Read Online The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) by Tracey Bateman - Free Book Online
Authors: Tracey Bateman
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southern-born
brothers and sisters, and the northern whites out to prove they weren’t like
their southern counterparts. But those weren’t things he could put into print
if he expected to keep his job. He was not interested in civil rights as a
movement, nor the NAACP. All he cared about was making a respected name for himself so he could hold his head high.
Shaking himself from his least favorite
subject, Andy gathered a long breath, rubbed his gritty eyes, and started to
return to the diaries, when his stomach rumbled. Remembering the promised slice
of lemon pie Mrs. Purdue had wrapped up after supper, he decided to sneak
downstairs and grab the snack before resuming his reading.
Quiet darkness met him when he stepped
into the hallway. He pulled off his shoes and set them inside his room, then
tiptoed down the stairs, grimacing when the next-to-last step groaned beneath
his feet. A glance at the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs
revealed a few minutes past midnight. He blinked in surprise at the late hour.
Perhaps he’d better turn in when he got back to his room.
When he reached the telephone, he paused,
debating whether to try to reach Lexie or wait until morning. She’d been pretty
clear the marriage was over after the last time he’d failed to come home all
night. He’d truly been working. Oh, he didn’t blame her for refusing to believe
him. He hadn’t exactly been a choirboy during their marriage. But it had been a
full year since his resolve to remain faithful to his wife. He loved Lexie. He
had to find a way to get her back when he got home.
The urge to speak to her was too strong
to resist, so he grabbed the receiver and put in a call to Chicago.
A relieved sigh escaped him when she
picked up after a series of rings.
“Hi, Honey,” he said, keeping his voice
low so as not to disturb the Purdues. “It’s me.”
“What time is it?” she asked, sleep thick
in her voice.
“Midnight here, so I guess it’s eleven
there.”
“It’s a little late to be calling, don’t
you think?”
Andy frowned at her cool tone. His
stomach dropped at the thought that he might just have lost her this time. “So,
how are you, Lex?”
“Listen, Andy, I know you didn’t call me
all the way from Georgia just to see how I am.”
“I don’t know why I called. I guess I
just needed to hear your voice. I love you, Honey.”
A short laugh escaped through the line,
burning Andy’s ear. “Mama isn’t sure you even have the capacity to love me.”
“I thought your mother wanted you to take
me back. When did she go over to your side?”
“Oh, Andy. Maybe that’s the problem.
There shouldn’t be your side and my side. Shouldn’t we be in this life together?
Working to make a living? A family?”
A knot formed in Andy’s stomach. Why
bring up a family when she knew that was never going to be? “I guess so.”
“We have some things to discuss. Do you
know when you’ll be home?”
“In a few days. Miss Penbrook is a little
addled. I’m trying to piece my story together through old diaries and bits of
conversation with her, but so far I don’t have much.” A sharp, insistent
knocking interrupted his thought. “Listen, Honey, I have to go. Someone’s at
the door.”
“This late?”
“I’ll try to call again in a few days.”
“All right.” The phone clicked before he
could say good-bye.
Andy replaced the receiver and hurried
down the steps.
He jerked open the door to find a
waterlogged young woman shivering on the porch, her arms wrapped tightly about
her body. “It’s about time,” she snapped. “My hair is ruined.”
Andy gaped as she pushed past him into
the foyer and stepped in front of the mirror that hung beside the coat rack.
She scowled at her reflection and squeezed water from her hair.
“Sorry,” Andy finally managed. “I got to
the door as quick as I could. Hang on. Let me get you a towel.”
“Thanks.”
Andy tore his eyes away long enough to
run up to
brothers and sisters, and the northern whites out to prove they weren’t like
their southern counterparts. But those weren’t things he could put into print
if he expected to keep his job. He was not interested in civil rights as a
movement, nor the NAACP. All he cared about was making a respected name for himself so he could hold his head high.
Shaking himself from his least favorite
subject, Andy gathered a long breath, rubbed his gritty eyes, and started to
return to the diaries, when his stomach rumbled. Remembering the promised slice
of lemon pie Mrs. Purdue had wrapped up after supper, he decided to sneak
downstairs and grab the snack before resuming his reading.
Quiet darkness met him when he stepped
into the hallway. He pulled off his shoes and set them inside his room, then
tiptoed down the stairs, grimacing when the next-to-last step groaned beneath
his feet. A glance at the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs
revealed a few minutes past midnight. He blinked in surprise at the late hour.
Perhaps he’d better turn in when he got back to his room.
When he reached the telephone, he paused,
debating whether to try to reach Lexie or wait until morning. She’d been pretty
clear the marriage was over after the last time he’d failed to come home all
night. He’d truly been working. Oh, he didn’t blame her for refusing to believe
him. He hadn’t exactly been a choirboy during their marriage. But it had been a
full year since his resolve to remain faithful to his wife. He loved Lexie. He
had to find a way to get her back when he got home.
The urge to speak to her was too strong
to resist, so he grabbed the receiver and put in a call to Chicago.
A relieved sigh escaped him when she
picked up after a series of rings.
“Hi, Honey,” he said, keeping his voice
low so as not to disturb the Purdues. “It’s me.”
“What time is it?” she asked, sleep thick
in her voice.
“Midnight here, so I guess it’s eleven
there.”
“It’s a little late to be calling, don’t
you think?”
Andy frowned at her cool tone. His
stomach dropped at the thought that he might just have lost her this time. “So,
how are you, Lex?”
“Listen, Andy, I know you didn’t call me
all the way from Georgia just to see how I am.”
“I don’t know why I called. I guess I
just needed to hear your voice. I love you, Honey.”
A short laugh escaped through the line,
burning Andy’s ear. “Mama isn’t sure you even have the capacity to love me.”
“I thought your mother wanted you to take
me back. When did she go over to your side?”
“Oh, Andy. Maybe that’s the problem.
There shouldn’t be your side and my side. Shouldn’t we be in this life together?
Working to make a living? A family?”
A knot formed in Andy’s stomach. Why
bring up a family when she knew that was never going to be? “I guess so.”
“We have some things to discuss. Do you
know when you’ll be home?”
“In a few days. Miss Penbrook is a little
addled. I’m trying to piece my story together through old diaries and bits of
conversation with her, but so far I don’t have much.” A sharp, insistent
knocking interrupted his thought. “Listen, Honey, I have to go. Someone’s at
the door.”
“This late?”
“I’ll try to call again in a few days.”
“All right.” The phone clicked before he
could say good-bye.
Andy replaced the receiver and hurried
down the steps.
He jerked open the door to find a
waterlogged young woman shivering on the porch, her arms wrapped tightly about
her body. “It’s about time,” she snapped. “My hair is ruined.”
Andy gaped as she pushed past him into
the foyer and stepped in front of the mirror that hung beside the coat rack.
She scowled at her reflection and squeezed water from her hair.
“Sorry,” Andy finally managed. “I got to
the door as quick as I could. Hang on. Let me get you a towel.”
“Thanks.”
Andy tore his eyes away long enough to
run up to
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