Blackberry Days of Summer

by Ruth P. Watson

  “I haven’t heard from him, either.”

  “Oh, you will,” she answered with confidence.

  I wasn’t so sure, but I changed the subject. It was Mary’s day, after all. “So are you nervous?”

  “Not really.”

  “Are you wearing white?”

  “I have this beautiful white dress that Momma made for me. It has lace around the top…” She blushed the whole time she was describing her dress. Although I was elated for her, inside I wished it was my wedding.

  “Carl is the most amazing man I have ever met. Don’t tell nobody, but he’s an even better man than my papa.” I grinned because I knew that my brother was a good man, like our papa.

  “He’s a pretty good guy, even if he is my brother,” I said.

  Mary didn’t stay long after that. She was worried that Carl would come back and see her before the ceremony.

  “Don’t need any bad luck,” she said, smiling.

  Momma was not real happy about them deciding to have their wedding at their new house rather than the church. She was so traditional. She had decided God didn’t smile too kindly on non-church weddings, even if they lasted.

  “In the eyes of God, weddings are sealed,” she said.

  “Isn’t He everywhere, Momma?”

  She ignored that remark. “Carl, me and yo’ papa was married in the church, and so was Mr. Camm and me.” At Carl’s shrug, she threw up her hands in disgust and walked out of the kitchen into the front room.

  Following behind her, Carl said, “Momma, we have prayed about this union. It doesn’t matter where the ceremony is. I want to be like my grandpa and jump the broom.”

  “We’re not slaves no more. Back then, they didn’t have a church to get married in. But it’s your wedding. I’ll be there no matter what.”

  I thought some more about Simon, and wished he could come. Playing ball in the Negro Leagues could take you anywhere. Everyone’s home became yours. He could be in the state of Virginia or in Georgia. But I wanted him here, even though I was no longer a virgin. When I thought about what happened, tears welled up in my eyes, and I struggled to keep them from falling. I had to enjoy the moment for Carl.

  Momma and Aunt Bessie fried chicken, and Momma took one of the good hams out of the smokehouse and cooked it. “I wish the boy understood tradition,” she grumbled.

  “Isn’t jumping the broom a tradition? That’s what our people used to do.”

  “That was then. We ain’t been slaves in years. Bessie, I can’t believe you are ’greeing with him.”

  “I want him to be happy. Does a church make you happy?”

  Momma paused to mull that over. “I guess you got a point.”

  “Why can’t church be anywhere?”

  It didn’t matter much because the entire congregation had been invited to the wedding. We didn’t expect them all to show up, but the ones who didn’t have far to travel would be there. Besides, a wedding was a big event in Jefferson County.

  By noon I was tired. We took the majority of the food to Carl’s house and draped every table in white cloths Momma had borrowed from fellow church members. She decorated his front room like it was a white person’s elegant house. Momma took some of her hard-earned money that she had hidden somewhere in the house and bought white candles.

  At 2:45, everyone gathered together. Carl’s stomach was turning somersaults.

  I fixed him a drink of vinegar, water, and baking soda. “Drink it all down. You don’t have much longer before the wedding starts.” Frowning, he drank the tonic. After he finished, I had a drink as well because my stomach was also uneasy.

  The weather was perfect. The sun was bright and it was around sixty-five degrees, not too hot and not too cold. It was like the day was invented for Carl and Mary. Everybody in the gathering looked so nice. Hester’s long black hair had been paper curled and it was swinging down her back. I pulled my hair back in a bun with a little bang on top. Hester let me put on a little of the pink lipstick her mother had given her. Momma had on a white church hat that John brought with him from Washington, D.C. Mr. Camm was sober and had on his Sunday best. Everyone was ready but the bride.

  At the sight of Hester, I thought about Anna. I wished that she could have come, but I knew that Momma would not like it. She’d warned me about being around the Smiths.

  The reverend shook everyone’s hand as he came through the door carrying his black Bible. Slowly, he made it through the crowd, bending down to kiss children and acknowledging all of the people who gazed at him in the pulpit on Sunday mornings.

  “Boy, you got yo’self a nice-looking crowd here,” the reverend said.

  “Yes, sir,” Carl said, grinning and looking a lot calmer than he had twenty minutes before. The tonic was working. John was standing close to Carl but eyeballing Hester like she was a new girl in town.

  “It’s time,” Aunt Bessie kept saying. Finally, in walked Mary. She was the prettiest bride I’d ever seen. She had on a long, white dress with lace at the top. Her hair was curled under, and she had on rouge and lipstick. She had a rose in her hair and she held a bouquet of wildflowers. Directly behind her were her momma and daddy, who walked to the front of the room and took their places before the preacher.

  Hester and I stood together. The preacher had started the ceremony when Hester nudged me.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “Look! Look toward the doorway.”

  Simon’s smile greeted me.

  “Oh, my God,” I said. And after that moment, I did not hear another word of the wedding ceremony. The only part that I really remember was the kiss, which was long and mushy.

  Afterward, everyone went outside to watch Carl and Mary jump the broom. All types of people had shown up for the wedding, friends and gossipers alike. Two ladies with wide-brimmed Sunday hats stood away from the crowd talking.

  “I don’t know what’s so extraordinary about this wedding.”

  “Me neither, everybody is always gloating over Mae Lou and her chirren.”

  “Chile, you are so right, I bet her son’s wedding will last a lot longer than hers to Herman.”

  “He done been with everybody in town. I don’t know why Mae Lou fell for him.”

  “Let’s keep it straight, Bert. I ain’t been with him.”

  “Me either.” They both let out a giggle and covered their mouths.

  “Didn’t think I was going to make it, did you?” Simon said.

  I whirled around. “Well, I haven’t heard from you in a while,” I said, trying not to appear too anxious, but grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “I know. Sorry for that. I’ve been too busy to write. We’ve been traveling a lot. We’ve been to Rustburg, Farmville, Fairfax, Appomattox, and Washington, D.C. And the season is just getting started. It’s a busy job. I didn’t think I’d make it here in time.” He leaned in closer. “Though I wanted to see Mary get married, I wanted to see you more. And you look so nice.”

  “You, too,” I said.

  He bent down and whispered in my ear, “Give me a kiss?” and I almost melted, right there.

  “No,” I hissed back, “somebody might see us.”

  “Why are you still worried about these people? Your momma gave us permission to see each other.”

  “I know, but she didn’t tell me to be disrespectful.”

  “You’re right,” he said, even though so much was going on at the house, no one was really paying attention.

  John and Hester had moved off to one side, and John had his arm around her shoulder. Everyone else was crowded around Carl and Mary, including the two ladies with wide-brimmed hats. The church folk all whispered about Mary’s dress or Mrs. Susie’s new man. Momma stood proudly with Mr. Camm right by her side. When the opportunity came, Simon and I walked back to my house. When we made it there, we sat down in the front room and kissed and hugged like we were the ones married.

  “I hate it when you’re away. I want to go with you. I can’t stand it ’roun
d here.”

  “Next spring we will be doing what they just did,” he said.

  “I hope that our day will be as special as theirs.”

  “It will. It will be more special.” He kissed me so deeply, I lost my breath. I’d found myself staring at his oversized arms and flat stomach like he was a fine piece of art.

  Thirty minutes passed before we decided to go back and join the rest of the wedding party. As we walked hand in hand through the path to Carl’s house, I anticipated my own wedding night.

  After the crowd died down and Carl stood admiring Mary’s beauty, those still socializing knew it was time to leave. So they took their hats and said goodbye. Like many times before, Aunt Bessie and her family spent the night. Uncle Bill and Bessie stayed in my room and the children and I shared the floor in the front room. After the children fell off to sleep, I took out my journal and wrote about the wedding and how Simon had surprised me with his visit. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  The next morning, it looked as if nothing had happened the day before. John and Uncle Joe had risen at sunup, packed their clothes and started back to Washington, D.C. Bessie, Bill, and their greedy children were finishing breakfast.

  “We’re gonna skip church this Sunday. It’s been an exciting weekend. It was a mighty fine wedding,” Momma boasted.

  The sound of a horn jolted all of us.

  We jumped up to see who could be blowing a horn, and we all peered out the window. A black Model T Ford was parked in the yard, and Simon sat behind the wheel.

  “Good morning,” he said, getting out of the car.

  Everyone gathered around the car as if it was a miracle. Very few colored folks had cars and none we knew in Jefferson.

  “I came by to see Carrie before I left, Mrs. Mae Lou.”

  “Oh, you did?” Momma said, examining the car with as much detail as any man.

  “I was wondering if I could take Carrie for a ride in my new car.”

  Pausing like she was in deep thought, Momma reluctantly said, “Yes, ’viding she come back the same way she left.” Everyone knew what that meant.

  “I will,” I said, and hopped in the car before she could change her mind.

  It was seventy-seven degrees outside and the sun was shining bright as ever. We let the windows down and allowed the March wind to travel through our hair. We drove down the road to the schoolhouse and got out and sat under our tree. We talked as we had the first time we’d met here. He told me all about the league and where they would be traveling. He even encouraged me to do my schoolwork so that I could go to Virginia Union College in Richmond.

  “Why did we come here?” Before he could answer, I asked, “Is it because this is our tree? This is where we first started seeing each other.” I looked to the heavens. “Thank God Momma never found out.” And we both giggled.

  “Ain’t that the truth?” he said.

  “Are you seeing anybody else in Richmond?”

  Simon answered my question honestly. “No, but there are a lot of women in Richmond. They are all sizes and shapes and interesting to watch.” My faced turned red and he pulled me close. “Oh, girl, stop worrying. You will always be my love.”

  “Promise me that you will write to me. I hate not hearing from you.”

  “I promise to write, but don’t get mad if it’s only a line or two. I hate writing.”

  For the next hour, we didn’t say anything. At one point, I started to mention Mr. Camm and quickly put it out of my mind so that I could enjoy the moment. We leaned against the tree and kissed and brushed against places of a forbidden nature.

  Before we went back home, I convinced Simon to stop at Hester’s house to show off the car.

  “We might end up being sisters-in-law, after all,” Hester said. “John and I are back together.”

  Simon leaned against his car as Hester admired it.

  “Girl, I can’t wait for school tomorrow; we’ve got so much to talk about.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  CHAPTER 20

  PEARL

  Willie quickly found himself at home in Jefferson, inhaling the fresh air on a daily basis. It was a lot like Fredericksburg in that most of the people were sharecroppers and farmers. My family embraced him as one of their own. My father enjoyed having a son-in-law, and the country living made Willie blissful. For me, life had grown so mundane that going to church was a pleasure. The women in the gospel choir counted on me to harmonize their unsynchronized notes. On most fourth Sundays, Herman attended with Mae Lou, his wife. Despite that, he would discreetly wink or smile at me and I would do the same. Afterward, whenever I could, I would slip away from the house and meet him at the joint.

  Willie had never been to my church, so he grinned when we all piled into the buggy to head there. He was dressed in his soldier’s uniform, my father in his Sunday suit, and Momma and me in dresses and hats.

  “Mrs. Annie May, I ain’t been to church in years,” he told Momma. “I prayed while I was gone, though. Prayed that God would bring me back safe, and he did. I didn’t get a scratch.”

  “It is a month of Sundays between church meetings. Once a month is good enough for us all—and a little praying is good for everybody,” Momma said, and then added, “Now, let me warn ya. Peoples going to want to know about the service. Just be patient with ’em.”

  Willie grinned from ear to ear.

  “You a hero, son. It takes a man with guts to do what you did,” my daddy commented.

  Willie pulled his shoulders back and stuck his chest out. I only smacked my lips. I’d gotten tired of them treating Willie with so much love and respect.

  Dinner was going to be served on the grounds. Everyone brought a dish of either fried chicken, peas, macaroni and cheese, turnips, collards, cornbread, or an assortment of pound cakes. The aromas drifted across the grounds and tantalized the taste buds of the hungry church members. Everyone was in good spirits, sharing their food, family, and conversations. The church yard was full of people. The little children ran after one another, and the rest of the people were either spread out on blankets under a tree or sitting at the picnic tables on the lawn. There were baskets full of food, and all of us waiting for the preacher to bless the meal.

  When Willie got out of the buggy, people gawked at the sight of him. The Hell Fighter’s uniform fit every curve on his body. He stood out amongst the crowd—six feet three inches tall and a sculpted body like a finely chiseled piece of artwork.

  “Look like we got a man of service with us this mo’ning,” the preacher said after blessing the food. “Welcome, son.”

  “Mo’ning,” Willie answered.

  “Sho’ glad you could make it,” the preacher said, shaking his hand.

  For the first time since I’d returned, I was sharing the spotlight with Willie. He relished every moment, standing straight as an arrow.

  “Anything we can do to help you, let us know. We take care of our own,” the preacher said with pride, now patting Willie on his thick back. “God bless America.” And sounds of approval echoed across the church yard. “God bless ya, boy,” and “Glad you made it home.”

  Fitting in with the community was easy for Willie. When we lived in D.C., he’d raised chickens in the back of our apartment and, until he joined the Colored National Guard, had cultivated a small vegetable garden with beans, onions, and tomatoes, all of which he graciously shared with the other tenants. When he left, I let it all go, and proudly shopped at the market for my vegetables. I was a city girl.

  Immediately after the choir sang a song, people started to move around. Some unpacked food and placed it on the tablecloths, and others laid it out on blankets in picnic form.

  Willie was the center of attention, and a crowd of people, mostly men, stood around him as if he was a statue. He loosened the top button of his uniform, and wiped away the beads of sweat trickling down his ebony cheeks. Then the questions started coming.

  “Let me ask ya, son,” a man twice
Willie’s age said. “How was it fo’ the colored boys in a foreign country?”

  “My troop was in Germany and France. We fought right beside them white boys.”

  “I didn’t know the coloreds did any of the actual fighting,” Mr. Watson said.

  “Some didn’t. But I was in the trenches.”

  Then the old man interrupted. “No one knows what us colored boys done sacrificed for this country. This is our country, too.” His voice cracked with emotion.

  “I couldn’t wait to get home, though.”

  “Me either, son, ain’t no place like home.” And the old fellow patted him on the shoulder and walked away.

  Across the yard, Herman hovered over Mae Lou. Wherever she went, he followed. She eventually walked right up to me. “Pearl, you need to leave other folks’ husbands alone,” she said, gazing hard in my eyes.

  Caught by surprise, I glanced around at Willie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Herman didn’t say a word. He didn’t even blink, only stood there like a coward, listening to her accuse me.

  “Come on, Mae Lou,” he said, and they walked off arm in arm.

  Willie had seen us, but he was wrapped up with folks and hadn’t heard a word Mae Lou said.

  Mae Lou was one bold woman. She had been coming to Washington to visit Herman even before, when she was married to someone else. How in the hell did she have the audacity to confront me?

  From across the church yard, Mae Lou and Herman appeared to be in a heated discussion. She would pull away and he would wrestle her back in his arms. Suddenly, she was quiet and back to her perfect self. I wondered if he’d told her I didn’t mean anything to him.

  Willie wasn’t beaming with pride anymore. The sight of Herman had set him off. His smile was gone, replaced with a frown that came and went depending on who he was speaking with. We spent the entire day on the church yard, and I did everything I could to avoid Mae Lou the rest of the time.

  Twice I saw Herman speaking to Mae Lou’s daughter. And each time, the short, stocky girl with light hazel eyes moved away when he came near. As had been the case with me, his eyes followed her around wherever she went. All day she avoided him—turned up her nose and looked away.