Blackberry Days of Summer

by Ruth P. Watson

  “What you mean, I ain’t?” Mr. Tom said, nasty enough to make her angry.

  “You ain’t for me. Now go on and leave me alone.” Then she dismissed him like he was a child.

  “Tom is a damn fool. That woman ain’t thinking about him,” Ms. Ruth said, in earshot so that Mr. Tom could overhear her.

  Mr. Tom detested being turned down, since most of the single, churchgoing women always advanced on him. He was a fine man, the color of the bitter chocolate my momma used in cakes and from what the women said, twice as sweet. He was 6 feet three inches and towered over nearly all of the men, except for Papa. Women cooked for him and sewed and did whatever he needed, but none could excite his nature as much as Miss Topsie.

  When Miss Topsie left him standing on the church grounds, begging in front of some of the other lustful women, he vowed to make her pay. He mumbled, “I bet you’s gonna find out ’bout me.” She lifted her head and sashayed over to the reverend.

  That same evening, Mr. Tom beat her home. He eased himself in through the cracked bedroom window and slid behind her front door, counting on the shadow from the closed curtains to disguise his face. He had his way with Miss Topsie, or so she alleged, right in her parlor. Her guest area, she called it. “He held me down and mounted me like you would a horse and let out all his frustrations on me,” she told the reverend.

  Miss Topsie called on her white men acquaintances, but none of them wanted the stale taste of nigger on their breath. They simply refused to help. They didn’t need their wives thinking that they were defending no nigger woman. Then Miss Topsie turned to the church. Not one of the members supported her. Mr. Tom denied ever being with her. Like always, a deacon was perceived as a saint. But I suspected she was telling the truth, and so did the other parishioners, despite their unwillingness to support her publicly. After that, she left town.

  I knew that Momma would say the same thing about me. So far, Mr. Camm had kept his hands to himself. I would hate to think that he’d do more than what he was doing now. Whenever he winked at me, I turned my head. He was dirty. The same with the time he pinned me against the sink. I waited patiently for him to move his smelly carcass out of my way.

  As I wrote in my diary, he stuck his head in the door. I jumped to my feet. “I know you want me,” he said quietly.

  “No, sir, I was trying to get by.”

  “I know y’all women. I know y’all.” He stood there, grinning.

  “Momma wouldn’t like the way you act,” I threatened him.

  “You’s better keep your mouth closed,” he hissed, pointing at me with veins popping out of his neck and a frown so evil even the devil himself might be afraid.

  “Leave me alone,” I pleaded.

  “I ain’t did nothing to you yet. You keep on and you gonna see,” he warned me.

  As he left I ran to the door, slammed it and threw the latch on. I sat on my bed thinking about how my family had changed. My most confusing thoughts were of my momma, who hadn’t seen the things everyone else had been whispering about.

  The very next day Mr. Camm was in the backyard sitting beside the wood pile when I came home from school. He stopped me moments before I could step in the house.

  “Put your books down and get me the wheelbarrow.”

  Reluctantly, I set my books on the porch beside the back door. I rushed into the barn as swiftly as possible to get the wheelbarrow. Just as I came out, he was on his way inside the barn. I was relieved I’d made it out before he came in.

  “You think you fast, don’t ya?”

  Out of breath, I answered him, “No, sir. I was doing what you asked me.”

  I pushed the wheelbarrow out into the yard. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him staring at me with eyes turned to slits of disgust. I rushed inside the house, my chest heaving. I found Momma cooking in the kitchen. I started to relax when I saw her standing there. She had been gazing at us from the window.

  “Why are you out of breath?” she asked.

  “I was getting the wheelbarrow out of the barn for Mr. Camm.”

  “What on earth is he doing with that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She pulled back the curtain and peered out at him. Mr. Camm was outside fumbling with the wheel on it. He appeared to be busy, but I knew nothing was wrong with it.

  “Look like he’s fixing it. You’s look like you seen a ghost, chile; sit down.”

  I sat down at the table. “He startled me when I saw him in the door of the barn.”

  “He caught you off guard,” she said, shrugging.

  I had to tell her. I couldn’t run no more. I inhaled a big breath to gain enough nerve to tell on him.

  “Momma…”

  As I was about to say more, he walked into the kitchen.

  I flinched.

  “Lord, you scared her,” Momma said to him.

  “Oh yeah?” he said, gazing intently at me and silently daring me to open my mouth.

  I got up and went to my room. I shut the door firmly, took out my diary and started writing.

  Simon was waiting for me under the tree later that afternoon. My face lit up when I saw him. But it was getting too cold for us to be sitting under a tree. It was frosty cold, and the clouds hung low, full of moisture. The wind was whipping through the naked trees, and the branches were swaying. Simon had in his arms an old quilt we could use to stay warm. I smiled in relief. As soon as we sat down and wrapped ourselves up in the quilt, he whispered in my ear, “Carrie, let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

  “Marriage, to me?” I nervously echoed his sentiment.

  “I want you to leave with me. You always talk about getting away from around here. Now is the time. We can go and build a life together. I got accepted by the Richmond Black Sluggers. I’m going to be a professional baseball player.”

  How could he be leaving? I sniffed back tears as long as I could and then I cupped my hands over my face and released them. “You can’t leave me.”

  “We can go together,” he said gently.

  “I hope so.”

  I knew in my heart that Momma was not going to let me go, but I held on to the hope.

  Momma wanted me to go to college and return to Jefferson, maybe become a teacher. I didn’t want that. I wanted Simon and a chance to see the world. I would never be happy in rural Virginia. I wondered how I could convince her otherwise.

  When Simon pulled me close, my heart began to race. And when he put his tongue inside my mouth, I almost forgot about waiting. I wanted to submit to him that very instant. I had to get Momma’s approval, or I would go crazy.

  CHAPTER 14

  CARRIE

  I never liked cold weather. Winter lingered for far too long. We had to huddle around the cast-iron stoves for warmth. On the ground was at least a foot of snow, and the farm animals were all confined to the barn. The wind whistled through the trees, as I stepped outside to gather the eggs from the hens. I was wrapped up, yet the wind swirled around me. The rubber galoshes I wore on my feet kept out the wetness, but they did nothing for the stinging cold.

  I hadn’t seen Simon in two weeks, and I missed him. The weather had been too bad for anyone to travel. The only footsteps slowly disappearing in the snow were mine. We had even missed church. I hoped that the cold spell would let up. I could see drops of water falling from the crooked icicles on the roof.

  Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table when I returned with the eggs. Momma had boiled water for coffee, and the aroma of biscuits baking in the oven could be wafted throughout the house. She cracked six eggs and beat them together and poured them into the hot cast-iron frying pan with a little bacon grease.

  Mr. Camm blessed the table and we all began to sop our biscuits in the scrambled eggs and sip on the hot coffee. Everyone was trying to keep warm, and no one in the house was traveling farther than the fireplace in the front room or the wood stove in the kitchen.

  It didn’t take long for the house to get warm. Momma went around pickin
g up things and dusting, placing each what-not in its proper place. She had a lot of nervous energy. She rarely found the time to sit and rest, which was probably why she remained so petite.

  For once I was happy to pitch in. When she asked me to hang the clothes she was washing by hand in the kitchen sink, I saw it as an opportunity to talk to her about my plans.

  I had hung a clothesline in my room so I could dry my personal things. It also came in handy when the bad weather came and we needed to dry other items in the house.

  As soon as Momma pulled out the first garment to hang, I started to talk.

  “Momma, you know I have been working hard in school.” She didn’t respond. “I am hoping to go to college in Richmond next year.”

  “Good,” she mumbled, and continued putting items on the clothesline, shaking them with vigor so that the wrinkles fell out.

  John had already gotten accepted into Howard University, in Washington, D.C., and the entire house celebrated, Momma the proudest of all of us. I hoped she would have the same excitement over my feelings for Simon.

  “Momma, you know Simon and I are good friends.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” she replied.

  “He is a real nice guy, decent like Papa.”

  She paused, a wet shirt suspended in her hands. “Where are you going with this, chile?”

  “I like him a whole lot.”

  “I see.” She cleared her throat and waited.

  “I will be sixteen next month, and I was wondering if he could come see me,” I blurted out.

  “I’ve noticed him helping Carl. He seems to be a decent fellow and he is Mary’s brother.”

  “Momma, he is real nice.”

  “You’s don’t need to convince me. It’s what you think that matters. I suppose that you’re close enough to sixteen to have a suitor.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said happily.

  “Tell yo’ brother to let him know it’s all right to come co’ting you.”

  I wanted to hug her but I knew she didn’t like emotional displays. I was glad that I’d told her that much. I handed her an apron to hang on the line.

  “Simon is leaving to go play baseball with the Richmond Black Sluggers,” I said, carefully choosing the right words. Words I felt wouldn’t change her mood. So far I was winning.

  “Well, what will you do then?” she inquired.

  I dropped my head. “I want to go with him,” I uttered, knowing that I’d strike a nerve and might even get slapped.

  Sure enough her mood changed. Her eyes became slits as she stared at me. “You ain’t gonna be going nowhere with no man.”

  “Momma, please,” I cried. “We are going to get married.”

  That news made her angrier. “I s’pose you’ve been seeing him behind my back. Been doing things grown-ups do.” Her voice was louder and more intense.

  “Oh no, ma’am.” I paused, trying to think of a reason. “He told me that day we went to get water. He said that if he left to play with the team, he was going to ask you to let me marry him.” I felt so stupid. I was lying to her again.

  “That boy didn’t even know you that day,” she replied disbelievingly. “I want to talk to that boy. Why hasn’t he asked me? You went to get water, not to get married. I’s been around this here earth a long time, long enough to know when I’m being lied to. And don’t you forget it.”

  Her comment stung; the truth always hurt. “Momma, I told him that he should talk to you first.”

  She was furious with me. She swung a shirt so hard on the line, splatters of water struck my face. She was not going to tolerate any sneaking behind her back.

  Momma picked up the wash pan and turned around. For a moment, I thought she was going to go upside my head.

  “Chile, I thought you wanted more than this. I thought you wanted to be somebody. I didn’t think you wanted to live in a man’s shadow. Why can’t y’all chirren see?”

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.

  The last time Mr. Camm pinned me between the kitchen table and the stove was the last day I came straight home from school. After being threatened in my own home, I tried to stay away. John insisted on escorting Hester home each evening after school. They always walked home, snuggling up together, sometimes stopping and kissing along the way. He begged me to wait for him on the schoolyard until he came back. Sometimes I followed behind them and smacked my lips every time he moved closer to kiss her. Anyhow, Momma would whip both of us if I came home without him.

  Other times when he’d leave with Hester, I would walk home with Anna. I didn’t like hanging around the schoolyard and getting cold. John didn’t like me leaving without him, though. He wanted me to be sitting in the same spot waiting when he returned from Hester’s.

  “Why are you going home with her?” John said, gazing at Anna like she was still our enemy. Anna stood with her hands on her hips, ignoring him.

  “It’s too cold,” I replied. I wondered when I would get up the courage to tell him who she was. I secretly wondered if he knew.

  Minnie had enough children for two people. She had a total of twelve and number thirteen was still attached to her breast. Between caring for her own children and Anna’s, she had her hands full.

  I put my worries aside the day Anna told me about her baby.

  “Carrie, I had her when I was thirteen years old. Ma told me it’s all right to be ’specting at my age. She was young when you’s came. But now’s it’s bad. I’m tired all the time. I’m too tired for learning.”

  “But Anna, you need an education. You are not going to be able to do nothing for your child if you can’t get a job. One day you might want to get away from here. You can’t do much out in the world if you can’t read.”

  “I know,” she said, kicking up snow dust on the path. “I can’t take care of no baby and schooling, too. Ma said she’ll help me, but I be tired. A baby is a lot of work.”

  “Listen, if I can help you, I will. I’ll do all I can to help you read. But I ain’t too good with babies. Where’s her daddy?”

  Anna dropped her head. “He ain’t want no baby. He just used me. He left to go to the service. He said he’d be comin’ back, but he hasn’t; ain’t even sent her a doll-baby.”

  When Anna first met James, he was a young man, no more than seventeen himself. He started coming around to Anna’s house with a cousin. Anna, only twelve at the time, started thinking about him too much. He was different than any of the teenage boys she’d come to know.

  “James was a fine man. He could speak better than Mrs. Miller. He be dressed in nice clothes and most times he didn’t have on bib overalls.”

  “He was smooth, huh, Anna?”

  “Yep.”

  Anna said the first day he called out to her, he was standing in her yard, propped up on the picket fence that was halfway torn down.

  “Girl, do you live here?”

  “I was shy. But when he called out to me, I felt good.”

  “Was he handsome?”

  “He had all of his teeth and he dressed real good. When I looked at ’im, my heart sped up.”

  She told me he wasn’t real handsome, but he had something sparkly about him, and the sight of him sent warmth through her limbs.

  So when he approached her, she responded, “Yep, I live here.”

  “Hey, come over here. I want to talk to you,” he said so smoothly.

  She moved to him. “What’s your name?” he asked her as soon as she stopped.

  “Anna.”

  “You got yourself a boyfriend, Anna?”

  “Nawl.”

  “Well, I don’t have a girlfriend, either.”

  “So what you wants with me?”

  Anna said he grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him. He had said he didn’t like wasting time. After two, maybe three visits, he had her heart. He started whispering deep promises in her ear. He said things like, “I need you” and “I want you.”

  “He held my hand an
d whispered sweet stuff in my ear. I liked him.”

  “Sounds like a good guy.”

  “Well, at first. He come two times a week. We’d talk and he’d listen to me better than any of my sistas and brothas. Then the day came when I laid over behind the shed and felt the aches and trembles of him pushing against my womanhood. Felt the thrill of a grown woman, and it be like honey,” Anna said with a fervent smile on her face.

  As time passed, he came less often. He came once a month, then once every two months until he left for the service in World War I. He didn’t even stay long enough to experience the joys of bringing a newborn into the world.

  “Anna, she’s still a baby. He might fool you and come back.”

  “I don’t think so. He doesn’t care ’bout us,” she said, discouraged. “Now it be me, Ma, and the baby.”

  “What about your daddy?”

  “I can’t count on him.”

  I reached over and rubbed her shoulder. She looked at me with a faint smile. I enjoyed talking to Anna. She was a lot easier to talk to than Minnie, who had yet to tell me she was sorry or tell me how it all happened. Every time I was there, she’d be quizzing me about my life, but didn’t share too much about herself. Whenever I came close to finding out more about Minnie, Mr. Smith would interrupt her. One day I tried to talk to him. “How are you doing, Mr. Smith?”

  “You talkin’ to me?” He turned around to look at me.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’s fine. I got myself too much work to do; ain’t got no conversation for you.”

  I decided that day that he could rot for all I cared. Besides, Ginny already told me about his no-good butt.

  Two weeks later, the snow had melted and the ground was still wet when Simon came by. At the sight of him from the kitchen window, a warm surge traveled through my body. When he came inside the house and asked for Carl, Momma spoke to him and kept on cooking. I expected her to at least give him some sort of threatening look, but she didn’t.

  I whispered, “Hi,” like an innocent child. Momma turned around and cut her eyes my way, and then she clucked her tongue. I knew what she meant. But in my heart, I wanted to hug him the way we did under the tree in the schoolyard. He gave me one of the biggest smiles and touched me on the shoulder as he went by me. I didn’t move, scared Momma would chastise me in front of him.