“Don’t start arguing among yourselves now,” Auntie said on her way out of the room to see about Janie, who’d awakened for her midnight feeding.
“We was over on Cypress and Prez said they was gonna come after us and put us in jail for sure.”
“I didn’t say no such thing.”
“Tell the truth and shame the devil,” Perry said.
“You was the one who was runnin’.” Prez turned to Mama. “He was the one who started runnin’ in those white folks’ backyards—hidin’ out and such.”
“Wasn’t—”
“Shut up, both of you,” Mama said quietly. She sighed and got up, went into the other room, and came back with the brown bottle of peroxide and some strips of muslin. “Let me see that,” she said to Perry.
He drew back.
Clarissa, who’d been sitting with her chin in her hand for some time, perked up.
“Naw, Auntie. It’s gonna hurt.”
“Boy, if you don’t give me that arm—you are gonna be hurt for sure.”
Perry submitted. He scrunched his face and squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for pain.
“Ow, ow, ow …”
“Shut up now, you big baby—you know I ain’t hurtin’ you.” Quickly Mama washed the wound and wrapped it in clean muslin. She bit the end of the strip and ripped it down the middle. She tied the bandage closed.
Perry seemed to slump then. “I’m tired, Mama.”
Mama turned to Clarissa. “I want to thank you for bringing our boys back to us. But you go on home. Your people’ve probably discovered you gone by now and are worried sick.”
Clarissa got up slowly and, it seemed, reluctantly. She moved to the door. Mama reached past her and opened it for her. “Be careful, now. I sure thank you,” she said again.
Clarissa gave her a little nod and slipped out.
“They’re packin’ up,” Mama said. She’d not left her post by the window since Clarissa left. Sure enough, we could hear the motors being revved up. I joined her and looked out. A train of headlights was snaking up the road, heading our way. A pickup filled with loud, whooping men gunned past. Something cracked against the side of the house and we heard it shatter. An empty beer bottle, I was sure. Mama and I ducked down and waited until the sound of every car and truck had died away.
Auntie had snuck home with Perry and Janie, and Prez lay sound asleep in his bed when Mama said, “Bet they didn’t get him.”
“How do you know?”
“I got a feelin’.”
When the night settled into its quiet, we crawled into bed and fell immediately to sleep.
Jesse
I let Prez sleep through the morning while I worked on some pillow slips Mama was having me do for Auntie. I peeked in on him just to make sure he was still there. Before Mama had left for an emergency situation at the Montgomerys’—they were having unexpected overnight guests—she had told me not to let Prez out of my sight. I was excused from helping her.
A storm seemed promised for late morning. I had swept the yard and then sat on the porch, finishing the slips Mama had made me rip out and start over. “Your stitches are long and lazy. You know better than to get in a hurry,” she said. I sat on the porch and watched rain clouds gathering.
I thought about Juniper. We hadn’t seen him in days, but I wasn’t worried. He often went on excursions in the woods, only to emerge days later, hungry and full of ticks. I was really going to miss him when we moved, however. We couldn’t take him with us, so Perry’d be getting him.
As if he’d read my mind, I spied Juniper running along the edge of the woods and disappearing back into it. I sewed a line of tiny stitches, then stopped to admire my handiwork. Mama was not going to make me rip these out, I thought. When I checked to see if I could glimpse Juniper again, I saw a man walking slowly across the field toward our house. Not Juniper.
It was Jesse, moving as if his legs weighed a ton, but not caring that he was crossing the open field in broad daylight. Reminding me of the first time I laid eyes on him last spring at school.
He walked right to the steps and stared at me without a word. I stood up and held the door open for him and he went inside. I took a good look at him then. His hair was caked with leaves and twigs and clumps of mud. His shirt was in tatters and he’d either lost his shoes or didn’t have any on when he first went into hiding.
“I thought you were gone for good. How’d you hide from them dogs?”
“I ran along the creek for a good mile or two and came out when I thought I’d gone on long enough. Then I hid out till this morning.”
“Why’d you try to beat up a white man?” I asked.
He sunk down into our kitchen chair.
“Can I have some water?” he asked. “And a little somethin’ to eat?”
I got him the water and some of the corn bread left over from the day before. He pushed the corn bread into his mouth with filthy hands. Then, while his mouth was still full, he began to gulp down the water, his eyes nearly closed. I watched the rising and falling of his Adam’s apple. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’d like some more—if you don’t mind.”
I brought him another glass.
“Got any shoes I can have?”
I looked down at his muddy feet. “My daddy has some old shoes about your size.” I went into the other room. “He’s a Pullman porter now,” I called out as I dug around in the bottom of the wardrobe. “They gave him a full uniform and new shoes. He wouldn’t wear these now.” I returned to the front room and set them down by his feet. He slipped his dirty feet easily into them and tied them up. I felt full of accomplishment, looking at his feet in my daddy’s shoes.
“Did you do that fool thing that they said you did?” I asked, taking my seat across from him.
“I didn’t go after nobody.” His eyes were filled with anger. “I ain’t crazy.”
“Bellamy going around saying you did.”
“Cause he lied on me.” Jesse drank from his glass. “To save face.”
I waited.
“The man ain’t never paid me honestly. He was shortchanging me. Laughing at me behind my back. I suspected as much, but I didn’t know it until I heard one of the white workers laughing about how stupid I was. That I couldn’t cipher. When I asked Bellamy about it, real polite like, he got mad and called me uppity. Told me there was plenty men who’d be glad to get my job.”
Without warning, tears welled up in Jesse’s eyes. He wiped them away. “I didn’t say nothin’ more about it—just did my job. But he fired me.”
Silence settled between us while I tried to understand this different version. “I just took what was mine. One night I snuck in the Early henhouse to get a chicken. I figured that was what he owed me—at least. Bellamy come in before I could get away. I only run past him, s’all. And he fell. I got away. He must have decided he was gonna get me back. I heard what he sayin’—I assaulted him. But I didn’t touch that man.”
He stared at his hands. “I got me a plan,” he said. “It’s just gonna take me a few days to put it into motion, but …”
The sound of a car pulling up in front of the house interrupted him. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Jesse put a hand on my arm. I moved away and went quickly to the window in time to see the sheriff, alone, getting out of his car.
I was outside before he got to the steps to the front door. He’d parked in my freshly swept yard. Leisurely, and with deliberate slowness, I thought, he came over to stand at the bottom step. He flicked a cigarette butt in Mama’s flower bed.
“Where’s your brother?”
“Prez’s asleep, sir.”
“Go get him.”
I backed into the house and did what I was told. The kitchen was deserted; Jesse had disappeared. I couldn’t even imagine where. Mama had all her boxes of quilting scraps under Prez’s bed. The pantry was too small. The bed me and Mama slept in stood so high nothing could be hidden under there. I dared not try to find him.
/> “Get up, Prez,” I said, shaking him. “The sheriff wants you.”
He sat up at once and started whimpering. “Why’s he want me?”
“He didn’t tell me.” I looked around the room. “Hurry up.”
Prez threw on his clothes and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. We hurried down our small hallway and came upon the sheriff standing in our kitchen. I stopped short. I looked around. Prez slipped his hands in the back pockets of his overalls and cast his eyes to the floor.
The sheriff stared down at him. “What were you doin’ in the woods yesterday?”
“We was just going after kindling for my auntie, Sheriff,” Prez said in a muffled voice.
“Speak up when I talk to you,” the sheriff bellowed.
Prez looked up with fear, but he did not look in the man’s eyes. “That’s the only reason we was there, sir.”
“Jack Bascomb said he caught you in the woods up to something.”
“No, sir.”
“You callin’ him a lie?”
“No, sir,” Prez said quickly. “I’m just saying we was only going after kindling.”
“By the creek.”
“We got to playing, sir.” Prez’s voice caught, and I knew he was struggling to hold back the tears.
“You weren’t in them woods to help that boy we’re after?”
“No, sir! I don’t know nothin’ about no boy.” He broke down over his lie then. The sheriff looked down on him like he was disgusted and yet found Prez funny at the same time. He glanced over at me. “I need me some water.”
Quickly, I moved to the pump and filled the glass Jesse had used and handed it to him. He downed the water and handed the glass back. He looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if it had just occurred to him to wonder about my part in this.
Suddenly my eye caught Daddy’s boots, through the open door down the hall, in the dark space between the hem of the wardrobe curtain and the floor. My heart thumped in my chest. I turned toward the window, thinking my expression would surely give me away. And if that didn’t, my pounding heart. I felt my face flush hot.
“What’s wrong?” the sheriff asked.
“I just remembered I ain’t seen my dog for a while and I was hoping he didn’t get torn up by one of those hounds last night.”
The sheriff angled his head back and looked at me for a long time. Finally, he moved to the door. “I better not learn you two been up to something. You’ll be sorry if I do.” He shook his finger at us. A thick slab of a finger. “Don’t let me find out you was lyin’.”
As soon as he was gone, I brought my finger to my mouth and pointed down the hallway. Prez followed my pointing finger and his eyes grew big. He ran to the window and watched until the sheriff’s car pulled away. “He’s going down to Auntie’s to talk to Perry.”
Jesse stepped out of the wardrobe and wiped his sweating face. “I’ma go.”
Prez’s mouth dropped open. “We gonna get in trouble, Francie!” he cried.
“No, we ain’t,” I said. I turned to Jesse. “Where you going?”
He drew up, like he was trying to fill himself with confidence. “I’m gettin’ down to New Orleans. I can catch a freight out to California from there.”
For a second I envied him and wished I could hop a freight to California myself. Where the sun always shined and oranges grew on trees and the ocean was in your backyard. “Where you going to be until then?”
“Where I been.”
“It ain’t safe.”
I took his hand and led him to the window. I pointed over to Miss Mabel’s house. “You see that house down there? The woman who lives there saw you in the woods, and I know she told the sheriff and his deputy. I know it.”
“She ain’t gonna see me.”
“Yes, she will. Because she’s in the woods all the time, going after her plants. She’ll know you’re there. And if she thinks she can get something out of it, she’ll tell.”
He seemed to think about this.
“You can hide out in our shed.”
“Uh-uh, Francie,” Prez said. “We’ll get in trouble.”
I ignored him and just waited for Jesse’s response.
“Okay,” he said. He had no choice.
“The sheriff’s gonna find out and he’s gonna arrest us!” Prez whined.
“Be quiet, Prez. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I was moving around the room, gathering up what I thought he’d need. A blanket, some biscuits, a quart jar of water. I screwed the lid on tight and put everything in his arms. I got my own pillow off my bed and put it on top. Then I remembered the book Clarissa had given me for Jesse. I ran and got it.
“Here, take this, too. It’s Aesop’s Fables. The shed is out back. You can go get some sleep.” We all looked out the window to see where the sheriff’s car was. There was no sign of it. I opened the door and Jesse went through it, crossed my yard, and disappeared into the shed.
Then I watched that shed. While I rolled dough for biscuits and made hominy and gravy, I kept my eyes on it as much as possible. When Prez started for the door, I checked him. “Where you going?”
“Down to Perry’s,” he said, all innocent.
“No, you aren’t. Mama told me you had to stay home.”
“Down to Perry’s is practically stayin’ home.”
“You just want to tell him about Jesse.”
He didn’t say anything and I knew I was right. He went out the front door and stood on the porch.
“Don’t you leave the yard,” I said.
Just like I thought, a storm hit by early evening. Before I could worry about Mama getting soaked on her walk home, I heard a car approaching. The same car from last night. Dr. Montgomery had driven Mama home. Now she jumped out of the car and ran for the porch, calling her thanks over her shoulder.
She came in shaking her hat and wiping her wet face. “Hi, Mama,” I said and began to set the table. Prez came out from the back room. “Hi, Mama,” he said sheepishly.
“Boy, don’t you know I could hardly work today, thinkin’ about last night?” She sat down heavily at the table and I brought her her dinner. Prez went to the window and looked toward the shed. Then he looked pointedly at me. Mama felt our tension.
“What’s with you two?”
“Nothing,” I said, and shot Prez a warning look.
“Get your rest tonight, Francie. We got Miss Rivers’ house in the morning.”
Mentally, I sighed. I’d left Jesse alone all day, thinking he was exhausted from the night before. But I’d sure planned to sneak him some dinner before Mama got back from the Montgomerys’. Because of the storm, she’d gotten back sooner than expected. Now she was going to make sure I got into bed early.
“Prez,” I said, pulling him aside as soon as I could, “when Mama and I leave in the morning, you take Jesse something to eat.”
He stared at me stupidly. “Don’t forget,” I said.
“Get your clothes on, Francie. And hurry.”
I sulked all the way there. When we had stepped out into the yard, I snuck a quick peek at the shed. Oddly, I felt no sense of Jesse. It was almost as if he wasn’t there.
“Put that lip back in, missy. I ain’t gonna have you walk around all morning with a long face, spoilin’ everybody’s happiness.”
Miss Rivers taught history at the white high school. She had a regular maid, Burnette, who was all the time putting on airs. She pointedly called herself a housekeeper. And she thought she was a step up from us because she was lighter and Miss Rivers had taken her along to Paris a few summers back.
She’d come back practically thinking she was French. All the time slipping in little tidbits about “gay Paree” and how the men thought of her as exotic. “Exoteek,” as she said it. “They didn’t think I was no African, neither,” she’d said to me and Mama on one of our workdays there at Miss Rivers’.
Burnette opened the back door and gave us the full inspection. We wouldn’t have to serve at this func
tion; we’d just be doing the cleaning and cooking. Which was fine with me because then I could eat a little bit as I prepared things. It was easier than serving. More relaxing. And Bea Mosely was there already and she always kept me and Mama in stitches.
We stepped through the door. Burnette shook her head. “Didn’t you bring something to put on your hair?” Mama pulled off her hat and smoothed her hair.
“I’ll just have to find you something. You can’t prepare food with your hair uncovered. It’s not sanitary.” She sashayed out of the kitchen. Miss Bea looked back at me and Mama and we all burst into laughter. “I guess she told you,” Miss Bea said.
“I guess she did,” Mama agreed, not caring a whit.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here, because she like to drive me out of my mind.”
“So now she can drive us all out of our minds.”
Burnette came back with two kerchiefs. Mama and I tied them on and then followed her to the dining room to get the rug up and outside. It was heavy and hard to get over the railing evenly. Once I had it up there, Mama handed me the broom and told me to sweep the porch.
As I neared the end of the back side of the porch, I heard Sheriff Barnes’s voice coming from around the corner.
“I’ma get going, Miss Rivers.”
“Well, tell Mrs. Barnes we’re sure going to miss her today and we’re sorry she’s down with that cold.”
“Will do. Just as soon as I get back from out Three Notch way.”
I stopped sweeping the porch.
“What do you have to do out there?” Miss Rivers asked.
“I’m not satisfied with our search yet. I want to check some sheds and chicken coops and under a few corncribs … I got me a hunch.”
“Well, I suppose you’ve got to go with a hunch. They usually pay off.”
I heard the sheriff go down the steps, and peeked around the corner just as he was getting in his car. I watched him ease out of Miss Rivers’ driveway, then I looked back at Mama—the edge of her scarf already a dark ring of sweat—and knew what I was going to do. I quickly swept around the corner of the porch and out of sight. Mama had glanced over at me once, but her mind seemed to be on something else. I leaned the broom against the porch railing, and went down the steps and across the front lawn toward the road. Then I ran.
Francie Page 11
