How High the Moon Read online

  “Good! Good!” Helen and I shouted. Mama tapped two fingers on her hand.

  “Second syllable!”

  Mama frowned and puffed her chest up. She balled up her fists and walked across the floor like she was tough.

  “Tough guy!”

  “A man!” Helen shouted.

  Mama pointed at Helen and then mimed putting the two syllables together. We struggled with the combination a few times before we were both asking “Good man? Good man?” Mama was nodding wildly. Before she could start another clue to the first word, Helen blurted, “Benny Goodman!”

  “Yes!” Mama laughed.

  I sat up, jaw dropped. “Awww! I could’ve got that!”

  “I was too fast for you!” Helen said, tickling me. I fell backward giggling.

  We were laughing so hard that we didn’t hear the knock at the door at first. Mama jumped up and knocked over her glass on the way to the door, but Helen managed to grab it before it hit the floor.

  “Whoa!” I yelled.

  “Told you I was fast!” Helen laughed.

  “I’m impressed!” Mama said, laughing, as she turned back to the door and swung it open.

  “Having a good ol’ time, are you?” It was Mama’s neighbor from down the hall, Florence Williams. She was a short, wiry colored woman, with her hair wrapped in a scarf and pink curlers peeking through the top. She craned her neck around Mama and smirked when she saw Helen. “Hi, Helen,” she said in a sarcastic tone. But she wasn’t looking at Helen when she said it. She was looking at Mama.

  “Whatcha need, Florence?”

  We’d passed her in the hall a couple times and Mama had pushed me past her quick so as to not give her a chance to start up a conversation. And I think Florence was the person who’d knocked on the door when Mama was out. Mama had expressly said not to answer the door no matter what, so I just sat still when she knocked. Tried not to make a sound until she finally went away.

  Mama didn’t like Florence. I’d heard her and Helen talking about how they wished she’d move.

  “Phone’s for you,” she said, motioning down the hall. Then, looking back inside under Mama’s armpit, she spotted me for the first time.

  “Thank you, Florence. Be there in a sec,” Mama said.

  “Hey! Is that your—?” But Mama had already closed the door before she could get out “daughter.” We all laughed.

  “She’s always in everybody’s business!”

  After a moment, when she was sure Florence had gone, Mama stepped outside and Helen excused herself to “the ladies’ room.” I leaned back into the soft sofa and felt a strong waft of sleepiness. But I didn’t want to fall asleep. I had to make it to the New Year!

  I hopped up and went to the window. The Christmas tree in the happy family’s living room glowed as several new faces wandered about smoking cigarettes and carrying small glasses. I saw a short man dance up behind a woman and grab her hand. He was trying to get her to dance with him, but she just laughed and turned away.

  “How’re you holding up, Ella? Gonna make it to New Year’s?” Helen had emerged from the bathroom looking perfect with a fresh swipe of red lips and hair tidied. Even from the window I could smell her jasmine perfume.

  “I’m okay,” I lied. I was fading fast.

  Suddenly Mama burst in from the hall.

  “Get your shoes on, girls! We’re going to the club!”

  Mama told us that the midnight act at the club, the Dandy Roost, had double booked themselves to play at another club and that one was paying them twice as much. So the Dandy Roost was in a pinch. They needed someone to fill in now. Playing New Year’s Eve would be a big break for Mama. It was the club’s busiest night of the year. A successful show on New Year’s could mean more nights performing and better time slots. Better time slots meant more people could see her. And more people seeing her meant better chances for the word to get out to record producers. And that’s what Mama wanted most of all—to make a real record. Not just a demo recording to show to record labels and producers, but a full-length record album with her picture on the cover and six songs on each side that folks could buy in the stores. An album they could take home and sing along with.

  Children weren’t usually allowed in, but the club owner had agreed to let me sit in on the show since it was such a last-minute thing. I was beside myself with excitement. I was gonna get to see Mama sing!

  Helen called a taxi while Mama grabbed the white satin dress with the tiny silver beading and tossed it in a red overnight bag.

  “Wow. That’s fine!” I traced my fingers over the sparkling gown, thinking back to when I’d seen it in the closet before.

  “Isn’t it?” She smiled and clamped the latches shut.

  It was eleven when we reached the club. The crowd was so large people were spilling outside onto the sidewalk, everyone bundled in heavy coats and thick scarves, dancing from side to side trying to keep warm.

  Mama led us through the thick wall of bodies, and Helen held my hand tight. Several men watched Mama with glassy-eyed grins as she passed.

  Inside, a cloud of smoke hovered over the whole place. Sometimes a beam of light would penetrate the haze and you could see slow-swirling plumes.

  Most of the people were packed into the horseshoe-shaped booths, but lots of folks stood around, crowding the dance floor, but not dancing. There weren’t enough seats for everybody, but everybody wanted to be there. No one inside was swaddled in heavy wool. They wore handsome suits and close-fitting dresses. There were sailors in white, and Tuskegee Airmen in tan. Most of the crowd was colored, but there were white folks in there, too, talking, smoking, mingling just like everybody else. I even saw a white sailor whispering in the ear of a colored lady in a chic black dress. I couldn’t help but wonder if the nightclubs in Charleston were anything like this. When Mama was still in South Carolina and she’d go to the clubs, did she talk and laugh and dance with the white men there?

  Helen and I settled into a booth in the corner, but Mama headed straight for the dressing room to get changed.

  “Sit tight. I’ll be right back,” Helen said before she was quickly swallowed by the crowd.

  From where I sat, no one blocked my view of the stage. It had been decorated for New Year’s Eve, with silver banners saying Happy New Year!, but there were still plenty of Christmas decorations left over. Tinsel and multicolored lights trimmed the stage like a cake.

  All at once, the lights in the club dimmed and the lights on the stage brightened. Everyone turned. Several men strolled on and took their instruments. One walked on carrying a shiny golden horn. After they all settled into their places, Mama walked onto the stage. The beads of her dress caught the light and flickered wildly. She adjusted her microphone, staring out over the audience like she was daring them. What whispers there had been a moment ago stopped completely.

  She flashed her pretty smile and spoke, low and breathy.

  “How you doin’ tonight?”

  A few men in the place whooped and hollered. Mama drew her head back like she was surprised at the response. She turned a curious face to the band members. I laughed. I knew she was playing with everybody. Like in church when the minister says, “Good morning,” and only a few people answer back.

  Helen slid into the booth and pushed a red drink with two bright cherries in front of me. She winked and turned to the stage.

  “I said… How you doin’?” Mama asked again.

  This time, the whole place roared. Whistles, shouts of “All right!” and all kinds of “Yeah!”

  Mama turned to the band and they began to play.

  “Well, now that’s better,” she said, throwing her head back and beginning to feel the music.

  She tore into the song with so much energy that without hesitation, the small dance floor was quickly covered in bodies swinging, turning, jumping, and shaking. Arms were waving, fingers snapping. Everybody was smiling. Mama held the microphone with one hand and her right thigh with the other. She cl
osed her eyes and shook her head. She shimmied. Her song was calling the people to get up out of their chairs. And she wasn’t asking, she was commanding. It was a side of Mama I’d only seen in bits. Playful, silly moments. The shimmy that made the men lean against the wall, picking their teeth and grinning, that was new. Show business, I figured, though I couldn’t imagine what Granny would say to any of it. Still, Mama was fun and beautiful and I was proud of her. She was a star up there.

  But soon, even with all the noise and excitement, I managed to fall asleep.

  “Ella! Ella!” Helen was calling my name and patting my back when I startled awake. “It’s almost midnight, honey. Wake up.”

  Helen came around to the side of the booth, got me up on my feet, and we headed toward the stage. The music had stopped and everyone was chanting in unison.

  “Seven, six, five…”

  It was the New Year’s countdown!

  We approached the edge of the stage and Helen whispered to a couple of young soldiers there who were blocking us from Mama.

  “Four, three, two…”

  The men looked over Helen’s shoulder at me, then parted to allow us to walk to Mama.

  “One! Happy New Year!”

  Helen walked me to the very edge of the stage, to Mama, but before she could see me, a man grabbed her, dipped her dramatically, and kissed her on the mouth. Helen turned. She looked like she wanted to walk away, but instead, she bent down and hugged me tight.

  “Happy New Year, Ella,” she said.

  After about five million fellas had kissed and hugged my mama ’cause it was a new year, we finally got to go home.

  We took another cab, but I don’t remember much since I fell asleep as soon as my behind touched the car seat. I have no idea how I got upstairs. I didn’t wake up until the next morning.

  ella

  After New Year’s Mama went by the school and picked up the necessary forms for my enrollment. “You’ve been real patient, but you’re just gonna have to hang in there a little longer, okay, baby?”

  I was excited by that news, but was still having a hard time finding the right moment to ask Mama about my daddy. It seemed like she was always running off to the Naval Yard or needing to catch a nap or going to the club. The times that she was around and not complaining about being tired, Helen was there, too. I didn’t wanna ask around Helen.

  Then one morning Mama woke up in a good mood. Helen was headed to the Yard, but Mama didn’t have to go.

  “Mama? Do I seem different to you?” We were in the kitchen, and I was sitting on the counter next to the sink while she was making my breakfast. “More grown-like?” I stopped swinging my legs and sat up tall, hoping she’d quit cooking for a minute and look at me.

  “Can’t believe how much you’ve grown. And you’re prettier than ever. Gonna be a lady before I know it.”

  “You said my dad was in California, right?”

  She took a deep breath but didn’t look up from the eggs she was cracking into a hot pan.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “He was in California, but it’s been a long time. I’m not sure where he is now.” She opened the icebox. “We still have apple juice. Want some?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She took the can to the counter and removed two small glasses from the cupboard.

  “You and I need to do a little grocery shopping today before Helen comes home. Maybe we can even surprise her with dinner when she gets in. What do you say?” She was moving about as she spoke, quick, jerky motions, with a furrowed brow. In between talking to me, she’d talk to herself under her breath.

  I was having a hard time finding the right way to ask my questions.

  “Did my daddy like you singing? Was he okay with you playing at clubs and stuff?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I used to just like to sing when I knew him. Wasn’t performing anywhere or nothing.”

  “What about your recording?” I asked.

  “What about it?” She flipped the eggs, orange yolk oozed.

  “Did he like it?”

  “I think I told you, Ella. He’d already gone.”

  “Oh.” Then I asked, “Was it fun making the recording? Were the folks nice? The musicians and the recorder, I mean.”

  Mama laughed. “The engineer, you mean. Yes, it was fun. I’d like to do more recording. I must say, though, I do like being in a room performing for a crowd. Love all that good energy.”

  Mama walked to me and lifted me from the counter onto the floor. “Set the table for us,” she said. “This is almost done.” Back at the stove, she stirred and seasoned, humming a tune.

  Between breakfast, walking to the river and back, grocery shopping, curling Mama’s hair, helping her do her nails (and my toes), and starting on dinner before Helen came home, I tried again and again to turn the conversation to my daddy.

  “How’d you all meet?”

  “You think he went off to fight the war?”

  “You think he’ll be back someday?”

  No matter what I asked, all I got back was something about how young they were, how it just wasn’t meant to be, how she was so happy to have got a gift like me outta their young love, or, her favorite response, “I really couldn’t say.”

  That was it. She wasn’t going to tell me a thing. But even if it was true that my daddy was in California and had been since before I was even born, Who was that fella named J.P.?

  Later, I was washing the dinner dishes when there was a knock on the door. Helen looked surprised.

  “You expecting some—?” she started, but Mama was already bounding for the door. I heard male and female voices in the hall, most of them high-pitched and giddy. By the time I’d rinsed and dried the plate I was holding, the phonograph was going and the voices were louder, everyone doing their best to be heard over the music.

  “Never mind the rest of those, Ella. I’ll get them later,” Helen said, reaching for glasses and liquor in the cabinets. “Time to play hostess.” She flashed me an exaggerated “happy hostess” smile and then winked and glided into the living room. It didn’t really seem to bother her that Mama’s friends had dropped by out of nowhere. She seemed used to it. Like it happened all the time.

  I followed Helen into the living room.

  “Oh, is this your daughter, Helen? She’s beautiful!”

  Helen smiled and shot a quick look to Mama, who turned away without saying a thing. Just went back to her laughing, drinking, and smoking. The woman wandered off before Helen could correct her.

  Mama motioned for me to come to her.

  “Hey, baby.” She pushed the frizzy hairs around my face back behind my ears. “Why don’t you go on into my room and get some sleep? Okay, love?”

  I did as I was told. Mama’s pillows smelled like Helen. From the bed, I could see into the home of the happy family. I didn’t see anyone inside, just the flickering lights on the Christmas tree.

  I still wasn’t satisfied with what Mama had said (and hadn’t said) about my daddy. I’d have to do more investigative work. Why was she being so mysterious? I needed Henry’s help. He was good at puzzles. If there ever was a puzzle, it was this. I needed to write him and fill him in on all I’d found out. Together, we’d figure this one out.

  The music in the living room (and all the laughing and carrying on) was loud and I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to fall asleep with all that noise. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine sheep jumping over a fence. Counting them one by one the way Granny told me to when I couldn’t sleep. I only got as far as fifteen when I heard someone open the bedroom door. I looked up to see Helen.

  “Still awake?” she whispered as she crossed to the bed and sat down next to me.

  I propped myself up on my elbows. “Yeah. I guess I’m not so tired yet.”

  Helen revealed a deck of cards. She held them up. “What do you say?” She smiled.

  “Sure.” I nodded, sat up, and smoothed out a nice flat space in front of us.

  “You know how to p
lay spades?”

  I shook my head.

  She shuffled the cards. “Oh, you’re going to like this game.” She made a bridge of the cards, then fanned them downward into a single pile. “I think you’ll be good at it.”

  We played a few hands before I got drowsy and then Helen tucked me into bed. Just before I drifted off, I opened my eyes and saw Helen, still in the room, standing by the window. She was looking up into the sky, lost in her own dream.

  henry

  March was too cold for fishing down at the creek. That icy water rushing over my feet was too much, and I never did like to wear boots. I went out with Poppy on the boat, but it wasn’t the same. At the creek, there was that quiet. Water dancing over the rocks. The call of the osprey, like gentle music.

  I never did mind being alone all that much, but I sure missed Ella. Since she’d been gone, I picked up her chores around the farm and the house, and that was just fine. The extra work kept me busy.

  On my way home from Parker’s after picking up a sack of peas for Granny, I saw George Stinney and his brother Johnnie. They was carrying lanterns and walking fast.

  “Hey, George!” I called.

  He stopped and waved.

  “Hey there, little man!”

  I ran to him.

  “Whatcha doing?” I pointed to the lantern. “Where you going?”

  “You know that white girl with the spotted dog? The one that eats his tail?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Oh, yeah. I think I know who you’re talking ’bout.”

  “Well, she and her little friend are missing. Everybody’s heading out on a search,” he said. “I seen ’em this morning. Me and Amie did. They asked us where they could find maypops.”

  “I don’t think they gonna find no maypops this time of year,” I said.

  George nodded, then smiled. “I still ain’t used to seeing you without your Siamese twin by your side.”

  “Who? Ella?” I asked, knowing full well who he meant. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t used to it, either. “Yeah.”

  “Tell your grandpa ’bout the girls,” he said. “He might wanna join the search.” He paused. “Oh, and Henry? I wanted to say… don’t you let Ben needle you like he does. Stand up to him.”