Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(56)

Paul knew next to nothing about the man who’d saved his life. Benjamin said they were from Alabama, but he’d not said where. He’d asked for nothing, and yet he appeared to be without much of anything: a rocking chair and a bunch of soggy boxes in the back of a truck that was maybe twenty years old.

It was almost two years ago, but Paul could still remember the day he’d walked down the mountain carrying Jubilee on his back. Like Benjamin he’d had only the vaguest idea of where he was going and what he’d find there. He’d left the mountain with just one thought in mind: to find a home for Jubilee. As they’d walked from the bus station into Wyattsville, he’d caught a glimpse of himself in a store window and seen a fear of the future in his eyes. Benjamin had that same look.

Before the first rays of light had creased the sky, Paul came to see Benjamin as a version of himself. When he heard the footsteps on the stair, Paul had already decided what he had to do.

“Benjamin?” he called out. When no answer was forthcoming, he said, “Can I see you for a moment?”

Benjamin hesitated; he’d hoped to slip away before anyone was awake but that wasn’t possible now.

“Wait here,” he told Isaac and turned toward the sewing room.

“You call me, Mister Paul?”

Paul laughed and motioned to the chair. “Sit down, Benjamin, and for Pete’s sake, stop calling me Mister Paul.”

“Yes, sir,” Benjamin answered.

“Don’t call me sir either. My name’s Paul. Just plain Paul. You call me Paul, and I’ll call you Benjamin, okay?”

Benjamin started to say “yes, sir” but he caught hold of the word before it was out of his mouth and simply nodded.

“Sit down,” Paul said. “I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”

Still uneasy about taking such liberties, Benjamin sat with his back stiff and his hands on his knees.

“I’ve got a problem,” Paul said. “Uncle Sid counts on me for working in the grocery store. Unloading cartons, stocking the shelves, sweeping up, things like that. Now that I’ve got this broken arm, I’m not gonna be much help.”

Paul hesitated a moment looking for the right words. Lean too much one way and it wouldn’t sound needy enough; lean too much the other way and it would have the chime of charity.

“Anyway,” Paul said, “I know you’re on your way to New York, but if you’re not in a hurry to get there I could sure use a hand for a few weeks.” When Benjamin didn’t answer right away, Paul added, “Of course I’d be willing to pay for your time.”

Benjamin twitched his mouth to one side and rubbed his hand across the scruff of his beard.

“I could sure use a bit of money,” he said, “but I got to find a place for me ’n Isaac to stay.”

“Aunt Carmella said you’re welcome to stay here.”

Benjamin raised an eyebrow and gave a sorry shake of his head. “I ain’t looking to argue with you, Mister Paul, but—”

“No mister,” Paul cut in.

Benjamin nodded. “Okay. Anyhow, I’m more ’n happy to get work, but me and Isaac staying here ain’t a good idea. Colored folk and white folk ain’t supposed to live in the same house.”

“Who told you that?”

“Nobody told me, it’s what I know.”

“Well, maybe what you know is wrong. You ever consider that?”

Benjamin shook his head. “I know what I see, and I ain’t never seen nothing to the contrary.”

“Well, I have,” Paul said. “When my daddy was in the coal mines he worked alongside a man named Edgar, a man way blacker than you. When Daddy died, Edgar was the only one to come and offer help. He said Jubilee and I could live at his house if we’d a mind to.”

“And you didn’t do it, huh?” Benjamin nodded knowingly.

“No. But not because Edgar was colored.” A look of sadness slid across Paul’s face. “It was because of a promise I’d made to Daddy.”

“What kinda promise?”

Paul thought back on that night. There were times when it seemed a thousand years ago, and moments like this when it was so close he could still feel the agony of it.

“That I’d never work in the coal mines,” he said.

For several moments they sat there saying nothing; then Benjamin spoke. “I know Miss Carmella is every bit as good as your daddy’s Mister Edgar, but Isaac and me still got to get our own place.”

They finally reached an agreement; Benjamin would work at the store but he’d find his own place to stay.

“Well, you have to at least stay for breakfast,” Paul said, “so Uncle Sid can tell you what all needs to be done.”

“Okay then,” Benjamin replied. The actuality was he didn’t know if he’d find a place or not. He figured if worse came to worst, he and Isaac could sleep in the truck until he earned enough money for the rest of their trip. But if it came to that, he certainly wouldn’t mention it in front of Carmella.

~

It seemed to Isaac that his daddy had been in that room forever, so he sat down on the bottom rise of the staircase to wait. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, thinking how he could have still been lying in that nice soft bed. He was lost in the thought when Jubilee stepped down beside him.