The Road to Memphis (33 page)

Stacey nodded. “Yeah . . . see ya there . . . .”

Then Jeremy held up his hand in a final farewell, turned, and walked away into the misty night. As he headed up the road he looked such a lonely figure, but then, again, he always had. We hadn’t always understood Jeremy Simms, and I had often wondered if he even understood himself. He had made us uncomfortable with his presence and his offer of friendship, and we had hated him for his betrayal; yet now his leaving tugged at my heart. I whisked away an errant falling tear. So much had changed. Clarence was dead. Moe was gone, and now Jeremy was leaving. I didn’t know much of anything about this war we were in. I didn’t know much of anything about Japan or why they’d attacked us. For that matter, I didn’t know that much more about Germany or Italy either. All I knew was that people who had always been a part of my life, people I loved—and that included Jeremy Simms—were leaving, and some were not coming back. All I knew was that my brother soon would be leaving, too, and that I was fearful of what was to come.

We watched Jeremy pass the cotton fields, watched him pass the old oak, watched him until the road changed its course, rose and wound away. We watched until there was no more of him. For some time the four of us just stood there staring up the deserted road. Then we shared our feelings in one glance, returned to the house, and went inside.

Later, as I lay in the comfort of the feathered bed beside
Big Ma, I awakened to the fluted sounds of an awkward music. I glanced out and saw nothing, but I knew Stacey was out there. I knew he was out there playing that wind pipe.

I rose from the bed. Opening the door, I went onto the wet porch and just stood there in my long cotton nightgown, staring across the blackened lawn. The music played on. Then, as suddenly as it had awakened me from my sleep, the music stopped, and soon Stacey came walking from the forest and across the road and up the damp grass, a box in his hand.

“Cassie?” he said. “What’re you doing up?”

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah . . . yeah, I’m fine.” He stepped onto the porch and looked down at the box.

“You were playing it,” I said.

He smiled. “You can call it that?”

“You don’t think he’s coming back, do you?”

“What?”

“Jeremy. You think he’s gone for good.”

Stacey shook his head, sighed, and looked out into the night. “I can’t say.” Then he looked again at me. “Hope I didn’t wake anyone else.”

“You see I’m the only one came out.”

“Yeah . . . yeah . . .” He looked long at me, then, doing something he very seldom did, he folded me into his arms and hugged me. After a moment he let me go and moved toward his room. At the door he turned. “You go on back inside now and go to sleep,” he said.

“You still leaving in the morning?”

“Have to. I got a job to go to . . . I think.” He reached for the knob. “Night, Cassie.”

“Good night,” I said and went back down the porch. I opened
the door to my room, took one more look out at the rainy night, out at the misty road, then at my brother. He smiled at me, went inside, and took the box with him. I went inside too and lay down beside Big Ma, and I slept.

The night passed.

The morning came.

Stacey left.

We did not see Jeremy Simms again.

Mildred D. Taylor

has written two previous novels about the Logans: the Newbery Medal-winning
Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry
and the Coretta Scott King Award-winning
Let the Circle Be Unbroken.
Both novels were National Book Award nominees and American Library Association Notable Books. Cassie Logan is also featured in two short books,
Song of the Trees, a New York Times
Outstanding Book of the Year, and
The Friendship
, winner of the
Boston Globe/Horn Book
Award. Ms. Taylor received the Christopher Award for
The Gold Cadillac.
In 1988 she was honored by the Children’s Book Council “for a body of work that has examined significant social issues and presented them in outstanding books for young readers.”

Mildred D. Taylor was born in Jackson, Mississippi, and grew up in Toledo, Ohio. She was graduated from the University of Toledo and spent two years in Ethiopia with the Peace Corps. Returning to the United States, Ms. Taylor entered the University of Colorado’s School of Journalism, from which she received her Master of Arts degree. She now lives in Colorado.

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Books by
MILDRED D. TAYLOR

Song of the Trees

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Let the Circle Be Unbroken

The Gold Cadillac

The Friendship

The Road to Memphis