“Would’ve loved it if they’d photographed both of us,” she said. “But I’m going to fix that. Tomorrow after church, Jed promised to get out his Kodak and take a picture of us out on the library steps. I’ll hang it in there next to the clipping.”
I’d never had someone photograph me, or any of my kin, and I mused over the thought but again fretted the ridicule and shame it might bring down on me.
“I’ll get a nice frame for it,” she went on. “The patrons will see it first thing when they walk into those welcoming doors.”
I folded the paper neatly on the table and studied on my married name they’d used. Jackson would be proud, but my hand fell to my belly, and sadness marred the joyful moment.
Mrs. Claxton chatted on as the screen door announced Reverend’s departure. “It’s because of the wonderful job you’ve done for us.”
“Ma’am, you worked harder than all of us. It’s a fine program you have.”
She flicked her wrist. “Oh, I wish I had a dozen librarians just like you. Matter of fact, I put in a telephone call late yesterday to the prison. The warden had already left, but I asked if I could keep you at least another week. The officer on duty promised Warden Sanders would return my call early evening, by five at the latest. So I’ll have to be over at the library after our day out. There’s a good chance, given all your hard work and the success of the reading program.”
Warden Sanders.Just the mention of her name shaded my flesh. “That sure would be nice. Much obliged to you for extending your hospitality.”
But Warden would be itching to have me back now more than ever after reading the article—back to raise her funding. Even more, eager to abort my child.
“Something nice right about now would be if you got yourself dressed. It’s Saturday, our day off. Time I treated you to Walnut Street so you can spend some of that money you earned. Jed and the boys will have gone fishing later, and that means the ladies go shopping.”
She placed a five-dollar bill, three-quarters, and four green three-cent Mount Rushmore stamps in front of me.
I picked up the bill, scattered the stamps and coins. “That’s a lot, ma’am.” Though I already know’d I’d be sending the money back home to Honey.
“You grew us voters for this fine city, and I aim to tell the mayor and ask him to write a letter on your behalf to the governor!”
“Governor,” I whispered.Just maybe it would bring a quick pardon, with praise coming from the big-city mayor.
“Let me go get you a change purse for that.” She slipped into her bedroom and rummaged through the dresser drawers. When she came back, she handed me a red leather coin purse.
“Take this, chile. I haven’t used it in years.”
I thanked her and opened the kissing lock and placed the folded bill, coins, and stamps inside. Opened and closed again, staring at the contents.
My life’s possessions. My worth in this world.
Still, her offer to finally visit Walnut Street could not soften my nagging doubts that a pardon wouldn’t come quick enough to save the baby. I wanted to tell her about the child, the abortion, and sterilization that I was facing. Boldly, I tasted the words and then wetted my lips. “Mrs. Claxton, I need to—”
“Hurry and get dressed. I’ll have a light breakfast ready for us in a few minutes. We have a busy day in store.”
Her cheerful words had me swallowing mine. I would not wallow and ruin her festive mood.
She set plates down on the table, thumped a heavy cast-iron skillet onto the stove. “Now, let’s see. I need to pick up Reverend’s church suit at the tailor’s and purchase a few items at the drugstore. Oh, I sweet-talked Jed, and he gave us some spending money to dine. That reminds me, don’t let me forget to cash my paycheck.”
As she talked, a small headache budded, and irritable thoughts pushed up:Sweet-talked.I wondered exactly whose paycheck it really was. But I tucked my biting words under the fat flesh of lip, silencing my quarrelsome tongue. “Is there a post office nearby where I can mail Honey’s letter, ma’am?”
“The mailman’s already collected today’s posts from our box. But there’s a letter box along the way like the one you saw on Monday. They pick up all day long. If we’re going to be dining at the Old Walnut Street Chili Parlor today, we should be leaving soon.”
After a plate of egg toast, I hurried to dress while the librarian began cutting out the article from a stack of papers Reverend brought in. Sitting on the bed, I bent and tied my shoes, suddenly feeling a light rippling. The baby had moved again, and Daisy poked my side and cocked her head to my belly.
I kissed the tip of her head and closed my eyes, praying that with Mrs. Claxton’s help, it would all work out.
When I walked back into the kitchen, she handed me the news clipping. I folded it carefully into the stamped envelope she gave me, along with a letter, Honey’s birthday necklace, and the five-dollar bill. When Mrs. Claxton spied this, she smiled. “Maybe you can call her from Walnut Street.”
“She doesn’t have telephone service.” I held the envelope to my chest. “But she’ll appreciate this. It’s been a while since I had the means to send her something.”
I stuffed the change purse inside my skirt pocket. Mrs. Claxton grabbed her large pocketbook and handed me two Bibles. “We’ll drop these back off at the church after our luncheon.” She pulled two scarves off the hall tree. “Fashionable, and it’ll keep you cooler.” She hummed as she adjusted a summery green-checkered scarf around my neck and tied it in a pretty bow, then wrapped a silky yellow fabric around her own.
“Hmm.” Mrs. Claxton raised a finger, then dared to take out a tube of lipstick from her purse, lift my chin, and dot my lips. She smacked her mouth, and I parroted her. I had never worn lipstick in my life, and I peered into the mirror, stunned.
