An Elderberry Fall Read Online Free Page B

never heard anyone from the country mention electricity and smiles. And Robert smiled at everyone we walked past. It was a mild day, and even though the summer was dying and autumn was being birthed, it was around seventy-two degrees. We were walking along, and Robert holding tight to Simon’s shoulder when we came across a sign that read, “PEARL BROWN TONIGHT.” It was in a bold print and all capital letters.
    â€œIs that the Pearl we know?” I asked.
    â€œShe is a nightclub singer,” Simon reminded me in a sarcastic manner.
    â€œThe last letter I received from Ginny said she was still back home with Willie.”
    â€œShe’s a singer. Jefferson is no place for a person like her. Everybody is trying to get away as soon as they can.”
    â€œI just thought she was mourning Camm. He seemed to know how to get the best of everybody.” Simon saw the frown lines on my face and the sadness in my hazel eyes. He reached over and put the arm that was free around my neck. Robert and I both depended on his strength.
    â€œLet’s not think about him,” Simon said, and pulled me in closer.
    â€œYou can never be free of the folks you leave behind, can you?”
    â€œEverybody is moving along. Ain’t nobody staying the same. You, me, Robert and Ms. Pearl is doing something new. We are free.”
    The sign was tilted in the window, and the meticulous side ofme got the urge to go inside and straighten it out—make it better, but it was only a thought. It was a quaint little club famous for bringing in fresh and new jazz talent to the Heights. We’d heard a few famous folks had been there, but Simon and I had not been anywhere since coming to Richmond, other than to the ice cream bar, for a cup of fresh churned, homemade vanilla cream.
    â€œYou want to come back tonight and hear her sing?”
    I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see her or not. She was the woman seeing my momma’s husband, even though he was a sinner when they met. Ms. Pearl hadn’t done anything to me, and the one time when we met at the church picnic, she had smiled at me and said I had the prettiest eyes. Momma didn’t take too kindly to women like her. She felt a woman should work in the kitchen or for her children. I never heard her mention the bedroom, and I’m certain she didn’t believe in anybody singing in anyplace outside of church.
    â€œYes, I want to go.” I replied, “I’ll see if Mrs. Hall wouldn’t mind watching Robert for me. She is always begging me to leave him with her.”
    â€œFor us…,” Simon corrected me.
    We walked right past a crowded street trolley hissing along, made the right turn at the corner, a block from the nightclub, and waited in line for an elderly colored lady with high cheekbones to fill our cups with ice cream. It was good, and almost tasted as good as Momma’s, but she didn’t have strawberries. Robert’s eyes widened at the sight of the cup. We sat at the counter along with other free-minded colored people. Back home, colored-people were only farmers, and sitting at an ice cream counter was unheard of. Richmond was surely different from the country; colored people strutted instead of walking bent over, hiding their faces from the white man. It was a sight to see.

Chapter 4

    S imon and I arrived around 7:30, just as a black Studebaker pulled up and let out banker, Mrs. Maggie Walker. People recognized the car and rushed in closer to see her. Simon and I watched nearby at the spectators smiling and waving at her. Simon stood straight up with his mouth wide open, gawking at the shiny, black new Studebaker. “You like that car, Carrie?”
    â€œYes,” I answered, anxiously waiting to catch a glimpse of the famous Maggie Walker. When she got out of the car, she was taller than me, and her light-yellow skin smoother and softer in appearance than what I’d expected. She had me mesmerized.