Chapter 30
30
H arlem, New York — November 1949
The Illinois Central train shuddered to a halt at Penn Station, its brakes screaming like a thing alive. Kathy pressed her face to the grimy window, her breath fogging the glass. Outside, New York sprawled—a chaos of steam and stone, the air sharp with coal smoke and the weather that would soon usher in winter. Three days had stretched into five, the trip punctuated by the rasp of Big Momma’s labored breathing, the metallic clatter of wheels over tracks, and the silent, collective fear of crossing into towns where the station signs read “No Coloreds After Sundown.”
They’d stopped in Nashville first. Big Momma’s hands had swollen like overripe plums, her diabetes flaring under the stress. Kathy and Ely carried her off the train, her rocker strapped to a porter’s dolly, and followed the Green Book to a two-story clapboard house with a peeling blue door. A Mrs. Eudora Wells, widow of a Pullman porter, took them in. She fed Big Momma sassafras tea and rice pudding, massaged her knees with menthol balm, and whispered, “You rest now, sister. Ain’t no troubles up in here.”
By Memphis, Big Momma could walk again. By Pittsburgh, she was humming hymns.
Now, here they were.
* * *
“Lord have mercy,” Big Momma breathed, clutching her satchel like an anchor as they stepped onto the platform. “Ain’t nothin’ like Mississippi. This here is too much for me.”
Kathy scanned the crowd. She just wanted to get home, to put Big Mama to bed, and to see her own mama. That’s all she craved. The faces were all unfamiliar, and then there was one. There he was.
Daddy.
Her father stood apart from the throng, a broad-shouldered silhouette in a camel-hair coat, his fedora tilted low. Behind him loomed her uncle, Pete, a mountain of a man with knuckles like walnuts and a reputation that made Mississippi sheriffs tip their hats instead of questioning him.
Henry’s eyes locked onto Kathy. For a heartbeat, the station seemed to still. His face was unreadable, and his gaze piercing. She froze on the spot. Ely saw her, and looked in the direction she stared.
“It’s okay Kathy, it’ll be okay,” he said.
“What?” Big Mama asked.
Then she saw her sons. Immediately, Big Mama wept. “Lord, have mercy. At last! My boys!”
Henry and Pete walked fast to them. Kathy smiled at her father, and to her surprise, he smiled back, his gold tooth gleaming among perfect whites. He swept her up in his arms and hugged her tightly.
“Welcome home, Baby girl,” he said.
“Hi, Daddy!” she exclaimed.
“I missed you,” said Henry.
“I missed you guys, too!” Kathy exclaimed. The joy in her heart competed with the sadness, and joy won the battle. She was home and felt right again.
The Reunion
“Momma.” Henry’s voice cracked as he folded Big Momma into his arms. She smelled of Vicks VapoRub and the lavender sachets she’d tucked into her luggage.
“My baby,” she murmured, patting his clean-shaven cheek. “Look at you. All fancy.”
Henry laughed, with tears in his eyes that remained strained. His gaze flicked to Ely. “Ely, that you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He let go of Big Mama and gave him a proper handshake. His gaze cut over to Kathy, who noted a look of approval. She blinked, surprised by it. Ely was just a friend. Certainly, her father knew that.
Big Momma hugged Uncle Pete and loved on him. Then she sighed, “Can we please go? I cain’t take much more of this place. I needs peace, rest, and a warmed-up cup of rum.”
“Yes mam!” Uncle Pete replied. Henry took hold of Kathy’s luggage and kissed her on the cheek. “Glad you’re home baby,” she said again.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she blushed.
* * *
Uncle Pete loaded the rocker into the trunk of Henry’s midnight-blue Cadillac, his voice a gravelly rumble. “Heard y’all had trouble in Tennessee.”
“Nothing the Lord didn’t see us through,” Big Momma said, settling into the back seat with a groan. Kathy slid in beside her, Ely to her right as Henry drove with Uncle Pete riding shotgun.
As they drove into Harlem, Big Momma pressed her palms to the window. “Look at them lights! Like fireflies in a jar.”
Kathy watched her—the way her eyes widened at the neon glow of the Apollo Theater, the way she chuckled at two old men arguing over a chessboard outside the Theresa Hotel. For the first time, Big Momma looked ten years younger than her age: not a sharecropper’s backbone, but a woman tasting freedom.
The Brownstone
Henry’s home was a four-story brownstone on Striver’s Row, its stoop swept clean, lace curtains fluttering from the open windows bringing in the night air. Inside, collards simmered on the stove, a proper welcome. A framed photo of Bumpy Johnson and a Black Jesus hung side by side in the foyer—one gaze imperious, the other forgiving.
But it was the crowd outside that stole Kathy’s breath. Neighbors packed the sidewalk, their voices buzzing like a revival tent. For a dizzying moment, she felt famous.
“Ely! There’s Chester!”Kathy pointed to the cluster of young men lingering near the stoop. Ely erupted—fist jammed to his mouth to stifle a laugh, shoulders shaking with joy. She grinned for him, but her eyes kept searching, darting past faces until?—
There.
Her mother stood on the stoop, hands clasped under her chin, fresh tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Mama!”Kathy’s scream tore through the noise. She shoved free of the crowd, heels skidding on concrete before she found her footing. Up the stairs in two bounds, then crashing into her mother’s arms. They clung to each other, sobs loud and unashamed, hands gripping fabric like they’d never let go of each other again.
Henry froze by the car, the ropes for Big Momma’s rocking chair slack in his hands. He stared up at his wife and daughter—at the joy etched into their faces, a joy born from sufferinghe’dforced on them. The guilt hit so hard he had to blink three times, fast, to keep his tears from falling.
“Your baby girl’s home.”
The voice came from behind Henry, smooth as bourbon over gravel. He turned to seeBumpy Johnsonstanding there,Tucklooming at his side like a shadow. Bumpy’s Cadillac—stretched and parallel-parked at the curb—gleamed under the streetlight. A toothpick danced between Bumpy’s teeth as he stared up at Kathy and her mother, clutching each other on the stoop. Then his gaze slid to Henry, slow and deliberate.
“How long she stayin’?”
“She’s here for the wedding. Like I told you. I got this.” Henry’s jaw tightened.
Bumpy plucked the toothpick from his mouth and pointed it at Henry’s chest. “Better hope so. ’Cause if that Italian catches wind, she’s back in Harlem? I ain’t your shield. You got it?”
Henry grunted, the sound rattling deep in his throat. Bumpy’s expression softened—just for a heartbeat—into something almost sympathetic. “Just be careful, Henry. For her sake. Luciano is in his country now. Cosimo is acting like a wild dog lately. Sniffing again at Harlem’s doorstep. We don’t need any cracks in the foundation.”
“Ain’t nobody gettin’ close to my baby girl. She’s here for the wedding, then back on that train. Like we agreed.”
Bumpy tipped his hat and strode toward his car, the toothpick back between his teeth.
Pete, Henry’s brother, groaned.“You really gon’ send that child back to Mississippi? Look at ’em, Henry. You can’t split ’em apart again.”Henry’s gaze slipped from his girls towardEly, who was laughing with his friends near the stoop. A knowing glint flashed in Pete’s eyes.“Maybe there’s another way.”
Henry exhaled through his nose.“Let’s hope so.”
* * *
“Your room’s upstairs, Momma,” Henry said, “You’ll take ours, I’ll take the sofa, and Brenda will sleep with Kathy. Got your rocker by the fireplace. Here. Here. Sit. Test it out.”
Big Momma gripped the armrests, lowering herself into the chair with a sigh. “Feels like home now. I can take the sofa. I’m not gonna be climbing up and down those stairs, my knees can’t take it.”
Henry gave Brenda a concerned look.
“Momma,” Brenda said. “You only need to go up them to sleep and bathe. The chair and sofa are yours for the rest of it. I want you to rest in a bed. You scare us all when you aren’t doing well. We need you, Momma. We need you to get strong so you can come to the bakery and set us straight and you can be right in front when Debbie marry. Right?”
Big Momma rocked and laughed. “You, Elliot girls, sure know how to sweet-talk me.” Brenda kissed Big Mama and hugged her.
“Let me cook for you.”
Debbie and Aunt Claudia arrived. Kathy was running fast to her cousin, hugging and squeezing her. The girls jumped up and down with laughter. Then Debbie saw her grandmother and melted. She went to Big Momma and got up on her lap, curling up to her bosom and being rocked like a little girl. Big Mama laughed and cooed her Debbie. Kathy wasn’t jealous. It wasn’t until Debbie was ten that she moved to Harlem. Big Mama pretty much raised her from the moment she left Aunt Claudia’s breast.
“Hey, Suga. How are you doing, baby?” Aunt Claudia said and hugged Kathy. “I missed you so much.”
Kathy again found herself reduced to tears. She could not let her go, so she held her as tightly as she could. And that’s how it was—all family, all love.
The Unspoken
Debbie helped Big Mama climb the stairs, steadying her as they ascended step by creaking step. She waited outside the bathroom door like she had as a child, chatting through the wood while Big Mama bathed and prepared for bed. In that moment, Debbie became ten years old again, boasting about her school achievements, gushing about José's virtues, and explaining Puerto Rican culture to her grandmother's patient ears.
Kathy lingered nearby, chuckling at times but resisting the urge to join properly. Her fingers itched to send word to Matteo - especially Carmelo - about her return, but this was Debbie's time. When Big Mama finally settled under the quilts, Debbie refused to leave her side, insisting on sleeping with her like old times.
Downstairs, Henry informed Brenda he'd be staying at Pete's place after his late meeting with Bumpy. Kathy's eyebrows rose when her father insisted on taking Ely and Chester along. Even more puzzling was how Henry kept praising Ely's character and his plans to build a school, lavishing compliments that made Ely blush with unexpected pride. Kathy watched with quiet amusement. She'd questioned Ely's sincerity during those tense conversations about her and Debbie's interracial relationships, but their journey north had revealed his true nature. No man had ever shown Big Mama such tender care - carrying her when the train rides grew too rough, patiently listening to her stories, ensuring her comfort at every turn.
As the house finally quieted and neighbors dispersed, Kathy found herself in the kitchen with her mother and Aunt Claudia, the three women falling into easy laughter as they exchanged gossip from Butts.
Then Brenda's voice turned serious. "Tell me the truth about Janey."
"She left, Ma. Just like I wrote you, don't know why," Kathy answered, stirring her tea.
Brenda's eyes narrowed. "Janey always leaves clues. “
“Do you know a man named Bonanno?" Kathy asked.
The teacup froze halfway to Brenda's lips. "Bonanno? You saw Bonanno?"
Kathy nodded slowly. "Please don't tell Big Mama. I promised not to speak of it."
"Bonanno was in Butts?" Claudia's voice cracked with disbelief.
Kathy's pulse quickened at their recognition.
“Explain girl,” said Brenda.
“He came to the house with the sheriff, pretending to be law from New Orleans. Said he was looking for Aunt Janey."
"Sweet Jesus," Claudia breathed. "That devil's still breathing?"
Brenda set her cup down with trembling hands. "Don't know how he's alive or why he's still chasing Janey after all these years. If he came looking..." Her voice broke. "Then she's in real trouble." She fixed Kathy with a penetrating stare. "Why'd you say he was pretending?"
Kathy swallowed hard. "He... he told me about him and Janey. Said she was his wife, that she got in trouble in California, and he had to protect her. Take her out of the country again."
Brenda and Claudia exchanged a loaded glance. "Things work differently in New Orleans," Brenda finally said. “In some parishes, Sicilians are both the law and the criminals. Bonanno was pure evil - ruined a family of friends Janey cared about, and made good people lose everything. Your aunt... she didn't take that lying down." Brenda's fingers tightened around her cup. "Janey did what Janey does best. Slipped into his life, sweet-talked him with her candies... tried to kill him."
Kathy held back.
"We thought he'd die," Brenda continued. "Lord knows he should have. When he didn't, Janey called us in a panic. You were just a babe, maybe three or four." Brenda's eyes grew distant. “I took the first train to New Orleans. Did what I could to help, but... it was ugly work. That man had the devil's own strength. The only man I ever saw survive one of Janey's... candies. Left him crippled though. Sick for years, that’s what I thought.”
Kathy watched her mother's face twist with painful memories. "And Janey... she changed overnight. Suddenly, the man she hated was a saint. Said God showed her his goodness through surviving her test." Brenda shook her head. "We fought terribly over it. Accused me of throwing scripture in her face when I was just trying to help her heal, save her soul. That's what broke us apart as sisters. I had to get news of her through Izzie after that."
Kathy's mind reeled. "Poison? You're saying Aunt Janey is a... killer?Like Bonanno said.”
Brenda's gaze turned sorrowful.
“But she hasn't hurt nobody in Butts, Mama," Kathy insisted. "She took me to your mama's old cabin. Just cried over a dress and some shoes, then left."
Brenda's hand shot out, gripping Kathy's wrist. "You were at the Elliot place? And nobody stopped you?"
Kathy shrugged. "No ma'am. They let us walk right in."
"Sweet Jesus protect us!" Claudia clutched her chest.
Brenda turned to her sister-in-law. "See what I been telling you? That Janey no good for my child."
"It wasn't like that!" Kathy jumped up. "Wait—I’ll show you.” She hurried to her purse, returning with a small book and changing her purse. “I found these there. I meant to give them to you."
The color drained from Brenda's face. With trembling hands, she took the items. "You... found these?"
"Yes, ma'am. In the kitchen near the stove, while Janey was in another room."
Claudia crossed herself. "Lord, have mercy..."
"That means," Brenda whispered hoarsely, tears spilling down her cheeks, "Janey's been going back to the Elliot place regularly.”
Kathy shook her head. "No, she acted like she'd never been there before!"
Brenda wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Tell me everything you saw."
As Kathy recounted every detail, the women listened in grave silence. Finally Brenda spoke: "After they lynched my mama, Big Mama took us in. Got the Elliots to let her take Mama's things - clothes, homemade quilts, her little book." Her finger traced the worn leather cover. "Janey and me, we'd play dress-up in Mama's clothes as girls. Pretend, make imaginary meals." A bitter laugh escaped her. "Didn't know it was her poison recipes until Big Mama found us and locked everything away. Haven't seen these since..." Her voice broke. "But Janey has. And she took them back to that cursed cabin. But why?"
Brenda gathered their hands, her grip fierce. "We can't help Janey unless she wants helping. All we can do is pray." As their heads bowed, Kathy struggled to reconcile this dark history with the smiling, generous aunt she knew.
"She'll turn up soon," Claudia murmured when the prayer ended.
Brenda sighed heavily. "That's exactly what worries me."