Catching Moondrops

by Jennifer Erin Valent

  “Ain’t you goin’ to marry that girl yet?” Gemma whispered her words, but that whisper was akin to another person’s normal volume, and as much as I wanted to hear Luke’s answer, I wanted even more to smack Gemma across the head.

  “Gemma!” I called. “I reckon Momma could use our help in the kitchen.” My voice was pointedly lighthearted, but my face told her she’d best get inside unless she wanted to be sleeping in the shed tonight. She gave me a smile that told me she considered her job well done and sauntered up to the house with her famously lazy walk.

  “What on earth are you thinkin’?” I hissed.

  “Just lightin’ a fire where one needed to be lit.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, I don’t need you to go lightin’ no fires, thank you very much. If you’re intent on lightin’ a fire somewhere, why don’t you light one under Tal Pritchett?”

  Gemma didn’t say a word to that, and I figured I’d given her a good taste of her own medicine. I sauntered past her in triumph only to catch the toe of my shoe on the threshold and sail into the kitchen.

  “Jessilyn!” Momma looked at me, planting flour-covered fists on her apron-covered hips. “You been at the bottle?”

  My eyes widened at my momma, the temperance woman of temperance women, making a joke about alcohol. “Momma!”

  She smiled at my shocked expression and nodded toward the kitchen table. “Gemma, honey, dredge those tomato slices for me, will you? And, Jessilyn, you could put on an apron and get them fryin’.” She looked at my dress and cringed. “Oh no, you’ll get your dress all splashed with oil. Here.” She grabbed my arm and switched places with me, then tossed an apron over my head and tied it tight. “Roll out this cobbler dough for me. You look like you could use some calmin’ down.”

  I picked up the rolling pin and tried to focus on getting the thickness just right, but I wasn’t having much success. Neither was Momma, because after she’d filled the frying pan with the first few tomato slices, she said, “Oh, it ain’t no use” and grabbed my arm with one of her messy hands. “I can’t concentrate on a single thing, Jessilyn, until you tell me what went on with Luke this mornin’.”

  Gemma dropped a tomato into her bowl and jumped up to huddle next to me and Momma. “I can’t neither!”

  I didn’t need any urging to tell all about it, and I did so in detail, with Momma holding a hand up every so often to make me stop so she could check on the tomatoes. Only I left out the part about the kiss. For some reason, I had a sacred feeling about that kiss, so sacred I couldn’t even think of telling anyone about it. It was something for me and Luke to share between the two of us only. But it didn’t matter a bit. They were both pie-eyed when I finished anyway, and I leaned back and sighed at the memory of the look on Luke’s face that morning.

  Momma stared off at nothing for a few seconds and then dreamily scooped the tomatoes from the pan and onto a plate. “That’s a man to keep, Jessilyn,” she murmured. “No doubt.”

  “I aim to, only I ain’t certain sure I’ve caught him yet. Leastways there ain’t no weddin’ talk.”

  “Oh, he’s caught, all right.” Gemma dunked another tomato, but she wasn’t paying much attention to it. “Just ’cause you ain’t got no ring on your finger don’t mean nothin’. He’s as caught as a man can get.”

  “What man?” Daddy walked into the room and looked at each of us expectantly.

  “Oh, nothin’, honey.” Momma picked up a tomato and distracted Daddy with food like she’d done many a time. “Taste this for me, will you?”

  Daddy obliged and gave her a loud “Mmmm-hm!” in return. “Sadie Lassiter, that’s good eatin’ right there. Yes’r!”

  He reached for another, but Momma shooed him away. “Get on out there and check the barbecue. That pig’s been smokin’ an age now. Anyways, you stay in this kitchen, you’ll end up dippin’ your fingers in everythin’.”

  Daddy peered out the kitchen window. “I see the boy’s here.” He nodded at me. “You find out what he was doin’ with that crazy boxed-up weed?”

  “Yes’r.” I blushed at the very thought of what my daddy would think if he knew about that kiss. I turned my face away to hide my burning cheeks.

  He waited for me to expound but got impatient when I didn’t. “Well?”

  “It was a game of sorts, Daddy; that’s all. Like hide-and-seek.”

  “Hide-and-seek for what? Weeds?”

  Momma sighed and plopped another tomato on the plate. “Harley, don’t be so ornery.”

  “Well, I’m just wonderin’ what the girl’s talkin’ about.”

  “No, you’re bein’ ornery. And she ain’t no girl; she’s a lady, so you may as well take to the idea good and quick. Luke gave her nice little clues to get her to where his gift was, and his gift was that old tree swing she loved all prettied up and hangin’ on the big oak tree by his house.” She plopped a few more slices into the pan so forcefully, they splashed oil all over. “Now, don’t go makin’ a fuss over somethin’ sweet and nice.”

  “I ain’t makin’ no fuss.” Daddy could see he’d gotten her goat, and he never much liked doing so if he could help it. He rubbed the back of his neck and made sure to lower his voice when he spoke again, but his words weren’t much calmer. “Just seems to me he could’ve found a different place to hang the thing. This here’s her home, after all.”

  Momma eyed Daddy so fiercely, she could have near about had the same effect by tossing the frying oil in his face. “Maybe you best start gettin’ used to the idea it won’t always be.”

  Gemma and I locked eyes nervously. I gave the dough two more swipes with the rolling pin and yanked my apron off. Gemma did the same after she finished up her last slices, then followed me from the kitchen.

  Most days Momma and Daddy got on fine as could be, but every now and again they had a disagreement that got heated, and we knew to leave them to it. We headed upstairs to fix ourselves up, knowing they’d be over and done with the spat by the time we got back downstairs. That was the way with Momma and Daddy’s quarrels. They’d start out all smoldering and then catch on fire for a few minutes before they came to some sort of compromise that put the flames out for good. Gemma and I knew from experience how it all worked.

  Only we didn’t much care to be around when the fire started.

  After we ate more than our stomachs should have been able to hold, Momma expelled me from the kitchen since it was my special day and sent me and Luke off for a walk to Miss Cleta’s. “I told her since she didn’t feel up to comin’ to your birthday dinner, we’d send her down some leftovers. The fresh air will do you good, anyways.”

  There was more than the fresh air to do me good. Walking alongside Luke couldn’t help but put a spring in my step, and as we headed down the road toward her house, I held on to his arm like my life depended on it.

  After all, sometimes it seemed like it did.

  Chapter 10

  Young love is a step apart from reality. It paints over the crudities of the world with pretty colors and strokes until everything’s just a watercolor. Only problem is, when you cover something up, you don’t really get rid of what’s beneath.

  I guess I knew all about that better than most. I’d seen the ugliest sides of life in my nineteen years. But when a woman wants to see life through the lenses of love, she has a way of doing just that, never mind what’s really going on around her.

  So I went through those first days of knowing how Luke cared for me without a worry, figuring all would turn to rights—had to turn to rights—in a world where a love such as ours could exist.

  That is, until the evening of June 15.

  I’d forgotten all about the meeting at Cole Mundy’s barn the minute Luke Talley made me burn that pancake. The time since had been filled with so much catching up for the time we’d lost, talking and laughing and looking into each other’s eyes like people I’d laughed at before I knew what it felt like, that I’d been able to mostly forget about white-robed men a
nd burning crosses. These were days I cherished for the time we had together as much as I did for the knowledge that they couldn’t last. Soon enough, he’d be hard at work filling orders and then setting out to deliver them.

  But for this Wednesday evening, I wasn’t thinking about work orders or meetings in Cole Mundy’s barn. I was thinking only about Luke Talley and the wisps of blond hair that were tickling his forehead with the breeze.

  He studied the chessboard. “You been practicin’ while I was away.”

  I gave him a wry half smile. “Got to have somethin’ to do with my time while you’re away.”

  “Uh-huh. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with wantin’ to whup me at chess.”

  “I’m not as competitive as you think I am.”

  “Jessie, if you ain’t competitive, then a pig ain’t got a snout.”

  I kept that half smile on my face and tipped my head at the board. “You gonna talk or play?”

  He sighed and moved a piece.

  “You gave me the game with that move!”

  “Weren’t nothin’ else for me to do. I ain’t like to sit here for hours waitin’ for my doom.”

  I studied his pieces for a minute or two and then tented my fingers in front of my mouth. “Huh!”

  “Huh! That’s right. You got me fair and square.”

  “Reckon I got better’n I thought.” I tapped his shoe with my own and leaned toward him across the table, knocking over a few pawns as I did so. “Reckon I’m more trouble than you bargained for.”

  He leaned over the board and brought his face six inches away from mine. “Reckon that’s a risk I’m willin’ to take.”

  Now, normally, Gemma was my right hand in times like these, giving me and Luke the space my daddy so rarely gave us. She’d ask my daddy questions to distract him or start humming so Daddy couldn’t eavesdrop on us. But on this evening Momma and Daddy had gone off for a visit, and here Gemma was, bursting through the screen door at the worst possible moment. My poison look told her so.

  She didn’t catch it, though. I could tell by the look in her eyes she was lost in her thoughts, and most times I couldn’t find her too easily in times like those. I turned my attention back to Luke, but he’d slipped back into his seat, stealing the moment away with him.

  I sighed and pushed my chair back. “Gemma, somethin’ wrong?”

  She didn’t answer, just stood there hanging on to the porch rail, looking off into the sky, her lips forming words her voice didn’t. Prayers.

  I gave Luke a sideways glance and nodded in her direction. “Won’t hear a thing when she’s like this.” My voice was flippant, but my insides didn’t match. Gemma usually got this way when she was sad or worried, and I didn’t much like thinking about her feeling either way. I got up and put my hand on her shoulder. “You okay, Gemma?”

  She just shook her head. “Somethin’s wrong.”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t know.” She wrapped one arm around her middle, tight. “I just know somethin’s wrong. I can feel it.”

  I knew what she meant. Impending trouble always settled in my stomach before it went anywhere. But for this night, it was Gemma alone who carried the weight, and I didn’t ask her why. I knew what she’d say. She’d say the Lord told her, and she was meant to pray about it. That’s what she always said. Sometimes, right smack in the middle of the night, I’d hear her slide off her bed onto her knees and pray right there in whispers.

  I didn’t much believe in God talking to people unless it had to do with Moses or Balaam. To me, those were ancient stories, and I could figure enough about a God that would talk in times like those.

  But speeches from God or not, I believed Gemma had a sixth sense about certain things. I trusted her more than I trusted myself, and I figured if she said trouble was coming, then trouble was coming.

  Luke, he was different. He watched her like he figured any second an angel would appear beside her. Over time, I’d watched Luke think more and more about the things Scripture said, and I knew now as he stood there watching Gemma that he believed she’d heard the voice of God.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, so I just pushed those thoughts aside and cleared the pieces from the chessboard one by one to pass the time. I’d only gotten halfway through when I heard Gemma speak.

  “The colored church.” With that announcement, the dread that she’d already had written across her face turned a shade darker, and her next words came out in a sort of moan. “Tal’s there.”

  That was all she said, but it was all she needed to say. Her finger pointed off into the distance. I followed its direction until I saw what she did—three wisps of smoke, like gray fingers pointing to the heavens.

  Luke disappeared inside, and I knew he’d be calling for help. But all I could do was stand and stare. Some six years back, the sight of such a thing sent us all into the worst time we’d ever known. The plumes of smoke that day were signs of a fire that left Gemma an orphan, and if I never saw such a thing again in all my life, I knew I’d be the better for it.

  But Gemma, she’d been there. She’d seen the bolt of lightning that lit up her house like kindling. She’d heard her parents’ cries and been forced to leave them behind, knowing they’d gone on without her and there was nothing she could do to change that.

  I remembered the look on her face when I found her curled up in a cart while her house burned in the distance, and I saw that very same look now.

  She pointed her eyes at me. They were glassy with fear, and when she spoke, her words came out in agonizing gasps. “There was a meetin’ there tonight. We’ve got to go.”

  I knew all about that meeting. It was a meeting to talk about how to peacefully stand up against prejudice in our community. I knew about it because Gemma had complained about it to me just this morning.

  “Ain’t no reason to go stirrin’ up trouble,” she’d said. “Best to leave well enough alone.”

  “Only it ain’t well enough,” I’d replied.

  She only shook her head at me. She didn’t want to argue.

  And there was no arguing with her now. Her whole body shook with the certainty that she could lose another loved one to flame and smoke, and I ached at the very thought of her having to go through that again.

  “Gemma, you stay here.” I used my hands on her shoulders to turn her full around to face me. “You know you can’t go out there and see that. It’ll rip you up.”

  “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t. You can stay here and wait for Momma and Daddy, tell them where we’ve gone.”

  “A note’ll do the same. I’m goin’.”

  “Don’t be a stubborn mule!”

  “I’ll be whatever I need to be, Jessilyn, and don’t you go sayin’ different. If I’ve got to go, I’ve got to go. Don’t matter none if you think it wise or not.”

  I knew I’d get nowhere, so I shut my mouth and watched her head off to take a determined seat in Luke’s truck, her arms crossed as tightly as they could be, quivering as they were.

  Luke came out and grabbed my arm. “Called the sheriff, and ain’t it a surprise, he’s not in! Got one of them dim-witted deputies of his, says he’ll let it be known there’s trouble at the colored church.” He lowered his voice even though Gemma couldn’t hear a word from where she was. “You ask me, there won’t be a single soul there to help . . . least not one that’s white.” He steered me down the steps to the truck and helped me in before hopping up beside me.

  Gemma’s church, the only colored church in our parts, sat a good half mile away from town, an old, rickety building all alone in a field of goldenrod and ticks. Despite being painted up a shiny white and kept clean as a whistle, most of the time it looked like it was going to come down on somebody’s head. I’d told Gemma many a time I was worried she’d be buried alive there.

  She always dismissed me with the same words. “If I go to Jesus praisin’ Him, I reckon there ain’t no better way.”

  Gemma’s feet t
apped the floorboard in a nervous dance, but I didn’t put my hand on her knee to urge her to stop. I knew all sorts of things had to be stirring in her soul, and she needed to get by somehow. The trip wouldn’t take long in minutes, but it would seem like an eternity in thoughts.

  The acrid smell of burning wood floated into the truck through open windows, making our eyes burn and water. Gemma’s lips moved in whispered prayers. I gripped Luke’s sleeve, readying for what figured to be a trying time.

  The sky was orange over the treetops when we rounded the bend to the church, throwing me right back to that day at Gemma’s house like I’d been transported in time. The air was heavy with smoke, making it hard to breathe. Gemma pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and held it over her nose and mouth. The second the truck skidded to a stop well away from the burning church, Luke tied his own handkerchief around my face and then jumped out of the truck. “Stay back!” he ordered.

  That old building had gone up in flame so quick, it was almost a pile of ash already. The roaring of the fire, popping and cracking with a life of its own, was deafening, but not enough to cover the agonized screams and wails of the soot-covered mass of bystanders.

  Gemma started to fuss with the door handle, but her hand was too shaky to grasp it.

  “Don’t, Gemma.” I held her arm. “Don’t go out there.”

  She coughed hard, and there were tears streaming down her face, but she kept jiggling the handle. “I need to know, Jessie,” she murmured when she could breathe again.

  “Then let me go. Why don’t you stay here and wait for help while I go look?”

  She turned to face me, and with that handkerchief over her mouth and nose, all I could see were her bloodshot eyes, but they told me all I needed to know. “They already done their helpin’!”

  I knew what she meant. The way she saw it, the only white hands that would have anything to do with this scene before us had struck the matches and poured the gasoline.

  And that was the way I saw it too.