Instantly, I lowered my arm, embarrassed by the color, shamed and saddened it had spooked the young child—that I was the cause of his tearful fright. Once when Papa took us all to the Knoxville restaurant, a waitress had dropped her tray of dishes when she saw Mama. Another had gasped upon seeing me slip off my gloves. We were finally seated in a dark corner by the kitchen where we waited for a good twenty minutes for a waiter to come over and take our order, and that was only after Papa talked to the manager.
If Guyla Belle noticed the coloring, she was too polite to mention it, because she rocked Johnnie on her hip, whispered soothing words, trying to quiet him. “Shh, Johnnie. Book Woman saved you from the well. Say thank you.”
Obedient, he babbled, rubbing his eyes, “Buk uman saved me well.”
Hesitant, I held up the book again. He took it, rubbing his gums across the hard edges. “And maybe this one for you, Guyla Belle.” I handed her a sweet romance.
Guyla Belle clutched the book. An automobile door slammed in the distance. Her eyes widened in fright and she barely whispered, “Please don’t say anything to my husband, Honey. Shh, Johnnie.” She grabbed his book, tucking the loans under her arm.
A moment later, Mr. Gillis walked wearily into the yard, dirty and tired from his mine shift, toting a six-pack carry case of Falls City Beer and his lunch pail. “Damn, I miss my ol’ truck I had last year. Had to catch a ride with Toby today. One of these days, I’ll save enough to buy his old pickup so I won’t have to be waitin’ on rides,” he said with a long-winded sigh.
I was taken aback somewhat. He was the same man who’d teased little Wrenna and her pet rooster outside the Company store. His hand was scratched and blood-smattered.
“You’re hurt. What happened, Perry?” Guyla Belle asked worriedly, inspecting the wound.
“Man can’t have himself a cold one in peace. Damn Abbott bitch’s rooster done nailed me outside the Company store. She’s a quare one all right, and I’m gonna ring that gawdamn bird’s neck if I ever catch it.”
Junia snorted and toe-hopped.
“Damn, forgot my miner’s helmet again. Left it in Toby’s truck.” He set the beer down and took off a red Texaco ball cap with the star hardly recognizable, dropping it and his lunch pail beside Guyla Belle, then pulled little Johnnie into his arms. “What’s wrong, son?” The boy peeked at my hands and wailed once more.
“Johnnie had a-a li’l accident, Perry, but he’s fine, just a scrape. Uh, Book Woman, here, is dropping off—” Guyla Belle rushed her words, hugging the books to her chest.
“Quiet, woman,” he barked. “What’s all this frettin’ about nothing, son?”
Guyla Belle opened her mouth, but Mr. Gillis raised a palm as if to strike her, and she cowed and stumbled back.
Oh, he was a mean ’un, alright, the type who talked with a fat, hard fist, knocking women in and out of chairs, down stairs, into walls, and down darkened halls. Cowardly men like those who sheared off Bonnie’s hair and destroyed Pearl’s cab. Disgust and anger rose inside me, and I shifted closer to Guyla and Junia followed.
Mr. Gillis narrowed his eyes when he saw what had his son upset, and quickly wrapped his dirty arm around the boy, shielding him. “I heard your kind had come back. You’re one of them Blues, ain’t ya? One of them immoral Blues my pa chased out of the town square in ’36.”
“No, sir, I’m not immoral—”
“Uh-huh.” He wagged his head. “I was jus’ knee-high, but I heard all about it from my kin Harriett Hardin. You sign us up for this book route, Guyla?” He shot his wife a hard look, and she lowered her head and melted into the pressed books.
I stiffened.
Junia shifted closer and raised alert ears, laying her head over my shoulder and pinning a big, guarded eye onto the man.