the door.

"My mother, last car she bought was an Eighty five Caddy," the man said. "Same color as this."

"This is an eighty four; think my Aunt Mary called it a Royal Maroon Metallic," Maryse smiled.

"'Course, hers wasn't a convertible," the man said as Maryse put the top down again.

"Think they had to be custom ordered," Maryse suggested as she closed the door.

Maryse's cell phone rang and she saw it was her father's cell phone. With a sigh, she answered her phone. Peggy saw her daughter answer her phone so put her car in 'Park' and waited.

"Hello, Dad, what do you want?" Maryse sighed.

"Ain't your daddy. Listen, this is Frank Jeffries?" a harsh voice said.

Over the man's hard voice, Maryse could hear a siren going off. She did recognize the name Frank Jeffries; he was Aunt Mary's neighbor and puzzled over why the man was using her father's phone.

"Hi, Mr. Frank; this is Maryse; you live right next to my Aunt Mary," Maryse said brightly. "But why you got..."

"Okay, okay so this is Maryse," Frank said, voice softening. "Listen, real sorry hear about your Aunt. She was a real class act."

"Mr. Frank, why you got my Daddy's phone?" Maryse repeated.

"Caught him trying break in your Aunt's place. Was fixing call the police and he said it's your place now?" Mr. Frank answered.

"Mr. Frank, hold the phone up to the front door," Maryse asked.

She pressed the button on her key fob and the alarm ceased. She breathed a sigh of relief; the sound had been nerve-racking. But, now that the alarm was off, she could hear her father arguing with Mr. Jeffries.

"Mr. Frank, there anything broken?" Maryse asked.

"No, no, stopped him when I seen him jump the fence. Was watching him when he was looking for the spare key; when I heard she'd passed, I went and took the keys from the front mailbox and the back flower pot like she'd asked me to do," Mr. Jeffries admitted.

"Mr. Jeffries, hold the phone by the door again," Maryse asked.

After resetting the alarm, Maryse told Mr. Jeffries if he ever saw her father around the property again, just go ahead and call the police. When a smirking Frank Jeffries returned his cell phone to him, Maryse told her father the same thing; if he ever attempted to break into her home again, she would call the police and she would press charges. She hung up on his drunken protestations.

Five days after driving her car home, Maryse graduated from high school. She'd sent invitations to her graduation to her Aunt Mary and Aunt Mary had already mailed her a check for one hundred dollars. Maryse had also sent invitations to her mother's parents and they too had sent her a check for one hundred dollars; they would not be making the trip from their Assisted Living Facility in Norwill, Tennessee. Uncle Barry, her mother's older brother and owner of Sidwell's Diner where Peggy was a waitress/cook had also given Maryse one hundred dollars. So, truthfully, Maryse had no reason to stick around for the graduation ceremony, had no reason to stay in Burstyn, Mississippi.

"And, shit, I can move into that efficiency," Peggy agreed.

"Momma, why you don't just come live with me?" Maryse asked.

"Sweetie, your uncle don't like to admit it, but his MS is getting worse," Peggy whispered. "Letting me have off to go to your Aunt's funeral just about wiped him out; took all of his strength to run the place on his own."

On a broling hot June afternoon, Maryse arrived at 812 Frontier Trail. She waved to Mr. Frank as he cut the grass in front of 814 Frontier Trail. She watched as the garage door went down before unlocking the inside door. The alarm emitted a short chirp, paused a second and emitted a second chirp. Before the third insistent chirp could sound, Maryse entered her birthday, the code for the alarm, then returned to her car to begin the long process of unloading her worldly possessions from rear seat and cavernous trunk.

Her first night, she stayed in her room. Aunt Mary had designated the second bedroom as Maryse's bedroom. It was somewhat hard to fall asleep; there was not the sound of Aunt Mary's thunderous snoring coming from the large bedroom just down the hall.

('I do not, Maryse Elizabeth Boudreaux! I most certainly do not snore! How, how dare you even suggest such a thing?' Aunt Mary would protest, horrified.

"Oh yes you do!" Maryse would giggle.)

"Oh, yes you do," Maryse sniffed out loud as fresh tears began. "Aunt Mary, I'm going miss you something bad."

Waking early; she'd not slept all that well, Maryse fixed herself a simple breakfast. She checked the mail, putting aside the advertisements. The electric bill was already a few days late and Maryse planned to go to the office of the St. Elizabeth Public Utilities on Monday.

Saturday was trash days in this neighborhood. Maryse emptied the refrigerator of those foods that were in questionable condition and made sure the barrel was at the edge of the driveway. Then, looking at the electric bill again, Maryse wondered if she'd be able to keep up with the cost of owning a home.

"Wait, I, I got her bank account, right?" Maryse wondered. "Mr. Pellichet said..."

Finding the copy of the will in the bottom of her suitcase, Maryse verified that she did indeed have ownership of her Aunt's bank account with First National Bank of DeGarde. There was just over eight thousand dollars in the account and Maryse saw that the bank was open until one pm on Saturdays.

The manager on duty, Dennis Dumas helped Maryse set up an automatic bill-pay and issued a debit card in Maryse's name. He vaguely knew Mary and did express his condolences for Maryse's loss.

From the bank, Maryse drove to Clark's Drive-In, just like she and Aunt Mary would do after a visit to the bank, or the post office, or Abdul's or Babbage's Department stores.

Apparently, Clark's Drive-In on a blistering hot June day was the place to be. Maryse almost gave up until a girl pulled out of a parking space just ahead of Maryse. Maryse managed to pull into the space and turned off the powerful motor.

"Hi!" Stevie Hagen chirped, skittering to a stop next to Maryse's window. "Hey, where's your mom?"

"My...oh! Oh, you mean, my Aunt Mary," Maryse asked, vaguely recognizing the beautiful blue eyed blonde girl.

"Oh, oh, yeah, so where's your Aunt today?" Stevie smiled.

"She uh, she died, couple weeks ago," Maryse said.

"Oh! Oh, ma'am, I, I am so sorry," Stevie gasped.

Maryse was startled, stunned when the blonde cutie reached into the car, wrapped her arms around Maryse's torso and gave Maryse a soft kiss on her cheek. Again, the girl expressed her condolences as she straightened up again.

Maryse ordered her usual; a chili cheese dog with mustard, cheese fries and large chocolate malt. She watched the blonde girl whirl around and skate away, luscious buttocks peeking from the bottom of her short red shorts. She and Aunt Mary would always share a laugh as they dared one another to wear shorts like that out in public.

The girls whizzed around, hustling to serve the many customers. Idly, Maryse watched one young brunette; from the bobbling of the girl's very large breasts it was readily apparent the girl had not bothered with a bra. She saw Stevie approaching with her tray and covertly checked Stevie's chest as the blonde skittered to a stop.

"Yeah, I'm wearing a bra; Gabby's the only one that would do that," Stevie giggled.

Maryse flamed bright red at being caught ogling the girl. She paid for her meal and waved away the change. With a bright smile, Stevie hustled away to grab the next customer that pulled into a newly vacated space.

"Again, I'm real sorry about your aunt. I know you two liked coming here together a lot," Stevie said when she took the tray.

"Thanks," Maryse smiled sadly. "She knew she really wasn't supposed have any of this; sodium, cholesterol, sugar; but she just loved it."

"Hope I see you again," Stevie said, turning to skate away.

Entering the home, Maryse decided to explore her Aunt's room. She'd been in the room several times when she stayed with Aunt Mary, but had never really explored the room, respecting her aunt's right to privacy.

The top drawer on the tall dresser held those pieces of jewelry Aunt Mary had not given to Peggy. There was also a vast array of things Maryse had given her beloved aunt over the years. New tears started as she looked through all the keepsakes.

The next drawers held frilly, lacy items. As Aunt Mary was four foot ten inches and weighed one hundred and forty nine pounds, nothing of hers would fit Maryse. Maryse had at least three inches in height on her aunt, and was a good thirty five pounds lighter.

But as she looked through the clothes, Maryse realized, her aunt was very feminine. All of the clothing, with very few exceptions was soft, feminine and very becoming. Her 'gardening clothes' were in a drawer of their own, complete with serviceable bras and full cotton briefs.

"That, that's what I'm going to do," Maryse decided.

The nightstand next to Aunt Mary's side of the bed revealed something Maryse had never considered. There was an embarrassing collection of dildos, vibrators, lubricants. There were also four Parasols Magazines, the September issues. Maryse was puzzled about this, even after seeing that the September issues were dedicated to women over the age of fifty.

The second drawer caused the light bulb go on over Maryse's head. There were some books of lesbian erotica that had been well-thumbed.

"I, well!" Maryse said.

The nightstand on the other side was empty. The closet was just like Aunt Mary. Well organized, nothing out of place. On the shelf above the winter coats, Maryse found some letters from an Olive Feldman, written to Mary Boudreaux. Olive's handwriting was beautiful, flowing circles that formed poetic words.

"Oh!" Maryse suddenly remembered Miss Olive, a beautiful brunette woman that would visit Aunt Mary every now and then.

According to the letter in her hand, Olive and Aunt Mary had been lovers in college. Their love continued throughout the decades, until cancer took Olive from Mary.