Rainwater (24 page)

Mr. Rainwater looked at her for several moments, then asked, “Where was Ollie calling from?”

“The drugstore. People had congregated there to watch the fire. He knew we’d want to know.”

He turned and headed toward the front door. Ella rushed after him. “You’re going?”

“I want to talk to whoever’s still at the drugstore, see what I can learn. It can’t be a coincidence that a Negro’s business burns down the night after another was lynched.”

She agreed, of course, but her heart constricted with anxiety. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t be long.” He put on his hat.

“You’re favoring your side.”

“What?”

“All afternoon, I’ve noticed, but I didn’t want to make you angry by asking about it. It’s hurting you, isn’t it?”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me call Dr. Kincaid.”

He smiled at her frantic attempt to keep him there. “I won’t be long.”

As he stepped through the door, she grabbed his arm. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.” He glanced behind her to see that the coast was clear, then whispered, “I’ll see you later.”

EIGHTEEN

It was later—much later—when she heard his car. By that time she had put Solly down for the night, finished her mending and preparations for tomorrow’s meals, and whipped herself into a full-blown panic, which he dispelled the instant she unlocked the screened door to let him in.

“I’m all right. When the drugstore closed, some of us hung around, making ourselves visible in the hope there wouldn’t be any more incidents tonight. There weren’t.”

“Thank heaven for that.”

“Yes, but the general consensus is that the fire was set as a warning to anyone in the Negro community who might be plotting revenge for Brother Calvin. As you might guess, Mr. Simpson had been rather outspoken about the lynching. There was a prayer meeting held at noon today. He prayed that God’s wrath would rain down on those guilty of his pastor’s murder. Which, by the way, Sheriff Anderson ruled a suicide.”

“That’s ludicrous.”

“Everyone knows better. That’s why tension is so high.”

While Ella was worried about the volatile situation, she was selfishly relieved to have Mr. Rainwater back safe and sound. She wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him so, but a wavering voice came from the top of the stairs.

“Is everything all right in town, Mrs. Barron?”

She turned to see not one, but both, of the Dunne sisters peering at them over the banister. “Yes. Fine,” she said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She’d been hoping that Mr. Rainwater could come directly to her room upon his return. Now, that was impossible. She was being cheated of time with him, and she wanted to rant over it. Instead, she said calmly, “Mr. Rainwater has just come back.”

He headed for the staircase. “Ladies, I’m pleased to report that the fire is out and that it was contained to one structure. It’s a sad loss for Mr. Simpson, but at least there were no casualties.”

The sisters murmured their agreement.

He was halfway up the staircase before he glanced down at Ella. “I apologize for making you wait up to let me in, Mrs. Barron.”

“I would have been up anyway, Mr. Rainwater. Good night.”

It was the longest hour of Ella’s life, because each minute that passed was one that she didn’t have with him. She despaired that, once he reached his room, he’d been overcome with fatigue and fallen asleep. The thought of having to forfeit a night with him almost brought her to tears.

She didn’t recognize this hysteria in herself. Twenty-four hours ago, she had been a circumspect lady, conscientious of each stray curl that escaped her bun, worried over the impropriety of accepting his gift of a book, uneasy with his using her given name, fretful over being seen riding with him in his car. Now she was afraid that he wouldn’t share her bed again.

When he knocked, she practically flew across the room. She opened the door; he slipped in. “Did they hear you?”

“I don’t think so.”

She was seized by a sudden shyness, barely breathing, trying to make out his shape in the darkness. But then he reached for her and pulled her to him. When their lips met, her timidity dissolved.

Their desire for each other was such that they didn’t even undress, which made the fevered coupling seem even more illicit than it had last night, when they’d slowly, almost reverently, helped each other remove their clothing before lying down together. Somehow, disrobing had seemed more decorous than now, when their groping and grappling through their clothes produced moans of pleasure mixed with frustration.

Only afterward did they undress. But their nakedness stirred their passions again, and their hands couldn’t remain still. When kisses left them breathless, his mouth moved to her breasts. She enfolded his head in her arms and held him fast, wishing that her breasts had milk so that she could nurture him, sustain him, heal him.

The grief overcame her suddenly and cruelly. She began to sob. “Don’t leave me.”

He raised his head and touched her cheeks, feeling tears.

Her hands clutched at him. “You can’t. You can’t leave me.”

“Ssh, Ella.”

“Oh, dear God, please.” She hugged him tightly, a bit mad in her desperation to hold on to him absolutely and forever. “I can’t bear it if you leave me. Say you won’t. Swear you won’t.”

“Ssh. Ssh.” He held her against him, rocking her in his arms like a child, rubbing his lips against her hair. “Don’t ask me for the one thing I can’t give you, Ella. If I could, I would. But the one thing I can’t give you is time.”

He continued to hold her until she quieted. When he eventually pulled back so he could look at her, he brushed strands of hair off her face and ran his thumbs across her cheeks. “This is the first time, as well as the last time, I’ve loved. And it’s perfect, Ella. Perfect.”

Her heart was full to bursting, so full she couldn’t speak, but he understood what she felt without her having to say a word.

He understood everything.

In the morning, she was ashamed of that outburst. She had asked the impossible of him, and knew that it broke his heart as much as it did hers that he couldn’t grant her fervent wish. But dwelling on her emotional breakdown, and chastising herself for it, would have been an even greater waste of their time together. So she pushed it from her mind and thought instead of the miracle of making love with him and to him. Loving him was the dearest of gifts.

Following breakfast, he offered to assist her with the cleanup, and she accepted. Not because she needed the help in Margaret’s absence but so they could share a room. He kept an eye on Solly while she did general housekeeping. A few days ago, it would have been vastly important to her that a tabletop was polished just so, or that each corner was thoroughly swept.

But her priorities had changed. She did only what was necessary to keep the house tidy and nothing more, not wanting to spend her time scrubbing when she could be looking at Mr. Rainwater instead. That was really all she wanted to do: look at him and record for memory his smile, the disobedient lock of hair, the various inflections of his voice, each eyelash, and every line in the palms of his hands.

After lunch, she fried two chickens, made potato salad, and baked a cake to contribute to the meal following Brother Calvin’s funeral service. Mr. Rainwater stayed in the kitchen with her while she worked, helping with the chopping and slicing. Solly played at the table.

Ella pretended … Well, she pretended lots of things.

When the picnic food was ready, Mr. Rainwater went to his room to change clothes. Ella dressed herself and Solly in their Sunday best.

“Well, don’t you look nice, Solly,” Miss Pearl exclaimed when Ella walked hand in hand with him into the parlor where the sisters were listening to a concert on the radio.

Again, Ella marveled that they detected nothing out of the ordinary. How could that be, when everything was so radically different? The changes that loving Mr. Rainwater had wrought were so vital, she couldn’t believe they were undetectable. Even when they were apart, she felt his body against hers, as though it had left an indelible imprint on her. She wondered how it could possibly be invisible.

“The table is set, and a platter of fried chicken is on the kitchen table,” she told the two sisters. “Potato salad, cucumber salad, and tea are in the icebox. If I’ve forgotten something, please help yourselves. Leave your dishes. I’ll clean up when we get back.”

“I still question if it’s … appropriate for you to attend this funeral, Mrs. Barron.” Miss Violet’s expression was one of a reproving schoolteacher. Her lips were pursed so tightly, Ella wondered how she was able to enunciate.

“Sister’s right, Mrs. Barron. It might not be safe,” Miss Pearl added, for some reason whispering.

“We’ll be perfectly safe.”

Miss Violet released a long sigh. “Well, if you’re determined to go …”

“I am.”

“Then I’m glad Mr. Rainwater will be by your side.”

“I’m glad of that, too,” Ella said.

He appeared then, carrying the picnic hamper and a cake box. Ella took the box from him. “You ladies enjoy your evening,” he said, tipping his hat. Then he escorted Ella and Solly out the front door and to his car.

They were early, but the church was already packed when they arrived. Cars and mule-drawn wagons were lined up along the street for blocks in both directions. Every pew in the sanctuary was filled. Standing room also proved inadequate, so there was a spillover crowd standing in the churchyard, looking in through the windows.

Many of the people Ella recognized from shantytown had chosen to remain outside. Some whites, too, apparently shared the Dunne sisters’ reservations about attending. They were there, but they stayed clumped together and segregated for the most part. Her heart warmed to see Lola and Ollie Thompson and Mr. and Mrs. Pritchett among those who went inside.

Because of the circumstances of the preacher’s death, Ella had thought there would be law enforcement officers nearby to guard against a disturbance rising from any quarter, but she saw no one in uniform.

Mr. Rainwater found the absence of lawmen unusual, too, and remarked on it. “Since the sheriff is in cahoots with the criminals, I had hoped he would keep his distance. But I’m surprised that he did. I would have thought he and his deputies would be camped nearby, if for no other reason than to intimidate. Or even to gloat.”

Jimmy appeared in the open doorway of the sanctuary and waved them inside, where Margaret had saved them seats. Ella feared that Solly might panic when he was jammed in between her and Mr. Rainwater, but when he began flapping his hands at his ears and showing the initial signs of a fit, Mr. Rainwater took several nickels from his pants pocket and scattered them upon the worn cover of a hymnal. Solly focused on them immediately and began rearranging the coins to his liking.

Ella smiled across the top of her son’s head at Mr. Rainwater. He smiled back.

Ella had attended the funeral service for Margaret’s husband, so she wasn’t surprised by the vocal outpourings of grief. Brother Calvin’s young widow was inconsolable. The choir sang long and loud. It seemed that everyone who had ever known the preacher had been invited to give a eulogy, and after the scheduled speakers had had their time at the pulpit, anyone who felt led to speak was invited to do so, and many did. The visiting preacher’s homily escalated into a lengthy sermon.

Miraculously, Solly remained quiet and docile, occupied with the coins throughout the service. Ella’s underclothing grew damp with perspiration. She used the hand fan that she’d been given when she came in, but it was insufficient. The heat inside the church became more intense as the service progressed.

However, her own discomfort was nothing compared to Mr. Rainwater’s. At first, she’d become aware of his fidgeting. Then she noticed him frequently reaching inside his suit coat to rub his side. His face grew pale and bathed with sweat, which he dabbed at with a handkerchief, sometimes pressing it hard against his lips.

He caught her watching him and smiled reassuringly. “Just a twinge,” he mouthed.

But she knew it was more than that. As much as she’d admired Brother Calvin, she wished for a swift conclusion to the service so she could take Mr. Rainwater home. She would insist he give himself a shot to relieve the evident pain he was suffering. Perhaps they should stop at Dr. Kincaid’s office before they went home.

As soon as the last amen was said, Ella maneuvered Solly into the aisle, paying no heed to his squealing protests when she scooped up his nickels. “I’ll leave the food we brought,” she said to Mr. Rainwater when they were stopped by the logjam of mourners at the door. “But let’s not stay. Let’s go home.”

“Why? Solly feels claustrophobic because of the crowd. He’ll calm down once we’re outside.”

“It’s not Solly I’m worried about. I know you’re in pain.”

“I’m fine.” Seeing her consternation, he surreptitiously reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m all right, and it would hurt Margaret’s feelings if we didn’t stay.”

So they stayed. There was no grave-site service because Brother Calvin’s coffin was being transported to Houston for burial. Tables were set up beneath the trees shading the churchyard. While Mr. Rainwater minded Solly, Ella added their food to what others had brought.

The people of shantytown began to leave, but Mr. Simpson, the deacon whose building had been destroyed the night before, stood on a tree stump and announced that everyone was invited to stay and partake of the meal even if they hadn’t contributed. The people who had come empty-handed were hesitant to accept the charitable invitation, but ultimately their embarrassment wasn’t as strong as their hunger pangs, and they shuffled to get in line.

“Not as good as yours,” Mr. Rainwater said as he bit into a fried chicken drumstick. “But word must have got around. The platter you brought was empty.”

They’d gone through the line to get their food, then Ella had spread a quilt on a grassy spot at the edge of the churchyard. He appeared to be feeling somewhat better. He wasn’t sweating as profusely, but there was still a sheen of perspiration on his face. His complexion looked waxy, and his lips were rimmed with white. He looked as he had the day she’d discovered him lying in his bed suffering excruciating pain.