Read Online An Elderberry Fall by Ruth P. Watson - Free Book Online

on the arm of a tall, slender, distinguished-looking white man. They were coming out of the Jefferson Hotel one morning at the corner of Broad and Adams Street. It was strange seeing a colored woman clinging so tightly to a white man, and I was not the only one staring in my shoes. I glanced around and noticed two colored men whispering like women. Several white men standing in a huddle gave them a stern look, but neither Pearl nor the man seemed bothered. I was on my way to enroll in school. The white man was pale, with brown hair and bloodshot, gray eyes. He appeared to be in his forties, maybe even fifty. Pearl gave me a blissful stare, and then a sly grin while she gripped his arm like he was about to run off. I caught myself gaping at her. I was surprised to see her with another man so soon after Herman Camm. I suppose I believed she had changed since her days in Jefferson. I guess it is like folks say, “You can’t teach ole dogs new tricks . . .”
    The train to Petersburg ran several times a day. Some brave folks caught the early train to Petersburg to work and the late train home at night. Most students stayed the entire week and only came home on the weekend. I figured I would come home on Thursday after my class was over. It felt strange that I was carrying this out.That I was doing all of this without the consent of Simon or my momma. I was doing it for me. I wrote a letter to my neighbor Hester, who had chosen to finish college in Washington, about it. She said to do my best to get away from the ways which the white folks had inflicted on coloreds. She said colored folk deserved to be happy too. She had always been the wiser of us two.
    Nadine’s husband was standing in front of the train when I arrived on the train platform. He glanced over at me, smiled, and threw up his hand and waved. As I started up the steps to the colored car, he called out, “Hey, neighbor, where are you headed?”
    Hastily, he walked over to me. I was standing at the last car. Wrong but customary that most colored people sat in the rear cars. “I’m going over to Petersburg for the day,” I answered.
    The last time I had seen him had been months earlier when he was sitting on the front porch watching Nadine prance back and forth. Nadine grinned every time he tapped her on the rear end. I thought it was a strange way of showing affection, but I would since my husband was never home with me.
    There was something dignified about Jessie in a uniform. His mannerisms were serious and professional. Colored folk could never be anything but serious considering that most white people still resented that the slaves had been freed in 1864.
    â€œIf you need anything, let me know. I will be in the rear of the last car. I’ll look for you when we reach Petersburg.” He walked away with his shoulders leaning back and his chest sticking out. The uniform had that effect on most men; it gave them a sense of entitlement. Lord knows, colored men needed something to make them feel special.
    â€œThank you,” I replied, and sat down in a seat beside a middle-aged lady who had her head back and eyes closed. She never mumbled a word when I accidently pushed against her. “Good morning,”I said. She didn’t even say good morning. She kept her eyes closed and never flinched.
    It was early, though; the sunlight had just begun to break. I was also sleepy. The jerks and swerves of the train could wake a dead person, and the rumble was subtly annoying. She was dressed in a formal maid’s uniform. My guess was she worked in Petersburg, and probably at some white person’s mansion. For a minute, I remembered going with Momma to Mrs. Ferguson’s and how she would scrub her clothes clean with her bare hands, and then dry and iron them before returning home. Once she was home, she’d do the same for us. She even made sure Mrs. Ferguson’s dinner was warming on the stove and the table