Cranberry Winter

by Ruth P. Watson

  She got up from the table, picked up her suitcase along with Robert who had been reaching for her and whining all along, and shuffled into the bedroom.

  Mrs. Hall had Robert spoiled. She had been baking cookies especially for him, and allowing him to have his way. I didn’t hesitate to spank his hands when he touched something he shouldn’t have. Having Momma with us would give Mrs. Hall, who babysat when I was away at school, a break from Robert. Although Robert enjoyed being with her, she would forget to discipline him. Now he was accustomed to whining in an attempt to get his way.

  Momma loved taking care of Robert. For once in my life, I saw her with my own eyes showing affection to him. She had never been one to kiss on her children, and she never returned Papa’s nurturing hugs and kisses. But, the first thing she did when she came in the door was to reach down and kiss Robert on his round cheeks. When she did, a smile rippled across his face. I always wanted her to show some kind of affection to me and my brothers, but instead, she was no-nonsense and straight to the point. It was like she resisted the intimacy that came along with being a mother. I resented her for being so unapproachable.

  Momma puzzled me when she informed me Simon was gone. Did some kind of bird fly and whisper it in her ear? It had to be the reason she had come unannounced on the train and carrying with her enough clothes to stay awhile. My aunt Ginny was noted for premonitions and forecasting the future and some folk believed she was some sort of witch. Now, Momma had me wondering the same things about her.

  Momma caught me staring mindlessly out of the kitchen window when she returned from the bedroom swinging her arms as if she was now in control. She finally had some people to watch over. I found myself gazing at the snow flurries sticking on Nadine’s porch, and my eyes were roaming up and down the street in hopeless anticipation, wishing Simon had decided to return home.

  “Why is your face so sad, Chile?” Momma asked.

  “I’m not sad, Momma. I was just thinking.”

  Her eyes grew concerned. “What are you worried about? You got Simon on your mind, Chile. I can tell.”

  “Momma, how did you know Simon was gone?” I asked, waiting for one of those answers only soothsayers or root workers could come up with.

  Instead, she paused before answering me. “Well, I ran into ’im the other day at the feed store. He told me he was heading south to play baseball, and had stopped off in Jefferson County to see a friend.”

  Her response was a relief for me. Now I could breathe. “Did you believe him?”

  “I don’t know. You can’t put nothing past nobody these days. Folks done seen him with them white men in town, though.”

  “What men, Momma?”

  “Chile, you need to listen to yo’ own instincts,” she said, ignoring my original question. Then she continued, “I don’t pay too much attention to the peoples around. They always got something to say, but experience tells me there is some truth in parts.”

  “Momma, you never answered me. “

  “Well, your brother Carl seen him with one of them white men who makes liquor up in the woods. But that don’t mean nothing. I advise you to trust yo’ own gut,” she answered, patting her chest. “If you feel something is wrong, it probably is,” she added, staring out the window watching Nadine’s children throw snowballs at each other.

  “Did you think Herman was going to turn out like he did?” I asked.

  Immediately, her eyes became slits, her expression changed and a frown washed across her forehead so fast, I sealed my lips. I became a bit fidgety myself, and started to shake my leg. It was the first time I had attempted to get her to open up about her former husband, Herman Camm. It seemed minutes passed by before a word was said, and it appeared as if each tick on the wall clock became louder and more profound as I waited for her to respond.

  She finally broke the silence in the room. “I had to think for a minute.” I waited for her to continue, but it was silent again. Then she cleared her throat.” I believe I knew about Herman, but I wanted to believe the best about ’im. You see everybody needs a chance.”

  “Did you know about me, Momma?” I gently asked. I wondered if she knew that Herman had raped me.

  She locked her hands across her chest and twirled her thumbs. “No, I didn’t know. I didn’t ’spect none of that to happen. I just knew he drinked way too much liquor, and liquor makes peoples act a fool. I did know ’bout Pearl Brown. She had a thing for ’im. I never thought about you, Chile. People can certainly fool you.”

  “Momma,” I said, relishing the conversation, knowing she had always been so tight-lipped, and secretive. Now she was communicating like the mother I had longed for growing up in Jefferson County. I could not forget watching my best friend Hester’s mother talking and laughing with her. I had wanted the same with my mother, but she couldn’t do it. It hurt me. Now, this was special since I’d always yearned for her to share things with me. Yet, she was still making excuses for Herman.

  “I had no idea Simon was stopping over in Jefferson County. He said he was headed down south.”

  “Sometimes men go off and don’t say a word. Your daddy went off one time and stayed most of the day and all night. I didn’t know where the man was. I sent your brother looking for him. He came back with nothing. I come to find out, he was over at his momma’s, hiding. He said he needed to get away from me to think. Now, nobody would believe he run off, but he did. He was not a perfect man.”

  Listening to her open up was like music to my ears. It didn’t matter what the subject, this was a beginning. No matter what she said, nothing could explain my husband playing baseball in the heart of the winter. Being in Jefferson County was something else I couldn’t understand. Why was he around those corrupt white men? By now, he should have been in New Orleans.

  Momma shook her head. “Carrie, don’t spend too much time trying to figure it all out. We women have other things to worry about… Robert go’ be getting up in a minute, and we got some cooking to do.”

  I chuckled. “You are right.”

  I walked over to the pantry and gathered several Irish potatoes from the vegetable bin. Got a knife and I handed them to Momma, and she began to peel potatoes. I couldn’t wait to taste her potato soup with ham and onions. It was perfect for the cold, snowy weather.

  Chapter 4

  I tapped hard on the door and stood waiting, shivering. Even though the sun shone bright and my shadow was cast on the ground, the strong winds braised my cheeks like sandpaper and they were rosy as if I had applied rouge. I knocked even harder when no one came to the door. Just when I had turned to leave, my knuckles white from knocking as hard as I could, the door cracked open. Adam peeked around the door seal. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s cold out here. I was about to leave.” I smiled, pulling the collar of my coat close up around my neck.

  Adam grinned. “Come on in.” And he opened the door wide, revealing the beautiful mahogany pillars in the foyer of the antebellum tenement house. Adam was the first person I’d met in Richmond. He was somewhat responsible for me finding a school to attend. He had become my mentor and friend, and convinced me it was all right to go to school with a child. He was the most progressive colored man I had ever met. Many believed a woman’s place was barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen. We had so much in common. He was young, ambitious, and had dreams similar to mine. I really enjoyed being around him. As usual, Adam was dressed well. He had on a white shirt with a brown bow tie. His hair was neatly cut and there was no hair visible on his chocolate skin. He was what the old women called well trained, and simply refined. He had all the makings of a perfect gentleman.

  Inside, I immediately felt the warmth from the fire burning in his sitting room. I went straight to the fireplace and rubbed my hands together until they began to warm up. The heat felt good after forging through the wind. Adam lived upstairs, along with three other tenants who rented rooms. We took a seat on a Victorian davenport with a red-and-tan paisley design. It wa
s a bit airy because of the high ceilings, so, I slid over closer to the fireplace.

  “To what do I owe this visit?” Adam asked as he helped me take off my coat and hat. He threw them over the high-back chair. The enormous room felt empty, since it had only two chairs, a table and a davenport, and a book shelf filled with works by W. E. B. Dubois, Booker T. Washington and Josephine Brown. On the wall was a large mirror which faced the window, and in the mirror was the reflection of the street and everything happening outside. I slid closer to Adam to warm up and we sat perfectly still for a few minutes without uttering a word. Occasionally, I’d glance at the mirror to admire the Model T cars going up the street alongside the horse and buggies.

  “Why are you here, Carrie?” he asked me in a serious tone, minus the usual smile.

  “I just wanted to visit. I wanted to catch up on everything, find out about school,” I said even though the truth was that I missed him and longed to see him. He had a crazy effect on me, something hard to explain.

  He shook his head as if he was baffled by my response. “I don’t want any trouble with Simon. He warned me about being in the company of his wife. And we have a gentleman’s agreement. I promised to leave his wife alone.”

  “How did you feel about that?” I asked and paused for him to gather his thoughts.

  “I don’t know how I feel. Am I supposed to be angry with him, or with you?”

  “Shouldn’t you just ignore him, because we are friends?”

  He glanced over at me and stared. “Is that what you wanted me to do? I thought you wanted to be with your husband.”

  I thought about what he said. Why was I there and not home with my child and mother who needed me? I told Momma I was going downtown to purchase a garter and hosiery to wear to school. But a compelling detour to see Adam altered my plan. I wanted to be with Simon; however, something inside me was missing Adam. I questioned myself about it and really didn’t have an answer. I walked right past the Miller and Rhodes store without even looking at the mannequin with the latest fashions in the window.

  “I love my family, Adam, but you are my friend. Believe it or not, you are the first person I met when I moved to Richmond.”

  “You are avoiding answering my question. Why are you really here?”

  I struggled with the words, my mouth dry and numb. “I wanted to see you,” I finally blurted, mumbling the words as if I was embarrassed for what I had said.

  “But why?” he asked, first standing and then pacing across the hardwood floor, which resonated the clunking sound of his heels with each step.

  “I’m not sure why. All I can say is I wanted to see you.”

  He turned around and gazed in my eyes. The seriousness in his eyes reminded me of his no-nonsense yet caring character—how he had helped me understand what colleges were available for me in the city, and how he had traveled with me to visit the schools. He attended Virginia Union University, since it was the place most of the Baptist preachers got their education in theology. Now he was asking me a question I didn’t have the courage to answer. I was a married woman.

  So I changed the subject. “Where is your friend?”

  “What friend?”

  “The girl from the club…”

  “She’s not around.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  He sat back down. “I don’t understand why you are asking about her. You won’t tell me the truth about why you are here.”

  I sighed. “I wanted to see you. You are the only real friend I have around here.”

  “I’ll answer for you. Simon is out of town and you are feeling alone again. I’m your second thought.”

  “No, that is not true. Well, Simon is out of town, but you are not my second thought. I think about you all the time. “

  A subtle smile spread across Adam’s face. He reached over and grabbed my hand. “I think about you too. I just wanted to hear you admit it.” I grinned thinking he wanted to see me too.

  We both sat there in the big airy room hand in hand, watching the kindling sparks, relishing the moment, and neither of us mumbled a word. After a few minutes of total silence, I finally informed Adam I was going back to school, and I’d be leaving in a few days.

  “You should go. Your son will not remember you being gone. He is too young. I’m proud of you,” he said, smiling.

  “I feel so guilty, though.”

  “You have to get an education. It is a sure way to pay for your future, and to take care of your son. Teachers make a decent wage, and it is an honorable job.”

  “There is no way I was going to work in the field like my papa did all of his life. And Momma goes to Mrs. Ferguson’s and does the work she doesn’t want to do.”

  “You won’t have to,” he said. “But remember there aren’t many jobs for coloreds, so we have to take advantage of every opportunity. An honest job with fair wages is all we want.”

  Adam had been going to school a little longer than I had. Ministering to coloreds was first and foremost on his mind. He’d confessed to being tired of seeing colored folks sit quietly and let the white man tell them how to live. He’d said to me, “It is time for us to have a pastor who will give the word of God and to advise on the choices we make.” He was determined to get the most out of school and I was sure he would be successful. I loved the advice he’d given me. My brother John had gone away to college, and I admired him as well. Adam shared the same values as I did. We both wanted more in life than what had been promised to us coloreds, and would sacrifice anything to make it happen. I was leaving my son with the Hall family, and I didn’t feel bad about it. I just didn’t want my son to forget me.

  We were happy just being in each other’s company, without saying a word. It was so strange how he had that effect on me. The sounds of wood popping in the fireplace were more than enough. Every once in a while, I’d glance at him and catch him staring at me. We both giggled.

  Adam and I enjoyed each other’s company so much, we didn’t need to talk. We could sit for hours and be happy without saying a word. It was like he understood me. So we sat there smiling like couples do after making love. It was a heartwarming experience, and for a moment, I forgot about being married to Simon. When I stood up to leave, Adam quietly stood also. He got his coat off the coat rack.

  “I’m going with you,” he said. “I’m going to make sure you get home safely.”

  I grinned. “I’ve got to stop by the department store before I go home.”

  “I know,” he answered, helping me with my coat. “I’m going with you.” When he began to help me with my coat, something happened. The gentleness of his touch excited me. I fought back the feeling to wrap my arms around his waist, and even kiss him on the lips. Instead, I turned and walked toward the door. He followed close behind me.

  Miller and Rhoads was a good place to shop, but coloreds had to enter through a side door on Fifth Street. It sold some of the best clothes in town. I hated that I could not try on the clothes like the other women shopping, and it was simply because coloreds were not allowed in the dressing rooms. We had to take the clothes home without knowing if they were a perfect fit. I made most of my clothes anyway. I would have shopped at the Emporium, which was owned by Ms. Maggie Walker, but it was going out of business, and they didn’t have much merchandise left to choose from. The white merchants had seen to that. Simon said, “Them crackers never wanted us to have anything. They were mean and didn’t like us being anything but servants to them.” I remembered how Mrs. Ferguson treated my momma, and it was one of the reasons I longed to get an education.

  Adam and I walked across the street and several long blocks down to Broad Street. We entered the store on the side street. A white lady walked in with us and nearly knocked me down rushing to go through the door first. I had to take a deep breath to keep from grabbing the lady by her hair. We browsed through the store, amazed at everything on display. The white patrons turned up their noses and looked down on us. We ignored them. I purc
hased two pairs of silk stockings. The sales lady with premature wrinkles around her eyes, and brown freckles all over her face asked me to lay my money on the counter. I did what she asked and she handed my hose to me in a brown paper sack.

  “She is rude,” Adam whispered in my ear as we walked away.

  “I know. I’m used to it,” I murmured back to him.

  “But we shouldn’t be. We probably have more education than she does.”

  Before exiting the department store, which, aside from all the rudeness, was a fascinating place, I checked out the ladies’ dresses, because I usually could make a dress just as nice. White folks didn’t have anything on me. When we approached the door, I walked right into Kindred Camm, who was coming through the door. I flinched, felt my heart flutter, but kept moving.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, his beady eyes peering at me without even blinking.

  I didn’t say anything. I just sped up and so did Adam. When Adam looked back, he was out of sight.

  My chest started to heave and I couldn’t catch my breath. “Hold up,” Adam said, grabbing me by the arm. “What is wrong with you?”

  I slowed down after we reached the corner. “It is him. The man I told you about.”

  “Calm down; he didn’t do anything but speak.”

  “He looks exactly like my stepfather. He is supposed to be his long-lost brother, but he is the spitting image of that evil man.”

  Adam put his arm around me. “I can tell he scares you. I’m not going to let him or anybody else hurt you, so don’t worry.”

  As we walked down the street past the Jefferson Hotel with the tall white columns, I told him why I feared the man we saw in the store. He listened intently and then he asked, “Does Simon know how you feel?”

  “Yes,” I told him. “He thinks I am making too much of it. He said I need to get over it all. But it is hard to ignore someone who exactly resembles the man who hurt you.”

  Adam listened and kept his arm around me as if to offer protection. It was a good feeling.