Read Online The Bernice L. McFadden Collection by Bernice L. McFadden - Free Book Online
Authors: Bernice L. McFadden
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blue thread.
Arthur and Connie’s gift was obviously much more extravagant: a deed to land, a store, and a house located miles away from Sidon, here with me, Money Mississippi.
Years later, as Cole Payne sat reading the evening paper on the veranda of his home on Candle Street, he heard the melody he’d mourned for decades.
“Morning, Mr. Payne.” A Negro woman smiled up at him as she walked toward the rear of the house. Cole peered over the top of the newspaper. The woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
As if reading his thoughts she said, “I’m Reverend Hilson’s wife.”
Cole folded the paper. “Oh,” he grunted, and then tilted his chin toward the wicker basket she carried. “What you got there?”
“I made Ms. Melinda some johnnycakes,” Doll sang.
“Is that right?” Cole offered.
“You know, my johnnycakes taste like a little piece of heaven,” Doll offered with a laugh as she rounded the corner of the house.
Chapter Thirteen
The Paynes’ housekeeper was a dark, robust, mute woman named Caress. She clapped her hands with joy when she saw Doll’s face on the opposite side of the glass window and quickly flung open the door.
Doll said, “Hello, how you today?”
Caress bobbed her head and grinned. She grabbed Doll by the wrist and dragged her over to the stove and pointed frantically at the shiny silver soup pot. Doll raised the lid and sniffed.
“Oh, that smells real good, Caress, real good.” Doll rubbed her belly for emphasis.
Caress’s grin stretched. She cast a quick look over her shoulder and then pressed her index finger against her black lips.
Doll nodded and winked.
Caress picked up a spoon, dipped it into the pot, and scooped up a luscious peach wedge, turned bronze by the mixture of sugar, cinnamon, and orange juice.
Doll pursed her lips, blew cool air over the cooked fruit, and then flicked her tongue against the sweet flesh. “Mmmmm,” she sounded before closing her entire mouth over the spoon. “Is this for preserves?”
Caress nodded.
“That’s real good, Caress, best I’ve ever tasted.”
Caress dropped the spoon into the sink, grabbed Doll’s hand, and pumped it until Doll thought her arm would fall from its socket.
“Okay now, okay,” Doll laughed. “Is Miss Melinda in the drawing room?”
Caress shook her head no, made a sad face, and then pointed to the ceiling.
“She in the bed?”
Caress nodded yes, and swept her hand upward.
“She want me to come up?”
Caress nodded again.
Doll walked into the dining room, through the parlor, down a long hall, and up the broad and winding staircase. On the top floor she made her way down a carpeted corridor, at the end of which was the Paynes’ bedroom. She knocked on the closed door.
A thin voice replied, “Come in.”
Doll had been to that room twice before, but the size of it and the lovely furniture always took her breath away. The bedroom was decidedly female. Cole had moved out a year earlier and taken up residence down the hall in the spare bedroom. “I just think you’d be more comfortable,” he’d said as Caress carted clothing from the main bedroom into the spare.
The drapes were open and the sun spilled in, in great waves of yellow light. Doll took a moment to survey the space. With each visit, Doll had made it her business to commit every detail of the room to memory, and so it was very easy for her to spot any new additions. On that day, Doll’s eyes fell on a small crimson vase adorned with white egrets.
“That vase is new,” Doll said as she floated into the room.
“Well hello to you too,” Melinda scoffed weakly.
“Oh, hello, Miss Melinda. I hear you’re ailing.”
Doll waltzed over to the nightstand and set the basket of johnnycakes down, alongside the vase. The day was warm, but the fireplace was lit and Melinda was wrapped in a pewter-colored goose-down comforter.
“Miss Melinda, you’re shaking like a leaf.” Doll retrieved the woolen throw from
Arthur and Connie’s gift was obviously much more extravagant: a deed to land, a store, and a house located miles away from Sidon, here with me, Money Mississippi.
Years later, as Cole Payne sat reading the evening paper on the veranda of his home on Candle Street, he heard the melody he’d mourned for decades.
“Morning, Mr. Payne.” A Negro woman smiled up at him as she walked toward the rear of the house. Cole peered over the top of the newspaper. The woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
As if reading his thoughts she said, “I’m Reverend Hilson’s wife.”
Cole folded the paper. “Oh,” he grunted, and then tilted his chin toward the wicker basket she carried. “What you got there?”
“I made Ms. Melinda some johnnycakes,” Doll sang.
“Is that right?” Cole offered.
“You know, my johnnycakes taste like a little piece of heaven,” Doll offered with a laugh as she rounded the corner of the house.
Chapter Thirteen
The Paynes’ housekeeper was a dark, robust, mute woman named Caress. She clapped her hands with joy when she saw Doll’s face on the opposite side of the glass window and quickly flung open the door.
Doll said, “Hello, how you today?”
Caress bobbed her head and grinned. She grabbed Doll by the wrist and dragged her over to the stove and pointed frantically at the shiny silver soup pot. Doll raised the lid and sniffed.
“Oh, that smells real good, Caress, real good.” Doll rubbed her belly for emphasis.
Caress’s grin stretched. She cast a quick look over her shoulder and then pressed her index finger against her black lips.
Doll nodded and winked.
Caress picked up a spoon, dipped it into the pot, and scooped up a luscious peach wedge, turned bronze by the mixture of sugar, cinnamon, and orange juice.
Doll pursed her lips, blew cool air over the cooked fruit, and then flicked her tongue against the sweet flesh. “Mmmmm,” she sounded before closing her entire mouth over the spoon. “Is this for preserves?”
Caress nodded.
“That’s real good, Caress, best I’ve ever tasted.”
Caress dropped the spoon into the sink, grabbed Doll’s hand, and pumped it until Doll thought her arm would fall from its socket.
“Okay now, okay,” Doll laughed. “Is Miss Melinda in the drawing room?”
Caress shook her head no, made a sad face, and then pointed to the ceiling.
“She in the bed?”
Caress nodded yes, and swept her hand upward.
“She want me to come up?”
Caress nodded again.
Doll walked into the dining room, through the parlor, down a long hall, and up the broad and winding staircase. On the top floor she made her way down a carpeted corridor, at the end of which was the Paynes’ bedroom. She knocked on the closed door.
A thin voice replied, “Come in.”
Doll had been to that room twice before, but the size of it and the lovely furniture always took her breath away. The bedroom was decidedly female. Cole had moved out a year earlier and taken up residence down the hall in the spare bedroom. “I just think you’d be more comfortable,” he’d said as Caress carted clothing from the main bedroom into the spare.
The drapes were open and the sun spilled in, in great waves of yellow light. Doll took a moment to survey the space. With each visit, Doll had made it her business to commit every detail of the room to memory, and so it was very easy for her to spot any new additions. On that day, Doll’s eyes fell on a small crimson vase adorned with white egrets.
“That vase is new,” Doll said as she floated into the room.
“Well hello to you too,” Melinda scoffed weakly.
“Oh, hello, Miss Melinda. I hear you’re ailing.”
Doll waltzed over to the nightstand and set the basket of johnnycakes down, alongside the vase. The day was warm, but the fireplace was lit and Melinda was wrapped in a pewter-colored goose-down comforter.
“Miss Melinda, you’re shaking like a leaf.” Doll retrieved the woolen throw from
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