you.
His mother had never told a lie. Within minutes, Sam felt able.
Chapter 4
The following Sunday, Sam marched confidently into the church and took a seat in the pew directly behind Emma’s mother and brothers. When the reverend directed the congregation to greet their church family, Louisa’s eyebrows climbed at Sam’s strong grip and too-wide grin.
After service, he went to stand beneath a flourishing hickory tree as Emma and her parents said their Sunday farewells.
When Emma started down the church steps, leaving her family behind, he straightened his back and walked boldly toward her.
“Good morning to you, Miss Emma.”
Emma blushed. “And to you, Mr. . . . um.”
“Sam. Sam Elliott.” He extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Elliott.”
“Likewise,” Sam said. “Have a blessed day.” And with that, he turned and abruptly walked off, leaving Emma frowning.
“Now that was strange,” she mumbled to herself.
* * *
Strange, but deliberate.
Sam knew he couldn’t come at Emma full-on. He had to plant a seed and wait for it to sprout.
The following Sunday, when service was over, Sam joined the line of congregants. When he reached Emma, he barely glanced at her as he took her hand into his, wished her a blessed day, and then fled. Sam did this for three consecutive weeks. The fourth week, he didn’t attend church service at all.
By Tuesday, word reached him that the reverend’s daughter was asking around town about him.
“Yeah, what she asking?”
“Who your people. Where you live. What you do.”
“Is that right?”
On the fifth Sunday, Sam arrived at the church early enough to snag a seat in the front pew. When Emma looked up from the organ keys and spotted his smiling face, she became all thumbs. Flustered, she stumbled clumsily through the last scale of “All God’s Chillun Got Wings,” garnering annoyed glances from Lucille and other members of the choir.
After service, Emma took her place in the receiving line alongside her mother, distractedly greeting parishioners as she searched for Sam’s brown face.
But that Sunday, Sam wasn’t in the line. He was across the street, secretly watching her.
Afterward, he trailed Emma and Lucille to Schlesinger’s Confectionary, a place popular with the young after-church crowd. When Emma and Lucille exited the store, each holding a waffle cone piled high with vanilla ice cream, Sam finally made himself known by sidling up alongside the pair and offering a sunny, “Good day, ladies.”
Emma’s face brightened. “Good day to you too,” she called back to him as he passed.
“He the one?” Lucille asked.
Emma’s face warmed. “Yes!”
Chapter 5
Emma couldn’t be seen keeping time with a man who wasn’t her father or one of her three brothers. It wasn’t proper behavior for a Christian girl, especially the daughter of a minister.
Since Lucille’s character had already been sullied—what with the low-down music she sang and the paint she wore on her face—she had nothing to lose and so volunteered to play decoy for Sam and Emma.
Lucille was with them on Saturday mornings at the open-air farmers market, as they grinned at each other over woven baskets filled with yams, string beans, and beets. She accompanied them to the picture shows, sat one row ahead of them, which was never far enough, because Lucille could still hear Sam’s whispered sweet nothings.
Months collapsed and advanced. Soon it was Christmas and then the champagne-popping welcoming of 1917.
* * *
On Friday, April 6, 1917, President Woodrow Wilson declared war on Germany, officially entering America into World War I.
In response, Reverend Tenant Robinson opened his church and announced that the next seventy-two hours would be dedicated to prayer for those soldiers called to defend life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Faith-filled Maconites answered, arriving by the carriage load, on foot and bicycle. To shelter the overflow of people, tents were erected on the church lawn. From Friday midday straight until Sunday-morning service, the Cotton Way Baptist Church rang with prayer and song.
Emma, Sam, and Lucille went to the confectionary shop following the Sunday service. Ice cream in hand, they sat outside on the benches, shading their eyes from the sun.
Around them, worried faces hovered over the afternoon edition of the Macon Telegraph. And it was quiet, as if the thirty-seven million dead and wounded had already been prophesied, leaving Macon hush with anticipatory bereavement.
“I’m moving,” Lucille uttered beneath the lull.
Emma dragged her napkin over her lips. “What you say?”
Lucille’s voice climbed an octave: “I said I’m moving to Chicago.”
Emma’s mouth fell open.
“What’s in Chicago?” Sam asked casually.
Lucille blushed. “Bill.”
“What?” Emma chirped, wide-eyed.
“Oh, that your beau?” said Sam with a wink.
Lucille nodded and turned to Emma’s blank face. “He done asked me to marry him and I said yes.”
“What?” Emma echoed again as if she’d gone deaf.
“She said she’s getting married,” Sam laughed, nudging Emma in her waist. “Congratulations, Lucille.”
“Thanks.” Lucille dropped her eyes from Emma’s shattered gaze. “Well, ain’t you gonna say something, Em?”
Emma’s eyes closed and opened in a slow and deliberate blink. “What’s there to say?”
“Oh, Em, don’t be like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like that. Can’t you just be happy for me?”
A wide, leering smile rose on Emma’s lips. “See, Lucille,” she pressed the tip of her index finger to the corner of her mouth, “look how happy I am for you.”
Lucille stood. “Lord, Emma, can’t you think about someone other than yourself for once in your life? You’ve got every damn thing, can’t I have this?”
The
