It was cool, but the winds were calm. Even early, it appeared it was going to be a nice day. We walked across the street and down the road past the corner store to the school. It was good having Adam with me, but hectic knowing Simon was in town and could be somewhere watching my moves. On the other hand, he probably was preoccupied with Nadine, and the thought of me in school was far from his mind.
There was not a car in view. The only people in our path were the girls from the boardinghouse, including Miriam, who earlier warned me she had seen Simon too.
“Adam, I wasn’t totally honest with you. Miriam saw Simon too. She told me last night after you left.”
“Did she say where she saw him?”
“Yes, she said he was driving down the street—like he was leaving the boardinghouse.”
“He should be mature about it all and tell you where he really is. Is he here or in New Orleans?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I pleaded.
“Carrie, please grow up. He is down here with another woman. There is nothing right about it. And by the way, he was carrying that box; he is up to no good.”
“You are down here with me. I know he wouldn’t like it if he knew about that.”
“I guess he wouldn’t,” he answered, as if he didn’t care.
“Let’s forget about him for a moment. You are about to start a new semester,” he said, taking my hand.
I smiled. “You are right. It is time to think about something new.” I was growing up fast. I was a mother, wife and student. I enjoyed the experience and yet doubted myself much too often. Again, I had let Simon steal my joy.
A car drove past us and I trembled. “It’s all right,” Adam said. As we approached the largest building on the Normal School campus with tall pillars, like the ones at the antebellum homes and hotel I often admired, my heart began to be lonely thinking about Adam going back to Richmond and leaving me in Petersburg all by myself. Just before I went into the building, Adam pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “You have a man right here.” Then he kissed me on the forehead and walked away.
Chapter 7
Miriam had somehow whittled her way into my life. No longer was she a student whom I shared a room with at the boardinghouse; she was becoming someone I valued as a friend. Ever since she had seen Simon driving his car past the boardinghouse and witnessed me kissing Adam passionately on the lips in the doorway, her involvement in my life was automatic. Her suspicions were ignited, and she longed to find out the truth.
“I don’t know what is really going on with you, but you are different,” Miriam said, standing with her hands on her narrow hips, her bright eyes searching my face for a reaction.
I shook my head and rolled my eyes at her comment; it was one I really didn’t understand. What was so different about me? The only thing different in my mind was my living arrangements. I was living in Petersburg during the week and Richmond on the weekends.
Miriam was watching me like a hawk, her eyes darting back and forth wherever I moved. She was not going to let me get away without answering her questions. “What is going on with you? You seem different,” she commented again.
“I’m the same person. I’ve got a few things on my mind.”
“Well, something is going on,” she said and put her hands on her hips again. “Simon is riding around town without stopping in on you and Adam is making frequent visits as if you are his woman. And that kiss the other night, what was that all about?”
“It was nothing, I told you. We got lost in the moment.”
“Well, what is with Simon?”
“Hold your voice down,” I warned her.
She whispered, “Well…”
“I don’t know why he didn’t stop by. He didn’t know I was back,” I said, tired of talking about him.
“I am concerned about you,” she said, smacking her lips and whispering at the same time.
She finally sat down on the davenport beside me, folding her skirt underneath her as a proper Southern Belle would do. “Something is wrong when two people who are married do not tell each other where they are.”
Her boldness should have struck a nerve with me, but it was the opposite. I sort of admired her asking me, rather than talking behind my back with the other girls, who loved to share gossip. Over the months, I had learned about one girl in the house being pregnant; another had run away from home; and one had two old men taking care of her. None of the gossip was important to me. So before I answered her, I had to think. I hung my head to gather my thoughts. When I finally decided to answer her, she sat waiting patiently with her arms crossed in front of her as if she had to know. “What do I know about marriage, Miriam?” I said. “You are making a lot of sense. I don’t understand why there is so much distance between Simon and me. I can remember a time when we told each other just about everything.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should be careful about my big mouth. My grandma warned me about my tongue. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Perhaps I am like all the rest of people around me, nosy.”
“It is okay. You’ve just said out loud what I have been thinking.” What she said bothered me like all the rest of the insinuations about my husband. It was time to talk about things. I had tried to stay away from the questions, but there was no way I could. I didn’t know what Simon was doing and neither did anyone else.
Miriam patted me on the leg. “It’ll be all right, Carrie.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. No one seemed to be watching. Miriam slid over and put her arm around me.
“Let’s take a walk,” Miriam suggested.
“It is cool outside. The wind is cold,” I said, as she got up.
“I know, but it is sunny, and the sun is good for you. Just wrap your head up; you will be all right.”
We both put on our coats and scarves and walked in the direction of the school. The wind felt good as it brazed my cheeks. Miriam seemed to enjoy it as well. She held her head high as if to let the breeze rub her face. After we had walked about two miles around the town and through the colored neighborhood, my head became clearer, and I had begun to appreciate the other things around me like the Normal School building and even the boardinghouse. My surroundings were symbols of hope. I wouldn’t have traded that experience for anyone and especially Simon.
Our previous conversation was fresh in my thoughts. Although my thoughts were clearer, as we walked down the road toward the school building, my eyes scanned the Studebakers and a Model T Ford driving down the street. One of them was just like Simon’s, but when I strained to see who the driver was, an old bald man peered back at me as if I was crazy. Simon obviously was long gone and nowhere in sight. I had a painful question of my own. Was he traveling with Nadine? Or did he come to Petersburg to meet her and the thought about me being in school never crossed his mind?
Miriam was a good person to talk to, but I didn’t trust her enough to share everything going on with me. For two weeks nothing changed for me. Each day I expected Simon to show up at the boardinghouse. It didn’t happen. All I did was read. I didn’t even write any letters to mail home. I gave all my energy to my school work, and recalled how Mrs. Miller, my primary school teacher, had instilled in my head the desire to be educated. She’d said it was the only way colored folk could fit into the white man’s world. Education was our freedom, and I loved school. With Momma caring for Robert, I felt secure, and skipped going home on the weekend. I didn’t worry about him being a nuisance because I could tell by the sparkle in her mature eyes that she loved him and embraced him tenderly.
When I finally decided to go home, I felt in control. I had worked off the frustrations. I inhaled deeply when the train came around the curve, clacking and screeching. I got on and took a seat near the window in the colored section. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. I imagined teaching at a school in Richmond and even running my own school. I thought about all the things I de
sired in my life. I even thought about a life with Adam. I smiled when I stepped off the train in Richmond. For some unexplainable reason, seeing my family was not first on my mind. I wanted to see Adam, who had not been back to Petersburg since he’d left. Instead, I walked right past his tenement house and down the street without stopping. I turned onto Clay Street, crossed over by The Deuce, where Ms. Pearl sang, and continued home.
Stepping onto the porch, Momma swung the door wide open as if she had been waiting for me. She immediately handed Robert to me. “Your baby needs to know who his momma is,” she said, not giving me time to put my suitcase down.
Robert smiled at me. I hugged him so tightly, he started to whimper. When I sat him down, he grinned and grabbed Momma’s dress and hung on to her.
“It is so nice to be home,” I said, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Momma stood with Robert holding onto her dress tail. “I was wondering when you would be coming home. It seems like you’ve been gone for weeks.”
“It’s only been two weeks. Did Robert give you trouble?” I asked.
“No, he was a good chile; I’m just not used to being inside the house so much. It is not much to do around here. I like being here, but miss my little day job working for Mrs. Ferguson. I know by now she is having a fit. And, of course, I hope Carl is feeding the hogs and chickens.”
“Mrs. Ferguson needs to learn to do things herself. I don’t like the way she treats you anyhow. And Carl can do things as well as Papa could.”
Momma sat down. “Well, I’m used to her,” she said, “Her ways used to bother me when I first started working for her, but now I know she don’t mean any harm. She just don’t know how to treat colored peoples.”
“She is just plain ole mean. And she doesn’t like colored people, either. She treats you like a slave, Momma.”
“Now she was the first one to come check on us after your papa died. She was so sweet.”
I refused to comment. Mrs. Ferguson had always treated Momma and me like we were her servants. I regretted Momma working for her, yet it was a good way for her to get out of the house. Farming and housework were possibly the most mundane tasks of all kinds of work. Listening to Mrs. Ferguson give orders and watching her run her hands along the mantle, making sure we didn’t forget to dust, was the only memory I really had of her. With the exception of her ruby-red lipstick, she was nonexistent to me, and I wished Momma felt the same.
“Were you able to get any shopping done?”
“I left Robert with Mrs. Hall once to do the shopping. When I stopped in the corner store, Kindred, Herman’s brother, was there. He scared me to death.”
“What did he do to you?” I asked.
“He didn’t do nothing to me. He just looked so much like Herman, I thought I had seen a ghost.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“I never met the man, yet he knew who I was. He asked about the child.”
“Momma, he is just like his brother. I’ve never seen twins who looked so much alike. Why is he so concerned about Robert?”
“He is just trying to be family like. What puzzles me is he is the spitting image of Herman. He evens sounds like him when he talks.”
“I don’t think Herman is dead. I think the man we call Kindred is Herman.”
“It can’t be. I dressed him and helped the undertaker put him in the box. It is not Herman.”
“Momma, it is strange how he has ended up in the same town as Pearl Brown, Herman’s former mistress.”
“Maybe Pearl followed him here.”
“I doubt it. Ms. Pearl said she just wants to sing and Richmond offered everything she was looking for and it is real close to Washington, D.C.”
“Chile, Pearl will tell you anything. She couldn’t have Herman so she went after his brother.”
“Momma, Mr. Camm was no one to have.”
“Chile, all of us have our faults.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t believe she was still defending him. It was why I didn’t tell her what he had done to me. She would have taken up for him. It was something about that man she loved. Nobody could understand what the attraction really was.
“Did he say anything else to you?”
“He told me I was looking nice,” Momma mumbled, with a sly grin on her face.
“Did he act like he knew you?”
“No, he was just a nice man, I tell you.”
I bit my tongue, and suffered because I wanted to explode. Momma had once again, in my mind, been fooled by Herman Camm. No matter what he had done, she seemed to have forgotten about all the lies he had told, and now pretending to be a twin brother was an all-time low. It was the subtle blush, and the twinkle in her eyes that had me worried. Immediately, I recalled how she had sashayed into the house after going to Washington, D.C., when Papa was on his deathbed. She’d had a peculiar grin on her face and none of us could understand why. Soon afterward, Herman Camm showed up.
“Momma, please listen to me; this man might be Herman,” I explained, gesturing with my hands.
“Chile, I was there when they put him down six feet in the ground. Herman is not around here. He is gone to glory, I tell you.”
I couldn’t believe my ears, so I got up and poured myself a glass of water. She didn’t say anything. Robert followed behind me and waited like a little puppy to have a drink. He was getting big. His features were changing and for a moment, he seemed to resemble Herman Camm. I forced that thought out of my mind.
I picked up my suitcase. “Momma, I’m tired; I am going to take a nap.”
“All right,” she said, and began to hum. Then she said, “Simon ain’t coming home, is he?”
“Why are you asking, Momma?”
“I just have a feeling things are not good. You are home now, and your husband has been gone a long time.”
“It has only been two weeks.”
“I know, and the strange thing is, I haven’t seen Nadine since I’ve been here.”
“Oh, she is around.”
“It is strange that she is also missing. I haven’t seen her or the children.”
I inhaled to keep from getting upset. “He is coming home soon, Momma. New Orleans is quite a distance.”
I went into the bedroom where Robert and I lay down and took a nap. On Saturday, I spent the entire day with Robert. We walked downtown and I took him to visit my childhood friend Hester. Hester and he had the best time laughing and rolling a ball on the floor. I hoped Simon would be home when we returned, but he wasn’t there. I caught the train back to Petersburg on Sunday.
Chapter 8
Seemingly, I had chosen the best weekend ever to come home from the Normal School. Everybody, including Momma, was talking about the rumors floating around. They said Bessie Smith was in town. The man who owned the corner feed, seed and everything else store said, “People are saying they saw Bessie Smith drive into town late last night. I’m going to be there front and center when she walks up on the stage.” The cobbler said Bessie Smith came with two car loads of people and they got rooms at the colored hotel. It was more like an oversized house than a hotel. Now that was news. I couldn’t wait to see if it was really true.
“I heard Bessie is here and I want to go to the club tonight!” I excitedly told Momma after handing her the pork sausage I’d purchased from the corner store, along with the ten pounds of flour.
“Chile, I want to hear Bessie too, but I know it is best to stay away from places like the club.”
“Clubs are not bad; it is the people who go there that cause the problems.”
“I don’t go to places like that,” Momma said, and threw her nose up in the air, shaking her head.
Immediately, it came to mind how, according to Aunt Bessie, Momma had visited the club in Washington, D.C., the night she met Herman Camm. And whenever Aunt Bessie mentioned it, Momma would stop her. “Hush yo’ mouth, Bessie, telling them lies on me.”
Aunt Bessie would just smile and say, “You know the
truth, Mae Lou, and I know the truth too.”
So I pushed the point. “Didn’t you go to see Ms. Pearl one night a long time ago?” I asked her.
Her eyes rolled around and her head followed so fast, I stepped back. “It was the first and last time I set foot in any place to see that floozy Pearl Brown!” she yelled. “We were in Washington, and that is where everybody go on Friday night. Now decent people down here don’t go to places like that, and you shouldn’t, either. Bessie should have kept her big mouth shut putting all this foolishness in yo’ head.”
Making sense of her visit did not mean much to me, so I didn’t say another word. “Momma, Simon and I love to go listen to her sing. And you know she can sing. There is not much else around here for us to do.”
“I never had a hard time finding things to do around the house. I took care of my home and it was more important than hanging out in joints with floozies.”
“I’m different. I try not to spend too much time judging others. I’m not perfect, either; nobody is, Momma.”
“I didn’t raise you to hang out in any bar listening to Bessie Smith and Pearl Brown. The both of them have a shady past. Everybody likes Bessie because she nasty and common acting.”
“I don’t hang in bars alone. Even Ms. Maggie Walker, the richest colored lady around here, comes to the club.”
“Something is wrong with Maggie too. She should be setting an example for people around here.”
“Momma, it is no harm in enjoying music.”
“Well, I didn’t come up here to watch Robert while you hang in nightclubs,” she said, folding laundry she had been ironing in the kitchen.
“I thought you came because you wanted to help me.”
“I will watch him while you go to school and do some of your chores, but I will not take care of him while you run to nightclubs without your husband. A lady ain’t got no business in places where Pearl Brown sings.”
“I just don’t see the harm in listening to someone sing.”
“You are still young. You can’t see a lot of things. It is up to me to tell you what I know.”
Cranberry Winter Page 5
