Chapter 6
6
H arlem, New York (Present) - 1978
“Hey!” Daphne’s voice cut through the quiet of the house. “You up?”
Sandra set her mother’s diary aside and sat up in bed. Her cousin stepped in. Daphne’s smile brightened the dim room.
“I’ve been up for hours,” Sandra said, gesturing to the three diaries stacked beside her. “Just finished Mama’s first one. Those are next.”
Daphne frowned, hands on her hips. “So, you’re just gonna sit here day after day and read Aunt Kathy’s diaries?”
“What else should I do?” Sandra snipped. She had buried her mama only 24 hours ago. The diaries were all she had left.
“Mama’s gone. I don’t have a job, and I don’t want one. I can’t even get through the day without crying. These diaries… they giving me something. Her feelings of being lost and confused is my feelings right now. It’s like we the same in ways I can’t explain.”
Daphne closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. “Well, you’ve got the bakery,” she said..
Sandra’s brow furrowed.
“Ma said to take you by there today,” Daphne continued. “Meet with Ms. Gladys, then the attorney to sign the papers. The bakery’s yours now. Ma don’t own it. The house, too. She mentioned you wanted me to move in and live with you?”
A small smile tugged at Sandra’s lips. “Interested? I don’t want to be alone. I know you’ve been saving for your own place, but we could fix this one up. Be roomies?”
Daphne’s grin widened. “Interested? Hell yeah!”
Sandra chuckled, but her smile faded as quickly as it came. “What happened last night? Junior came back to the repast without you. Said he took you to Mama’s grave and then left with his boys. What does that mean? My Mama’s grave?”
Sandra hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to her cousin, but sharing the truth was too explosive. Junior considered his mother’s relationship with Matteo Carmelo blasphemous and unforgivable. He and her cousins didn’t know the truth. Not only had she learned that Matteo Ricci was their father, but her Aunt Debbie and Matteo were on some kind of crusade to prove that her mother and Carmelo were still alive.
“What do you know about the Penny Man?” Sandra asked, shifting the subject.
Daphne’s expression darkened. “You mean the Butcher? I don’t call him the Penny Man anymore. Junior said to call him the Butcher.”
Daphne walked over to the edge of the bed and picked up a book; her fingers traced its spine. “He’s Mama’s friend. Always has been. He was around when he wasn’t in jail. He was Daddy’s friend, too. Bringing gifts, having dinner with us, and fixing things around the house with Daddy. He was pretty close to Junior. He’d take him in his car and they be gone all day. Mama used to be pissed when they came back at night. But Junior loved it. Sometimes daddy would travel to California and he’d stay the night, sleep on the sofa.”
“He was good friends with Uncle?” Sandra asked.
“That’s what is said. He and Daddy were good friends. They’d share a beer and laugh about sports. They were all friends. Junior remembers it differently though.”
“So, you have your own good memories of him?” Sandra pressed.
Daphne frowned; her gaze was distant. “Good? I guess. I don’t have bad ones. Not like the time I told you about—when I saw him and Mama fighting… and then kissing. But Junior hates him. Like I said, he calls him the Butcher. A killer. Scum. He says he’s responsible…for Daddy being... says Daddy didn’t leave us. He said the Butcher threw him out a window.”
“What?” Sandra sat up.
“That’s what he said. He said it to Mama’s face, and she slapped him. He and Mama haven’t been speaking lately. I think it’s cause the Butcher’s back. I dunno. Junior on his own path,” Daphne sighed.
Sandra gave her a sad smile. “I wish I’d known all this was going on. I wish I hadn’t gone off to those schools, thinking those girls were my friends. I always had you, but I never took the time to really know your life here in Harlem. And I can barely remember anything about us as kids.”
“Yea, you got a bad memory,” Daphne mumbled. “You were there. You choose not to think on it.”
“Huh? I mean, yeah, but not really. I was at school,” Sandra stammered.
Daphne rolled her eyes and sighed. “You know what I wish?” Daphne’s smile was bittersweet. “I wish Aunt Kathy was here. I wish it didn’t take her dying for you to come back to this family and care. To see us. For us to be close again.”
“Me too,” Sandra whispered. “But Daphne, I always came home. I always saw you. Loved you.”
Daphne crawled across the bed and settled close to Sandra. “Let’s read the diary together. One more hour, then we’ll head to the bakery.”
“Okay, you read it this time,” she said, handing the diary over. Daphne smiled and flipped through the page. “Hey, this one got Mama name on it. I’ll read it.”
Sandra nodded in agreement.
Big Mama’s, (Butts, MS) February 1948
“You hungry?”Ely asked, his voice cut through the rickety noise of the pickup truck’s engine.
Kathy stared out the window, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The reality of being in her parents’ home without them settled in her gut like a stone. How would she ever get out of Mississippi and back to Harlem? What was Carmelo doing now? Had his parents sent him to Italy to keep them apart? How could they ever find each other again?
“Kathy?”Ely said, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Huh? Oh… yes, I’m tired,”she replied absently.
Ely chuckled.“Didn’t ask if you were tired. Asked if you were hungry. Big Mama’s prepared a feast. My folks are there too.”
“What?”Kathy sat up, startled.“Does everyone know what happened?”
Ely’s gaze returned to the road, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.“Everyone in Butts knows. Your Pa made sure of it. He doesn’t want you anywhere near the Italians, so we’re all to keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, my God,”Kathy whispered, her voice breaking. The tears came then, hot and unstoppable. The embarrassment burned her chest.
Ely reached for her hand, but she pulled away, shaking her head.“It’s not how Daddy tells it. I swear it isn’t. I love Carmelo. He… no one understands,”she said, her voice trembling.
“Tell me,”Ely said softly.“I want to understand.”
Kathy shook her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.“No. No, never mind. I’m fine.”
Ely swerved the truck to the side of the road, the tires crunching on the gravel. Startled, Kathy gripped the door handle as he parked the truck and turned to face her. He draped his arm over the back of the bench seat, his eyes locked onto hers.
“I know you know I’ve always had a crush on you, Kathy. Since we were kids,”he confessed, his voice steady but gentle.
“I—I didn’t—”Kathy stammered, her cheeks flushing.
“Hey, don’t speak. Let me say this,”Ely interrupted.“I may have had a crush, or wished for something between us, but that’s not why I volunteered to come get you from the bus station. I want you to hear me now. I’m your friend. I’ve always been your friend. I don’t judge you, or anything you did. If you say this boy was someone you cared about, I believe you. If you say you’re hurting because you lost him, I want to help you.”
He sighed, looking straight ahead for a moment before turning back to her.“Butts isn’t Harlem. The days are long, and the work is hard. The only thing we’ve got here is friendship, family, and each other. Okay? Your Pa sent you here because you’re safe with us. No one can hurt you. That’s love.”
Kathy wiped her tears and nodded. She moved closer, letting Ely pull her into his arms. This embrace was stronger than the first, and she cried freely, her sobs shaking her body. In that truck, she told Ely everything—the love, the secrecy, the attic, Mama Stewarts and the betrayal. Most of all she told him about her heartbreak. It took an hour of tears and confessions, but in the end, she felt a small measure of relief.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Kat. I wish I could change it for you,”Ely said sincerely, his hand resting on her shoulder.
“We did everything God asked,”Kathy whispered.“Daddy thinks I had sex and ran off, and all kinds of terrible things. But it wasn’t like that. We protected each other. We followed God’s path to the very end. And I lost him. Maybe forever.”
Ely started the truck, shifting it into drive.“Forever is too long. Let’s just focus on the now. Okay?”
Kathy looked at him and managed a small smile.“Thank you for being a friend and for listening to me. Nobody but Debbie and Mama listens to me.”
“We family,”Ely said, returning her smile.
As they drove through the back roads of Butts, Kathy took in the landscape. The fields stretched endlessly, dotted with weathered wooden shacks and rows of black sharecroppers bent over the earth. Men, women, and even children worked the land, their movements slow but steady under the pale winter sun. The air smelled of fresh-turned soil and the faint tang of livestock.
“Is there a school here?”Kathy asked, already knowing the answer.
“One,”Ely said, his tone resigned.“But most kids leave for the fields by twelve. They’re looking for a new teacher, though. Maybe you could be it?”
Kathy shook her head sadly.“I didn’t finish school. I was one year short remember?”
“Well, Butts needs a teacher,”Ely said with a grin.“So, think about it.”
When the truck turned off the main road onto the Jensen farm, Kathy’s heart raced. She saw the fields and the people of Butts working them—some harvesting winter vegetables like collards, turnips, and cabbage. The work reserved for men mostly was the plowing and tilling of the soil for the spring planting of cotton, corn, and soybeans. Down the hill, a group of elders tended to the livestock, their movements slow but deliberate.
“Big Mama will make you work,”Ely said, his voice tinged with sympathy.“It’s not easy. I’ll help you through it.”
Kathy rolled down the window, inhaling the fresh, earthy air.“It’s so warm here,”she said with appreciation.
“Yeah, something ain’t right with the weather lately,”Ely replied.“Expected it to be colder. But it’s nice for working. The summer’s when hell comes.”
“Ely?”Kathy said, her voice tentative.
He glanced over at her as the truck bumped along the dirt road.
“Where’s the Elliot farm? The one my Mama and her sisters are from? I know you’ve heard about them.”
Ely’s expression grew thoughtful.“The Mulatto girls? Yeah, I’ve heard stories. The Elliot farms on the east side. Run by Jeffrey and Mark Elliot now. They hire white folks to work their land, and most of the other farmers sell their crops to the Elliots. They’ve got a big company that supplies grocers from county to county.”
“I want to see it one day,”Kathy said softly.“Will you take me?”
Ely looked at her, surprised but willing.“Sure, Kathy. Anything for you.”
Harlem, New York, 1948
The door lock clicked, and Debbie shot up from the sofa, her heart pounding. The door swung fully open, and Aunt Brenda and Debbie’s mother stepped inside, their faces weary from the weight of the past few days.
“She called!”Debbie blurted, her voice high with a mix of relief and joy.
Aunt Brenda froze, her purse slipping from her hand. It hit the floor with a soft thud. She pressed one hand to her chest and raised the other to the sky, her eyes squeezing shut as she whispered a prayer of thanks.
“She did?”Claudia asked with hope as she clutched her sister in-law’s arm.
“She’s good,”Debbie said.“She sounded good. She made it to Birmingham and was on her way to Mississippi. She said she was safe, that she’d made friends. She wants to come home, Aunt Brenda. She misses you. She promised to call again after church on Sunday.”
Debbie watched as her aunt’s face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. Claudia pulled Brenda into her arms, holding her tight as she murmured soft, comforting words Debbie couldn’t quite hear. Debbie sat still, her own tears spilling over. The world without Kathy felt hollow, like a song missing its melody. They all missed her. They all needed her.
“The bakery’s closed for now,”Claudia said, her voice heavy as she broke the silence.
“What? Why?”Debbie asked, her brow furrowing.
“The men said they need to get a handle on things. I don’t know…”Claudia’s voice trailed off.
Brenda suddenly broke free from Claudia’s embrace and bolted up the stairs, her footsteps echoing through the brownstone. A moment later, the slam of Kathy’s bedroom door reverberated through the house.
Claudia sighed, her shoulders sagging as she turned to Debbie. She walked over to the sofa and sat down, pulling her daughter close under the shelter of her arm.“It’s sad, baby,”she said, her voice barely above a whisper.“It’s only been three days, and everything’s falling apart. Your uncle Henry’s so angry. Every day, he channels that anger toward the Italians instead of facing the fact that he sent his daughter back to Butts.”
“What are we gonna do, Mama?”Debbie asked, her voice small.“Don’t we need the bakery? Isn’t Bumpy Johnson in charge?”
“Hush now,”Claudia said, brushing a hand over Debbie’s hair.“I think Bumpy and everyone understand—for now. They know what we lost when we lost Kathy. The bakery is named after her. Pete trying to keep your uncle steady. There’ll be trouble if Henry doesn’t rein in his anger soon. I just need you to be safe and mind your business. Help Brenda when you can. Okay?”
“Yes, Mama,”Debbie said, nodding against her mother’s shoulder.
“I’m gonna stay here tonight,”Claudia said, her tone firm but gentle.“Your Pa and Uncle Henry are headed to New Jersey for some business for Bumpy. That’s one of the reasons why the bakery’s closed. Go home and pack up some things for us. We’ll stay here until they get back. I’ll start cooking.”
“Yes, ma’am,”Debbie said, wiping her tears. She ached to go upstairs and hug Aunt Brenda, but she did as she was told. She slipped out of the brownstone and into the crisp Harlem evening, her head down and her thoughts heavy with sorrow.
She walked for blocks. She was so lost in her grief that she didn’t notice José sitting on her stoop until she was halfway up the steps.
“Debbie?”
She froze, her heart skipping a beat. José stood, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed. Without a word, she ran up the steps and into his arms. They clung to each other, their tears mingling as the weight of the past few days crashed over them.
“Let’s go inside,”Debbie finally whispered, her voice breaking.
José nodded, and she fumbled with the keys before pushing the door open. They went up the stairs fast to her tenement. Once inside, he sank into a chair, his shoulders shaking as he wept. Debbie hurried to the kitchen and poured him a fresh Pepsi. She handed it to him, and he drank it down like it was water, his tears still streaming.
“I talked to her today, José,”Debbie said, her voice soft but steady.
“You did?”His eyes widened in hope.
Debbie nodded; her face crumpling as fresh tears spilled over.“She’s okay. She’s close to Butts now. She’s safe. I prayed so hard, José. Kathy’s always been the one with the best prayers, but I did my best.”
José set the glass down and wiped his face with his hands. Debbie handed him a towel, and he cleaned his face. His breathing slowed.
“I came to tell you goodbye,”he said, his voice barely audible.
“What?”Debbie’s heart dropped.
“We’re moving to the Bronx,”José said, his voice cracking.“Daddy got a better job. I have to switch schools.”
Debbie stared at him, her mind reeling. José was her best friend—her only friend left. She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him as she begged him to say it wasn’t true.
He explained his family’s good fortune, his voice thick with emotion. They promised to stay in touch, and José shared that they’d have a telephone soon so they could call each other. They sat on the floor, eating junk food and reminiscing about the days when it was the three of them running through the streets of Harlem—Kathy, José, and Debbie. They laughed through their tears, the memories a bittersweet balm for their aching hearts.
When it was time for him to leave, Debbie clung to him, her fingers digging into his jacket.
José pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.“No matter what happens, Debbie,”he said, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes,“I’ll always be your friend. I’ll always love and protect you.”
She smiled through her tears and let him go—for now.