Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(75)

Carmella always dressed before she came down to start breakfast, but on this particular morning she stood at the stove wearing a faded blue chenille bathrobe. When Benjamin walked into the kitchen, she was layering strips of bacon across the griddle.

“Miz Carmella,” he said, “I got something to—”

“Can it wait until after breakfast?” she asked. “I’m a bit busy right now.”

“Well, I reckon.”

“Good.” She answered in an easy way, one that gave no indication something else was in the wind. Without turning away from the stove she said if Benjamin was looking for something to do in the meantime, he could carry the dishes and silverware to the table.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. As he lifted the stack of dishes from the side counter Benjamin sniffed the bacon. He suspected the Klaussners already knew what he was going to say and this was their way of doing a special goodbye. Bacon didn’t happen on a Thursday for no reason; Thursday was an oatmeal day.

Like many of the residents of Bloom Street, Benjamin had spent a sleepless night. Not because of the decision he’d had to make; that was inevitable and he’d known it from the start. It was the sadness in his heart that held sleep at bay, the sadness of leaving people who felt like family.

It was an odd sort of family—Sidney, Jewish; Carmella, Catholic; Paul and Jubilee, orphaned children of a West Virginia coal miner; Benjamin with skin dark as night and Isaac a light coffee color that was somewhere between him and Delia. No two of them the same, yet they fit together like different pieces of fabric in a quilt. A quilt that, despite the mix of colors, felt cozy and warm.

When the pink of morning began to show along the edge of the horizon, Benjamin was still awake. Alabama, even with all its anger and prejudices, had been home and it had not been easy leaving. Now, less than a month later, he was leaving another place that in a strange way felt like home.

You and Isaac have a place here for as long as you want to stay, Sidney had said. And he’d meant it; but Benjamin couldn’t forget the angry words that came from outside. Bakerstown was more than a thousand miles away and yet here it was, pushing its way onto the Klaussners’ doorstep. How far north, Benjamin wondered, did a man have to travel to reach a place where people were colorblind?





Breakfast was nearly a half-hour later than usual, and when Sidney took his place at the head of the table he was smiling. Before Benjamin had a chance to speak his mind, Sidney said he’d just finished talking with his old friend, Marty Hinckley. He glanced at Carmella and smiled. “You remember Marty, don’t you?”

Carmella nodded and returned the smile.

“Marty and I go way back,” Sid said nostalgically. “We went to school together in New York.”

“You lived in New York?” The surprise in Benjamin’s voice was obvious. He’d never pictured Sidney anywhere but right here in this house.

“I sure did,” Sid answered, “Brooklyn. Marty and I started riding the subway when we were just teenagers.” In words that were warmed by memories, he told stories of the fun they’d had going to shows in Manhattan and visiting the concession stands at Coney Island. He gave a raucous laugh. “You wouldn’t believe the bathing suits ladies wore back then.”

Although to others at the table it may have appeared Benjamin was hanging on every word, he was actually thinking through an idea that had come to mind. Would it be too much, he wondered, to ask for one last favor? With Marty being a Northerner, maybe he’d be willing to suggest a place where they could settle, a place where he could find work.

As Benjamin considered the best way of phrasing such a request, Sidney gave a nostalgic sigh and said, “Then I moved down here to Virginia, and Marty moved to Pittsburgh.”

Benjamin felt a whoosh of disappointment slide across his heart.

Sidney noticed.

“Marty loves it in Pittsburgh,” he added. “He’s got a real nice business and was doing great until he had that heart attack last month.” Despite the way Sidney allowed the words to sound a bit remorseful, a strange sad-but-happy look remained on his face.

Carmella wore that same crooked smile when she said, “Come on, Sidney, get to the point.”

Sidney nodded then looked at Benjamin. “I’m going to ask a favor,” he said. “You don’t owe me and you can say no if you want to, but I owe Marty so I’ve got to ask.”

Benjamin set the strip of bacon back on his plate and leaned in.

Unfolding the story word by word, Sidney explained how Marty owned a small airport on the edge of Pittsburgh and needed a man with a good understanding of motors and engines.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said. “It can be long days, but the job comes with a piece of farmland and a nice little house right there next to the airport.”

“You figure he’d be willing to hire a colored man?” Benjamin asked.

Sidney stretched his arm across the table and placed his hand on top of Benjamin’s. “When I told him how you’d fixed that old refrigerator, he said you were exactly what he was hoping for.”

Benjamin gave a grin that stretched the full way across his face. “That sounds real good, Mister Sidney. Real good.”





Martha