I pulled the bundled infant closer and nodded to Jackson.
The truck roared to life, and he shifted it into gear, the loudness awakening sleeping pigeons perched on snow-covered roofs.
On the porch, Rose stood squint-eyed in her thread-worn flowered duster, a lace shawl to her chest, her darkened frame frail against the blowing snow that bibbed her grayed cropped curls. She raised a gnarled hand, slowly waved, and I pressed my burning farewell onto the glass.
Fifty
We left Defiance for the noisy pockets of Detroit and settled into a small two-bedroom clapboard postage-stamped in between matching homes on Neff Avenue. There we folded ourselves in with the millions of other industrial working folks—a yearning for my dear Honey and Junia, the ol’ grandmother mountains of our beloved Kaintuck always present and pulling.
Honey would give us a respite, visiting from time to time, but saying farewells opened old wounds and left us all gloomy for days.
Still, we could never go back with our past hitched so close, tempting the fates on such whims.
My kitchen calendar was a slow-ticking reminder that it was only 1964 and we still had fourteen more years to go until Jackson’s banishment from Kentucky was lifted. My own, now infinite.
Today, under muted Detroit skies, I made my way home from the library where I worked as an assistant three days a week.
I’d parted ways with one of my patrons just a block from home. Looking over my shoulder, I quickened my steps, knowing Jackson would fuss.
Know’d I couldn’t risk it happening again.
A few months ago, I’d left the library after dark when two boys snuck up behind me only a few blocks from home and demanded my pocketbook. They didn’t look but maybe three or four years older than my eleven-year-old Elijah Jack.
I’d backed up to a streetlamp. The lanky one pulled out a knife and tried to snatch it from my hands.
But I yanked it away.
“Lady, gimme your purse,” he’d demanded, wriggling the long knife.
The boy looked more frightened than me, and his hand shook as he swiped a dangling curl from his brow.
“I don’t have money, young man.”
“Now,” he yelled as his friend nervously glanced around.
My backside brushed against the light pole. “I only have books.” I breathed heavily, snugging the bulky pocketbook closer to my body, its contents full of dime paperbacks I’d borrowed from the library and the forged baptismal record and library card. More precious than gold, the documents had given me safe passage for years. And I’d kept them hidden in the inside compartment and always within arm’s reach.
“Gimme the bag, or I’ll slice you from gut to chin.”
There was something in his eyes that said he’d do just that and I saw in his blackened soul that he might’ve done it before.
Pa’s gravelly words had rose from the grave and nipped at my bone:Daughter, like the bear or bobcat that makes itself bigger, never show fear, only your might.
I puffed up as best I could and squared my shoulders. “I reckon you’re gonna have to do some bloodletting to steal my pocketbook.” I pressed it tighter to my chest. “But I have to warn you boys, I’m a Blue, and my blood carries the blue curse,” I hissed, struck out my chin.
They both stared at me a moment, taken aback.
“A pox that you and your kin will carry for two hundred years!” I raised an ink-stained finger, warning.
“Let’s go,” the other boy said and slapped his arm. “She’s a loco witch for sure. Just look at her. One of them gypsy freaks that’ll curse our asses forever.”
“Ain’t leaving without it. Lady, gimme that damn purse, and hand over your jewelry.” The boy pointed the knife at mywedding ring. “Grab her, Clancy.” He motioned to his friend, then to me with the weapon. “Gimme it now!”
Clancy side-eyed me and shook his head. “Nuh-uh, I’m gonna beat feet. Ain’t getting no blue cootie curse.” He lit off.
The boy yelled after him, darting his bottle-brown eyes between his fleeing friend and me. Then he lunged with the knife. I jerked away but still felt it slash across my wrist, the flash of pain slowly fading as my anger climbed.
His cowardly eyes bore into mine, and an unspoken dare lifted from my jutted chin.
