An Elderberry Fall (17 page)

“Hi!” I said, gathering myself from the shock, and peering at him from the door.

Simon reached out for me, but I was still at the door. I inhaled deeply. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I placed one foot before the other, my feet paralyzed and heavy like they were in quicksand. Did I want to hug my husband, or did I want to slap him instead? Simon gazed at me with concern in his eyes, his eyes steady and his arms reaching.

“Come here,” he demanded.

I walked over toward him as the landlady watched.

He put his arms around me and held me tight. I shared his embrace, thinking what a strange surprise.

“Who is this man, Carrie?” my landlady asked, brushing her hands along the side of her A-line skirt.

“This is Simon, my husband.”

“Hello.” She walked over to us and shook Simon's hand.

Simon smiled.

“I didn't know you were married, child.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“He still can't be here for over twenty minutes. If I let him stay, the rest of the girls will want to do the same. Now, you can go outside and talk. Just remember, eight o'clock is your curfew.”

“Let's take a drive, Carrie. I will have you back before eight.”

I followed him out the door and down the stairs to his car. All the time my mind was wondering how he had managed to come to Petersburg. I couldn't wait to hear. He had come here secretly, and maybe secretly he'd been in Richmond the entire time.

Once he had driven across the railroad tracks, he pulled the car to the side of the road. “How you like it down here?”

I immediately began to explain, “Simon, I was going to tell you. I am going to school now. I want to teach children.”

He let his hand roll off the steering wheel and turned toward me. “Why didn't you let me know?”

“I didn't think you would like it. You think women ought to be home raising children.”

“You are a mother now. Somebody's got to take care of Robert.”

“I know it. I want a career like you do,” I said. “Robert is in good hands.”

“Where is he?”

“He is at home with Mrs. Hall.”

He was quiet. The only sound was the motor of the car which was still running. The sun was descending and there were no other cars around. Finally, he said, “All you had to do was talk to me.”

“Simon, it seems we both have secrets.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“You've been in Richmond, but you didn't come home.”

He cleared his throat. “I came back to Richmond one time. I didn't come home because it is so hard to leave you and Robert. I didn't know you were not even there.”

“We are your family. Why is it that everyone knew you were in town but me?”

“I hate to hurt you. Every time I leave, you have tears in your eyes. It tears me apart.”

“I should have talked to you about school and you should have come home. We were both wrong.”

“Yep. Is Robert okay with Mrs. Hall?”

“He loves her. I come home on the weekends. When did you last see him?”

His facial expression changed. His eyes narrowed and grew concerned. “I am going to see him tonight when I get home. You should have told me what was going on.”

“I thought you were down South training.”

“I am back now. I'm going to be around for a while.”

I smiled at the thought of him being home. I just wasn't sure how he would handle me being away all week.

“Do you want me to quit school?”

“No, I want to know what you are doing. I can help with Robert.”

This was the Simon I had fallen in love with. He cared for the world.

Nightfall was coming fast and we had another hour before I had
to be back at the house. He pulled me close to him. My heart raced at the warmth between us. His lips were soft and wet. He laid me down on the front seat of the car, cracked the window and we let the cool breeze dance across our skin. He kissed me, and I suddenly started to melt. He lifted my dress and pulled down my bloomers. He unbuckled his pants and without hesitation, he put his thickness inside my moist legs. I lost my concentration with the first thrust, and my breath was taken away. When we were done, we pulled everything back together again, and he started the Model T. We drove back out of the brush and across the railroad tracks to the boarding house. When we got there, he handed me a few dollars for food.

“I'll see you when you come home this weekend.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“Nadine told me; she knew exactly where to find you.”

“Where did you see her?”

“She was at the club.”

“We have so much to talk about. I need to know where you are. Nadine shouldn't see you more than me.”

“Nadine don't mean nothing to me. She is just a girl across the way.”

“I'm young, but not a fool.”

“I know you are smart, Carrie. Tell your friend Adam you are married.”

I was stunned when he brought up Adam. Had he been following me all along? Or was he going by what Nadine had told him? Whatever the case, Adam was no threat to him.

“He is just a friend.”

“Carrie, I am the only man you need.”

“He is a friend.”

“I hope that is all,” he said.

P
earl Brown Jailed.
Ms. Pearl had been arrested for Willie's death. People said it was a murder for hire as I read from the letter I received from Momma. The entire town was still in an uproar over Mr. Camm and now Willie.
They were trying hard to link Ms. Pearl to both of the murders,
her letter said. She had a connection all right; both men were obsessed with her for whatever reason. Ms. Pearl loved the attention of men, but a murderer? I doubted that.

I remembered both incidences vividly. Mr. Camm was found on a path between his house and the juke joint. He was drunk too. People said he was beaten, but his death came from a gunshot wound. People said Pearl was afraid of the accusations because Willie wanted him dead. Aunt Ginny had asked me, “Did you kill the bastard?” Her serious green eyes nearly scared me to confess.

“No, ma'am,” I told her, shaking, and ashamed she thought it was me.

“Well, if you did, I wouldn't blame ya. He was a dirty son of a bitch.”

Her eyes were like those of a cat and her stare more frightening than most. It was as if she didn't believe me. But I knew she hated him too. She was a no-nonsense type of woman, and I felt she would do whatever needed doing to protect her family.

“I wanted to kill him my damn self, but somebody got to him fo' I could get to him. You see, don't nobody mess with my family. I ain't gonna stand for it. That man hurt you and somebody needed to teach him a lesson,” she told me the same day he was found frozen with his face kissing the ground. When she spoke about him, there was a certain degree of coldness in her voice. She turned red as a beet when she was upset, and those green eyes of hers became dark and mysterious like those of a cat.

Momma was also someone who wanted Mr. Camm gone, even if she never admitted it. There was no way a woman with her commitment to Christ and the church could continue living a lie with Mr. Camm. From the first day he knocked on our door, shortly after Papa had allowed the sun to claim him, and died, I sensed Mr. Camm would be trouble. He was a well-dressed man with mysterious dark eyes that followed women no matter where they were. He did it the first time I answered the door. The way he sized me up was an inappropriate gaze for a stranger.

I caught my brother Carl polishing the rifle one day when Momma was away working for Mrs. Ferguson. He never said a word about Mr. Camm, yet I knew he disliked the man as much as anybody. I didn't understand his sudden obsession with rifles. When Papa taught him how to shoot, he would say, “I don't like rifles. They can get a colored man around here in a lot of trouble.”

Talk is Mr. Camm had more women than Mr. Johnny, who was known to mesmerize and take women on a journey few men could claim. He had three of the church ladies at one time. None of them fought or said anything to one another. Two of them had children by him. He served on the usher board and even tried to be a deacon, but the church folks told him to let two of the women go and stick with one. He refused, and said, “If I can take care of 'em, they ought to be mine.”

The preacher told him, “Well, you won't be no deacon in my church.” Momma used to tell the story often. I knew Mr. Johnny, and he never did anything to young girls. He respected most women, except he had three of his own.

Mr. Camm had a slew of folks wanting to hurt him. Willie was a good fellow; he was so preoccupied with Ms. Pearl that he did some things I am sure he regretted.

Everybody said, “Pearl don't deserve Willie; he is too good for her. She needs somebody like her, in the streets. Let the street people prey on each other.” The church folks always had a comment for anyone who did not sing holy praises all day. Ms. Pearl being arrested was something her fans did not want to hear, especially those of us in Jackson Heights. When Momma wrote me, I was a little upset since I had visited her earlier that fall. She had been honest and warned me about Simon. I knew she did not kill Willie because the white man in the club did it. I was there. Her time in jail would be quick because even if she had murdered her husband, coloreds killing coloreds were not a big interest to the law. The white man who shot Willie was probably the one who would get Pearl out. White people had been getting away with lynchings and killings for as long as I remember. There were parts of Richmond I didn't dare to walk through because colored folk always had limitations, and that would never change.

After reading Momma's letter, I started to think about Adam. I put away any thoughts of Mr. Camm and his murder. I didn't want to be a part of nobody's investigation. I had not seen Adam since he had visited me a few days after Simon left. I was glad to see him, although Simon had warned me to leave him alone. He came dressed in a dark wool jacket and trousers, and was wearing a hat. He wasn't the sharpest-dressing man, yet there was something distinguished about him.

I was in the room I shared with two other girls—one of them married like me, and the other single and looking for a man with his own business. Most colored men who were in business did carpentry work or worked with metal. They transferred their blacksmith businesses into metal making when people started purchasing automobiles. The white folks depended on them to make the wrought-iron fences and even the beds they slept in. Mariam wanted a metal man for a husband.

“They make a good living,” she said.

“Why are they better than farmers or even baseball players?” I asked her the day before Adam showed up. We had just finished going over some grammar our teacher felt was suitable for teachers. She expected us to articulate every word and write good letters, since writing was the center of our education.

Mariam was a real dark girl, and along with her beauty, her smile lit up a room. She was smart, too. Her parents had sent her to Virginia to study. They felt Petersburg was a quieter place than Washington to get her studies. She liked it, too, but her focus was to go home with a teaching diploma and a husband with a business.

“Carrie, your husband is never going to make the kind of money you want. He will be forever chasing his dreams.”

“Why would you say something like that?” I asked her, folding up the laundry.

She grinned and turned her head to the side like a bashful little girl. “Because the Colored League is never going to be recognized like the white players. My momma told me that some of the best players are colored and no one ever recognizes them. I just tell it like it is.”

“Things are changing. There are leagues being formed all over the East and out West too. They can't keep them from trying.”

“I suppose you are right, but it is hard to see a future with a baseball player. Now your friend Adam is going to be somebody.”

“He is still a colored man. No matter what he chooses to do, he cannot change the color of his skin. Besides, I am married.”

“He ain't coming down here for nothing.”

“We are friends and friends only.”

“He is mannerable and sort of cute.”

“Simon is polite and handsome,” I teased.

“He is. I saw him the night he came to visit. We were looking out the window when you got in the car. He could be considered beautiful, but he ain't no businessman.”

We giggled. I loved the two girls I shared my room with. We all had the same desire, and we never competed for anything. I would often speak of Hester to them. I missed her so much, especially since I never seemed to get a chance to go to Washington, D.C. for a visit.

Mariam and I had just finished the washing when Adam came. This time, he had a small package in his arm.

“I bought you something,” he said.

Before even saying thank you, I commented, “We are not supposed to have visitors on weeknights.”