The Secrets of Silk (8 page)

The woman finally handed over the dime and Silk hurried to the pay phone without bothering to thank her. She stood at the end of the short line to the pay phone, but too impatient to wait her turn, she moved to the front of the line, excusing herself and mumbling that she'd had a death in her family and needed to make an emergency phone call.

With a shaking finger, she dialed the number and could have cried tears of joy when she heard Clara's familiar voice on the other end of the line. “Hello, Clara? Is that you?”

“Yes, this is Clara. Who's this?”

“It's Silk, your friend from Louisiana.”

Clara made a little sound of excitement. “My Lord, I was worried to death about you. Are you all right?”

Deeming it an appropriate time to release the tears that were building up inside of her, Silk wailed into the phone, “No, Clara, I'm not all right. I'm ashamed to tell you, but I've been robbed of all my possessions. I had to borrow a dime to call you.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm sitting in the bus terminal in Philadelphia, surrounding by thieving, city slickers.”

“There are a lot of people here at the house, paying their respect for my sister-in-law, and quite a few of them have cars. I'm going
to ask Deacon Whiteside if he'd be willing to drive to Philadelphia and bring you back to Chester. Hold on for a second.”

“Okay,” Silk said in a weak voice followed by pitiful sniffling.

Clara placed her hand over the receiver and Silk couldn't make out what she was saying to the deacon, but she crossed her fingers, hoping for a favorable outcome.

“Okay, Deacon Whiteside is coming to pick you up and I'll be riding with him. Now, sit tight, you poor little lamb. We'll be there as soon as possible.”

In the presence of Clara and Deacon Whiteside, Silk did her best to speak in a manner that was becoming of a teacher.

“How'd you happen to lose your suitcase and all your belongings?” the deacon inquired.

“Well,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue that Clara had offered her. “I had my luggage secured in a locker while I walked around the city searching for a quiet place to study for my teacher's exam. I'd heard that the Young Women's Christian Association was a good place for decent, young ladies to reside, and so I tried to hunt that place down.”

“Did you have any luck?” Clara asked.

“Yes, I found it and after I paid for boarding for a single night, I immediately returned to the bus terminal to get my suitcase, which contained my study papers, money, and clothes. But when I walked up to my locker, I discovered that a low-down thief had pried the locker open and had stolen all my worldly possessions.”

Worked into tears over the loss of the fancy clothes that Nathan Lee had bought her and the hundreds of dollars she'd scuffled and killed for, she covered her face with her hands and cried bitter tears.

“It's going to be all right, Silk. We'll look out for you. Unfortunately, there's not a lot of room at Buddy's house, but we'll manage to squeeze you in. What do you plan to do about your teaching position?”

“I don't know. I can't take the exam without showing proof that I have a teaching certificate.”

“Can't you send for another one?”

“I suppose, but that'll take some time.”

“I'm going back to Biloxi after the funeral is over, and I think you should travel with me. Maybe teaching so far away from home isn't a good idea. There're lots of kids that need teaching in the South.”

“I suppose,” Silk said glumly.

“Don't worry about bus fare. I'm sure the Christian folks of Chester will be willing to pitch in with donations to buy you a bus ticket back home.”

•  •  •

The small, two-story, wood-frame home on Flower Street with a stone path leading to the front door was a delight to the eyes, but the funeral wreath of dark-colored flowers and a black bow that hung on the front door was a reminder that the household was in mourning. The well-cared-for home was surrounded by numerous tall trees, high shrubs, and rosebushes, isolating it from the cluster of cookie-cutter, white brick, government houses that were on the opposite side of the street, and down-a-ways a bit.

Looking over her shoulder, she could see the shadowy figures of some of the residents of the barracks-type houses. She could hear their distant voices, and the faint sound of music. She sensed a liveliness and vitality in that area that pulled on her like a magnet.

“Come on, let's go inside, Silk,” Clara prodded.

Distraught over losing her money and clothing, Silk didn't have to fake a solemn expression when she entered the house. The teardrops that trickled from her eyes were heartfelt.

Inside the house, grown-ups were drinking liquor and their plates were piled with all kinds of soul food from pig's feet and collard greens to pineapple upside-down cake and monkey bread. While the adults were drinking and filling their faces, the children were underfoot, squealing as they ripped and ran without supervision. Being stuck in a house filled with a bunch of snotty-nosed kids was not the way she envisioned her new life in the North. The thought of her predicament caused Silk to bury her face in her hands and cry.

Clara patted her on the back comfortingly. “Shh. Shh. It's okay. I know you have a sensitive heart, and seeing these little, motherless children is awfully hard to bear, but we're all trying to hold ourselves together for their sake. We told them their mother is resting with the angels, surrounded in God's glory. The fact that they'll never see her alive again hasn't hit them yet.” Clara choked up briefly and then pulled herself together. “Why don't you come on upstairs with me and change out of that wrinkled dress? You're a little smaller than me, but I think you can fit my clothes. I'll introduce you to everyone after you freshen up.”

Mourners who gathered in the small dining area stealthily cut their eyes at Silk as Clara escorted her up the stairs. No doubt they'd already been told of the stolen suitcase disaster and were being considerate enough not to openly stare.

Clara ran bathwater for Silk and poured in a generous amount of Jean Naté bath oil that had belonged to her dead sister-in-law. She laid clean clothes and underwear across the bed that had been shared by the deceased and her husband.

After the relaxing bath, which was a great luxury compared to the quick wash-ups she was accustomed to at home where there was no electricity or running water, Silk felt refreshed and in high
spirits. Her mood quickly shifted when she noticed the drab gray dress Clara had loaned her. One glance at the brassiere and panties and she knew they were much too large for her.

Bra and panty-less, she put on the ugly dress that was several sizes too big. She tightened the belt that was attached to the garment in an attempt to make it fit better. Glancing around the bedroom, she was struck by the modern furnishings in the tidy room. She snooped in the closet and inside the drawers and couldn't help admiring the stylish clothes and colorful array of nylon panties. She quickly came to the conclusion that Ernestine had a great sense of style and flair.

Buddy was obviously a good provider, and that insurance money he had coming was an extra bonus.
I better hurry up and get myself downstairs and make his acquaintance before some other woman tries to take advantage of the fact that he's grieving and vulnerable.
The pack of brats Buddy was saddled with wasn't an ideal situation, but Silk decided to do her best to get along with her future stepchildren.

She smiled, imagining herself settling down with Buddy and being treated like a queen. Buddy couldn't offer her the kind of luxury that Nathan Lee had promised, but he could provide a comfortable lifestyle. With that insurance money he was entitled to, there might be enough for Silk to get herself a shiny, new car. She wondered what Buddy looked like. Was he red as clay and handsome as Duke Durnell or flabby and unattractive like Pudgy Hales?
It don't matter. I'm gonna make that hard-working widower my husband even if he's sporting a peg leg and a glass eye.

With marriage on her mind, Silk sat down at the dead woman's vanity table and picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair. Instead of letting her locks hang loose, which always garnered
compliments, she pulled in into a plain bun that downplayed her attractiveness. In the looks department, the average woman couldn't hold a candle next to Silk, and she didn't want to intimidate any of the plain-Jane mourners into putting up their guard around her. Nor did she want to provoke them into putting a protective circle around the grieving husband, and making Silk's goal of seducing Buddy and roping him in, much more difficult than it needed to be.

It was laughable that Clara thought Silk would get back on a bus and return to the South when everything she needed, minus the kids, was right here in this house. For starters, there was a closet filled with clothes as well as bureau drawers stuffed with undergarments and other womanly paraphernalia that wasn't currently being used. She gazed at the vanity table top and selected from an ample collection of Avon perfume, a scent called Unforgettable. Smiling, at her reflection, she spritzed herself with the fragrant mist.

Clara tapped on the door. “Are you decent?” she asked.

“Come on in,” Silk replied, as if she were already the woman of the house.

“That dress is a little loose on you, but you still look like a million bucks,” Clara complimented.

“Thanks, I feel much better. But I feel so silly not being able to hold on to my belongings, I dread facing your family and friends—especially your brother. I feel awful intruding on him during his time of sorrow.”

“Buddy's having a rough time, but he has good manners and a charitable heart, and he told me that it was okay for you to stay here. He's at the hospital right now, visiting the twins.” Clara shook her head. “Those babies are barely clinging to life, but Buddy goes to visit them for a few hours every day. Handling the funeral
arrangements, going through all the red tape with that insurance business, and seeing about those twins is keeping him so busy, he'll hardly notice you at all.”

That's what you think! Buddy's gonna be doing a lot more than merely noticing me.

“Is there anything I can do to help out around here and earn my keep?” Silk asked.

“Nothing I can think of off the bat. There's lots of food on hand and the ladies from Ernestine and Buddy's church are keeping the house nice and tidy.” Clara gazed upward in thought. “With you being a teacher and all, you're probably good with kids. Maybe you can keep an eye on the children and keep them in line. With their mother gone on home to glory, and their daddy distracted with funeral business and the baby twins, the boys are running around like wild heathens. My niece has always been the quiet type, but she seems to be withdrawing even more. That child is going to need a mother even more so than her brothers. And those sickly, newborn twins…” Clara's expression turned grim. “I don't know what Buddy is going to do about them.”

Taking care of snot-nose kids was the last thing Silk wanted to be in charge of, but she smiled demurely and said, “I'll make sure the children spend their time constructively.” “Spending time constructively” was a phrase she'd borrowed from one of her former teachers.

Though her beauty couldn't be denied, she'd made herself look as nonthreatening and innocent as possible by scrubbing her face clean of rouge, powder, and lipstick and by styling her hair in a
plain bun. When Clara introduced her to small group of church ladies, Silk presented a bashful smile.

“You poor dear, we heard about your misfortune,” said Sister Beverly, who was holding Clara's baby. Beverly had on a beige hat with a cluster of white flowers in the front. She appeared to be in her forties and was obviously the spokesperson for the group of church women.

“Philadelphia is full of con artists; it's not a safe place for a righteous woman to be wandering around alone,” said Sister Beverly.