had asked, “Daddy, you feeling okay?”
August had nodded, forced a smile, and nodded again.
Doll didn’t seem to notice that her husband was disintegrating right before her very eyes. If she did, well, Esther didn’t allow her to give a good goddamn. And by this point in the story you should be well aware that Esther’s devotion to anyone other than herself was as shallow as a saucer.
August read and reread the paragraphs; drew thick lines through sentences and scribbled notes in the margins, all the while aware of the sound of the rain beating down on the roof as loud and resolute as an army of men marching off to war.
On Candle Street, Cole was preparing to send his wife off to attend the wedding of a family member in New Orleans. Melinda was upset that Cole could not join her.
“You won’t be alone,” Cole reminded her. “Caress will be with you.”
“But I don’t know if I’m up for such a long trip.”
Cole’s jaw clenched in frustration. “Now, now, Lindy, you know the doctor gave you a clean bill of health.”
Melinda glanced out the window. “But the rain …”
“It’ll be nice and dry on the train.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I have to be here to receive the shipment; after that, I’m on the next train to New Orleans.”
Outside, Caress was seated alongside the driver on the bench of the carriage. Her arm was going numb from holding the wide black umbrella over her head.
Cole walked Melinda to the carriage, opened the door, and helped her inside. He planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be there before you know it.”
Cole pushed the door closed and signaled to the driver, who snapped the reigns. The horses began to gallop.
It wasn’t until Mingo was spotted streaking up the middle of the road with his shoulders hunched up against the downpour that people realized he hadn’t been seen for days.
He was running so hard, he almost ran smack into the pair of horses that pulled the carriage carrying Melinda and Caress.
“Fool, watch where you’re going!” the driver yelled.
Mingo darted toward the bridge and would have collided with Doll if she had not stepped quickly out of his path. Seeing her, Mingo came to a screeching halt. “Mrs. Reverend, ma’am!”
Doll, whose head was tied in a yellow scarf that did nothing to protect her hair from the rain, whirled around and almost dropped the stack of records she had tucked beneath her arm. She looked at Mingo, but no recognition registered in her eyes. She offered him a polite smile and continued on her way.
Mingo watched her dodge raindrops down Candle Street before disappearing around the side of one of the houses.
He scratched his chin in bewilderment, then tugged the collar of his shirt around his neck and took shelter beneath a nearby tree. He eased himself down onto his hunches and fixed his gaze on the slate sky. He remained that way until Sam T. happened upon him.
“Hey, what you doing?”
“Huh?” Mingo blinked water from his eyes until Sam T. came into focus.
Sam T. was lean and freckled, with a mass of reddishbrown hair that he wore parted down the middle.
“You okay, Mingo?”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.”
“Man, you gonna catch your death out here in the rain without a coat. Where’s your coat?”
Mingo glanced down at his shirt and slacks. He seemed surprised to find that they were soaked through to the skin.
Sam T. chuckled. “You been drinking?”
“Nah.”
“You sure? Why you out here in the rain?”
Mingo sniffed and slowly brought himself erect. He made a face and began stomping his feet. “I got needles all up and down my legs.”
“Watch it!” Sam T. cried as he jumped away from the puddled water that Mingo splashed. He stepped under the tree and gave Mingo a long, hard look. “Ain’t seen you for a few days. Where you been?”
Mingo’s face went dark. “Greenville,” he said with a wince.
“What were you doing in Greenville?”
“I got people there,” Mingo muttered, and then brightening a bit he said, “Hey, listen, man, you got any on you?”
Sam T. understood the any to mean whiskey. “Nah, sorry.”
“Oh,” Mingo said, and the light leaked from his face.
“So, uhm, did you leave Greenville in a hurry or something?”
Mingo’s eyes narrowed. “Why, what you hear?” he barked menacingly.
Sam T. raised a protective arm. “I ain’t heard nothing. It’s just that it’s raining and you ain’t got no jacket, no slicker, no nothing on your back but that wet shirt. I just figured you left in a hurry, that’s all.”
Mingo smirked, and then instinctively reached for the cigarette behind his ear. When he found that it wasn’t there, he patted down his shirt and dug into the pockets of his pants.
Still nothing.
Mingo gave Sam T. a hopeful look. “You got any smokes?”
Sam T. pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shook one free. It took three tries to get it lit.
Mingo took a few puffs and then pressed the tip against the bark of the tree, extinguishing it. He tucked the remainder behind his ear.
Sam T.’s eyes swung between Mingo and the road, which was beginning to look more and more like a stream.
“Me and my cousin Charlie was headed o’er to his mama’s house. We weren’t worrying nobody. The law just swooped down on us—guns drawn!” Mingo announced without warning.
Sam T. leaned in. “What now?”
Mingo’s right eyelid began to twitch. “The law come up behind us and stuck their guns in our backs. One man say, Can’t you see its raining, boys? Well, of course we could see that, wasn’t no getting around seeing it. We weren’t really understanding what point the man was trying to make. So me and Charlie said, Yes suh, we sees that. Turn around, the man say. And we do like he say. And then the next man raised his pistol high and brought the nozzle to rest square between my eyes, and he say: Then why ain’t you boys down by the river working? So then I says, Why would we be down by the river? And that’s when the first man hauled off and clobbered me upside my head with the butt of his gun.”
Mingo turned his head slightly to the left and pointed to the egg-sized knot
