Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(53)

It’s a daddy’s job to take care of his boy and, God willing, I’m gonna figure a way to do it.





The Guests





As they lifted Paul from the truck, Carmella dashed inside and telephoned Doctor Willard.

“Come right away,” she said. “Our boy’s been hurt in an automobile accident.”

Without giving any further details she hung up and turned to telling Sid and Benjamin how they should carry Paul.

“Watch you don’t bump his arm going around the corner,” she said, “then take him down to my sewing room.”

The bedrooms were all upstairs, but the sewing room was just down the hall from the living room. In truth Carmella did little sewing but often slipped away for a nap on the soft, comfy daybed.

Benjamin hoisted Paul with a firm grip beneath his shoulders, and as they moved through the house Sid called out step-by-step directions.

“Another foot,” he’d say, “then turn right.” Isaac trailed wordlessly behind.

When they reached the sewing room Benjamin lifted Paul onto the daybed, and Paul settled with a soft moan. Benjamin smiled.

“I think you is in real good hands now, Mister Paul,” he said, “so we’re gonna be moving on.”

Carmella reached out and put her hand on Benjamin’s arm. “It’s late. Have you had supper?”

Before Benjamin could answer, Isaac shook his head. “Unh-unh.”

“Then please stay,” she urged. “I’ve got a big pot of beef stew hot and ready to serve.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Benjamin said, “but me ’n Isaac got to get back on the road. We’re headed to New York.”

“New York!” Sid exclaimed. “That’s a two or three day drive. Maybe four in that old truck.”

Carmella’s hand was still locked onto Benjamin’s arm, and she was making no move to let go. “After all you’ve done for Paul I can’t possibly let you leave without having a bite to eat.”

The thought of a home-cooked meal was certainly appealing, but Benjamin was taken aback. Only once before had he eaten a meal in a white person’s house; that was Ella Jean Grayson. After he’d painted her house the full way around, she’d dished up a plate of fried chicken and sat him at the kitchen table. She’d remained in the kitchen but not sat across from him.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

“Of course I’m sure.” Carmella turned to Sid. “Stay with Paul while I set out supper for our guests.”

Motioning for Isaac and Benjamin to follow her, Carmella led them to a lovely dining room with a polished wood table and high-backed chairs.

Feeling a bit out of place, Benjamin said, “There’s no need to fuss; eating in the kitchen is just fine for us.”

“Nonsense,” Carmella replied. “You’re our guests.” With that she pulled a white linen cloth from the drawer and spread it over the table. In minutes the table was set with tall glasses of water, a basket of bread, and a large bowl of steaming hot stew. She motioned for them to sit, and then she sat across from Benjamin.

“We ate earlier with Jubilee,” she said, “otherwise I’d join you.”

After a while, Carmella rose and went to check on Paul. A few minutes later, Sid entered the room and sat where she’d been sitting.

“You’ve got to excuse Carmella,” he said. “She’s a worrier. She fusses over those kids like she’s raised them up from babies.”

“There ain’t nothing wrong with that,” Benjamin said. “My Delia was the same. Isaac was our only baby, and she surely did make a fuss over him.”

Isaac beamed as he heard mention of Delia.





Once back in the sewing room, Carmella plumped a pillow for Paul’s head and covered him with a quilt. “You’ll catch your death of cold being wet like this.”

Paul let go of a deep sigh. “Aunt Carmella, I’d be dead for sure if Benjamin hadn’t pulled me out of the car.”

Carmella dropped into the chair alongside the bed with a gasp. “Good Lord, I had no idea.”

Although not speaking would have been a far easier thing, Paul went on to tell of all that had happened.

“After the tire blew, the car skidded and rolled down the hill,” he said. “When it flipped over I felt my head slam against something; then I blacked out.” His breathing became shallow as he closed his eyes and hesitated for several minutes.

Carmella knew he was reliving the experience. She sat silently and waited.

“When I came to,” he finally said, “the car was a blackened shell. I would have been inside it if not for Benjamin.

Carmella felt an icy shiver slide across her heart. “Thank God he was there.”

Paul’s head dropped deeper into the pillow, and a tear rolled from his eye.

“I felt so helpless,” he said. The words were drawn out, heavy and slow. “Even after I’d regained consciousness, I couldn’t haul myself up the hill. Benjamin carried me on his back.”

A faraway look came into Paul’s eyes. “My God, how can you ever repay a man for doing something like that?”

“Right now I don’t know,” Carmella replied, “but we’ll find a way.”