Cranberry Winter

by Ruth P. Watson

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  Dear Reader:

  Ruth P. Watson’s debut novel, Blackberry Days of Summer, offered readers a glimpse into African American life in Virginia post World War I. Cranberry Winter follows the sequel, An Elderberry Fall, and we find Carrie in Richmond, still married to Simon, her Colored League baseball fanatic husband who now is missing so much that questioning his whereabouts is a way of life.

  Herman Camm, her womanizing stepfather who raped her and is the father of her son, was murdered. But Carrie is not totally convinced he’s actually dead as she fears his twin brother, Kindred, could be him. Is this the case or is it her imagination? Throw in the local nightclub singer Pearl and a flirtatious neighbor Nadine who can’t keep her eyes off Simon, and you have drama mixed with suspense.

  Infidelity and trust are recurring themes in Watson’s third book of historical fiction. Her next title in the series is Strawberry Spring, and if you haven’t read how it all started, an excerpt from Blackberry Days of Summer appears in the back of this book. A new musical stage play, Blackberry Daze, co-written by the author, is based on the novel.

  As always, thanks for supporting myself and the Strebor Books family. We strive to bring you the most cutting-edge, out-of-the-box material on the market. You can find me on Facebook @AuthorZane or you can email me at zane@eroticanoir.com.

  Blessings,

  Publisher

  Strebor Books

  www.simonandschuster.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First, let me thank the Almighty for the things he has done for me. To my ancestors who continue to direct my path even from the other side, thank you. Writing is a lonely passion, however, I feel surrounded by a wonderful village of people who truly believe in my work. To my agent, thank you, Sara. And, to Simon & Schuster and Strebor Books, thank you so much for choosing me. I would like to thank my girlfriends Twyla, Rhea, Ronnie, Kay, Betty, Waple, Andrea, Jennifer and Cheryl for your continuous love and support. And special thanks to my author friends, Stephanie Perry Moore, Janie Spataro, Barbara Bretton, Victoria Christopher Murray, and Zane. To Min. Jennifer D. Walton, Marva Greene, Atty. Karen Robinson-Ingram, Velma Larkins, Dionne Hall Huffman, Antionette Waits, C’celia Vernon and Margo Moorer for giving me that extra support. And, to the members of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., I appreciate you for allowing me the opportunity to showcase my talent in our grand sisterhood. None of my success would be possible without the support of my fans, and the bookclubs. Last and most importantly, I’d like to thank my loving family for their support, which allows me the freedom to do what I love most—write books.

  Prologue

  The twin girls ambled side by side down the cobblestone sidewalk on Broad Street, their noses stuck in the air as if they were sniffing lilacs in the spring. But it was cold. The winter breeze lifted their coattails as they hurried to their destination. One of the girls swung her arms loosely as if she had to propel herself forward. They walked with a purpose, looking straight ahead. They trampled through the shadows of the pine trees lining the rocky city streets, and down the uneven cobblestone sidewalk, stepping in perfect unison. I stood across the street beside a bare tree, gazing at them as I braced myself against the cold air, shivering, even though the sun was high. No one appeared to pay them much attention; however, I couldn’t keep my eyes off them, pinpointing their every move. A lady walking down the sidewalk spoke to them and both smiled and said hello at the same time. Afterward, their rosy cheeks lit up. They were dressed alike in red plaid coats with black cloches on their heads. From across the street, I studied them hard to see if I could tell them apart. They were easily five feet in height, but one of them appeared to be a slight bit taller.

  I have developed this curious fascination with identical twins. Though rarely did I see siblings of the same birth. But, ever since Kindred Camm appeared in Richmond, wearing a camel Fedora tilted over his left eye, and dressed in brown cuffed trousers, the spitting image of no-good Herman Camm, my deceased stepfather who had raped me, I find myself searching for a difference, intentionally studying the mannerisms and statures of twins. How else could you tell them apart? There is always some way to tell them apart, although it might be so minor, you have to hunt for it.

  I reflected back to the summer when the State Fair came to Richmond, Virginia. Simon and I jumped at the thought of seeing clowns and the acrobats swinging high above the crowd doing tricks, leaving our mouths wide open. Everyone in Jackson Heights vowed to get to the fair. Inhaling the stench of sweaty horses and tiny monkeys, we ended up in a tent to view the famous freak show. Inside on a raised stage were the faces of the strangest twins I had ever seen, the Muse Brothers. They were an alabaster color, so white it hurt my eyes to look at them, and their eyelids were a ghostly pink. It was an eerie feeling. Even the pigeon paused his chirping at the mere sight of them. Their hair was curly like us colored folks, and they had our wide noses and full lips. Folks said they were albinos. So, as the white people gathered to get a closer look, pushing and pointing amid raucous giggling, my heart ached for the colored boys on display like Mandingo slaves. As the tears welled up in my eyes, I fought them back to keep Simon from seeing me cry. But when I saw the two women on display as the Monkey and Snake women, the tears trickled uncontrollably down my cheeks. One of them had scales for skin and the other wore a swimsuit which drew our eyes to the hair all over her body, like that of an animal. The highlight of the show was another set of twins. When the barker asked them to “rise,” my chest heaved at the sight of them joined together at the hip. The twins didn’t say anything as the anxious crowd sighed, whispered and even chuckled. The Siamese twins stood still, on display, as the carnival barker said, “The freak show is just beginning! Come see how these girls are attached at the hip.” It was a lousy display of humankind, and I found no entertainment in gazing at someone born with an imperfection. I remember overhearing someone calling them retarded. What a travesty!

  Back in the present, just knowing Kindred, Herman’s twin, was in town had me mystified. From the moment I’d laid eyes on him at the club, I’d been edgy. My heart raced at the sight of him. It was complete trepidation; he had me worried. And he was everywhere. Running into him at the corner store, my hands became clammy and beads of sweat trickled down my forehead and onto my nose. When he grinned at me, I balled up my fist like I had with Herman, ready to fight. I ran out of the store like a terrified child. He had even been spotted at church, a place Herman despised. The Fedora tilted to the side, covering his beady eye, and the starched suits with pressed pleats were all too similar to the man we were longing to forget.

  Seeing Miss Pearl Brown written on the large sign in front of the club was something to brag about. I was enchanted with Pearl Brown. Even with the expansion of the club, which created more seats, there still was standing room only whenever she performed. I couldn’t wait to visit the club and listen to her bold voice command the attention of everyone in the room. Ms. Pearl’s big voice had folks whistling, and gathering in crowded cars to come across town and from as far away as Washington, D.C. just to hear her sing.

  Maggie Walker, the most important woman in the community, even took a back seat to Pearl Brown. Ms. Walker was the richest colored woman around, but she would never be as popular as Ms. Pearl. Ms. Pearl had the white people lining up to get into a colored club. And the club became the “in” place to be. It really was something unusual to s
ee white people standing toe to toe in line with coloreds to hear Pearl belt out the blues. Most coloreds looked in the opposite direction to avoid making eye contact with the white folks. Everyone had to be there! Pearl had finally gotten the attention of some white men from New York, who now had a hand in managing her career.

  Richmond was a pleasant place to live. I loved the cobblestone sidewalks and the glow of the street lamps at night. Watching the cars instead of mules was also fascinating. It was better than home to me. I had even gotten used to Ms. Pearl, and I liked the way she treated me. She was certainly not the liar people claimed her to be. She was just a woman without boundaries, who’d given me advice and warned me about women who don’t take care of themselves. I was going to take her advice. There was no way I was going to let Kindred hurt me or my son. This time around, I had something for the twin.

  Chapter 1

  On Monday, January 2, 1922, Orphans of the Storm was showing at the theater downtown. Everybody complained about the film Mr. Griffin, the producer, had done in the past—The Birth of a Nation. It was said the white man had written some disturbing things about us coloreds; and seemingly he didn’t have a problem with mistreating us. In the colored newspaper, The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) warned us about supporting his new work. I wanted to see the new show, had heard he was tackling abuse, but I knew demoralizing coloreds for entertainment was wrong. So, I decided to stay away from the theater and his work. “You don’t need to see his new movie. Even if folks claim he has changed, he still doesn’t care about us coloreds. He should have thought about us when he made his first movie degrading us,” Simon said. “Besides, who wants to always be seated in the balcony of the theater?” So, we went to the club instead.

  You could see the big sign way before we made it to the street corner. It read, “Pearl Brown Tonight.” Rumors traveled that the owner of Okeh Records was also in town looking for new colored talent for his record label. The company had already released a hit from Mamie Smith, and it was selling everywhere. Finally, coloreds were on the radio. Hearing a record on the gramophone by Pearl Brown, would make all of Jefferson County proud, and Jackson Heights too.

  We stood in line over thirty minutes to get inside the club. It snaked around the corner past the place that sold hamburgers and chit’ling plates on Sundays. Standing in line with us were three professional-looking white men, and a strange-looking white couple. I couldn’t believe they were waiting with the rest of us. The men seemed important though—quiet and conscientious. They appeared to not mind being with coloreds. In my mind, if they wanted to go straight into the club, no one would murmur a word.

  There was no charge to get into the place, but it was expected that you’d purchase a drink and a sandwich. Fried chicken, pork chops and hamburgers were on the menu. Most often we would snack on the free peanuts already on the tables. Once Simon and I were inside the club, we rushed to get a seat close to the stage. We found two vacant seats at a table with Adam Murphy and his date. Simon asked, “Can we sit with you two, Adam?”

  Adam looked around. “I guess so,” he answered, without any enthusiasm.

  “We will sit here, Carrie,” said Simon, pulling out a chair next to Adam Murphy.

  I frowned at the thought of sitting with Adam. I wasn’t sure I would enjoy sharing him with the attractive, cocoa brown girl with shoulder-length hair leaning all over him. Before we sat at the table, she flashed a bleak smile. I smiled back even though I had no desire to get to know her.

  “There are some vacant tables in the back,” I whispered, trying to avoid what was about to happen.

  “I thought you wanted to be up front,” Simon retorted. I didn’t comment.

  Simon must have realized something was bothering me, “You all right?”

  “Yes, we will have a good view from here of Ms. Pearl when she performs,” I answered, knowing I had to concentrate to keep my almost former lover, Adam, out of my mind. His sexy eyes stared me as though we were the only ones at the table. I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

  Simon, seated across from Adam, asked, “What have you been up to, Man? I haven’t seen you since you were at the house for dinner.” Adam bit his lip before speaking to Simon. After all, Simon had threatened him, told him to stay away from me, and leave me alone. Now, he was acting like Adam was not a threat.

  “I’m still in school,” Adam replied.

  “Where do you go to school?” Simon queried.

  “I go here in Richmond.”

  “So being in Petersburg didn’t work for you, huh?” Simon commented sarcastically.

  “Naw,” Adam answered, frowning.

  Simon had been acting a bit uneasy. His dark eyes were darting around the room as if he were expecting someone to show up.

  “Do you want something to drink, Baby?” he finally asked, getting up from the table.

  “Water will be fine,” I replied.

  Simon stood up and took off toward the bar, his eyes casing the area looking as if he was unsure of something. He had been cautious ever since Willie was shot and murdered. “I’m not going to close my eyes and let something like that happen again,” he’d said. All the women were paying attention to him. His broad athletic shoulders and beautiful white teeth caused even the white women to turn around and smile at him. One woman sitting near the bar threw her hand out as he passed the table where she was sitting. He reached back and tapped her hand to acknowledge her. It should have been a crime for a man to be that beautiful. As I was watching Simon, my mind wandered to Adam, who was sitting across from me. Adam’s attractiveness was subtle. His inviting dark eyes and seriousness made him mysterious. Whatever Adam was whispering to his date caused her eyes to light up and a wide smile rippled across her face. I watched, and an envious frown creased my forehead. What was he saying? In the past, he had murmured in my ear that had I not been married, he would have had me permanently smiling.

  It was frigid outside, and the air was moist like it might snow. However, no one would believe it by the number of people coming through the door of the club. The cold weather usually made people stay home, but not tonight. For a long time after Willie was shot, I was afraid to return to the club. I would dream about the night I crawled around on the floor as my heart pounded out of my chest, trying to avoid the gunshots that took Willie’s life. It wasn’t until the owner put a sign on the door and closed it down for remodeling, that I considered stepping foot back into the place. He expanded the seating area and repainted. It looked brand-new. With the changes, many people had forgotten the cruel way Willie had been murdered. He was shot down like a dog. Ms. Pearl witnessed it too. The air was new tonight, and I intended to enjoy the show no matter how much Adam Murphy stared at me.

  Simon returned to the table with my glass of water and a dark drink for himself.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing me my water.

  “Thank you,” I responded as I looked around at all the people arriving, dressed in their finest.

  Sensing Adam peering at me from across the table, I turned my head away to avoid locking eyes with him. Simon had his arm around my chair, and he pulled me close to him. Adam did the same thing to the woman sitting with him, and she appeared to enjoy it. Tonight was going to be interesting.

  The white men who’d been in line with us, whom I now assumed were from the record company, sat right in the center of the room. Both of them sipped on dark drinks with ice while waiting for the famous Pearl Brown to perform. Moments earlier, I had seen Simon walk over to the table where they were sitting and shake their hands. The men smiled at Simon as if they knew him. But now we all sat anxiously waiting for Ms. Pearl to walk up to the stage. It was her custom always to be a few minutes late. I wasn’t sure if it was something all performers did. When she strolled up to the stage wearing a tight-fitting, shimmery beige dress, hair curled under and falling on her shoulders, and bright-red lips, the crowd broke out into thunderous applause. Some people rose to th
eir feet. I didn’t, only shifted my eyes throughout the room. Adam and Simon stood clapping. She was certainly a star, and she knew it. She smiled at us, and waved. Before she began to sing, she addressed the crowd, “Thank you for the love. I really mean it.”

  “We love you!” was heard throughout the room.

  Ms. Maggie Walker, the first colored banker, strutted through the door just as Pearl began to sing. She was the only person in the room with reserved seating. She was donned in a brown mink coat and, as usual, a man with a mustache was holding her arm. When she sat down, Pearl stopped singing just to greet her. “So glad to see you, Ms. Walker. Y’all, give our banker a hand.” Ms. Walker smiled and acknowledged Pearl with a wave. Continuing to sing, Pearl gently moved into her rhythm; I felt chills travel throughout my body. She had that effect on me. I couldn’t help noticing Adam and how he was kissing the girl he was with on the cheek. There was something about the way Pearl swayed and sang that made couples want to touch. I grabbed Simon’s hand and a subtle smile released across his face. She sang three more songs before she came down from the stage. Music was like magic in my ears. Even though I enjoyed her sounds, Adam’s attentiveness to his date rattled my nerves. I rolled my eyes and cringed at the sight of them.

  After a while, Adam’s presence did not bother me. Simon had made sure of that. He pulled me close into his big arms and made me feel as though I was the only one in the room. It was like when we’d first met. Feeling secure with him, I knew no one would be able to hurt me. Adam watched us intensely. He even tried to spark up a conversation with Simon. “Man, are you still playing ball?”

  “Yeah, I will always be playing ball.” After he answered, the conversation dwindled to nearly nothing. I felt it was a way to pull Simon away from me. I knew Adam was jealous.