by Brenda Woods
It took only a few more moments for him to decide that Meriwether should start the following afternoon. “No need to worry about pumpin’ gas. Got a high school boy who comes in after school for that. Name’s Matthew. Nice young fella. He closes up ’round nine.”
Meriwether grinned. “You won’t be sorry, Mr. Haberlin.”
Daddy shook Meriwether’s hand and said, “Call me Jake. Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Should you and Lucas happen to cross paths and he becomes . . .” He searched for a word and found it. “Hostile . . . promise me you’ll just walk away. Can’t know if it’s true or not, but there’s a rumor he’s got friends in a certain organization.”
“The KKK?” Meriwether asked, but it was more an answer than a question.
Patrick finally chimed in, “The KKK? They wear white hoods so cain’t nobody see their faces. I saw ’em once when I was nine and we were drivin’ over ’round Batesburg. There were ’bout ten of ’em ridin’ horses and my mama got scared ’cuz she claims they hate Catholics. Never seen KKK in Birdsong, though. Still, Mama warns us to always keep our medals hidden under our shirts.” Patrick pulled out his medal, presented it briefly, then tucked it away.
As if to offer comfort, Mama patted Patrick’s shoulder.
“So,” Meriwether told Patrick, “we’re alike . . . you and I.”
Patrick scrunched up his face and said, “But you’re colored and I’m white, uncle, so we can’t be.”
I had to laugh. Patrick is one of those people who sometimes needs to have things spelled out for them, and that’s what I did. “He means that the Klan doesn’t like coloreds or Catholics, and that means y’all have somethin’ in common.”
Patrick took a few seconds to understand what he’d just been told. Slowly, a smile appeared. “Oh.”
Then the attention returned to Meriwether, and Daddy said, “I’d hate to have you or your family harmed.”
“Yes,” Mama said. “Long as you stay out of each other’s way, Mr. Hunter, I’m sure there won’t be any problems, right, Jake?”
Before Daddy could answer, I asked, “How come people do stuff like Lucas just did?”
Meriwether answered for him, “Blindness.”
“But Lucas ain’t blind. He can see good as all of us,” Patrick said.
“All kinda ways to be blind,” he said softly, “all kinda ways.”
I was about to ask him what he meant, but as soon as I opened my mouth, Lucas slithered by, causing Mama to put her finger to her lips, and I knew my tongue had to be still. And for a while, except for my thoughts, it was quiet.
After Lucas retreated to the garage and the sounds that followed told us he was back to work, Meriwether offered more thanks and headed home. Daddy rushed off, eager to make a deal with a man who was examining the ten or so automobiles on the lot, and Patrick and I climbed into Mama’s car.
“Terror by Night is playing. Would y’all like to go to a matinee with me?”
“Sherlock Holmes? Hot diggity yes!” I replied.
“You kiddin’? I’ve been waitin’ all week to see it,” Patrick said, “but I need to ask my mama.”
Mama made a left turn, and in no time at all we pulled up to the curb in front of Patrick’s house.
Patrick sprinted inside and soon his mama, Teresa Kelly, appeared on the porch, her stomach big with a child she was expecting any time now, waving a dishrag, grinning, and in a flash Patrick returned and slid into the back seat. Music from the radio filled up the car as we drove, and Mama sang along with Perry Como.
As we coasted along Main Street, I thought about Lucas spitting on Meriwether and whether he really had friends in the KKK, and wondered what other ugly things might be lurking near the pretty town of Birdsong, USA.
CHAPTER 12
There are some things that should never happen when you’re twelve and you’re standing in the movie line—alongside your mama—but like it or not, they happen just the same. I heard her voice behind me and swiveled around.
“Hi, Mrs. Haberlin and Gabriel,” Rosie Riley said. Patrick poked his head out from behind me. “Oh, and Patrick.”
Beside her stood her best friend, Emma Kane, who suffers from what Patrick and I call the Triple S disease—snooty, self-worshipping, and selfish.
“Well, hi there, Rosie and Emma,” Mama said in her cheerful way.
Patrick offered them a half wave.
Rosie and Emma were there by themselves, and me being with Mama made me feel like I was still a baby. Right then, I wanted to go poof and disappear. “Hi, R-Rosie,” I stammered, “and Emma.”
“Hiya,” Emma said.
“You seem all better from yesterday,” Rosie commented.
My face got warm, and I could feel it turn red. “I am, thanks.”
The line began to move, and Mama declared, “Thank the Lord. This heat has got it in its mind to do me harm.”
“It’s true, Mrs. Haberlin, people can die from being too hot. It’s called hyperthermia,” Rosie said seriously.
Mama winked at her. “I see your daddy’s profession is rubbin’ off on you.”
“Yes ma’am, it is,” Rosie replied confidently. Her hair was swept up and held in place by a tortoiseshell comb like the one I bought for my mama Christmas before last. I tried with all my might to stop admiring Rosie, but I was unsuccessful until Emma blew a huge bubble, distracting me.
Finally, we were at the ticket counter. “One adult and two children,” Mama told the man in the booth.
I heard Emma giggle. “Bye-bye, little boys,” she said sarcastically.
“So long,” Rosie said.
“See ya,” I replied.
Please don’t let them sit near us, I hoped. Thankfully, they didn’t. After a while Porky Pig and Daffy Duck had my attention, and by the time Basil Rathbone appeared on the screen, Rosie Riley had slipped out of my mind—well, mostly.
CHAPTER 13
The conversation at dinner that night reminded me of a grasshopper, hopping around from the car Daddy had sold, to Sherlock Holmes, to Rosie being a very smart girl, until it finally landed on Meriwether Hunter.
“Still not sure if this is a good idea . . . Lucas bein’ the way he is,” Daddy remarked.
Even Mama, who generally tries to see the good side of things, expressed doubts. “It’s been gnawin’ at me too, Jake.”
I had the perfect solution to the problem. “Just fire Lucas. You said before how you’d like to.”
“That was before the other fella up and quit. Wasn’t expectin’ that. And what if this Meriwether isn’t all you think he is? That’d put me in quicksand.”
Mama nodded in agreement. “Still, I’d hate to feel responsible for any nasty goings-on.”
“Should be some law that keeps you from doin’ harm when all you were aimin’ to do is good.” Daddy sighed.
“Oughtta be but there isn’t,” Mama commented.
“After y’all left, I tried to settle things down with Lucas. I told him I was hiring Meriwether. That he’d be coming in late, after Lucas was off for the day, and that I’d appreciate it if he could keep the way he feels about coloreds to himself while he’s at work . . . should they happen to cross paths.”
“What’d he say?” I asked.
“Just said, ‘You the boss, Jake.’ Then got a sly look on his face and started whistling.”
“You really think he’s in with the Klan?” I asked.
“Hard to know who is and who isn’t,” Daddy replied.
“I don’t quite understand it,” I said. “Lots of the stuff they do is against the law, right?”
“Yes,” Daddy answered.
My next question was, “So how come they don’t get arrested or put in jail?”
“It’s not right, Gabriel,” Mama said. “But the Sout
h has its ways. Your daddy and I aren’t the only ones in Birdsong who would like things to change, and we’re hopin’ that one day they will. But I don’t want to see you frettin’ . . .”
“Not frettin’, just wonderin’,” I told her.
She rubbed my head. “Gonna wear your young brain out with all that wonderin’. Some things have no answers.”
“Maybe there are answers but we just haven’t found ’em yet,” I replied.
“That could surely be,” Daddy said. And then he tried to lighten the mood when he turned to Mama and grinned. “Well, Agatha, how do you like that? We’ve gone and created us a thinker.”
That night, in bed, I thought about whether too much thinking could actually be bad for you. I’d heard people talk about folks who’d worked themselves to death, and I wondered if it was possible for a person to think themselves to death. Right then, I figured that’s what sleep is for—to give your mind and body a rest.
I nodded off and dreamed.
CHAPTER 14
The following days were both extra normal and extremely usual. I did my chores, including helping Mama pull weeds from her garden, went swimming with Patrick and his younger brother Joe, tried to catch some fish but didn’t have any luck. And because you always miss stuff the first time, I usually try to see a movie twice, so on Thursday, I was going to see the Sherlock Holmes movie again. But because an uncomfortable feeling kept dogging me all week—a feeling I wasn’t used to, that something bad was going to happen—I decided that before the movie I’d stop by Daddy’s to see how things were working out for Meriwether.
Lucas was just coming out of the bathroom with the sign on the door that said Whites, drying his hands off on a rag. According to the clock, it was twenty minutes past his quitting time and Meriwether was due any minute.
Seemed to me Lucas was making a show of wiping his hands. “Gotta make sure I get all the black off,” he said with emphasis on the word black. He tossed the rag into the bin and held up his hands for me to see. “Now, that’s exactly how I like ’em, Gabriel—nice and white.”
I may only be twelve, but I understood what he was getting at, and I hoped he’d be gone before Meriwether showed up. But I hoped wrong, because right then, Meriwether strolled in.
Meriwether greeted us pleasantly. “Good afternoon.”
“Hi, Mr. Hunter,” I replied.
Lucas responded with a scowl. His usual wad of tobacco was tucked inside his cheek, and I wondered if he was going to spit at Meriwether’s feet again, but luckily, he didn’t.
Without a word, he walked out into the sun and didn’t look back. I stood in the doorway and watched Lucas until he was out of sight. Something was still eating at me inside and had me worried.
“How do you like workin’ here?” I asked Meriwether.
He slipped into his coveralls and said, “I like it just fine.”
“I would stay but the movie starts at four, and if I do, I’ll be late,” I explained.
He popped the hood on a car and stuck his head inside. “Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”
“No. I always try to see a movie twice because that way I remember it better.”
“Even if you don’t like the movie?” he asked.
“The only ones I can’t stand are those lovey-dovey sappy ones. And I try never to see those even once.”
“Smart boy.”
“See ya,” I told him.
He raised his head and waved. “Bye now, Gabriel.”
And as I walked off, a part of me wanted to skip the movie and go back and talk some more with Meriwether Hunter. But Patrick was waiting on me, so I headed into town.
* * *
AFTER DINNER, I went to my room and stared at the bicycle I’d been forbidden to ride. Patrick was right. They may as well just crucify me, I thought.
I was still pitying myself when Meriwether dropped into my mind and lingered there. Some folks were always itching to start trouble, and Lucas was one of them. A kind man had saved my life and that man happened to be colored, and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.
Inside of me, questions and worries collided with each other, producing more and more, until I had too many. Finally, everything going on inside my skull quieted down and I had my answer.
I’d go to work at the shop. That way, not only could I spend time with Meriwether, who, even though I’d only known him for a short while, for some reason had already started to feel like my friend, but also, with the boss’s son nearby, Lucas wouldn’t likely start any mess—would he?
CHAPTER 15
Same as most mornings, the newspaper was shielding my father’s face when I walked into the kitchen. Bacon frying in the skillet made my mouth water, and I knew hot grits were in the pot next to it. I lifted the lid and inhaled. I was still wearing my nightclothes. It was six thirty.
Mama smiled. “You’re up early for a summer mornin’.”
“Mornin’, son,” Daddy said without showing his face.
“Mornin’.”
“You want some eggs?” Mama asked.
“Yes ma’am. Sunny side up, please.”
“The answer is no,” Daddy said. “The bicycle is off-limits for the full two weeks, Gabriel. I’m not gonna budge on this one, and neither is your mama, right, Agatha?”
Mama nodded her agreement.
“I wasn’t even gonna ask about the bicycle.”
Daddy’s face appeared from behind the paper, and he glanced at his watch. “Then what’s the matter? Why’re you up so early?”
“Nuthin’ . . . I was just thinkin’.”
“You go to bed thinkin’ and wake up thinkin’ too? Do you sleep at all?”
“Yessir, like a log,” I replied.
He gazed at me in a strange way, as if somehow I’d changed now that I’d turned twelve.
“Your mind still set on becomin’ a pilot?” Daddy asked. “Because I’m of the opinion that you might wanna set your sights on a career that pays you to think. Study something like philosophy and become a college professor, maybe a lawyer.”
“Nossir. I think a pilot is what I aim to be, or maybe a detective.”
“That so.” His face disappeared behind the paper again.
“I got up early to tell you I’d like to work at the shop, maybe help Matthew pump gas, wash windows, check the oil, and all that, if you like. It’d be good experience. I’m old enough now. And you don’t even have to pay me.”
“Free labor. I won’t say no to that.” He hesitated, and seconds passed. “Plus, you can look after Meriwether that way.”
I was a squeaky-clean window—very easy to see through. “Yessir . . . that too.”
Mama spoke up. “I do not want my son around that Lucas Shaw.” Then she said something I’d never heard her say about anyone before. “He’s trash. Wish you could let him go, Jake.”
“Can’t do that yet, Agatha. Gotta first see if Meriwether works out. So far, he seems to know his way around an engine just fine. But still, I need two mechanics.”
Mama set a plate in front of me. “I hope it’ll work itself out.”
“Gabriel, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told Meriwether. Lucas starts up with you, don’t feed his fire by biting back. I’ve never had to bring physical harm to another human being and I’d just as well leave it that way, but—”
I looked in his eyes. “But?”
Mama turned away from the sink and faced us. “That’s enough, Jake.”
“So, it’s all right with you?” I asked.
“It’s okay. You might even pick up some understanding of automobiles and engines, and there’s a clear advantage to learnin’ almost any technical skill. I’ll even pay you a wage. You can save it for the expensive college I have a feelin’ you’ll be headin’ off to.”
Daddy stood up from the table and kissed
Mama goodbye.
“What time should I be at work?” I asked.
“Three thirty . . . on the dot.”
“On the dot,” I repeated.
My parents had said I couldn’t ride my bicycle, but they hadn’t forbidden me to sit on it. And that’s where I was when Patrick showed up, his swimming goggles around his neck. “What you gonna do today?” he asked.
“Got some chores, then I’m goin’ to work.”
“To work? When’d you get a job?”
“This mornin’ . . . Gonna help out at my daddy’s.”
“He gonna pay you? ’Cuz if he is, tell him I want a job too.”
“He’s payin’ but I think for now he has all the help he needs.”
“Yeah, Lucas and Matthew and the uncle and now you, spoze that’s enough.”
“He’s got a name,” I barked, “plus, he’s not your uncle.”
“You talkin’ ’bout that colored man?”
“Yes. His name is Mr. Hunter, or Meriwether, if you like . . . but he’s not your uncle, so you shouldn’t call him that.”
Patrick defended himself. “You don’t havta get all mad, Gabriel. Colored men are uncles and colored ladies are aunties. That’s what a lot of the white folks around here call ’em.”
“I don’t.”
Patrick shrugged.
We were interrupted by Mama. “I’m goin’ to get my hair done!” she hollered. “And then stop at the grocery! See y’all later!”
“Bye.”
The screen door banged shut and she was gone.
Patrick studied my face and I studied his. “You still mad?” he asked.
This time I shrugged.
* * *
THERE ARE THINGS you shouldn’t even think about doing when you’ve gotten off easy—but you do it anyway.
“I’m gonna take it outside and ride it,” I informed Patrick.
“But?”
