When Nighttime Shadows Fall, page 21
“You’re talkin’ to a pro.” He took my arm. “Lead me to it.”
When we came outside a few moments later, I saw Susie sitting on top of a car, her head in her hands.
“What’s with her?” James asked Mandy who was standing nearby.
“Mickey won’t have nothin’ to do with her,” she whispered. “Seeing girls here with our husbands and boyfriends made her feel real bad.”
“Well, where is he?” James stood up straight and hitched his hands in his pockets. “You want me to talk to him?”
“If you can find him. He sure don’t get in touch with Susie. All he cares about now is Steel Vulture,” she said angrily. “And some girl sings with them. Thinks they’re gonna make it big.”
“So big I never heard of ’em. Sounds like kid stuff,” Barfield said dismissively. “A man gets somebody pregnant, he marries her.”
“He’s a lot younger than you are, honey.” Mandy proudly put her arm around his waist. “Not ev’rybody’s lucky as me.”
“Well somebody better talk to that boy. May as well be me.” He spoke with so much determination, I thought he might leave the chicken to go hunt Mickey down.
“Honey, please let’s have a good time tonight,” Mandy cajoled him, sounding more like an old married woman than the young girl she was. “Maybe you can catch up with him this weekend.”
“All right. But see if you can cheer her up.” He gestured towards Susie. “We can’t have her sitting there crying.” He tried to make a joke out of it. “She might get me so distracted I’ll burn the chicken.” He poured more sauce over the pieces of chicken before putting them on the hot grill. “Y’all go on in. This is making an awful lot of smoke.” He looked affectionately at Mandy. “Please make her sit down, Laura. The doctor told her not to stand around since her ankles started swelling. But she forgets if I don’t stay on her.”
“I’ll watch her.” I pretended to be stern. “Don’t you give me any trouble, Mandy Barfield.” Then I went over to Susie. “Come inside with us and get out of this smoke. Would you like some lemonade?”
“Y’all don’t have to worry about me,” Susie said dejectedly. “I heard y’all talking, but I’m all right. I don’t need anybody talkin’ to Mickey.”
“I’m sorry. I guess we spoke too loud, Susie,” I apologized quickly, seeing Mandy’s awkward expression. “Mandy just thought James could talk to Mickey man to man.”
“Please, Mandy, don’t let James say nothin’ to Mickey,” Susie answered, appealing to both of us. “I don’t want him coming back to me ’cause somebody talked him into it. That’s no kinda love. I want a love that don’t have to be forced.” She looked enviously at Mandy when James blew her a kiss as we turned to go inside.
Once we got near the serving table, Nell’s mother approached me. “I want to talk to you about these beans,” she announced, her displeasure visible.
“Hello, Mrs. Walton. How are you feeling, Nell?” I didn’t see how anyone could look more pregnant.
“The doctor says it could be any day,” Nell said shyly.
“Thank you for coming tonight, Mrs. Walton.” I had hoped to steer her away from a fight, but she didn’t return my greeting, and I read the apprehension in Nell’s face.
“There’s no point mincing words, Miz Bauer. I don’t like being told how to cook beans I been putting on my table longer than you been on this earth!”
“No one was instructing you, Mrs. Walton. Nell’s just practicing what she learned in our Cooking and Nutrition class.”
“How do you expect Nell to cook anything? She can’t even make a decent cup of coffee.”
“Looks like she did just fine.” I turned approvingly to the greatly depleted serving dish of green beans.
“Nell had nothing to do with those beans. I can promise you that,” she said with authority. “Just one look at that recipe, and I knew it was no good. I couldn’t have Nell shame our whole family serving everybody half-cooked beans. So I fixed ’em how we always fix green beans. The recipe I raised five children on. I guess that ought to be good enough for everybody else.” She stirred and rearranged the remaining beans to make them look more inviting.
“Looks like everybody enjoyed them,” I answered agreeably, determined, no matter what she said, not to argue with her in the middle of a Project dinner. “Come with me, Nell,” I urged. “I could use some help bringing more things out.” I whisked her out to the kitchen before her mother could respond. I still felt Mrs. Walton’s eyes boring through me.
“I’m sorry ’bout what Mama did to my beans,” Nell whispered anxiously. “I tried to stop her, but she put these great big ole ham hocks in and lots of salt. She made me cook ’em forever. I tried to make ’em healthy, Laura. Honest I did.” She hung her head. “I know you’re mad ’cause I messed them all—”
“It’s all right. They’re fine.” I put my arm around her. I hoped the damned beans wouldn’t get her so agitated she’d go into labor. “I know you wanted to make them the way we did in class, but I understand how mothers can be. I’ve got one of my own.”
Nell smiled with relief. “Next time,” she said, revealing a glimmer of newfound dignity, “I’m not gonna let her know what I’m making. I’ll come fix my dish over here.” She looked defiantly at her mother as we approached the table. “I won’t even taste them, messed up like they are.”
Then James came through the door holding a platter of barbecued chicken in front of him like a trophy. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said grandly. “What you’ve all been waiting for!”
Everyone hurried over to the crowded table with their paper plates held out expectantly. The air was full of, “Look at that!” “Don’t those sweet potatoes look good!” “Susie made that Jell-O mold. I don’t know how she got it to come out so perfect.” “Rita’s ham looks just like the ones you see on TV.”
When I heard the praise for Rita’s ham, I watched her smile with pleasure. She had told me she got the idea to do pineapple slices alternating with cloves out of a magazine. “I think it turned out even better than the picture,” she whispered to me. “Thank you for letting me do it. I hope they leave a little bit for me to take home.”
Then the gaiety stopped when I became aware of Mavis’s father at my side. I had watched his heated conversation with Mavis as the last food was brought to the table. Willie, self-conscious in white shirt and tie, had moved away from them. I assumed I was witnessing a family conflict until Reverend Williams addressed me. He usually orated, as if he were speaking from the pulpit, but this time he spoke softly.
“We ought to say grace,” he said. “Young lady, we need to stop and bless this table before it’s too late.” Proud as he was, he was afraid to make this request to an integrated group, for fear of being ignored or, even worse, attacked. In his own setting, he would simply have directed us to pray.
“Excuse me, everybody. Could I have your attention?” I clapped my hands until the room grew quiet. “Reverend Williams just brought to my attention that we forgot to bless this food. I apologize for our mistake, and I’ve asked him to say grace.”
There were murmurs of approval from respectful, attentive faces and then shocked silence from a few as they discovered the black man standing beside me was Reverend Williams. They were ready to offer up grace for the feast before them but not under the guidance of a black minister. I feared I had made a terrible mistake. I should have offered a blessing myself, even if all I could think of quickly was, “God is great, God is good. Let us thank Him for our food.”
Nadine’s eyes flashed concern. I knew she was wondering why, with everything going so well, I was risking a confrontation. Mrs. Walton nudged Nell towards the door, leaving behind their plates of food. I wished I could undo my foolishness, however well meaning my wish to be inclusive. I looked apologetically at Reverend Williams, a guest whom I risked dishonoring. His face was impassive.
“Let us bow our heads,” he finally began with just the right balance of command and respect. “Our Heavenly Father: We thank You for this food we are about to eat and for the loving hands which prepared it. We think of those less fortunate who cannot enjoy this bounty. We thank You for this blessed opportunity to share with our families and new friends. We are grateful for Thy wisdom in bringing us together and for giving these young people a chance to better their lives and the lives of their unborn children.”
I heard the restless feet and sighs of those who wanted to start their meals. I hoped he couldn’t hear them. I was moved by his words but also fearful someone might be rude if he didn’t finish soon.
“Thank you for this beautiful table and an evening when no one must go home hungry. When everyone will have food for the body and fellowship for the spirit. Dear Lord, please accept our thanks and grant Your blessing to all who are about to receive this bounty. In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.”
Then “amen” echoed around the room in many voices. Nell looked uncertainly at her mother, who had stopped near the doorway once the Lord’s name was invoked.
“That was a mighty fine blessing, Reverend Williams,” James Barfield said. I hadn’t realized he was standing close by. “You did us proud.” He extended his hand to Mavis’s father.
“Thank you sir.” Reverend Williams shook James’s hand.
“I’m James Barfield, and this is my wife Mandy.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Reverend Williams said formally. “And Mrs. Barfield, too.”
“Please call me, Mandy, Reverend Williams. Ev’rybody does.”
“I’ve heard Mavis speak of you,” he replied politely, yet carefully avoiding a term of personal address that might be considered too familiar. “She says you’re a very good cook.”
“She’s right about that,” James said. “Mandy learned most of it right here.” He smiled at me and then served Reverend Williams a helping of Mandy’s squash casserole. “You tell me if that idn’t the best baked squash you ever tasted.”
Reverend Williams took the plate James offered and started to move down the line.
“No, sir, I meant right now,” James said. “Just take a little bite and tell me what you think.”
“James, stop. Don’t fish for compliments for me. With you carryin’ on that way, Reverend Williams only took some so’s not to be rude.”
“That’s not true, Mrs. Barfield. I happen to love baked squash.” Reverend Williams took a taste and seemed to be debating a serious point for a moment. “Your husband is absolutely correct. This couldn’t be improved.”
“There now,” James said to Mandy with pride. “Maybe now you’ll believe me.” He beckoned to Reverend Williams. “Now come try some more of my chicken. I’ve got some ready to come off the grill right now.”
“Isn’t that nice?” Susan observed as we stood back like chaperones. “They’re having a ball.” She took a bite from her own modest portion. “Everything’s so good, I might have to go off my diet.”
“Not you. You sure don’t need to, but you’ll probably be dieting on your deathbed.”
She laughed, but I could see there was something she wanted to tell me. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said hesitantly. “I’m no great liberal—I guess you already figured that out—and I didn’t think it would work when you first brought up having these dinners.” She looked around and smiled. “But this is nice. Just folks being folks. Enjoying good food.”
“Then come on. Have some more.” I pointed to her nearly empty plate. “The girls feel so proud when we like what they’ve made.”
“You go right ahead. But I’m stuffed. Unless that’s an order?” she asked playfully.
“Of course not. But I need to go try Rita’s ham,” I said, walking back towards the serving table. “She’s asked me three ti—”
Susan made a quick sign to be quiet and pointed to the nearby corner where Susie and Mandy stood talking over their iced tea.
“Reverend Williams sure loved my squash,” Mandy said proudly. “It means something when a total stranger likes your cooking. James goes on about how good it is ’cause he has to. But Reverend Williams didn’t have to go back for thirds.”
Susie laughed. “I can’t believe you were counting. Besides, you shouldn’t put too much store by what he thinks.” She began to whisper. “He may be a preacher, but don’t forget, he is colored. It’s not the same as if one of us—”
“Susie Richards! I’m ashamed of you. Talking that way about Mavis’s daddy,” she scolded. “Besides, James works with a real fine colored fella. James says he acts just as nice—maybe nicer—than some of the white men on the crew. How can you say things like that?”
“Where do you get off actin’ so high and mighty all of a sudden?” Susie accused her. “You used to carry on about how much you hated going to school with ’em. How they dragged the school down. You know you did.”
For a moment Mandy was silent. Then, meeting Susie’s critical eyes, she admitted, “You’re right, I did say it. It’s what Mama and Daddy always said.” Her quiet voice gained courage. “But they were wrong. Bein’ white or black don’t make a person good or bad. And girls like Mavis and you and me. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”
“No we’re not. James is crazy about you. And Willie married Mavis. I wouldn’t call that the same as the boat I’m in.”
“I’m sorry, Susie.” Her face looked truly regretful. “I was talkin’ about gettin’ pregnant before we got married.” She tried to encourage her. “Please let James talk to Mickey. It’s not too late. I bet he can turn Mickey around.”
“I told you before. I want Mickey to come around on his own, not ’cause James twists his arm. Besides, his new girl’s already pregnant. That’s how much he cares about me.”
“I’ll tell James to forget it,” Mandy said gently as they watched the convivial flow of families circulating around the room. Then Mandy pointed to the corner where James and Reverend Williams stood talking together. “I never heard a better grace. Mavis’s Daddy sure has a nice, deep voice.”
“I don’t have nothin’ against Mavis’s daddy, Mandy,” Susie said crossly. “And I shouldn’t have said what I did before. I know better. But don’t keep sayin’ how wonderful he is just ’cause he ate a lot of your ole squash.” She smiled good-naturedly. “He ate a big helping of my cole slaw, too. You think I should run out and join his church?”
Susan and I lost the rest of the conversation in their laughter and the loud electric guitar break on an Allman Brothers tape somebody had just slipped into the tape deck.
Susan took another bite of squash. “It really is good,” she said. “And we’re lucky Reverend Williams ate three helpings. Lord help us if he’d just pushed it around his plate.”
“I wasn’t worried. He’s too smart for that.”
“You could stand to take a lesson from him,” Susan said, glancing over at Mrs. Walton, who had led Nell back to the serving table. “You didn’t even taste her green beans. Don’t think for a moment she hasn’t noticed. And when they get home, you know who she’ll take it out on.”
I thought about Nell’s sad eyes and knew Susan was right. I set aside my exasperation with her mother and walked over to present my plate.
“I thought you’d change your mind,” Mrs. Walton said triumphantly, dishing me up a large portion. “You’re always gonna find that the old ways are the best ways.”
CHAPTER 23
Michelle’s Daddy
“Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Richards whispered at the door of Susie’s hospital room. “She’s got herself all worked up over a bouquet of flowers.”
As I approached the bed, Susie turned to face me and pulled the sheet up to her chin. She looked at me so shyly it was hard for me to believe she was someone I knew well.
“I reckon I’ll leave you two alone,” Mrs. Richards said, shaking her head. “Don’t know what I might say if she starts carryin’ on again about that Mickey.” She hurried out, calling back to us, “If you want me, I’ll be in the cafeteria.”
Susie looked tired but very pretty. Her dark hair was thick and luxuriant, covering the white pillow. Her blue eyes were highlighted by shadow and mascara, but she had been crying long enough to make black streaks beneath her eyes. I wondered what had upset her so badly.
I ran water in a vase for my daffodils and set them on her tray table. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, now that Mama’s gone.” She sighed in frustration. “She just won’t leave me alone. She keeps trying to interfere between me and Mickey. And she hovers over me like I’m about to die or something.”
“She’s trying to look after you. Remember, you just had a baby.”
“It’s not that. She knows I’m OK. But she’s trying to keep me from seeing Mickey. Only let’s not talk about her. Did you see my baby?” she asked proudly.
“I sure did. She’s beautiful. She’s the prettiest one in the whole nursery.”
“You really think so?”
“Of course I do.” Watching her face brighten, it saddened me how much she needed my reassurance.
“I thought she was kind of funny looking,” she admitted hesitantly. “She sure don’t look like the pictures in those baby books.”
“Those aren’t newborns.”
“You sure her head’ll be all right?” she asked, clearly afraid of my answer. “It looks kinda mashed on one side.”
“She’ll be fine. Think of all she went through to get here. And speaking of looks, you look great. Are you doing OK?”
“Yeah. Just a little sore.”
“You’d have to be. I mean, eight and a half pounds!”
“I guess that’s ’cause Mickey’s so big.”
“How big were your mother’s babies?”
“None of us was even seven pounds. I only weighed about five. Mama said she was real worried about me. But the doctor started me on cereal right away, and I started growing just fine. And I been eating and growing ever since.”
We both laughed. Susie had gained almost nothing during her pregnancy. We had to push her constantly to eat.
“It’s not because she’s pregnant,” her mother had told me. “She’s never been much of an eater. Barbie’s only eleven and she already weighs more than Susie.”
