How High the Moon Page 14

  Then from across the road, I heard my name.

  “Myrna!”

  Fred was on his bicycle with Ben on the handlebars. He hopped off just before Fred skidded to a stop and motioned me to come over.

  “Go on inside. I’ll be just a minute,” I told Henry and Ella.

  Before going back inside, Mr. Parker squinted in the direction of the boys. He’d known them since they were babies, but I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind as he watched them now. He’d known George since he was a baby, too. Did he think George had done those awful things? Did he wonder if Fred and Ben, as brown boys, were capable of the same? If Henry was?

  Just then, Ben spotted Henry and started in on him.

  “Hey, look, it’s Ella and her cousin fathead!” He laughed and pointed at Henry’s pants. He was outgrowing them in length and they only came to his ankles. “What happened to your pants, man? You expecting the great flood?” He threw his head back and shot a glance at Fred, who just rolled his eyes and turned away.

  Henry looked down at his pants and Ella said something to him. I couldn’t hear it, but I’m sure she was trying to get him to go inside and ignore Ben. But Henry didn’t go inside.

  I was about to tell Ben to shut his mouth when Henry, staring daggers at Ben, marched across the road to him.

  “Take it back,” he said.

  Ben laughed. “Take what back, fathead?” He took a couple steps toward Henry, fists balled up at his side, chin jutting forward.

  Henry looked him in the eye. “Take it back.”

  “What you gonna do about it?” Ben stepped all the way up to Henry, so that he was looking down over him. All the way up on him. He practically stepped on his toes.

  “I ain’t got to do nothing, ’cause you gonna take it back.”

  “Boy, I’ll knock you clean into next week.” Ben glowered.

  Henry’s feet remained planted. The two of them stood there a minute, while the rest of us said nothing. We just watched and waited quietly.

  Finally Ben waved a dismissive hand in front of Henry’s face and turned.

  “Whatever, man! Just get outta my face!” He started back toward Fred.

  “Say it,” said Henry. He hadn’t moved an inch. Ben’s backing off wasn’t enough for him.

  “Aw, man!” Ben forced a laugh and looked over at Fred. Fred just stared at him hard. Didn’t say nothing. Didn’t laugh with him. Gave him no comfort. Ben finally stopped laughing and turned to Henry. “Man! You sensitive. I take it back! Dang!” He tried to force a couple more chuckles but no one was joining him.

  Satisfied, Henry turned and joined Ella, who, smiling wide, gave him a couple pats on the back, then turned to Ben and stuck out her tongue.

  I didn’t hide my smile, either, as I walked over to Fred and Ben. I was proud of my cousin.

  As I got closer to Fred, I could see the dark circles under his eyes. I was pretty sure that, like me, he hadn’t been getting so much sleep these days.

  “You hear anything?” I asked.

  He turned and spit. “They saying something about moving him,” he said.

  “Yeah, Poppy said something about taking him to Columbia.” A mosquito landed on my neck. I smacked at the sting.

  “Men been showing up at the station late,” Ben said. “Threatening to pull him outta his cell and take the law into their own hands.”

  I’d heard of such stories before. I’d seen the evidence of it in the woods with Loretta. I had to shake the terrible image of that family out of my head. Couldn’t bear to think of George meeting the same fate. But seeing as they had got a “confession” out of him, there was nothing they couldn’t feel justified for doing to him. He must’ve been terrified.

  “I need to get a message to him. A letter.” George needed to know that we hadn’t given up on him.

  “Yeah?” Fred nodded and looked around, like maybe he was trying to find the solution out there. Resting on a rock, maybe. Hovering in the moist air. “Okay. Okay. Sure. Let’s do it. Let’s go there.”

  “Where? To the station? We can’t do that, Fred,” I said.

  “Well, what was you thinking?” Ben seemed to like the idea. “The cell there has a window up high. We don’t go in the front. We sneak ’round the back and shoot a letter through the bars. Tie a rock to it.”

  “But what if someone sees us?”

  “Myrna, they’re about to move him away! His family is gone. Trust me, no one will see us.” Seemed like Fred had been trying to figure out what he could do, and I’d given him the answer he’d been looking for. “Besides, a letter from you—from all of us—will give him some hope.”

  A letter from me would give George hope. The thought brightened a part of me. I smiled. But just as soon as the feeling came, it was replaced by shame. How could I possibly feel anything like happiness at this time?

  “When?” I asked.

  “Has to be today. If they gonna move him, it’ll probably be as soon as they can,” Ben said.

  A pickup truck, covered in more rust than blue paint, pulled up alongside us. Its brakes squealed to a stop and the engine rumbled, while the driver, Ben’s brother, Amos, stared out the front window.

  “Oh, shoot! I gotta go.” Ben dashed for the truck. Didn’t nobody like Amos, and didn’t Amos like nobody. He seemed to have a particular dislike for his little brother, Ben.

  While Ben made his way for the passenger seat, Amos turned and looked at me with them dull eyes, toothpick hanging out his mouth. I quickly turned back to Fred.

  “Let me drop the groceries off to Granny, then I’ll meet you outside the church,” I said. I didn’t like lying to Granny, but I knew I might have to make an exception.

  “Good. We can ride along the railroad tracks to the jailhouse. Won’t no one see us up there.”

  The railroad tracks that wound through Clarendon County separated the white and black parts of town. On each side, the houses and businesses didn’t start until far from the tracks. Nobody liked the noise from the train. It was a remote and quiet place.

  George had been accused of a crime he hadn’t committed. His family had been run out of town. And now he was sitting alone in a cell, folks threatening to drag him outta there and kill him. So what if they did catch us down by the station. What was they gonna do, arrest us for throwing him a note? George needed our strength. He needed our fight. We had to let him know that we hadn’t given up on him and that it would all be okay. That when this was all over, we’d have another day like the one at the creek. We’d get us some candies at Parker’s. And the next time he leaned in close, I wouldn’t run away.

  henry

  “You kids give me a minute. I’m a little behind this morning…” Mr. Parker grumbled as he unlatched and threw open windows, lifted the protective cloth from exposed goods, and made a few trips to and from the shop’s front porch, setting up his display of brooms, canned goods, motor oil.

  My body’s trembling had subsided and was replaced by something good, something solid. I think it was my own pride. I’d stood up to Ben Jackson! Ella had patted me on the back and told me she could hardly believe what I’d done. That she was real proud. I could hardly believe it myself.

  The two of us wandered around the store, waiting for Myrna. She was talking to Fred and Ben—about George, no doubt. Everyone was so worried about him.

  We found a set of salt and pepper shakers we’d never seen in the shop before. One figure was supposed to be a colored man in a butler uniform. He wasn’t any shade of brown, but shiny black porcelain. The other was a colored woman. She was big and round with a kerchief on her head, and she was made out of that same shiny black porcelain. Each one had wide, round eyes, large red lips, and white, smiling teeth. I couldn’t think of any colored folks in Alcolu who’d want to set those on their kitchen table.

  On our way to inspect the candy table, we heard the loud crash of glass hitting the floor.

  “Darn it!”

  Mr. Parker stood behind a
cloud of what looked like brown smoke, fists on his hips, staring down at the mess. From the spicy Christmas smell, we knew he’d knocked over the cinnamon jar.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Parker?” I started toward him, but without looking up, he raised an arm to stop me from walking nearer.

  “Darn it!” he said again under his breath. “No, Henry. You just stay there.” He was mumbling to himself as he walked behind the counter. I heard him running water to wet a rag or a mop. As I started back to the candy table, I couldn’t see Ella. I looked for her through the front window, just in case she’d stepped outside, and I saw a truck pull up. Ben ran around to the passenger side and as soon as he stepped inside he was met with a hard smack to the side of his head by the driver, his brother, Amos. Ben tried to protest, but was hit again, even harder. Ben cowered, his chin sunk into his chest. The truck pulled off.

  Poppy told me that beating a dog to make him obedient will always make him mean. That while he might hover in fear around the one who strikes him, soon as he gets the chance to lash out for all that abuse, he will. I guessed it was kinda like that for Ben. Everybody knew that his brother was mean, but I never realized that he was the reason Ben was mean.

  Once the truck cleared, I saw Myrna and Fred, still talking, but Ella wasn’t with them. I walked around the shop looking down the aisles, figuring she must’ve been bent over behind one, but I couldn’t find her. Just before I called out her name, she appeared… slinking out of Mr. Parker’s office. She tiptoed out, grinning, finger in front of her lips, telling me to keep it quiet.

  I quickly looked over at Mr. Parker, who was on the floor, wiping up cinnamon. His back was to us and he was still cursing under his breath. I was relieved that he hadn’t seen Ella. Still, she had my heart pumping.

  “We’re just gonna get Myrna and be right back, Mr. Parker!” She grabbed me by my sleeve and pulled me out the front door.

  “What you doing? You gonna get us in trouble!” I said, sure not to speak so loud that Mr. Parker could hear me. Ella was looking over my shoulder to the inside of the shop, making sure he wasn’t watching us as she pulled a fancy jazz club flyer and several business cards from inside her sweater. She thrust them into my hands.

  “Shoot, Ella!” I tucked the papers into the side of my sweater, one eye still on Mr. Parker. I eased them out, one at a time, holding them down low as I examined them.

  “I just grabbed stuff,” she said. The flyer was for a show at a club called the Velvet Lounge. It was brown along the edges and torn. Surely it was from a show from long ago.

  “This is for a jazz club,” I said, indicating the flyer.

  “I know! He really is into jazz!”

  I started riffling through the cards.

  “I don’t know if there are any clues in there, I was just getting whatever I could. Maybe there’s a name, or something. He had so many records in there! I never knew white folks was into jazz. Ain’t that funny? You just never know!”

  Myrna started back across the road. I shoved the flyer in the back of my pants and the cards in my pockets. All but one that had caught my attention.

  “Didn’t y’all get the raisins yet? Why I got to do everything?” Myrna pushed past us into the store.

  “He’s cleaning a mess!” Ella called after her. Before she could follow Myrna in, I grabbed ahold of her arm.

  “Ella, look.” I held out one of the business cards to her. It was Mr. Parker’s own card:

  PARKER’S GENERAL STORE

  255 Main St.

  Alcolu, South Carolina

  Jackson Parker, Owner

  Ella read the card, flipped it over, and handed it back to me.

  “Yeah?” she said, shrugging. “I don’t get it. What?”

  My heart began to beat fast. “Well, maybe it sounds crazy, but…”

  “What, Henry?”

  “His name, Ella,” I said, and handed the card back to her. She took it and read it again, but still just shook her head. “Jackson Parker.” I waited for it to hit her.

  “J.P.?” She looked through the window of the shop, to Mr. Parker, dusting off his hands as he and Myrna started across the store to the raisins. Ella watched them through the window, we both did for a minute, and then she turned to me. “You crazy!”

  ella

  But it wasn’t crazy. It all kinda made sense.

  I didn’t say nothing on the way home from Parker’s.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Myrna asked. She turned to Henry. “Y’all fighting?”

  “Nah,” said Henry.

  “I’m just tired,” I lied.

  I was too busy thinking. Trying to put it all together. Had it been right there in front of me? All this time?

  My whole life, Mr. Parker had been there for us. He didn’t treat us the way most white folks treated colored folks. He looked out for us. If there was a big storm, Mr. Parker drove up to make sure we was all right. If we had a poor harvest, he made up for it in potatoes, rice, turnips, or squash.

  I remembered how he once gave Granny a beautiful embroidered linen tea towel. She made a pillow from it. It was on the living room sofa.

  I remembered the time Poppy was having real bad chest pains and Mr. Parker rushed over to our place with a doctor from Manning. When I was four and got whooping cough, he showed up with that same doctor friend.

  He sometimes gave us ice cream cones “on the house,” or free candy.

  And then there was the fact that he was white.

  Zebra. High yella.

  He sometimes asked me about my schoolwork.

  So could it be true? Was it really possible? How could I not know? Why didn’t he say nothing? Why didn’t Granny or Poppy ever say nothing?

  I was trying to picture his face. It was a face that I saw all the time and knew so well, but suddenly, now that I needed to see it so I could see me in him, I couldn’t picture him. Just vague images of him. Not enough to help me see if I had his eyes, or his nose, or chin. And what about his hands or his ears? Surely, the answer was right there.

  I needed to see him.

  Without a word, I turned around and ran back down the road.

  “Ella!” Henry called after me. “Ella! What you doing?”

  I kept running, hand over my hat so it wouldn’t fly off, and dirt kicking up all about me. Henry and Myrna were both calling, but I couldn’t stop.

  When I got back to Parker’s, I ran up the short walk to the store, and leaped from the road to the porch, skipping the steps. I didn’t even hear the front bell sound until I was all the way in the middle of the shop and had finally stopped. Mr. Parker was leaning against the back counter. There was no one in the shop except for the two of us. He looked up with a surprised smile.

  “Ella? What are you doing back here?” He cocked his head and waited a moment for me to answer, but I just stood there, heart pounding. Sweat gathered over my whole face and chest. He was Mr. Parker. The man I’d always known. A white man.

  “Did you forget something? Everything all right?” he asked again.

  It took me a minute, but I finally started.

  “Is you…?”

  It was all I could manage. Nothing else would come out. I just stared at him, and he stared at me. After a moment, his smile seemed to give way to something else. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t think of what that would be. So neither one of us said anything. We just stood there. Silent. But that silence… it said everything.

  Finally he smiled a little and opened his mouth to speak. My face went hot. I turned for the door and cut out of there as fast as my legs could go.

  myrna

  “You sure she gonna be right back?” I asked Henry. “That girl is crazy.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Probably just forgot something at the store.”

  “Okay, ’cause I gotta go out,” I said.

  We walked up to the house and I could see through the back door that Granny was outside tending to her garden.

  “Don’t say no
thing to her, okay? I’ll be right back. No need to worry her,” I said.

  Henry nodded and went to see if Granny needed any help. I ducked into my room and pulled the stack of letters I’d written to George from my dresser drawer. So many letters. I’d never known how to get them to him before. The top letter was the one I wrote that morning. I stowed the others back in the drawer and went down the hall to Granny and Poppy’s room. I hadn’t seen Poppy around so I was real quiet peering around the door frame to look inside. I knew he could’ve been taking a nap in there.

  Nope. No sign of him. I crossed to Granny’s dresser and gave the letter a spritz of her tea rose perfume. I folded the letter once more and shoved it in the pocket of my cardigan.

  Fred and I were to meet outside the church, and I ran most of the way. It wasn’t often I wished I had a bike, but this was one of those times. Good news was, though, Fred arrived on his.

  “I don’t think Ben’s coming. Hop on.” Without hesitation, he got to pedaling us toward the railroad tracks.

  We rode in silence. As we passed along the railroad tracks, I searched them for a clue as to where exactly Betty June and Mary Emma had been left for dead. We’d only heard that they’d been found near the tracks, but weren’t told exactly where. I tried to imagine the scene, how it could’ve come to be. Were they lured there? Were they dragged? Did the horrible event happen elsewhere and then, later, were their bodies brought to the tracks? Why would someone do such a thing? Girls smaller than Ella out hoping to find a bounty of beauty and being met with the worst kind of ugly.

  As we approached the sheriff’s station, Fred’s pedaling slowed. I’d seen the station many times, just passing by, but I never took no notice of it. Now, with George inside, knowing all they done in that place, I could see it for what it was.

  A brick box. Cold and unfeeling. Built for cruelty.