“That was whiskey.”
“Oh. I rather liked the way the warmth of it spread down my throat.”
Lovey realized as they talked that she couldn’t entirely relax in her father’s house. It was as if he’d left his ghostly presence to actively disapprove of her behavior. As if the walls themselves would not keep her secrets. She wanted to leave and go to Royal’s place as soon as possible.
They finished the food and Lovey refilled their tea. The evening sun was low, so the room had taken on a warm afternoon glow as the sky reddened near the horizon.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” Lovey stood and left the room, her short heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she walked the distance to her bedroom and back. She handed a small brown package to Royal.
“For me?” Royal looked at her with a questioning expression.
“I asked my father to pick it up at the bookstore in Gainesville.”
“Your father picked up a gift for me?” Royal’s voice rose with surprise.
“Well, he thought it was for me. But all along it was for you. Open it.”
Royal turned the small slender package over in her hand before she tore at the brown paper and string to find what was inside. A book. A poetry book. The title on the cover read Bright Ambush by Audrey Wurdemann. She looked up at Lovey. “You bought me poetry.” Royal opened to the first poem and read one line aloud.
“The author was the first woman to win the Pulitzer for Poetry. And she was only twenty-four years old.”
“The same age as me.” Royal was taken aback by such a thoughtful gift. She leaned over and pulled Lovey into a kiss. “Thank you. I love it.”
“I hope you enjoy it once you’ve read it and that it brings you inspiration.”
“Bright Ambush. Great title.”
Lovey started clearing plates while Royal thumbed through the thin volume of poetry. “Should we go soon?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Royal didn’t want to say it out loud, but she felt just the least bit unsettled being in the reverend’s house, thinking what she’d been thinking earlier about Lovey. That unease on top of her butterfly-filled stomach made her fidget, and she was sure Lovey could tell that she couldn’t fully relax.
She stood near Lovey with a towel as they washed the dinner dishes and tidied up. Royal wondered what it would be like to have this treat daily. Sharing evening meals and then the chores that followed before snuggling up together for sleep, or not sleeping, the sacred rituals of the day-to-day. It was a dream that Royal hoped someday could be her reality. But she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.
❖
It was dark and just past nine o’clock when they drove toward Royal’s rented room near the center of town. They were almost there when something off to the side caught Royal’s eye. Lovey noticed Royal crane her neck looking toward the dark space near the alley between the old Mill building and Talbot’s Feed Store. Royal eased off the road, cut the engine, and stepped out of the car. Lovey tried to read Royal’s body language, which seemed suddenly tense.
“What is it?” Lovey leaned over from the passenger side trying to peer out the driver’s side door.
“You should stay in the car.” Royal reached into a small space behind the front seat and removed a leather holster and revolver.
“Royal, what’s going on?” Lovey was afraid.
“Everything is going to be okay. And just so you know, I don’t like guns.” Royal removed the revolver and released the cylinder, spinning it to check that it was loaded. “But ever since the other night I’ve felt better having one nearby.”
Sounds of a woman’s voice caught Lovey’s attention as Royal walked away from the car. She could see that there were at least three, no, four figures in the low glow cast from the overhead oil lamp at the corner of the Mill.
Not someone who enjoyed being told what to do, she ignored Royal’s request to stay put. Lovey scooted across the front seat and slid out the door for a closer look. She could make out the shapes of three men and one woman. The lighting wasn’t great, but she could see enough to know the men were white and the young woman, who seemed to be in some distress, was black.
Lovey heard Royal call to the men as she approached. “I think you fellas should move along.” Her voice sounded strong, confident.
Royal had asked her to stay in the car, but curiosity and fear for Royal got the better of her, so Lovey stepped nearer still. She was far enough to be able to make a quick retreat to the parked sedan but close enough to hear the exchange.
One of the men turned at the sound of Royal’s voice. He was rough looking. His face covered with a few days’ growth of beard and his clothes dusty. “This is none of your concern. Leave it be.”
“I’m making it my concern.” Royal kept the gun down at her side, blocked from their view. “Grace, do you need a ride home?”
“Yeah—” The woman started to speak, but one of the men stopped her, placing his hand in the center of her chest and shoving her back against the uneven brick wall of the building. A few more steps and they would have been far enough into the dark alley that Royal wouldn’t have seen them. Lovey suspected that they’d driven by at just the right moment to intervene.
“You know this darkie?” The man spoke again and turned to face Royal while the two other men held Grace against the building. Grace looked to be in her twenties, with a slim, girlish build. Even in the dim light, Lovey could see that one of them was moving his hands up the top of the woman’s blue gingham dress in a far too intimate way.
“You best tell your friend there to take his hand off her before I relieve him of his ability to use it.” Royal had raised the revolver and pointed it at the man who was fondling Grace.
“That’s tall talk for a girl. You think just because you dress like a man that makes you one?” He took a step toward Royal but stopped when he heard the unmistakable click as she cocked the hammer.
“I don’t need to be a man to know how a woman should be treated.”
There was a small scuffle as one of the men reached for the hem of Grace’s dress, and she dropped the small brown bag she’d been carrying to the dirt, needing both hands to fend off his roaming advances. A small whimper escaped Grace’s lips before one of the two men nearest Grace covered her mouth and began shoving her toward the shadows, boldly ignoring Royal’s request.
“Let her go. Now.” Royal took a step toward the group, the pistol held high in front of her.
Lovey was several feet away from the scene that was unfolding, but panic began to settle in her chest. Her heart pounded like she’d just run a foot race, and she was certain her hands were shaking. Royal seemed rock solid. The only evidence that she was at all under duress was the muscle in her jaw that clenched and released each time Grace was touched. Obviously, from the subtle emotion playing across her face, Royal knew this woman and cared about her.
“I said, let her go. And that’s the last time I’m gonna say it before I start shooting kneecaps.”
One of the men closest to Grace looked toward Royal for a moment. His eyes looked bleary; his motions indicated he was probably under the influence of alcohol. He was thinner than the man who’d first confronted Royal, but just as worn out and scruffy looking. His overalls were patched at various spots.
“What are you, some kinda nigger lover?” His speech was slightly slurred, but there was no mistaking the words he’d meant as an insult.
Royal’s jaw clenched again, but then she spoke. “If by that you mean do I care about someone who’s earned my respect, regardless of skin color, then yes, I suppose I am.”
The larger man in front, the one who’d spoken first, made a move toward Royal, and without changing her stance, she lowered the revolver and fired a warning shot between his feet. The look of shock on his face showed that he’d doubted she would pull the trigger, until now. The sound of the discharged round pierced the night air, cutting through the muffled music that had been drifting throu
gh the alleyway from the piano inside the Mill. It echoed loudly across the wood-sided feed store.
The music stopped, and before the three men could respond, two figures came around the corner from where the entrance to the drinking joint was. One of them, Lovey recognized from the feed store, Frank Mosby. He stepped out of the shadow of the building and looked in Royal’s direction. Frank was a huge man, probably in his mid thirties. Backlit as he was from the filtered streetlamp behind him, he looked like Goliath. The second man who moved to stand at his shoulder was smaller, and she didn’t recognize him, but his body language seemed to indicate that he would follow Frank’s lead. A few other revelers now appeared near the corner to investigate the ruckus.
“Royal, is there a problem?” Frank moved next to her, but faced the three men who still surrounded Grace.
“You’ll have to ask this fellow. I was just asking them nicely to leave, but they seem reluctant.”
With two large strides, Frank was close enough to the man in front to grab him by his shirt and pull him up on his toes. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”
The man shoved at Frank to no avail. After a moment, Frank released him with a backward shove. He fell into the dirt before scrambling to his feet, visibly angry but backing away as he dusted himself off.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Nothing is worth this much trouble.” His two companions reluctantly released Grace, who slumped against the side of the building, the wet paths of tears on her dark cheeks reflecting the light from the streetlamp.
Royal lowered the pistol, but she and Frank stood where they were until the three strangers had climbed into their ancient battered truck and only a trailing dust cloud was left as a reminder of their passage into the darkening night. Lovey crossed the space between them, standing on Royal’s other side and looking down the dirt road where the vehicle had just disappeared.
“Did you know them?” Royal asked Frank.
“No, I didn’t recognize them. Just passing through I suppose. They must have been inside drinking, but I didn’t take note of them.” Frank turned to look at Royal. “You should have come in and gotten help. Especially since Miss Porter was with you.”
“Well, I asked Miss Porter to stay in the car.” Royal gave Lovey a sideways glance, and Lovey responded with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t think they’d be dumb enough to come at me with me having the Colt.” Royal eased the hammer forward on the pistol. “Guess I was wrong.”
“You’re okay then?” Frank looked from Royal over to where Grace was gathering up the contents of the brown paper bag that had spilled, although he didn’t acknowledge her by name.
“We’re fine. Go back to your fun. And thanks.”
Frank nodded and smiled, slapping Royal on the back with his large hand as he passed by. “Okay, fellas, show’s over. And I need another drink!” Laughing voices responded as the group that had gathered shuffled noisily back into the Mill. After a moment, the music started up again.
Now that they were alone in the street, Royal went to Grace. Lovey followed a few steps behind. Grace was wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand and sniffing.
“Here, let me take the bag for you.” Lovey reached out, offering the only assistance she could think of. Grace handed over the parcel and leaned into Royal.
“Come on, Grace. We’ll drive you home. Everything’s okay now.” Still holding the revolver in one hand, Royal put her other arm around Grace’s shoulders and ushered her toward the car. She opened the door, pulling the bucket seat forward to allow Grace to climb in the back.
Chapter Twenty-two
They were silent for a few moments as Royal turned the car and headed south out of town, toward where Lovey assumed Grace lived. Royal pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it over her shoulder to Grace.
“Don’t say anything about this to Mama, okay?” Grace dabbed at her eyes with the crisp white linen. “She would just worry.”
Royal glanced at Grace’s reflected image in the rearview mirror. “I won’t.”
Lovey could see Royal’s knuckles whiten as she clenched the steering wheel. She glanced at the mirror again as she spoke to Grace. “Did they hurt you? Are you hurt?”
“No,” came the muffled reply.
“You shouldn’t have been walking by yourself at this hour.” Royal’s tone was even, but Lovey heard an edge to it.
“Sam was supposed to give me a ride, but he had to leave early today. His grandmother was ill. One of the boys came to get him so that he could fetch a doctor.” Grace reached and placed her hand on Royal’s shoulder. “Please don’t say anything to Sam either. There’s nothing he can do about it now and he’d just be mad.”
“Well, that would make two of us then.” Royal stared at the road. “I’m not angry with you. You know that, right? It’s not that you did anything wrong, Grace. It’s just that the world isn’t a safe place. Sometimes even here, where it should be.”
There was silence for a few moments before Lovey turned sideways in the front seat so that she could look at Grace. “I’m Lovey Porter.” She extended her hand.
“Grace Watkins.” Grace accepted Lovey’s hand, meeting her gaze directly.
“Sorry. I should have introduced you two.” Royal smiled for the first time since they’d climbed back in the car.
They drove the rest of the way in silence, finally turning onto a narrow, rutted path that could barely be called a road. The deepest darkness surrounded the small glowing circles cast in front of them by the headlights. A small house began to take shape in the distance. A warm glow coming from small squares at the front of the narrow, unpainted house hinted at its existence in the dark grove that surrounded it. Royal pulled up close to the raised porch at the front of the house. A hound dog barked and made a halfhearted attempt to get up, but when someone yelled from inside, the dog quickly resumed its prone position.
Lovey climbed out first, pulling the seat forward to allow Grace to exit. What Lovey could see of the yard in the dark was mostly dirt, a pile of wood stacked haphazardly near the end of the porch, an axe sunk into a stump, and various small wooden boxes filled with what looked like bottles. She turned just in time to see Royal pull Grace into a hug. Grace threw her arms around Royal’s neck and whispered something in her ear that Lovey couldn’t make out. She felt a twinge of jealousy that Grace had so easily embraced Royal. They clearly knew each other well. This was one more part of Royal’s personal history that Lovey had yet to uncover. The hug ended just as an older woman stepped onto the porch.
“Royal, is that you?” the matronly woman yelled from the top step.
“Yes, ma’am.” Royal smiled and moved into the lights from the car near the bottom porch step. She had retrieved the parcel from the car and handed the bag to Grace. “I was just giving Grace a ride home.”
“Well, then come in here. I just took a fruit pie out of the oven. It needs to get ate while it’s hot.”
“You know I love your pie more than air itself, but I have a friend with me and I should probably get going.”
The woman that Lovey assumed was Grace’s mother leaned down to see who was in the car, but the glare of the headlights no doubt made it impossible to get a clear view.
“Y’all both come in. There’s plenty. Now I won’t take no for an answer.” Grace walked past the woman and into the house. Royal stepped back and leaned into the window of the car.
“What do you say? Do you want to stay for a minute and have some dessert?” Royal’s handsome face seemed to have lost the weight of tension it carried just twenty minutes earlier, as she smiled through the open window at Lovey.
“It’s hard to say no to dessert.”
“Come on then.” Royal opened the door and extended her hand for Lovey to slide over and take. When their fingers touched, Lovey felt it all the way to her toes. A surge of warmth. Her world had been expanding since the first night she’d met Royal, hanging upside down in her overturned car. It seemed tonigh
t was to be no different.
As they stepped on the porch, the older woman wiped her hands on a white apron before greeting them with genuine friendliness. “I’m Ella Watkins, Grace’s mother. Any friend of Royal’s is surely welcome at my table any time.”
“Hi, Mrs. Watkins, I’m Lovey Porter. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Ella, who Lovey’s father might have described as pleasingly plump, put an arm around each of them and ushered them inside. The cozy, lantern-lit kitchen smelled of a wood stove and baked goods. Lovey quickly noted the worn and threadbare furniture and fixtures in the main living space, which opened into an eat-in kitchen. But whatever the house may have been lacking in décor, the rich, sweet aroma of baked dessert more than made up for.
Grace smiled at them both as they each took a seat at the large square table in the center of the room. In the lantern light Lovey could now see more details of Grace’s features. She was pretty, with caramel-colored skin and high cheekbones, her hair neatly pulled back into a curled knot at her neck. Two plates, heaped with what looked like blackberry pie, were settled in front of them along with a cup of coffee for each.
“Cream?” Grace motioned toward Lovey’s cup with a glass jug of frothy milk.
“No, thanks. Black is good.” As soon as she’d said the words, Lovey was struck by what she’d said. Royal quickly came to her rescue.
“Yes, it is.” Royal took a huge bite of pie and everyone laughed. Lovey felt herself relax too. She took a smaller bite than Royal’s, but her senses immediately reacted to the flavor explosion of the sweet fruit pie filling the moment it hit her tongue.
“This pie is amazing.” Lovey looked in Mrs. Watkins’s direction with genuine admiration.
“My momma has the magic touch for baking.” Grace smiled and sipped her coffee as she held it lightly in both hands with her elbows resting on the table. The shadow of what had happened earlier was still visible in the sadness at the edges of her eyes, but she thought Grace hid it well. She seemed to study Lovey across the rim of her coffee cup, and Lovey wondered what Grace thought of her. She wondered what Grace thought she’d been doing out with Royal. From the way Grace studied her, Lovey assumed she knew exactly what was going on between them. The realization that her attraction to Royal had been uncovered made Lovey’s cheeks flame hotly.
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