The Minstrel's Melody (5 page)

“As if it was the first time?” Miz Rutherford was still smiling. “Madame Meritta, Orphelia wants to sing and perform professionally. But we'd like for her to stay right here with us forever.”

“Orphelia, your voice is beautiful. Why aren't you in the talent show?”

When Orphelia hesitated, Miz Rutherford spoke up. “Family reasons.”

“Miz Madame, I love brass band music, and musical theater and minstrel shows, and of course religious music, and I'm so glad you don't sing songs that make fun of colored folks and you don't blacken up your face with burnt cork like those other minstrel groups do.” She made herself stop and take a breath.

“Thank you. I've always thought it was degrading to smear that stuff on our faces when we were already Negro. You are exactly the kind of musician that I would love to have in my show. Such passion!” Gently pulling her hand from Orphelia's, she turned to Miz Rutherford. “She's so much more talented than any child in my talent shows so far.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Orphelia jumped and clapped her hands, then pressed them over her heart.
Oh, Lord, you heard my prayers!
“Would you tell this to my mother and father?”

“Let's wait until after the show,” Miz Rutherford said. “Intermission's nearly over, and Madame Meritta needs to get back to judging. Isn't this wonderful, Orphelia? You wanted to meet her, and you have! The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Orphelia proudly led Miz Rutherford and Madame Meritta from the church into the throngs of people, noting that everybody—especially Momma and Pearl, Clementine, and the Hannibal Twins—was staring at them. “And be sure and tell your mother that I brought Madame Meritta to
you,
” Miz Rutherford whispered. “I don't want you to get in trouble.” Orphelia nodded.

She made her way back to their pew. “Miz Rutherford introduced me to Madame Meritta, and she wants to meet you and Poppa,” she told Momma.

“Now isn't that nice,” said Poppa. Momma just said, “Hmmmm.”

Orphelia hardly noticed the rest of the show. After it ended, Madame Meritta deliberated, and Grand Master Roberts announced the winners. Clementine and Ambrose won third place, and the cellist won second. They all came up onstage when their names were called and received their prizes from Madame Meritta.

First place, as Orphelia had expected, went to the Hannibal Twins. Madame Meritta gave them an envelope and whispered something in their ears. Then she asked the parents of all of the participants to stand, and they did.

Madame Meritta walked to the front of the stage. “In the course of my visit here, I happened to hear a truly gifted young lady sing, and I was so impressed with her magnificent voice and piano playing that I must find some way to acknowledge her. You all have heard her perform before in the area. Her name is …” and she hesitated, turning to Miz Rutherford.

Momma reached across Pearl and Poppa and tapped Orphelia on the arm. “What's going on here?” she whispered sharply.

“I don't know,” Orphelia said, her fingers intertwined in her lap.

“Her name is Orphelia Bruce,” Madame Meritta continued. “Would you please stand, Miss Bruce, so that the audience can see you? Let's show her our appreciation for her talents with a round of applause.”

Not daring to look at Momma's face, Orphelia stood up and then shot back down. She bit nervously on her thumb. A chance to go to the fair still?

“Orphelia, I said what is this all about?” Momma demanded, but Poppa motioned to her to be quiet. Orphelia looked up at Poppa in surprised gratitude. She stole a glance at Momma. Momma was eyeing her with a strange, almost frightened expression on her face. What would happen now?

Almost as soon as the show ended, Miz Rutherford steered Madame Meritta through the crowd to Orphelia's pew and introduced the entertainer to Momma and Poppa and then Pearl, who was big-eyed and speechless for once.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bruce, your daughter is blessed to have such an amazing talent,” Madame Meritta said. “I would love to include her in my show at the fair. Is there any way we can work something out?”

“Thank you for your offer, but Orphelia cannot participate,” Momma said stiffly. “Minstrel music such as what I have heard is not morally uplifting, nor do I approve of proper young Negro women parading themselves before the public singing any songs other than religious.”

“Then perhaps you would consider Orphelia singing religious songs during the program, since she is your church's pianist-in-training,” Madame Meritta said smoothly. “She could represent your church if you wished, and if Reverend Rutherford is in agreement.”

Orphelia looked from Madame Meritta to Momma. Momma's face had gone blank. Orphelia grabbed Poppa's hand and pulled on it. “Can I do it that way?” she pleaded.

“A wonderful idea, Miz Bruce,” Miz Rutherford said.

Poppa cleared his throat. He glanced at Momma. “This is something that we'll have to discuss,” he said.

“No, we don't, because there is nothing to discuss,” Momma said sharply.

“I see,” said Madame Meritta. She smiled at Orphelia. “You look so much like your mother. You look familiar, Miz Bruce. Have we met before?”

“Certainly not,” said Momma. “Now you must excuse us. It's getting late. We must get home. We don't have coaches to tote us about.”

“Madame Meritta, you need to get settled down, too,” said Miz Rutherford. She looked so disappointed. “You pull out of here before dawn, don't you? You need your beauty sleep.”

Momma spun around and walked away, holding on to Pearl and Poppa by the elbows. Shoulders drooping, Orphelia looked up at Madame Meritta, then at Momma's retreating back. She'd never seen Momma act so rudely to anyone before. She grabbed Madame Meritta's hands. “Thank you for asking, Miz Madame. I really, really prayed that I could have been in your show.”

“I understand. But just remember that your time for fame may still come eventually I would have loved to have you for this World's Fair show. Perhaps there'll be another time.”

“Orphelia, Momma said come on!” That was from Pearl behind her. Pearl clasped her hand around Orphelia's elbow and maneuvered her away.

Momma was probably really on fire now. Well, let her be! Madame Meritta had wanted Orphelia in the show! She said Orphelia had amazing talent! That was proof from a famous person's lips. Maybe if Orphelia could just figure out what Momma had against the music she loved, she could still change Momma's mind. She'd missed her chance at next week's show at the World's Fair, but the fair itself didn't end until December. Maybe Madame Meritta would perform there again and would ask Orphelia to join her. And maybe by then Momma would have had a change of heart.

Momma walked like somebody had slid a beanpole down her back. Poppa followed quietly behind.

Pearl pulled at Orphelia's elbow. They had hardly spoken to each other all day. “What'd you think of the Hannibal Twins? I wasn't impressed.” She sucked her tooth noisily to show her disapproval. “They do the same song every time. But didn't you just love Madame Meritta's dress! Probably somebody from St. Louis made it just for her. I wish that she had sung something. She
is
prettier than what she looks like on the posters.”

Orphelia, however, didn't answer. With a quick look at her, Pearl hurried up to Momma. “I think I'll be a seamstress and make fancy dresses for folks,” she said. “Momma, maybe we could go to St. Louis and see the fashions at the fair, and then Orphelia could play and—”

“Be quiet!” Momma snapped. Pearl shut up. Momma turned around and faced Orphelia. “You are
not
going to be in that woman's show ever, and that's final. We are
not
going to the World's Fair because I've heard that we colored will not be treated right there. And St. Louis is much too large and dangerous a city for proper people like us to visit.”

“Those are some mighty big pronouncements you just made there, Otisteen,” said Poppa. “I wouldn't mind going to St. Louis someday, to tell you the truth. But what I'm most concerned about is you saying that Orphelia—”

“Are we going to argue about this in the road?” Momma folded her arms. “Thelton, the girl is not going to parade herself in a minstrel show.”

“But, Momma, Madame Meritta's shows aren't like those—”

“Don't you dare dispute me!”

“Otisteen, listen. You've let this thing build up inside so till it's ruling you. Orphelia—”

“Be quiet, Thelton.” Momma gripped Orphelia by the shoulders. “I said no! And if you keep disputing me, I'll not even allow you to be church pianist-in-training, and you will never play any kind of piano again! So get this foolishness out of your head. I don't care what this Madame Meritta says. I don't care what Miz Rutherford says! And I don't even care what you say, Thelton Bruce!”

Poppa firmly pulled Momma's hands from Orphelia's shoulders. He held Momma's hands in his, but Momma snatched them away. “If you know what's best for you, you'll let me be,” Momma said, so low that Orphelia could barely hear her.

Poppa sighed. “The day is apt to come when we'll be sorry we didn't let her follow her dream,” he said in an undertone. “Orphelia, there'll be another time, I promise you,” he said louder now, “but not this time. Now, everybody, let's go home.”

Orphelia stood in the dusty road. Tears rolled down her face. Pearl took her hand and pulled on it. Orphelia followed her sister home.

Later she lay in bed, watching the light from the kerosene lamp flicker on the wall. She wiggled her fingers under the covers, playing the “Lewis County Rag.” Momma had never screamed at her like she had tonight. Had she gone crazy?

The last few weeks had been full of Momma's criticisms. The more Orphelia progressed with her music and her act for the talent show, the angrier Momma had seemed to get with her. Would she really make her stop playing for the church? That would be the cruelest cut of all. If Orphelia couldn't even play for the church, then her life was truly over.

Madame Meritta had said she wanted Orphelia in her show anytime. She had also said Orphelia was blessed with a musical gift. Poppa said that now wasn't the right time. But when
would
the right time be? Never, apparently, if Momma had her way.

Orphelia sat up in bed. Pearl snored softly. Quickly Orphelia packed her schoolbag with an extra pair of underwear and stockings, and the music tablet from the Stone Shed. Slipping on the dress she'd worn to the talent show, she crept out of the house. Orphelia stood on the porch for a moment, listening for sound from inside. She stepped off the porch into the yard. Going to the weeping willow tree, she kicked it, then darted down the road into the darkness.

Orphelia ran until she was far from the house. She slowed down when she realized fully what she was doing. Was this the right thing to do—to run away? Did she know where she was running to? A streak of fear flashed through her. Should she turn around? She could be back inside the house before anybody even knew she'd been gone.

And risk never being able to play piano again.

She quickened her step. When an owl swooped down over her head, Orphelia shrieked and broke into a run.

She reached the Calico Creek school and church grounds. The coaches were still there. Nobody was in sight, and the horses were quiet.
Now is the time and this is the place,
she told herself. But what if she couldn't get in? What if she got caught?

Heart racing, she crept across the yard to the first coach and listened at the door. Snoring came from inside. She tiptoed to the next coach and heard deep breathing there, too.

At the third coach, however, she heard nothing. Slowly and carefully she studied it. She tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge. She went around to the side, where there was a board covering a window-size opening. She lifted the latch on the board and peered inside, listening. Then, climbing up on the wheel, she dropped her schoolbag through the opening and pulled herself in. She tumbled headfirst into the coach and bumped her forehead sharply on something hard. Pain exploded in her head.

Orphelia scrambled over boxes until she was at the back of the coach. Then she listened. Had anyone heard her? When no one came, she curled up on the floor against the wall of the coach, her schoolbag at her side, and cradled her aching head in her hands.

Soon she drifted into a deep sleep.

C
HAPTER
4

T
HE
S
TOWAWAY

A thin shaft of pale light filtering through the cracks of the coach fell upon Orphelia's cheek and woke her up. Shivering as she felt around for her cover, she wondered why Momma hadn't called her and Pearl to get up and help fix breakfast. And why was her head hurting?

Then memory kicked in, and with a surge of panic she sat up. Last night's horror scene of Poppa and Momma shouting in the middle of the road flared up in her mind. Did they both have hysterics? She pressed her fingers against her cheeks, looking around at the collection of greasy barrels and boxes, piles of dirty sacks and rags, the clutter of pans, rolling pins, and dishes. Finally she realized where she was and the bold thing she had done.
I've broke into Madame Meritta's food wagon! I've actually run away to join a traveling minstrel show and become what Momma would label a common gutter girl. Am I crazy?