Читать книгу The Bernice L. McFadden Collection - Bernice L. McFadden - Страница 19

Chapter Ten

Arthur Thompson owned the land that both Cole and Sissy’s family sharecropped. For years, Cole had witnessed Arthur come by once a month to collect the rent and part of the crop. He was a short man with red cheeks and sparkly blue eyes. He always counted the rent money aloud. Afterward, he’d swipe the bills across the leg of his trousers, before folding the stash in half and shoving it into his pocket. Cole took that as a slight. It was as if the sweat his family put into earning the money had soiled the cash, rendering it too dirty for Arthur’s pocket.

Other than that, Arthur seemed like a decent man. Oftentimes he’d sit on the porch with Cole’s parents, telling stories and crude jokes.

Arthur had two sons and a daughter. The girl, Melinda, sometimes rode out with her father on collection day. She would sit up front with her bare feet sticking out the window. Sometimes she wore shorts, other times soft skirts that fluttered in the breeze.

She always stayed in the truck, and Cole’s mother, Barbara, thought that it was rude how the girl never came out to speak to them.

“Would your daughter care for some lemonade?” Barbara ventured one day.

“Aww, she’s all right. She got a Coke in there if she get thirsty.”

“She don’t ever get out the truck. Is she shy?”

Arthur’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Shy ain’t the word. If she could live her life inside her bedroom, she would,” he whispered. “If I didn’t bring her out on my rounds with me, the child would never get any fresh air or sun.”

Cole’s mother huffed. “Well, that can’t be good. What she do in the house all day?”

“Read.”

“Oh.”

On one particular day, when Melinda felt her father was dawdling way too long, she angrily honked the horn. Arthur sighed, rose, and patted his money-filled pockets.

“I guess that means it’s time to go.”

“Aw right now,” Arthur said as he rose. “I’ll see y’all next month.” Halfway down the walkway, he spun around. “I think I need to use your facilities before I head off.”

Cole’s father pointed toward the side of the house. “It’s just ’round back.”

Cole waited until Arthur was out of sight before he announced that he was going to introduce himself to Arthur Thompson’s impolite daughter.

Barbara giggled. “Yes, you should. Be nice though.”

At the truck, Cole stuck his face through the open driver’s-side window. Melinda had her head buried in a book, and so when he yelped, “Hey, how you doing?” it startled her, and the book fell from her hands and tumbled down to the floor. “I’m Cole Payne,” he announced thrusting his hand at her.

The flustered Melinda said nothing. Her eyes searched frantically for her father.

“And you’re Melinda, right?”

The young woman shook her head no and then yes.

Cole’s hand hung in the air between them. “This is where we shake and you say something back,” he laughed.

“Yes, of course.” Melinda hesitantly extended her hand. “I’m Melinda Thompson. Pleased to meet you.”

Cole grabbed hold of her hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Nice to meet-cha, Melinda Thompson!” He noticed that she had her father’s brilliant blue eyes and curly blond hair. The square chin and thin-as-a-line nose, Cole assumed she’d inherited from her mother.

“Oh, uhm … yes … you too. I mean, me too … I mean …”

Cole released her hand and sniffed the air. “It smells nice in here. Is that you?”

Melinda blushed. “It’s the perfumed talc I’m wearing.”

Cole made a face. “Talc? What’s that?”

Melinda leaned over, retrieved her book from the floor, and placed it in her lap. “Powder.”

“Powder?” Cole scratched his chin. “What kinda powder? Like gunpowder?”

Melinda stammered. “No-n—”

Cole waved his hand at her. “I’m just pulling your leg, Melinda,” he laughed.

She cautiously joined in on his laughter. “Oh, of course.”

“Well, it was nice to finally meet you and see you.” He fashioned his thumb and index finger into a gun, aimed at her, winked, and clucked his tongue. “I thought you were just a pair of pretty feet.”

Melinda’s cheeks glowed.

“See ya.” And with that, Cole thumped the top of the truck and trotted off.

Melinda watched him until her father’s bloated belly floated into view.

“What you staring at so hard?” Arthur asked as he climbed into the truck.

“Nothing.”

Arthur turned the ignition and popped the clutch. The truck jerked forward and then settled into an easy roll.

Back at home, Cole’s smiling face swam circles in Melinda’s mind. She looked down at her hand and could swear she saw the imprints of his fingers on her skin. When she knelt to say her prayers before bed, she asked the Lord to keep Cole Payne safe.

The next month, Melinda once again accompanied her father on his collection rounds. Same as always, she rode with her feet dangling out of the truck window. But now those pretty toes were adorned with pink nail polish.

Arthur parked the truck on the road, in the shade. He turned off the ignition and before he could reach for the door handle, Melinda was out of the truck.

A look of astonishment perched on his face. “What are you doing?”

“Coming along.”

Barbara Payne met them at the door.

“Afternoon,” she said, and then directly to Melinda: “Hello, so nice to finally see you … err … meet you. Please come in.”

They followed her into the house. Melinda looked around at the modest surroundings. The sitting room wasn’t much bigger than her own bedroom and everything— couch, chair, woven throw rug—seemed to be a variation of the color brown.

“Please, have a seat,” Mrs. Payne said as she hurried to the couch and fluffed the one limp pillow that graced it. “John is out back fiddling with something.” Her speech was hurried. “We weren’t expecting you this early. I’ll go out and get him.”

Father and daughter sat down. Melinda wondered if she was in the very spot where Cole sat. She closed her eyes and conjured up the vision.

“Melinda?” Arthur’s voice was cold. “What in the world are you doing?”

Her eyes snapped open. “Nothing.”

Barbara reappeared. “He’s coming now. Can I get you all something to drink?”

Arthur shook his head. “No thanks, I gotta get back home soon. Got family coming in from Miami.”

“Miami,” Barbara repeated in a dreamy voice, as if Arthur had said, I got family coming in from the moon.

Melinda said, “I’d like something to drink, Mrs. Payne.”

“You do?” Arthur uttered.

“Yeah.”

Barbara scurried off. When she returned with a tall glass of lemonade, her husband was handing over the rent money.

Arthur counted the money, swiped it across the leg of his trousers, folded it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Melinda’s eyes darted from one corner to the next. Where was Cole? She attempted to stretch the time by taking small sips of lemonade. If she did it right, she could make that drink last for more than half an hour.

Barbara noticed how little Melinda was drinking. “Is it too tart, dear?”

“No, ma’am,” Melinda muttered without looking at her.

Arthur scratched his large belly. “Come on, Melinda, we gotta go.”

The daughter rolled her eyes and handed Barbara the glass. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I do hope we’ll see you again.”

Melinda offered Barbara a small, disappointed smile. She’d painted her toes, dusted her body with an extra layer of the perfumed talc, and even washed her hair with her mother’s special—off-limits to her—shampoo. So much work and risk and not even a Cole sighting. Melinda was deflated.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to survive thirty more days without seeing Cole Payne. And besides, school was due to start in another two weeks, and she would no longer be able to make the collection rounds with her father. Which of course meant that she would probably never see Cole Payne again.

Melinda couldn’t ask either of her brothers to drive her out—there would be too many questions asked. She didn’t have any friends to speak of and the local buses didn’t go that far away.

Melinda looked down at her feet. She could walk, but in the heat she was sure she’d melt away in under an hour.

Her mind ticked.

There was her bicycle. A brand-new Schwinn she’d gotten as a birthday gift and had only ridden twice.

She smiled.

The following weekend, Melinda announced that she was going to the library. Her mother, Connie, was in the kitchen instructing their maid in the art of stringing a rump roast.

“Okay, see you later,” Connie sang without taking her eyes off the raw meat.

Melinda rolled the bicycle down the driveway and onto the street. She mounted it and began to peddle. The bicycle wobbled wildly through the first few rotations. Finding her balance, Melinda shot like a rocket through the center of town and past the Sidon library, out toward the rural area. The breeze raised her hair off her neck and forehead, and Melinda had the sense that she was flying.

Cole was outside and shirtless, tossing a ball back and forth with his younger brother, when Melinda rolled into the yard.

He blinked unbelievingly. “Melinda?”

She offered a breathless, “Yeah, hi.”

The sight of his bare sun-kissed torso set her skin on fire.

Cole strolled over to a nearby tree, snatched his shirt from a high limb, and shrugged it on. “What are you doing out here?”

Melinda hadn’t thought about the questions and so she had no prepared answers. “Just riding.” She laughed a little too loudly.

“All the way out here?”

She bounced her head up and down like a seal. She felt giddy, like her head was filled with soap bubbles.

Cole’s eyes moved to the road and then back to Melinda’s flushed face.

“Do your parents know you’re out here?”

“It’s okay,” she sputtered, “I told them I was going to the library.”

Melinda Thompson hadn’t crossed Cole’s mind since he last saw her. But he could see now, as she stood there quivering with excitement, that she had done little else but think about him.

“Oh, so you missed me, huh?” Cole teased smugly.

Melinda blushed.

“Come on,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the handlebars and guided the bike to the house.

“Whose that?” Cole’s little brother asked.

“This here is Melinda Thompson. Now go find something to do elsewhere.”

The brother threw his mitt angrily to the ground and stomped off.

Melinda and Cole sat down on the porch steps. Cole did most of the talking. He talked about baseball, comic books, and farming. Every so often he would lightly touch her arm when making a point, and it was all Melinda could do to keep herself from falling to pieces with pleasure.

Inside, Barbara eavesdropped and fretted from behind the curtained window. She couldn’t imagine that the girl’s parents knew she was out there keeping time with Cole Payne—the son of a sharecropper. And if they found out, what would the implications be? Would Arthur kick them off his land? Raise their rent? Ask for a larger portion of the crop? Barbara’s head began to hurt.

“That girl,” she muttered to the air, “is going to bring us a whole heap of problems.”

When Melinda finally left, Barbara breathed a sigh of relief. Cole sauntered into the house and tossed a “Hey, Ma” at her before throwing himself down into a kitchen chair.

“What that Thompson girl want?”

Cole grinned. “Me, I s’pose.”

Barbara bristled at his arrogance. “She outta your league, boy, and we don’t need no trouble from her daddy, ya hear?”

Cole heard her, but that didn’t matter. Melinda was prime for the slaughter; he just had to decide where and when.