An Elderberry Fall (25 page)

“Well, you look pretty,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied, blushing a little at the compliment, which would have made Nadine angry as a wild dog.

Ever since Jessie had moved back in with Nadine and the children, she had been quiet. She had not approached me one time about Simon, and she had stopped asking about Adam. She seemed content and happy again. I would see Jessie, Nadine and the children walking up the street. She and Jessie were holding hands and the children were smiling like Cheshire cats. Nadine's bitterness toward
Simon and me had finally dissolved. So, I knew Jessie was coming on to me in an attempt to make her jealous, or to test himself, since he had gone back to the woman he said was no good.

“It's a shame your husband lets you come down here all by your lonesome self,” he said.

I bit my lip. “I'm okay. I'm in school surrounded by a lot of girls trying to become teachers. I'm not alone.”

He stood there gazing at me with an inquisitive stare. “I still don't understand how Simon could let you come down here as pretty as you are.”

I did not comment and he didn't move, stood there peering down on me, scanning my body like it belonged to him. When the train started to move, he turned and walked back to his station and stood there like a soldier guarding his territory.

I glanced up and he was still looking at me, so I focused my attention out of the window at a man in a buggy with canisters filled with the fresh milk he was selling.

For some reason, the trip home seemed longer than before. We stopped at every depot along the twenty-mile run. Along the route, two domestic workers got on the train and a man who made me shake in my seat. The man was the spitting image of Herman Camm. Immediately, my chest started to heave, and I felt nervous all over, my leg shaking like a leaf.

The man, dressed in a gray suit and hat, did not see me. He sat in the front of the train's car and I sat in the back. He didn't turn around and I squirmed, fearfully, in my seat. I held my head down and prayed he didn't look my way. My knees were shaking and I was suddenly hot.

Jessie walked over to me. “You look like something is wrong. Are you all right?” he asked.

“I'm okay,” I answered him, trembling all over.

“You sure you are okay?” he asked again.

“Yes,” I said quickly. I didn't want him standing over me inviting any attention from the stranger in the front of the train.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He walked to the front of the car, which was coming to a halt at another stop.

Just before we made it into Richmond, the stranger got up and got off the train. As the train passed the stranger walking along the tracks, my eyes nearly popped out of my head when the man turned and peered over at me. It was Herman Camm!

I wasn't sure he recognized me because I had pulled my scarf up around my neck. He could only see my eyes. He didn't react and as the train kept moving along the track, I wondered who that man could be. I couldn't help breathing hard, as if I had just run a race. I told myself my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was no way a dead man could come back to life.

When the evening train finally stopped, I got off, waved at Jessie and headed back to Jackson Heights where I lived. As I crossed over Broad Street, I thought about Adam. I wanted to stop, but all at once, I was too fearful to go in the direction of his apartment. The Model Ts and Studebakers had almost replaced the buggies in the city, so the traffic was faster than ever before. I crossed the street and was nearly hit by a car making a sharp right turn. The loud horn got my attention. The thought of the resurrection of Mr. Camm had me numb.

There was a chill in the air. People were wrapped up fending off the winter wind. No matter how cold it was, I was sweating under my coat. I reached the place where the streets split and walked past the nightclub, the homemade ice cream shop, and the corner store. I was no longer concerned about the man I thought was Mr. Camm; the entire time I was convincing myself he was dead and six feet under.

When I made it to our apartment, I still could not shake that strange feeling. I didn't stop at the Halls since Simon had been caring for Robert. I knew he was home. His black Model T was parked in front of the house and shining like new money. I opened the door, which was always unlocked except at night when the latch was hooked securely. Sitting at the kitchen table sipping on a glass of elderberry wine was Nadine, her hair out of place and her white collared blouse unbuttoned all the way down to the cleavage. She glanced up and saw me and immediately grabbed her blouse and buttoned back the unhooked buttons to the top. “I just got here,” she said immediately, her eyes wide open, and gazing toward the bedroom door.

All of a sudden, my fear was replaced with anger. “Why are you in my house?”

“I just stopped by for a minute.”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

At that moment, Simon came out the bedroom and into the kitchen. He had on his undershirt and a pair of trousers. He always took his shirt off just before bed. He bit his bottom lip and a frown of concern took over his face. “When did you get here?”

I could feel the warmth spread all over my body, and I was shaking “What is she doing here?”

He started to stumble. “Nadine just stopped by for a drink. We were just talking.”

“A drink?” I asked, my eyes squinting into slits, anger rising in a rush.

“Yeah, she just came across the street, right, Nadine?” Nadine's face was expressionless and her eyes fearful.

I rolled my eyes toward Nadine. “Get out!” I yelled. “I ought to tell Jessie about you. You no-good floozy!”

She picked up the glass of wine and gulped it down like an alcoholic, so quickly most would choke. “Now we wasn't doing nothing, Carrie,” she nervously explained, holding her hand in front of her to keep me from slapping her face.

“Get out!” I screamed at the top of my voice, my hands trembling.

Simon walked over to me, and threw up his hands as he explained, “We were just having a drink, nothing else, I promise you.”

I wanted to rip his T-shirt off and beat him in the chest.

“We were just spending a little time together, Carrie. You been gone and he was lonely,” Nadine added.

“Shut up!” Simon demanded and gave Nadine a cold stare. She sucked her teeth and bit her lip. “Go home, Nadine!” he yelled.

Nadine grabbed her coat with so much force, she almost fell. I walked over to her and shoved her in the back, pushing her across the floor. “Get yo hands off me,” she warned me, swinging her arms in disgust.

“Get out!” I shouted again and opened the door. Then I shoved her as hard as I could out onto the porch.

After I slammed the door closed, I asked Simon, “Where's Robert?”

“He is downstairs,” Simon said, sweating with worry, watching me—reading me, wondering what I would do next.

“I'm going to get him,” I said, “and when I get back, I want you out of here.” I turned to walk away.

He shouted, “I ain't going nowhere! You hear me, Carrie!?”

I threw my head up and walked out of the door with speed I didn't know existed. I went down the stairs to the Halls, and stopped just before knocking. Cold tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped them with the back of my hand. inhaled and gathered my composure. Then, I knocked on the door.

Mrs. Hall knew what was going on, yet she didn't mutter a word. I took Robert in my arms and went home.

Simon was still there when I came back. He made an effort to talk, but I couldn't speak—at the time I couldn't stand him. I just wanted to hold my son, and tell him I loved him. Robert glanced up at me and smiled. His smile helped remove the agitation and anger I had just experienced.

All evening Simon followed me around. “Can we talk about what you think happened?”

“No, not at all, and not right now,” I said, as I got Robert ready for bed.

It had been a disruptive and stressful day. From the minute I saw a man who looked like Camm, to seeing Nadine at my kitchen table, it was all more than I could handle alone. I poured myself a glass of wine, and stared out the front-room window. It was a clear night and my husband was staring at me, waiting for me to crawl into bed. So he wanted
to talk,
I thought. Is that what he and Nadine had been doing?

“Simon, you can sleep right there on the davenport!” I said and went into the bedroom. I pulled the sheets off my bed and put on clean ones.

“You are my wife. I'm not sleeping anywhere but beside you!” he yelled back at me. I rolled my eyes and continued to change the bedding. Simon followed me.

He pleaded, “I don't want Nadine. I was just having a little drink with her before I hit the road again. I miss you, Carrie.”

“You are a hopeless liar. You and Nadine can be together for all I care.”

He grabbed me and pulled me close. “I want you,” he said. All the time I could smell the stench of Nadine on his body.

“I can't believe a word you say. Seems like you've had all of the females in the club…”

“Where did you get that from? I ain't been with none of them bitches.”

“I thought you were out playing ball with the league. You have been seen all over Richmond.”

Simon was without words. He stared at me wondering where I was getting my information. “Who is telling you this stuff?” I watched him pace the floor back and forth. “Somebody is telling lies on me,” he said, sitting down on the davenport and knowing he was not going to sleep in my bed.

I
t was on a trip back to Petersburg that I was finally able to have a talk with Simon. The weeks Simon had been away—traveling up and down the coast of Virginia and Maryland with a local team didn't leave much time for serious conversations. He had moved from the outfield to first base. He knew if he shined and outplayed a few of the stars, he would definitely find a permanent place on the newly forming Eastern Colored League. It had been rumored the teams would be in place in the next two years. After a long weekend, Simon drove me back to school. We were cordial; however, I had not forgiven him for his indiscretion with Nadine.

As we drove down the street past the nightclub where Ms. Pearl was singing, Simon almost drove onto the cobblestone sidewalk, just missing a man walking down the street. He got my attention! I held onto the dashboard, afraid we were going to wreck and tumble over. “Did you see that man?!” he shouted in disbelief.

I was afraid to blink my eyes. It was the same man I'd seen on the train, standing in front of the nightclub as if he were waiting and watching for someone. “I saw him,” I said. He was well dressed in a brown suit with a Stetson cocked over one eye—the same style of dress as Mr. Camm.

Stunned, Simon took a left turn and drove around the corner and back to the nightclub. “You don't sound surprised,” he said, while glancing from side to side looking for the man we had just seen.

“I'm not, Simon. I saw him on the train when I came home a month ago. I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

“I was going to tell you the day I found Nadine in my house. So, you know how that went.”

Simon reached over and grabbed my hand, and then he put on the brakes and slowed the car down. He waited impatiently for a buggy to cross in front of the car. “Go, go, go,” he said. It slowed him to a near stop. As he cruised around the corner, he checked on each side of the street. He wanted to get a good view. When we rode past the nightclub, the man was no longer there. He had escaped once again.

Simon pounded his fist on the dashboard. “That son of a bitch is supposed to be dead,” he said. “I saw him laid out in the casket.”

“What is going on?” I said, shaking my head from side to side remembering the murder, investigation and more upsetting, the rape.

“I don't know, but once I get back in town tonight, I'm gonna find out.”

Simon's eyes turned dark as night as we drove down the road toward Petersburg, a permanent frown line between his eyebrows. We both were curious, and I was scared to death. For three weeks I had been walking around campus concerned I might run into Herman. I had told Ethel the story and she'd warned me, “You are paranoid.” I had to look the word up in the dictionary.

“Maybe a little,” I'd answered. What was more suspicious than
the handling of my fear was the mysterious question on my mind. Wasn't Herman Camm supposed to be dead?

“Be careful, Simon; we don't want any trouble,” I said.

“It is puzzling the man is lurking around the club. He must have some type of business there. My guess is Ms. Pearl is his business.”

“Herman Camm is dead, Simon. We don't know who the man was standing there.”

“I'm definitely going to find out.”

When he put me off in front of the rooming house, he warned me, “Be careful. I will pick you up on Friday, so do not go near the train depot. Stay close to the rooming house, and don't walk alone,” Simon directed me, and drove off as fast as he could.