Chapter 16
16
B utts Mississippi, August 1949
[SOUND: A ROTARY PHONE RINGING, THEN A CLICK. STATIC CRACKLES OVER THE LINE.]
CARMELO(hoarse, breathless, like he’s been waiting by the phone for hours)
...Hello?
KATHY(soft, trembling—her voice is a shock to him after so long)
Melo? It’s me.
CARMELO(a choked sound—half-laugh, half-sob)
Dio mio. Kathy.(beat, voice rough with emotion)Say it again. Say my name.
KATHY(laughs merrily)
Melo. Melo. Melo. Carmelo. My hero with the broken ankle. My best friend. My love! Melo!
CARMELO (releases a deep exhale)
I have my memories. I have drawn you a hundred time. But what I miss the most is your voice.
KATHY (softly giggles)
That is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t call from the payphone like we agreed. I have to use my coins for Mama. This is better.
CARMELO(appreciative, cautious)
This is better (he sighs with relief) Are you safe? Tell me fast—they track these calls from the house.
KATHY
No, no—Ms. Lottie let me use her phone. I traded a day’s pay. I’m safe. Like I wrote you. I’m in Mississippi, but?—
CARMELO(interrupting, pained)
Jesus. Jesus. This is my fault. You didn’t even get to finish school. It’s my fault, Kathy. I fucked up bad. We should have gone to Canada. (he starts hyperventilating) we-we-we—should have listened to Mama Stewart?—
KATHY(defiant, but her voice wavers)
Shh. Shh. Stop Carmelo. This is not our fault, it’s theirs. They thought they could separate us. They can never. I was with you. Wasn’t I? In the hospital. Was I there? Tell me, because on the bus you were there… you are with me Melo.
CARMELO (relaxes, breathes, eyes closed)
Yes. You were there. In my dreams we made it Kathy. You were my wife. I had a home for us. We got married and we—we were a family.
KATHY (smiles)
See! Me too! On the bus. I would close my eyes and see you. You told me to be strong, to be ready, Carmelo. You said you were coming for me. It’s not all bad here. Plus, cotton’s prettier than you’d think like clouds on the ground. The land in the delta is flat, so I can see it stretch all the way to the sun in the horizon.
CARMELO (sighs)
That’s not funny. I just can’t believe I’m speaking to you after all these months.
KATHY (voice soft and reassuring)
How do you feel? Stronger? Are you better?
CARMELO (his voice picks up)
Yes. I am. My leg, bothers me sometimes because of my ankle. The doctors say I’m getting better. I’ll be able to walk on my own without my cane.
KATHY (nods in agreement)
Good. Because I’m ready. Ya hear. Melo—(suddenly fierce)—I ain’t staying here. We still going.
CARMELO(sharp inhale)
Kathy.
KATHY (speaks fast)
Listen. Come fall, Big Mama’s leaving for the church retreat. The men’ll be gone for work. I can slip away. We can try again (quieter), but there are no fire escapes this time.
CARMELO(a dark laugh)
Yeah, no jumps. Just trains. Just west.(suddenly serious)Kathy, I need a little more time. I got to get back to myself. And the money. We need money. Can you hold on for me? Can you wait for me?
KATHY (chirps up)
Yes, take all the time you need. We have the rest of our lives to be together. I just need to hear your voice to talk to you. I’ll endure anything.
CARMELO(quiet, awed)
You still my girl. Even after everything?
KATHY(softly)
You still my guy? Remember the attic, how cold it was before we turned on the ovens. How you’d touch me when we sleep? Press into me. I remember that most nights when I close my eyes. I remember because I’m your girl?—
CARMELO(cuts in, voice thick)
—I wanted to touch you more. Some nights I couldn’t sleep because I wanted to touch you so bad. Yeah.(beat, raw)Kathy, your letters… I need them. I need them so much?—
KATHY(quick, fierce whisper)
It’s okay, Melo. I’ll write more. You hear me? Whatever you need. I’myours.
CARMELO(a shaky breath)
Christ. Hearing you…(voice drops, desperate)When fall comes, we run. No matter what.
KATHY(suddenly urgent)
I gotta go. Ms. Lottie’s coming. But, Melo?—
CARMELO(quick, fierce)
I love you.
KATHY(barely a whisper, smiling through tears)
Don’t forget I’ll call again at the same time. Love you more. Love you forever.
[SOUND: THE LINE GOES DEAD. A LONG, EMPTY DIAL TONE.]
Kathy turned over in bed, the memory of the call with Carmelo playing over and over in her dreams. Woody crowed again, the rooster’s scratchy cry split the thick morning silence. Her eyes opened, and she nearly groaned to find herself back in her stale reality.
She rolled out of bed and pushed open the wooden shutters to let in the day’s first light. Butts, Mississippi was tiny – just a few dirt roads, a downtown shopping area, three churches, two schools, and endless fields stretching beyond sight of landowners. The sky in the country seemed bigger than in the city, a vast canvas painted in pastels every sunrise.
As Kathy gazed out, she caught sight of the Greenlee brothers walking across the fields to do their Saturday equipment checks. Mrs. Eileen, who lived in a much smaller wooden cabin next door to Big Mama tended to Big Mama’s chicken coop, apron on and kerchief tight around her hair. The people who lived on Jensen’s land and worked it had grown to at least a hundred and fifty, including school-age children.
A gentle peace hung over everything. In that moment, Kathy felt both the comfort and the ache of contrast: the land was beautiful, with dew on the cotton and magnolia blossoms scenting the breeze, yet this was also a land where her parents had to live under the unyielding rules of oppression.
Despite it all, she was finding small moments of peace—in the cricket songs at dusk, the crowing of a rooster at dawn, and the fresh breeze that flowed through every open window.
This morning, standing by the window, Kathy felt a familiar longing. She missed Harlem fiercely – the clatter of the subway underfoot, the taste of warm sugar donuts at the bakery. The bakery was where it all started. Daddy lay up in the hospital bed, recovering from King Redmond’s bullet. Her mama tended to him while she and the ladies from church ran the bakery. Carmelo handled the stocking of supplies and small tasks. Enough for them to have stolen moments that sealed her heart to his forever. To know that he was alive, strong, and their love was real—not a fleeting dream—made her so strong and grateful.
Kathy decided to put all of her thoughts to pen and paper. She sat at the little table by the window, pulled out a sheet of stationery and her fountain pen, and took a moment to gather her thoughts. The paper was precious (she had only a few sheets left), but these days, so were letters. Words were bridges in a world that felt split in two – North and South, Black and white, hope and despair. She wanted her words to be a bridge back to Carmelo, to carry a bit of her steadfast hope to be his wife someday. With a deep breath, Kathy began to write.
Kathy finished her letter with a long sigh, staring at the ink as it dried. She missed Harlem freedom . That was until the day Debbie’s letter arrived. Tucked inside was Carmelo’s reply.
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled it out. She clutched it to her chest when she realized what it was, holding onto it like a lifeline. But before she could even unfold Carmelo’s pages, she read Debbie’s news again—and Lord, was it surprising even the second time.
Debbie had lost her cherry. To Matteo, of all people. Matteo Ricci, not Chester, like she had always planned.
Now they were at Mama Stewart’s, in love, and planning their own future together. But it wasn’t just the confession of love that made Kathy’s jaw drop—it was the way Debbie talked about sex.
Kat, it’s good and weird all at once. Matteo got a real fascination with my body. He wanna put his tongue everywhere on me. And I like it too. I make him pray with me afterwards. I know it’s wicked. I can’t tell you how good and nasty he can make me feel. Do you think our parents do it a lot? It creeps me out to think of Mama and Pa doing what Matteo does to me. I feel like a pretzel sometimes when he gets going. He says I’m his first, too. I didn’t believe him from the start, but now… not so sure. He acts like a sick puppy when I don’t touch him or let him touch me. And he talks in his sleep, about me. Say my name. I really do love him Kat. I haven’t told him, but he is not what I thought the Italian boys would be. He special. Like your Carmelo. I’m sorry it took me so long to see.
Kathy had laughed until she cried. Leave it to Debbie to be bold enough to talk about such things as if they were discussing the weather. It felt good to laugh like that again.
But once her giggles faded, she smoothed out Carmelo’s second letter and read it.
Then she read it again.
And again.
The phone call brought her the most joy in nearly seven months, but the letter was her treasure.
He was alive.
That alone was enough to make her heart ache with relief. But there was more— he loved her. He missed her just as deeply as she missed him. And he still believed in their future.
Instead of Sicily, he had chosen Oregon this time, west, as far away as they could get from the families that had torn them apart. They had a plan: she was to save every penny, learn the train schedules, and be ready when he was ready.
Hope.
For the first time in months, hope filled her chest like breath in starving lungs.
There was just one problem.
The future—her future—was no longer just about being a wife.
Kathy wanted something more. She had a dream she hadn’t dared to say out loud yet. She wanted to be a teacher. That was something she’d share with Carmelo later . Right now, she just wanted to soak in the joy of his words, of his love, and of the hope that they could finally do something to change their fate.
“Kathy!”
Big Mama’s voice snapped her from her thoughts.
Kathy quickly, gathered Carmelo’s letters and tucking them into the slit she had carefully made in her feather-stuffed pillow. Big Mama never came into her room, but she did inspect it from time to time. The bed was the safest place to hide anything; Kathy always kept it neat and untouched.
“Yes, ma’am!” she called back, smoothing out the blanket.
“Come downstairs, sugar!”
Kathy scrambled. She pulled on her robe, tying it at her waist as she hurried down the stairs. But the moment she reached the last step, she froze .
Sitting on the sofa was a woman who looked so much like her mother that it nearly stole her breath.
Her hands gripped the banister, fingers trembling.
Big Mama beamed. “Got a surprise for ya.”
Kathy’s voice caught in her throat.
Mama?
The woman stood, her dark eyes full of warmth, her smile hesitant but kind.
“It’s your Auntie Jane,” Big Mama said.
Kathy blinked hard, the name sinking in, the memory stirring.
"Janey?"
The woman nodded. "Hello, Kathy," she said softly. "I have really been looking forward to seeing you."
Kathy’s chest tightened, and suddenly she was eight years old again, clinging to a faded memory of a woman with soft hands and a honey-sweet laugh.
"Janey."
"Auntie Janey!"
She flew down the last few steps, throwing herself into her aunt’s waiting arms. Jane swept her up, holding her tight, and Kathy let herself fall into the embrace—a rare, precious moment of love that she hadn’t felt in far too long.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she didn’t care.
She held on and nearly wept with joy.
Harlem, New York – 1949
“Mmm… morning, sweet baby,” Henry murmured, his voice croaked with sleep as he turned over, reaching for his wife.
Brenda smiled softly, but before she could respond, he was on her. And Lord, it felt good —to have him warm and solid in her arms again, to feel the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. Henry’s kisses always awakened something deeply needful inside her womanhood, something she had locked away for so long. His lips, his strong hands, the way he claimed her—it made her feel cherished, wanted, loved.
And yet, even as her body responded—arching beneath him, shivering at the way he moved inside her with ease and precision —a shadow lingered.
“I missed you so much, baby,” Henry groaned against her skin, his hips rocking into hers with slow, steady thrusts. His breath was hot in her ear, his grip possessive. “Don’t ever push me away again.”
Brenda’s body froze . The words stung, sharp as a needle piercing her skin. Push him away? That’s what he thought she had done?
It wasn’t punishment .
It was grief.
She wanted to scream, I needed time, Henry! I needed to breathe! I needed to mourn!
They had lost their only child, their baby girl, and he had the nerve to speak as if she had been punishing him for fun.
Had he not missed Kathy the way she did? Had he not died a little inside with every passing day?
Brenda moved stiffly beneath him, her hands clenching at the sheets. Henry felt the shift, sensed the walls closing in around her. He stopped moving, breathless, searching her face.
“What’s wrong, Brenda?” he panted.
She opened her mouth to say it.
To tell him that she needed her child more than she needed this. To tell him he was wrong. To demand that he bring their daughter home.
But that wasn’t how their marriage worked.
A woman had to be careful in her household. There were ways to guide a husband toward the right decision, to nudge him into believing it was his own.
And there were ways to punish him if he could not see what was right.
So, Brenda swallowed her grief and reached for him instead, cupping his face in her hands. She pulled him down into the kiss he wanted, let her hips move and pelvis thrust the way he liked. If this was what it took to regain control and keep her family, she would give it to him.
A soft moan left his lips as he turned her onto her stomach, entering her from behind. Brenda gripped the top of the mattress, pressing her forehead against the pillow, closing her eyes tight as he pumped into her, hard and fast, dragging her body to the edge of pleasure. She let herself go, let the release take over as he shuddered above her, triumphant in his conquest.
When he finally collapsed onto her back, panting into her ear, his sweaty chest slick against her nightdress, he mumbled words of devotion.
How good she felt. How much he missed her. How much he loved her.
Brenda forced a small smile, humming a response as she slid out from under him.
She needed space. Air. The sacrifice was too much all of a sudden. Giving him everything, body, love, heart, with no room to ask for anything in return.
She would escape to the bathroom, but Henry caught her wrist just as she reached the edge of the bed.
“Sorry, baby,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “Didn’t mean to spill seed in you. I was just… just so excited to have you back in our bed.”
Brenda’s stomach twisted.
She turned to him, masking her true feelings behind a tender expression. She stroked his cheek gently.
“I never left you, Henry,” she whispered. “I love you. I’m always here.”
It was a lie, but one he needed to believe.
Satisfied, Henry smiled and released her hand, stretching lazily across the bed.
“Hey,” he said, voice still husky from sleep. “I was thinkin’… why don’t we go back home to Butts for Christmas?”
Brenda froze.
Her heart skipped a beat, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Mississippi.
Christmas was four months away, and she had spent every single one of the past seven months carefully crafting a plan to bring Kathy home.
This morning’s lovemaking had been six months in the making—six months of denying him, of letting grief stand between them. And now, here he was, grinning up at her like a fool, thinking a trip back to Mississippi was what her heart desired.
Brenda swallowed the white-hot anger rising in her chest, forcing a patient smile.
Henry’s grin faltered slightly.
“Let’s talk about it some more, okay?” she murmured, smoothing out her robe. “I need to get your breakfast ready.”
She turned toward the door.
“Brenda?”
She paused.
One hand rested on the doorknob, fingers trembling just slightly.
She didn’t look back.
“I missed us.”
“Me too, sweetie,” she said and left the room.