“Sorry,” he said with an apologetic smile. He returned to his desk with the box. “I should have told you I wasn’t much of a doctor. Afraid I never developed a real bedside manner.”
I just looked at him. Despite my awe of him, I wasn’t feeling too kindly toward him at the moment. All I could think on was the awful stinging in my knees.
“How’s your spelling?” he asked suddenly.
I glanced up from my knees. “Good. Why?”
“Got some proofing for you to do if you’re not ready to sleep.”
“I’m not. I’d like to help. But what’s proofing?”
Unexpectedly he came back to the sofa and took my hand. “Come with me.” He led me from his office through the front office and into a back room where two men were busy running a printing press. “This is where we print the paper. Before we go to press, though, we have to check all our copy. Have to check it for accuracy and for spelling. I’ll take care of the accuracy part, you take care of the spelling. Deal?”
His eyes met mine, expecting an answer. “Deal,” I replied. Still holding my hand, he took me back to the front office, picked up several sheets from a basket, and said to Mag, “These ready?”
“Ready as they’re going to be,” Mag replied.
“Good.” We returned to his office. “Here,” he said, leading me to his desk and seating me in his chair. “Read these for me. Circle any misspellings, any typos, correct them out in the margin. Don’t worry about missing something. I’ll take a quick look at all of this for accuracy when you’re finished.” He now released my hand and started for the door. “Any questions you have, anything you need, ask Mag.”
“All right . . . but where’re you going? Won’t you be here?”
“Got business elsewhere. Don’t worry about the articles, though. Mag can take care of everything.”
He reached the door and looked back. “You all set?”
I nodded, feeling a bit let down that he was leaving, yet feeling good, too, that he was trusting me with this responsibility.
“Good. See you in a while, then.” With that said he closed the door and left.
Once he was gone, my mind lingered on him, too long in fact. All I could think about was Solomon Bradley. I left his desk and wandered about the room touching his things. Only the entrance of Mag with an armful of proofs for me to read brought me back to reality.
“You finish with any of those yet?” she asked.
“No . . . no, not yet.”
She tossed the papers she was holding on the desk. “It’s a rush,” she said. “Everything’s a rush.”
“All right.”
She went back to the door. “Your brother called. He said it would be awhile yet before he gets back. He said something about having trouble getting the gaskets so they can install the oil pan. Said, too, they’ll have to pull the transmission.”
“All right.”
“He talked to Willie.”
“Okay.”
She took hold of the door. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
She nodded, then closed the door behind her. I got to work. I don’t know how long I worked. I just knew it was through most of the night. As I neared the end of the sheets, I found myself dozing off, but I didn’t want to sleep. Solomon was depending on me and after all he was doing for us, I didn’t want to fail him. I got up and stretched, then switched on the radio to see if there was any further news, but there was only music now. My mind wandered off worrying about Moe and all that had happened. I thought about the bombing, about the war folks said we were about to enter, and worried about Stacey becoming a soldier. I thought of Clarence and wondered how he was. It was already after three. Poor Clarence. If he hadn’t gotten a bus back to Camp Shelby, he was probably going a bit crazy about now, worrying about that sergeant of his and what kind of detail he would be drawing because of this trip. But being good-natured, Clarence would probably figure the trip was worth it no matter what the cost and would no doubt happily do it again. I stared at the clock. Was it going to take all night to fix that car?
The music of Benny Goodman wafted from the radio, and I closed my eyes and began to sway to the rhythm. I put war and trouble at the back of my mind, pictured Solomon and how he made me feel, and swayed to that feeling. It was an awful time we had gone through and were now facing, yet I couldn’t think about that right now. Solomon Bradley had swept the bad times away, and at this moment, with no one near to remind me otherwise, I thought of him. I was Cinderella and he was my Memphis Prince.
“Dancing?”
I swirled around and faced Solomon. I hadn’t heard the door open. “No,” I lied. “Well, leastways not really.” Then I confessed. “Not supposed to dance on Sunday.”
“It’s Monday, Cassie. It’s way past midnight.”
“Well, it still seems like Sunday. Will be until after I sleep, I suppose.”
“Then get yourself some sleep. You can go upstairs.”
“No, I’m all right,” I said, not liking the sound of that.
He smiled, seeming to have detected my apprehension. “You can sleep upstairs, or you can sleep down here. When Stacey and Moe get back, I’m sure they’ll want to try to get some sleep before they hit the road again. You’re welcome to the apartment.”
“Well, I thank you,” I said, “but I’m not all that sleepy right now. Fact, I’m too excited to sleep. Besides, I want to help with the paper.”
“All right,” he said. Then Mort came in with some crises, and Solomon left again. I turned off the radio and waited for my heart to stop beating so fast. Settling down on the sofa, I began proofing the remaining papers. I read for some time, then pulled my legs onto the couch, put my head on the arm of the couch to rest, and was soon asleep. I woke when I felt someone leaning near. It was Solomon. I wasn’t startled by his nearness, yet my breathing grew suddenly shallow.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said in a whisper, “but I thought it best you have a cover. I don’t want you taking a chill. Stretch out.” I obeyed. He tucked a quilt around me and smiled. “Good night, sweet girl,” he said and walked away.
As he reached the doorway I suddenly remembered the pages and sat up with a start. “But I didn’t finish reading the—”
“It’s all right,” he assured me. “I have some time now. I’ll get them. Now, sleep! That’s an order!”
He flicked out the overhead light, leaving only the soft pale of the desk light burning, and went out. I fell into deep slumber.
When I awoke, it was past noon. Stacey, Little Willie, and Moe were asleep on pallets on the floor. I hadn’t even heard them come in. Everything was quiet now. I got up from the sofa, went over to Stacey, and stooped beside him. Gently, I shook him. He opened his eyes sleepily. “Is the car fixed?” I whispered.
“Man’s working on it.”
“Did you get through to Uncle Hammer?”
“About an hour ago. He’s sending money and he’ll be waiting for Moe.” Then he closed his eyes again and fell back into sleep. I let him be and went into the outer office. Most of the people from last night were gone. Mag, however, remained.
“I think I overslept,” I said.
“You were tired,” she replied. “All of you were.”
“Where’s Solomon?”
“Not here. What do you want?”
“Was wondering about my clothes.”
“Oh.” Mag rose from behind the desk. “They’re ready. You can put them on upstairs.” She went down the hall, pulled out a couple of papered hangers, and brought them to me. “There,” she said, then handed me a key. “Go on up to Solomon’s place and change. He’s not there.”
“Thank you,” I said and turned away.
“You remember the way?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I remember.”
I remembered the way exactly. Once inside the apartment, I changed my clothes, then lingered. I loved the thought of being here, where Solomon lived. A record was on the p
honograph, and this time I didn’t resist the temptation to turn on the music. George Gershwin’s “Love Is Here to Stay” was the song. As the music played I swayed across the room, holding my arms tight to my body and thinking of Solomon. The record played through but didn’t reject. While it continued to spin with the grating of the needle the only sound, I just stood there in the middle of the room, my eyes closed, still swaying, humming the song.
It was then that Solomon came in
“Does it feel like Sunday now?” he asked.
He had caught me again. Embarrassed, I rushed over to the phonograph and lifted the needle. “I’m sorry.”
“What for? I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t realize you were up here. No need for you to be sorry about anything, sweet girl.” He smiled.
I managed to smile too.
He came over, picked up the needle arm, and placed it back on the record. Then he turned to me. “May I have this dance, Miss Cassie Logan?” I didn’t say anything, and he smiled that magnificent smile, slipped his right arm around my waist, took my hand in his, and as “Love Is Here to Stay” again floated from the speakers, he danced me across the room. At first he held me some distance from him, his eyes smiling into mine, then he pulled me closer, and I could feel his heart beating. I knew he could feel mine.
I swirled in a daze.
I was a princess.
And he was a prince.
The world was at war.
Moe was in trouble.
But for the moment none of that mattered. Solomon Bradley had me in his arms.
I was dizzy.
I was reeling.
The world was a dream.
Then he kissed me.
Solomon Bradley . . . kissed me.
He kissed my forehead.
He kissed the bridge of my nose.
He kissed my mouth . . . and I returned his kisses.
Within seconds, before I was ready, he pulled away. But those few seconds had been enough to make me feel what I had never felt. My legs were weak. My body was trembling. My thoughts were racing. My head was in a cloud and all my thinking was blurred.
I wanted more. But he wasn’t giving.
As he let me go he laughed in a good-natured way, as if he had kissed no more than an infant. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“Why . . . why not?”
“Because I know better,” he confessed. “But there’s a way about you, Cassie Logan. A way about you that’s a cut between a sassy little girl and a most outspoken woman, and that’s a dangerous combination for an old man like me, who ought to know better.”
“What do you mean?” I asked earnestly.
Again he laughed. “I mean I best be careful if I don’t want your brother coming after me with a shotgun.” He then took my hand and pulled me toward the door. “I think we’d better get back downstairs. Your brother’s probably wondering about you.”
I didn’t want to leave, not yet, but I followed him anyway. As we reached the door someone knocked. Solomon opened the door and Moe was standing there. The sound of the needle still spinning on the record scratched the silence. Solomon released my hand. Moe spoke hurriedly. “Stacey figure to be ready to go soon, Cassie. Just got a call from the garage. The car’s fixed.” He turned to go back down the hall.
The phone rang inside the apartment, and Solomon said, “I’ll get that. Cassie, you go on with Moe.”
My eyes lingered on Solomon a moment, then I hurried after Moe. “The money from Uncle Hammer get here?” I asked, catching up with him.
“Yeah. Stacey and I’ll be going down to pick it up, then he’ll go for the car.”
“Then we’re going to Chicago?”
Moe slipped his hands into his pockets. He didn’t look at me. “No. I told Stacey I want to stay here in Memphis and wait for the train. Solomon said he’d put me up.”
I felt somewhat disappointed about our not driving to Chicago. Driving to Chicago meant spending more time with Moe. I wasn’t yet ready to let him go, but I didn’t tell him that. “You have any idea when you can get a train out?”
“Soon’s I can,” he said.
As we reached the stairway Solomon called out to us, and we looked back. His apartment door was still open, and he was holding the phone. He motioned us to return. When we entered the apartment, he put the receiver against his chest and said to Moe: “Good news. I’m talking to a fellow I know who’s been able to get a ticket for you.”
“Ticket?”
“Yes, a train ticket to Chicago. He’ll be bringing it over. You can leave tonight.”
Moe looked uncertain. “Tonight?”
“That’s right.” Solomon smiled, pleased. But Moe didn’t smile He said nothing.
“Now, you don’t have to worry, Moe,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You don’t have to wait here. You’ll be in Chicago with Uncle Hammer before too long now.”
Moe nodded. “I’m obliged,” he said to Solomon.
“Glad I could help.” Solomon put the receiver back to his ear and continued making arrangements. Moe and I left and went back downstairs to tell Stacey and Little Willie the news. We reached the bottom of the stairway, and I took Moe’s arm before he could push the door open.
“Moe, I want to talk to you about just now upstairs. About me being in the apartment with Solomon. My clothes came back, and Mag said I could change them up in Solomon’s place—”
“She told me.”
“Well, Solomon didn’t know I was there, and he came—”
“You don’t have to explain nothing to me, Cassie.”
“But I want you to know—”
“Cassie, I told you, you don’t never have to explain nothing to me. Never.” I knew Moe meant what he said. Still he looked away, out to the street, so I couldn’t see his eyes.
“Moe?”
He pushed the door open to the sidewalk. I wanted to talk, but I knew Moe didn’t. I felt bad that he had seen me with Solomon. Moe cared something special for me, and I didn’t want that to change. Ever. He didn’t make me feel the way Solomon Bradley was making me feel, but he was my friend, and that was a good feeling too. I didn’t want to lose that. He extended his hand to me. “Come on,” he said. “Stacey’s waiting.”
It was early evening by the time we prepared to leave for the train station. Moe had wanted Stacey, Willie, and me to head back to Jackson right away, but Stacey insisted upon seeing him on the train. He wanted to make certain that Moe was safely on his way north; so did Little Willie and I. If it would ensure that, a few hours one way or the other didn’t make much difference to us now. If Clarence hadn’t gotten himself a ride back to the base by now, he was already absent without leave and there was nothing we could do about it. Besides, we figured he would want us to see Moe on the train.
“I figure you should be all right if you follow the way I marked on the map for you,” Solomon told Stacey as we went out to the car. “Once you’re in Mississippi you can avoid Route 51 after leaving the town of Grenada by taking that short stretch of back road I’ve marked, and bypass that gas station where you had trouble. You shouldn’t have any trouble going back through at night, though. Folks should be asleep.” He smiled. “Course, I know you went through at night before.”
“Maybe we’ll be luckier this time. We sure do thank you for all your help.”
“Glad to do it,” said Solomon, and the two shook hands.
“You, too, Mort.” Stacey shook his hand as well. “Good luck with the Army.”
“You, too, man,” said Mort.
“Yeah, sure. You take it easy.”
The woman Mag came over to me and to my surprise gave me a hug. As she held me she whispered, “Now, you take care, girl, and don’t you be thinking on Solomon. You forget about him. He’s too much for you.” She let me go. That was all she had to say. I glanced over at Solomon saying good-bye to Moe and Willie, then I said my good-bye to Mort, to the others, and got into the back seat of the
Ford, without saying anything to Solomon. Little Willie got in front with Stacey. As Moe stood at the back door thanking Mort and Mag, Solomon came over to my window. I rolled the window down. He smiled, and I trembled.
“You going without saying good-bye?”
I didn’t answer. I was afraid to answer, afraid my voice would betray how I was feeling.
The smile remained, as if he understood. “Look, I have something for you. Actually two somethings for you. A book with the chapter called ‘A Woman in Green and a Man in Gray’ and a Sherlock Holmes mystery. Take them. I’ll pick them up my next trip to Jackson.”
I touched the books with my fingertips as if they were gold. “When will that be?”
He laughed. “Who knows? Maybe a year from now . . . maybe next week. Anyway, you read them. We’ll talk about them when we meet again.”
I took the books from him. “Thank you,” I barely whispered.
He leaned into the car and kissed my cheek. Then he said good-bye again to the others and stepped away from the car.
“Listen, thanks again for everything,” Stacey said.
“Don’t mention it. Just take it easy on that road.”
“Good-bye,” I said, my voice low.
“Good-bye, sweet girl,” said Solomon Bradley with a smile that shared a secret.
Stacey started the car. Moe sat beside me. I wanted in that moment of leaving for Moe to go back home with us. I wanted in that moment of leaving for Solomon to kiss me again. Neither was to be. Stacey pulled away. Solomon’s eyes met mine in silence. Nothing more was said. We left the folks of Memphis Valley Enterprises behind and went on to the station.
At the station Stacey, Little Willie, and I walked with Moe up the stairs and out onto the crowded platform. We could see many white travelers at the other end. We stood talking for a few minutes, then Moe took my hand, and said he wanted to talk to me, and we left Stacey and Little Willie and walked down the colored section of the platform. When we were some distance away, he released my hand. He glanced up the platform at Little Willie and Stacey. Then he looked back at me. “Cassie, you remember when we were stuck in them woods and I was going to ask you something and those men came along?”
The Road to Memphis Page 23