in a high, sweet voice, following along with her finger under each note.
When she finished the first verse he understood. On his face was a look of such delight and astonishment as one would expect from the most profound religious experience.
“Would you like to be able to read this so you can play all these songs?” She touched the stack of sheet music with her finger.
“Yes.” Total commitment.
“Good. I can teach you how to read music, but if I do, you must do something for me,” Miss Bentley said.
Ailey looked wary. Is she going to take back the violin if I don’t do something, he worried.
“What do I have to do.”
“Learn to read and write better than anyone else in the class. I know you can, Ailey. I know how smart you are. Up till now you haven’t been trying because you don’t want to be here.”
Ailey looked at the stack of books and sheet music longingly. He looked at and saw a friendly woman, much younger than Sammy Sue, but like her in many ways. He knew if he said yes, it would be a promise.
“Do I have to promise?”
“No Ailey, you do not. I want you to learn to read and write, but I cannot make you do it if you don’t really want to. But, I believe in being fair, do you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, I thought you did.”
“I will learn to read and write and all the other stuff.” There it was, he’d promised to do it.
She put out her hand. “Let’s shake on it. This is our bargain.”
Her hand felt warm and dry. She smelled faintly of lilac. It was nice. She handed him the stack of sheet music.
Alright, you will stay every Thursday evening for an extra hour. I’ll drive you home afterward. I’ll tell you something else Ailey. In this book,” -- she pointed to the book with the picture of the man playing the violin-- “in this book the words you learn to read tell you how to play the violin better.”
Ailey felt suddenly shy, like when his grandfather gave him his first violin.
“Thank you, Miz Bentley.”
“You are very welcome, Ailey Barkwood.”
Chapter 10
Luthersville, West Virginia, 1980
If Miss Bentley thought Ailey would do better, she wasn’t prepared for how much better. She never had a student who learned faster than she could teach. He was raw, impatient, and she, a southern lady of quality: patient, perfectly mannered, and intelligent. She had taught little anarchists for twenty years. She met his demands with her own and in the process he learned manners more fitted to the nineteenth century.
It never went smooth. If he was rude, she ignored him until he apologized. He would scowl, sulk, and cry bitter complaints. Stubborn, volatile, and finally penitent when he realized she couldn’t be swayed by drama. He had to know and she had the knowledge.
In a year Ailey learned every song in the music books, played every scale. The quality of his tone improved beyond recognition. Miss Bentley taught him the basics of music, how to read notes, the values of tempo. He grasped musical concepts so fast her well-prepared methods of explanation weren’t necessary.
Miss Iris spun in a whirlwind, helpless to do more than hang on and see where it all went.
When Ailey was seven, Granpa Joe Barkwood went to sleep on the porch and never woke up. There being no other relatives, Ailey stayed with Sammy Sue. She was going on eighty and had all she could do to keep him fed and clothed. No one grasped the reality of the old man’s death.
The Christian women of Luthersville who might have taken Ailey and molded him into their own unhappy ways, didn’t come around to take him in hand for his own good.
Sammy Sue said he had kin around somewhere, but she didn’t know how to get in touch. She knew the story about Nathan Cole’s strange son who went to live on the mountain behind the farm, but she wasn’t having her Ailey looked after by no crazy man.
At the beginning of the next school year, Miss Bentley made her usual visit to the Barkwood farm, not because Ailey might not show up that fall -- he was far and away the best student in the class. She knew Uncle Joe Barkwood had died, and she knew what would happen when the busybodies in town found out.
Sammy Sue put on her Sunday dress and made lemonade. Ailey joined them on the porch.
“Well, Sammy, I heard in town that Mr. Joe died. I am sorry for you both. I didn’t know him very well, but people spoke well of him, very well.”
“Yes, ma’am, he was a fine man. Ailey and I miss him.”
“Sammy, I don’t mean to pry, but how have you been getting along, what do you do for money.”
“Mistuh Joe, he knowed he was goin to the Lord. He sold some land a few years back, and he left the farm to the boy. I been gettin my government check regular. My daughter comes by once a week and does the shoppin’, and her husband, George, the fixin’ that needs doin. I been leasing him a hundred acres down by the grove. That give me some income to look after Ailey. We don’t have a lot, Miss Bentley, but we gets along.”
Sammy Sue shifted in her rocking chair nervously, as though she could see what was coming.
“Sammy Sue, I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong. I think most people would have done less. You’ve done fine with Ailey, but don’t you think he’d be better off living in town?”
“Who he goin’ to live with? He don’t have no kin over there.”
“He could stay with me, if you don’t mind. I have plenty of room. Sammy, you have to admit you aren’t a young girl anymore. What if something were to happen to Ailey?”
Sammy Sue didn’t say anything. Two big tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
“Now Sammy, please don’t be upset. I’m saying these things because I am truly concerned about Ailey.”
“Miz Bentley, I don’t want to live in town.” Ailey moved closer to Sammy Sue.
“Oh, Ailey, of course you don’t.” Miss Bentley looked across the fields. “It’s very nice here. But there are problems you don’t understand. Sammy Sue knows what I mean.” The two women looked at each other.
“Miss Bentley, I knows you mean to do right by Ailey, but I’m more kin to the boy than you or any of the white folk in Luthersville. Babies are babies, white or black. They needs their own. Strangers don’t smell right, don’t sound right.”
There is was, on the table. Ailey looked puzzled. This wasn’t something he understood. He’d heard the kids making jokes about niggers, but he ignored them. He
