his own decisions an' all, he jus' gonna have to look out for hisself. Now you come on back to bed."
"You're not being fair. He needs something to eat."
"He goin' to a restaurant, ain't he? Let
them
give him his breakfast. Wish I could eat at the fanciest place in town every morning."
"There's no reason to be ugly."
I felt plenty angry now. "Never mind, Ma. Pop's right. I don't need anything."
"Can he at least fix himself something?" Ma asked.
Pop shrugged. "Long as he quiet and clean up after hisself. I ain't gonna have him wakin' us up before we got to be on our feet, and I sure as hell ain't gonna have him make no extra work for you."
"How thoughtful." Ma's sarcasm was obvious.
"I have to go," I said. "Before I'm late."
Pop moved to let me pass. Now I was sore. He was being as mean as he could, just to get back at me. Well, I could play that game, too.
In a minute I was ready to leave. Pop had gone back to bedâhe wouldn't even say goodbye.
Ma slipped a cold yam in my pocket. "Your father will calm down in a couple days," she promised. "And I'll make sure there's always something for you to take, even if I can't cook for you in the mornings."
"Thanks, Ma." I let her hug me.
"Do your best," she called after me as I left the yard. "I'm proud of you, Caleb."
I hoped Pop had heard that from his bed.
***
The road to Davisville took me through some woods. Although light was growing in the sky, here it was all dark and shadowy. I stopped and waited, straining my ears. Somewhere, far off, a whippoorwill called. High above me, two nighthawks squawked, looking for a few last bugs before roosting for the day. And in the distance, probably miles away, a train sounded its whistle.
"God?" I said.
No reply.
"You there?"
Silence, except for the cries of the nighthawks.
"I believe in you, I really do. And I promise I'll do what you want, but I need for you to tell me what that is. Please!"
I waited humbly, the way Brother Johnson said we had to come before the Throne of Grace.
But there was no answer, and I couldn't be late on my first day of work. In fact I ran the rest of the way, just to make sure I'd be on time.
Davisville was still dark as I walked toward the square. There were lights in the Dixie Belle, though, and I could smell bacon frying.
I was surprised when Uncle Hiram met me at the back door. "What are you doing here, Uncle Hiram?" I asked. He'd worked at the Davises' for years, doing all kinds of handyman work around their place, just like Aunt Lou had been their cook ever since anyone could remember.
"Ain't you heard? Mr. Lee done promoted Lou and me. She the head cook at the Dixie Belle now, an' I's her number one assistant."
I felt a lot better. Working with folks I knewâand who knew and liked meâwould make this job a lot easier.
"Come on in," he told me. "Mist' Lee say you be comin' on board. I's glad, too. Already done had my fill o' washin' dishes."
"Mornin', sugar," Aunt Lou called. She was at a big table, rolling out biscuits. "Hiram an' me is mighty glad to see you. We can use every pair o' hands. You hungry?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"If you can wait jes' a little, I soon have some hot biscuits for you. Now take yo' time and look over the place. Better do it while you can, 'cause it gon' be mighty busy in a little while."
"I can show him," Uncle Hiram volunteered.
"Stir them grits when you go by the stove," said Aunt Lou.
Uncle Hiram took me around and explained my work. Wash dishes, scrub pots and pans, dry and put them away, clean vegetables, peel potatoes, take out the garbage, tidy the dining room, mop the kitchen at the end of every day...
All for ten cents an hour.
I realized what a mess I was inâand that I'd done it to myself. Working with Pop, for the same pay, would be a hundred times easier. I was ready to tell Uncle Hiram I'd changed my mind.
I could quit and make up some excuse to give Mr. Davis. But go back and apologize to Pop? Ask if he'd still take me on as
"You're not being fair. He needs something to eat."
"He goin' to a restaurant, ain't he? Let
them
give him his breakfast. Wish I could eat at the fanciest place in town every morning."
"There's no reason to be ugly."
I felt plenty angry now. "Never mind, Ma. Pop's right. I don't need anything."
"Can he at least fix himself something?" Ma asked.
Pop shrugged. "Long as he quiet and clean up after hisself. I ain't gonna have him wakin' us up before we got to be on our feet, and I sure as hell ain't gonna have him make no extra work for you."
"How thoughtful." Ma's sarcasm was obvious.
"I have to go," I said. "Before I'm late."
Pop moved to let me pass. Now I was sore. He was being as mean as he could, just to get back at me. Well, I could play that game, too.
In a minute I was ready to leave. Pop had gone back to bedâhe wouldn't even say goodbye.
Ma slipped a cold yam in my pocket. "Your father will calm down in a couple days," she promised. "And I'll make sure there's always something for you to take, even if I can't cook for you in the mornings."
"Thanks, Ma." I let her hug me.
"Do your best," she called after me as I left the yard. "I'm proud of you, Caleb."
I hoped Pop had heard that from his bed.
***
The road to Davisville took me through some woods. Although light was growing in the sky, here it was all dark and shadowy. I stopped and waited, straining my ears. Somewhere, far off, a whippoorwill called. High above me, two nighthawks squawked, looking for a few last bugs before roosting for the day. And in the distance, probably miles away, a train sounded its whistle.
"God?" I said.
No reply.
"You there?"
Silence, except for the cries of the nighthawks.
"I believe in you, I really do. And I promise I'll do what you want, but I need for you to tell me what that is. Please!"
I waited humbly, the way Brother Johnson said we had to come before the Throne of Grace.
But there was no answer, and I couldn't be late on my first day of work. In fact I ran the rest of the way, just to make sure I'd be on time.
Davisville was still dark as I walked toward the square. There were lights in the Dixie Belle, though, and I could smell bacon frying.
I was surprised when Uncle Hiram met me at the back door. "What are you doing here, Uncle Hiram?" I asked. He'd worked at the Davises' for years, doing all kinds of handyman work around their place, just like Aunt Lou had been their cook ever since anyone could remember.
"Ain't you heard? Mr. Lee done promoted Lou and me. She the head cook at the Dixie Belle now, an' I's her number one assistant."
I felt a lot better. Working with folks I knewâand who knew and liked meâwould make this job a lot easier.
"Come on in," he told me. "Mist' Lee say you be comin' on board. I's glad, too. Already done had my fill o' washin' dishes."
"Mornin', sugar," Aunt Lou called. She was at a big table, rolling out biscuits. "Hiram an' me is mighty glad to see you. We can use every pair o' hands. You hungry?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"If you can wait jes' a little, I soon have some hot biscuits for you. Now take yo' time and look over the place. Better do it while you can, 'cause it gon' be mighty busy in a little while."
"I can show him," Uncle Hiram volunteered.
"Stir them grits when you go by the stove," said Aunt Lou.
Uncle Hiram took me around and explained my work. Wash dishes, scrub pots and pans, dry and put them away, clean vegetables, peel potatoes, take out the garbage, tidy the dining room, mop the kitchen at the end of every day...
All for ten cents an hour.
I realized what a mess I was inâand that I'd done it to myself. Working with Pop, for the same pay, would be a hundred times easier. I was ready to tell Uncle Hiram I'd changed my mind.
I could quit and make up some excuse to give Mr. Davis. But go back and apologize to Pop? Ask if he'd still take me on as
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