Catching Moondrops (6 page)

But the second Momma noticed what was up between the two of them, her fear melted away like candle wax, and she clapped her hands together in front of her face. “Well, I reckon the best medicine here is some fried chicken. Y'all are stayin' for supper, right?”

Tal let Gemma's hand slip away from his and stood up. “Mrs. Lassiter, that's right kind, but I don't want to impose.”

“You'll be imposin' if you
don't
stay. I always like guests at my table.”

“She ain't just bein' polite, neither,” Luke told him. “She's had me here most nights for six years, and I've only seen her put out when I say I can't come.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Lassiter, I worry my bein' here might bring y'all trouble.”

It was Daddy's turn to speak up this time, and whether he was keen on Tal and Gemma finding friendship so fast or not, I knew the last thing he'd want Tal to think was that he wasn't welcome. He crossed his arms and stood firm in front of the doorway. “Son, we welcomed Gemma into our house all them years ago, and we're better for it. I ain't likely to start changin' now. Them confounded idiots want to run around here with their robes and torches, it won't be nothin' we ain't seen before.”

Tal hesitated a second, then walked over to my daddy and firmly gripped his hand. “Mr. Lassiter, I'd be honored to stay for supper.”

Gemma could hardly hold back the ecstatic smile that was trying to burst out all over her face, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her up off the couch. “Let's get on upstairs and clean up. I feel like I've got dust from head to toe.”

We rushed through our washing, both of us eager to get back to certain someones but neither of us saying a word about it.

She finished dressing before I did and flopped down onto her bed. “I feel like your momma does. I'd hoped maybe we'd been done with them Klan boys.”

“Like Daddy says, evil don't just disappear. Mostly, I guess it hides its head for a while till it seems a good time to pop out again.” I did up the last button on my dress and sat beside her. “Just wish it wouldn't pop out at us.” I shrugged, then took her hand and squeezed it hard. “Leastways, we still got each other to lean on. I ain't got any plans on lettin' nothin' happen to you.”

She looked at me then in a hollow way that sent a chill down my spine, like there was something behind those eyes that spoke of worse things to come. “You can't always protect people, Jessilyn, no matter how hard you try.”

I didn't know what to say. Her expression frightened me more than the ghostly figure in the woods. She took my hand and turned her head to stare silently out the window.

I looked at her brown hand and swallowed hard to keep down the fear that was welling up inside me. If the Klan was rising up again in Calloway, there wasn't one person who could count themselves truly safe.

Especially not the colored ones.

Chapter 4

There's something about an early summer sunset that colors everything a shade of peaceful, even when peace is hard to find, and there was no difference in this one as I sat next to Gemma watching the sky go orange. We had plopped down in an unladylike way right smack in the middle of the meadow, and I knew we'd be picking ticks off each other before bed tonight. But we didn't care about ticks or snakes or any of the other tricks nature had up its sleeves. All we wanted was the best view of the sky, and we'd found it.

Once the sun dipped out of sight, I lay back and studied the clouds that reflected the waning light. “Miss Cleta didn't bake today,” I murmured. “I didn't never think to see a day her bakin' would slow, but she's gettin' more and more weary.”

“She ain't no spring chicken.”

“No. Ain't never been as long as I've known her. But she ain't never been tired enough to keep her fingers out of the flour, neither.” I picked a long, fat string of grass and peeled it into little strips. “She barely has the energy to get out of that chair of hers some days. I hope she ain't sick or nothin'.”

“Maybe she ought to see a doctor.”

“She won't see one now Doc Mabley's died. She calls that new doctor nothin' but ‘a schoolboy with fancy knickers.'”

Gemma snorted and rolled onto her side, her head propped up on her elbow so she could look at me. “She's still got enough gumption to be stubborn.”

“She'll be stubborn the day she stands at heaven's gates.” I turned my head to search Gemma's eyes for concern and found it there. “You think she needs to see a doctor, don't you?”

“Last time I saw her, she looked right poorly around the eyes. Sickness always hits the eyes first, you ask me.”

“But she won't see him.”

“Maybe we can take her to the hospital.”

“There ain't no way you're gettin' Miss Cleta to the hospital unless she's out cold, and I ain't goin' to be the one that bats her over the head.” I stared back up at the sky in time to see it switch from orange to pink. “Nope. We're goin' to have to come up with somethin' else.” The crickets and frogs joined up in a boisterous chorus, and I smiled. “That's the sound of summer.”

“They're loudest after a particularly nice day, you notice that? My momma used to say they were singin' praises to God for another fine day.”

Gemma's voice was touched by that same husky tone of remembrance that always tickled her throat when she talked about her late momma or daddy, and I reached my hand out to take hers. “Then your momma and daddy have the best seat in the house.”

She squeezed my hand in reply, and we lay there amid that peaceful buzz until the moon lit a path back home.

Luke had stayed after supper to help Daddy work on his old truck, and when we reached the house, he was still under the hood tinkering with things I couldn't identify and didn't want to. In the lantern light, Daddy was nowhere to be seen, and I took the opportunity to get under Luke's skin.

“Ain't nothin' more attractive to a woman than a man workin' with his shirtsleeves rolled up,” I sang out.

Luke stood up so sharply at the sound of my voice, he smacked his head on the hood.

I cringed and ran over to give his head a good rub. “I didn't mean to startle you.” Even in the insufficient light, I could see his ears light up pink, but they were tinted for more than my benefit this time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daddy come around the truck. I turned slowly toward him only to find his eyebrows raised up to his hat.

“Oh . . . there you are, Daddy.” With one hand still cuddled up in Luke's hair, I tried to smile, but Daddy's expression was like an antidote to smiling. “Looks like you're workin' hard,” I managed to murmur. I looked at Gemma for help and found her struggling to keep the corners of her mouth down. I guess Daddy's face was only withering to me and Luke.

But she came to my rescue no matter how humorous it all seemed to her. My hand was still on Luke's head like it had been glued there, and she took me by the arm, pulling me toward her so it would drop away. “Bet some lemonade would hit the spot right about now. Me and Jessie'll go fetch some.”

I tripped along behind her, taking the steps into the house without grace.

“You always got to say things,” she whispered as we entered the kitchen.

“Most people do say things, Gemma Teague!”

“Not the things you say. Talkin' flirty to Luke in front of your daddy.”

“I didn't know he was there.”

“You best stop your teasin', anyhow.” She grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and pushed them into my hands. “It makes Luke nervous.”

“I'm only playin'.”

“You ain't only playin', and you know it. You're fishin' for his feelin's is what you're doin'.” She held Momma's best pitcher in her left hand and grabbed my right hand with her own. “Hold the glass steady, for heaven's sake. I'm tryin' to pour.”

“Keep your voice down about Luke,” I whispered, steadying the glass against the kitchen table. “Momma's in the den.”

“Well, you should leave him be, is all I'm sayin'. He'll come around in his own time.”

Momma's voice rang out from the hallway. “Who'll come around in his own time?”

I should have known better. My momma had been a momma long enough to hear a whisper better than a shout, and I dropped my head with a sigh.

A bead of lemonade sloshed over the side of the glass, sliding down to rest on my hand. Gemma scolded me for it. “Keep it still, I said.”

“Who's that you're talkin' about?” Momma asked again, joining us in the kitchen.

I scanned my mind for anything that would fill in for the truth without really being a lie, but Gemma was too quick for me. “Luke,” she said plainly. “Jessie's been teasin' him again, and her daddy heard it.”

I scowled at her. She never looked up to catch it, but I knew she felt it.

“You're goin' to wear that boy out.” Momma cut up a strawberry and plopped the slices into the glasses. “I never took you for a tease, Jessilyn. I swear, you surprise me more days than not.”

“Well, if Luke Talley's goin' to take so long to see me for a woman, I ain't goin' to sit around twiddlin' my thumbs.”

Momma poked an elbow into my ribs and nodded toward the kitchen window. “It's open,” she whispered.

We all stopped dead still, but Luke's voice floated in on the breeze, and I figured if he was able to talk about carburetors, he hadn't heard any of what we'd been saying.

Momma shook her head and added some cookies to the tray that Gemma had set the lemonade on. “No matter what you say, Jessilyn Lassiter, you ain't all the tomboy you think you are.” She handed the tray to me and patted my cheek once her hands were free. “Next time you figure on workin' your womanly charms, you best make sure your daddy's out of earshot.”

I gave her a smile in reply and carried the tray out, hoping Daddy had softened a bit. But he wasn't around when I got there, and I wondered why I couldn't have saved my comment for now instead.

Luke was leaning against a tree, one foot propped up on it, wiping his hands on an old cloth.

I peeked under the truck just to be sure. “Where's Daddy?”

“Gone off to the field shed for a tool.” He lowered his voice for safety's sake. “You best not go teasin' me like that again. Makes your daddy think I'm takin' liberties or somethin'.”

“How would you be takin' liberties when I'm the one doin' the talkin'?”

“Don't matter who's sayin' what. He's bound to think there's somethin' goin' on between us, and you know well and good there ain't.”

I looked away from him, the tray starting to shake a bit, more from frustration than nervousness. I set the tray on a nearby stump and walked over to lean against the truck, never letting my eyes drift to his. “Ain't nobody in their right mind who'd ever say there was somethin' between us.” The hood was still up, and I turned my back to him and peered inside. “Looks like a bunch of nothin' if you ask me.”

I felt him walk up behind me, and those familiar prickles started parading down my spine. “I wasn't tryin' to put you out, Jessie.”

“Didn't say you were. You're right. There ain't nothin' between you and me for Daddy to get his back up about. He ought to know you don't see me as much more'n a sister.”

He put his hands on my waist and turned me to face him. “You may be a lot of things to me, Jessilyn, but you ain't like no sister.”

I didn't get much more than a second to stare at him before Daddy's singing sounded from the back of the house, but it was enough to make the rest of the world fall away. Luke stepped back but held my gaze, and I sauntered slowly backward, smiling at him as a way of saying good night. He returned my smile with a dimpled one of his own, and I turned around and floated into the house. Momma and Gemma were chatting in the den, but one look at my face made them take a break.

“You all right, Jessilyn?” Momma's face spread into a sly grin. “You seem all flushed.”

“Ain't nothin', Momma. Just warm outside, is all.”

“Uh-huh.” Gemma's gaze filtered down to my waist. “That why you got grease prints on your dress?”

I looked down to find perfect fingerprints decorating my sides like a sash. “Oh. I was around the truck and all . . .”

Momma's face showed signs of trying not to laugh, but she managed to nod in the direction of the stairs. “Best get that off before your daddy figures out where them smudges came from.”

“I don't know what you're talkin' about,” I murmured without a lick of conviction.

“Well, all the same . . . get on upstairs and put on somethin' fresh.”

“Yes'm.” I hurried upstairs, but once I got that dress off, I laid it carefully across the bed like it was made of glass. Most times, the first thing I'd do once I'd gotten something on my dress was to soak it, but not this time. Those fingerprints were like a trophy to me. Dressed only in my slip, I slid down onto the window seat to admire the dress, and every time I looked at the dark smudges, I remembered Luke's touch.

Chapter 5

Men like Delmar Custis just aren't satisfied with peace and quiet. Delmar had a cotton farm with a rickety old house plopped in the middle. Most days he did nothing but sit on that run-down porch of his with some kind of liquor in one hand and a cigarette in the other. From what I saw, the only reasons he ever got off his backside were to lay into his wife or one of his hired hands or to head over to the bar in town, where nine times out of ten he ended up making trouble.

My daddy would tell me that men like Delmar argue and fuss so much, there wasn't any use in debating with them. “People who are wantin' a fight will find a way to get one whichever way they can,” he'd say. “Don't matter to them who's right.”