Catching Moondrops (3 page)

I looked at Gemma and shrugged. “Maybe it's best he does see it.”

She put her hand protectively over the paper for about five seconds, but that was all it took for her to figure she wouldn't win any sort of argument with my daddy. She sighed and handed him the wrinkled-up paper. “If you want, but it ain't nothin' but drivel.”

Daddy unfolded it, and I watched his face for a reaction. It didn't take long for his cheeks to light up, for his jaw to start doing that little dance it does whenever he's riled. But he didn't say a word. He took one good, deep breath, puffed his cheeks, and then let it out with a long sigh. The paper got squished into a tight ball again. “I ain't goin' to dignify this with a remark” was all he said. “Where'd you get it?”

I nodded to the post I was leaning on. “It was tacked up to the porch.”

He didn't say anything, just retreated into the house, threw the leaflet into the fireplace, and struck a match.

I watched through the window as he leaned against the fireplace and stared until every speck of paper transformed into black ash. Then he slammed his fist into the mantel so hard that Momma's candlesticks shook.

Gemma and I jumped at the noise of it, and Gemma turned around in her seat to look inside. “What in the world . . . ?”

Daddy stomped off into the kitchen, where I could hear him giving Momma a whispered earful. I stopped staring through the window and slid into the other rocker. “That was Daddy takin' his frustrations out on the fireplace.”

“I knew it'd be best if he didn't see it.”

“No, you knew he'd get upset about it; that don't mean it weren't best. A man ought to know what sort of nonsense is goin' on about him. How else can he protect his family from it?”

“The more we stay out of it, the better he'll be able to protect us.”

“That's a coward's way, Gemma Teague.”

She flashed me one of her angry momma looks that always made me feel pity for her future children. “Call me a coward, call me crazy, call me whatever you want, but one thing you can't call me is a pot stirrer. I ain't out there just itchin' to get white people mad at me. I know my place, and I keep it.”

“Oh, and your place is livin' with a white family like kin?”

She put her head back down to study her needlework, but I wasn't letting up.

“You think you'd have had a good home after your momma and daddy died if we hadn't decided you belonged with us no matter what people thought? You wish we'd decided you should ‘keep your place' then?”

We didn't say anything for a few minutes until she dropped her needlework in her lap and sighed. “Won't they ever just go away?”

“Who? Men who hate colored folk? Klan? Not unless someone makes them go away. There ain't no reason, Gemma, why a couple dozen men should be able to say what's what when there's a couple thousand able-bodied people out there who could come together against them.”

“There ain't a couple thousand hereabouts who'd fight for colored folks.”

“All right, a couple hundred. Any which way, they ain't got the right to spread this sort of nonsense on our property. You see what they're tryin' to do, don't you? They ain't never wanted nothin' but to tell colored people what they can and cannot do, and now that there's some talk stirrin' about colored people havin' more rights, they aim to shut 'em down right off.”

I pointed through the den window in the direction of the charred remains of the leaflet. “That thing there weren't no gentlemanly invitation. That was a threat. You think they thought in a month of Sundays we'd show up there? All they're doin' is bein' heavy-handed with us, mockin' us, and Daddy won't stand for it.”

She shook her head. “I done told those boys they were askin' for trouble, tryin' to get into whites-only places and whatnot. Malachi and his lot . . . they should've known better.”

“Gemma Teague!” My whisper came out sharp between clenched teeth. “Them boys is just tryin' to get somethin' more out of life.”

“Oh, they'll get it, all right. They'll get it at the end of a gun barrel . . . or a rope.”

“And what about Doc Pritchett? You're plannin' on workin' for that colored doc, and you know good and well folks in this town don't take kindly to what they see as a colored man goin' above his proper station.”

She didn't look at me, so I knew I had her. “That's different.”

“Ain't different nohow.”

Gemma couldn't say much back. She couldn't argue with me once I made it personal.

I stood up and remembered why I was out here waiting on the porch in the first place, then went back to pacing the whitewashed floorboards just like Momma always does when she's anxious. It didn't escape my notice how much I became like her as I grew older, but Lord knows I didn't model her in all ways, and Gemma was first to say it.

“I swear you're the edgiest woman I ever done seen. Why can't you be more calm and peaceful like your momma?” She glared at me from her post on the rocker. “You got to do that? You're makin' the porch shake.”

I didn't pause or reply. I just dug my eyes into hers as I paced in her direction, then spun around and headed back, nearly tripping over Duke, our ages-old basset hound. Years earlier, he would have scurried under the porch to escape my worrisome mood, but now it was all he could do to lift his eyes and glance at me.

“That dog may as well be nailed to the floor.” I looked down the road both ways. “You sure there weren't any calls?”

“Would've told you if there were.” She had her needlepoint in her hands, her face so close to it I was surprised she wasn't cross-eyed. “You ain't gone nowhere all day, anyhow. Think you would've heard if the phone rang.”

I studied her face with squinty eyes, hands balled up on my hips. “You need spectacles. You can't see a thing two feet in front of your face.”

Gemma rubbed the space between her eyes, though I guessed it was more in exasperation than eye fatigue. “You ain't got to boss me, Jessilyn. They're my eyes. I ought to know when they need fixin'.”

“You know full well they need fixin'; I ain't arguin' that. It's just you won't admit to it. You worried about lookin' funny around Tal Pritchett?”

“I ain't so vain as that, Jessie.”

I backed away from the fiery stare, worried she might prick me with her needle. “Then you're worried about money.” I tapped my toe waiting for her to answer, but she ignored me and went back to her needlepoint. “I'm full aware why a colored doctor won't be able to pay much, but I already told you I'd help buy you some spectacles. I been workin' for Miss Cleta more and more, and she's as generous as the day is long. I got me more than I need.”

Her pointed focus on that needlework got under my skin, and after a good minute of silence broken only by the squeak of the rocker, my nerves were so raw my palms itched. But I was determined to play at nonchalance.

“Fine, then. Let yourself go blind. Next thing you know, you'll be sewin' your fingers together with that there needle. I reckon you'll think twice then.”

A tuneful whistle off in the distance broke through our quarrel, and I nearly jumped out of my new shoes. I tipped a finger under Gemma's chin and made her look at me. “How do I look? Is my hair still put up nice?” I pulled my skirt out by the sides and inspected it. “My dress wrinkled?”

Gemma sighed and set her needlework on the table beside her. “It's only Luke, Jessie. Ain't like he's a stranger now. Don't get so riled up. You look right nice.”

“I ain't seen him in two months,” I managed to murmur even though my voice gave out halfway through. “Leastways, he ain't seen me in two months neither. What if he don't think I'm much to look at?”

“What d'you think's changed so much in two months? You stopped growin' two years ago, you ain't changed your weight none, and your hair's still long and golden brown like ever.”

“But I'm wearin' it different.” I lifted one finger and ran it across my forehead. “I added five more freckles, too. Before you know it, I'll be nothin' but freckles.”

“Age sure has made you vain.”

“I got to worry about my looks now. I'm runnin' out of time to make Luke notice.”

“You're not even nineteen years old, Jessie Lassiter. Time ain't runnin' out for nothin'.”

“And Luke's twenty-five. How much longer you think I got before some city girl snags him up?” The whistling got louder, but I could barely hear it over my heartbeat. “Luke's gone off all the time, now he's all famous and whatnot. For all I know he's got a sweetheart in every town.”

“Luke's a carpenter. He ain't Valentino.”

“Everybody within a hundred miles of Calloway knows Luke Talley's furniture,” I argued. “Ain't no one works wood better in this whole state.”

“I didn't say there was.” Gemma looked up the road behind me and reached out to pinch my cheeks twice.

“Ouch!”

“You're pale as a ghost. And he's just about to turn up the walk, so you best get that silly, sour look off your face and put a smile on.”

The stupid grin I manufactured was enough to make Gemma have to bite her lip to avoid a laugh, but it was all I could manage without having my mouth quiver.

Gemma gave me a shove and then stepped back into the shadow of the doorway, leaving me and Luke alone and chaperoned all at once.

Luke stopped whistling and walking the minute I managed to make it off the porch and step into the sunshine. There was a good early summer breeze, and it picked his golden hair up and skimmed it across his forehead. He was dressed up like it was a church day, a new hat gripped in his hands. I watched his eyes for any sign of affection; it was all I could do to keep from running down to toss my arms around his neck. I reminded myself that only happened in my daydreams and stood my ground, waiting for him to make up his mind what to do.

He strolled slowly up the walk, a smile building with each step, and when he came within two feet of me, he stopped. “Jessilyn, you're a sight for sore eyes.” Then he tossed his hat on the porch step behind me and pulled me close.

Even though his arms didn't embrace me in the kind of way I wished for, there was no better place to be in all the world, and I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life. Even at five feet seven and in my pretty new shoes, I had to stand on tiptoe to reach his neck.

“It's been two long months,” I whispered in his ear.

He pulled away from me to look at my face, and for one flickering moment I saw the brotherly smile slip from his eyes to be replaced by something far more to my liking. “Two
days
is too long.”

Ten seconds of bliss dissolved the minute the clomp of my daddy's shoes rang off the new boards he'd nailed into the porch floor last week, and Luke let me go like I'd burnt his fingertips.

“You plannin' on keepin' the boy to yourself, Jessilyn?” Daddy asked, a glint of protectiveness brightening his eyes. He took Luke by the arm and nearly dragged him up the steps. “Come on in the house, son. Sadie's itchin' to see you, but she's up to her elbows in supper fixin's.”

Luke and I shared one last glance before he skittered off alongside Daddy, stopping only to grab his hat from the steps. “There ain't no need for her to go makin' somethin' special.”

Gemma stepped out of the shadows, and Luke stopped and shook his head at her. “I swear, Gemma, you get prettier every day.” Then he swooped her up in a hug that looked far too much like the one he'd given me.

And he'd never said a thing about me being pretty.

A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth, but I gritted my teeth to keep from letting it have its way.

Gemma patted Luke's back and chided him. “You talk a good line, Luke Talley. I ain't changed one bit since you lit out of here a couple months ago.” She nodded in my direction. “Jessie . . . now, she's the one doin' the prettyin' up. I swear her hair gets more like the wheat fields all the time.”

I felt a tug at my heart over her doing that, and the frown let go of its hold in time for me to turn up one corner of my mouth.

“Sure enough it does.” Luke looked back at me and let his eyes linger just long enough for Daddy to get antsy.

“Come on inside, boy. We got us some catchin' up to do.” He pulled Luke's arm so hard, Luke nearly tripped over the threshold, and as annoyed as I was about having him torn away from me, I couldn't stifle a giggle.

“Same old, same old,” Gemma murmured once they'd disappeared inside with Daddy hollering, “Sadie, look what the cat drug in.” She held a hand out to get me to come up on the porch. “Your daddy won't be restin' this summer, I can tell you that. He'll be watchin' you two like a hawk.”

“I don't suppose there's much to worry about,” I said. “Luke hugged you just the same as he did me. Either he thinks of me like his sister, or he's got a crush on you.”

“Oh, it ain't neither, and you know it. He's got eyes for only you, Jessie, so stop your worryin'. He'll figure it out soon enough.”

“Don't see how you can say things like that when he looks at me no different than he looks at a chicken leg.”

Gemma dug an elbow into my ribs, making me bend over and pull away from her side. “The way he feels about food, you should take that as a compliment.”

My halfway smile gave out into a full one, and I wrapped my arm around her waist as we made our way inside to the smell of Momma's cooking.

“Jessie made the corn fritters,” Momma was saying when we came into the kitchen. “You should just see her in the kitchen, Luke. She's becomin' a real fine cook.”

“Yes'm, I know. She made me some tarts for my trip, and I ate 'em all up before I made it ten miles down the road.”