Finding Bluefield by Elan Branehama Page A

him?”
    Nicky stuffed a large piece of cake into her mouth.
    “Of course all that man would have to do is look at you,” Lucinda said. She shifted in her seat. “I see that George Wallace is challenging Johnson. I might have to vote Democratic for the first time in my life.”
    Nicky stabbed at the cake. “The cake is good,” Nicky said.
    “People have been asking for your pies.”
    “I told you to let me train Leroy.”
    “You haven’t heard?” Lucinda said.
    “Heard what?” Nicky said.
    “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Leroy was drunk and tried to rape Norma James.”
    “Nobody rapes Norma. They just buy her a few drinks.”
    “You’re talking about white boys,” Lucinda said.
    “She’s always too drunk to remember what happens to her. Someone told her to say that. Leroy wouldn’t do that.” Nicky held on to her coffee cup with both hands.
    “How do you know?” Lucinda asked. “He was so quiet here, but you can never tell.”
    “I worked with him,” Nicky said. “You did too. You know he wouldn’t do any such thing.”
    “He behaved here, but I paid him. I don’t know what he’s like outside of here. All I know is we can’t let coloreds go around raping white girls.”
    “Where’s he now?”
    “Don’t know. Tommy said they beat him real bad. No matter what happened, he doesn’t have a job here anymore. I don’t want any trouble here.”
    Nicky pushed herself off the bench. “That was delicious,” she said. “Tired me out. I’m going to head home and rest.”
    “Don’t be a stranger after you have that baby.”
    Nicky began driving home and thinking about a long soak in the tub. A few blocks from the diner, she changed her mind and circled back toward the North End. Leroy wasn’t in the phone book and Nicky didn’t know his address, so she headed for the First Baptist Church. An elderly man was sweeping the steps as Nicky got out of her car.
    “I’m looking for Reverend Peters,” Nicky called.
    “You found him,” he said, looking up.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”
    “Should I know you?”
    “No. Maybe. I bought tickets to the King march from you. Doesn’t matter. I’m looking for someone I used to work with. Leroy Ellison. He works at the Bluefield Diner. Over by the hospital.”
    “Did you try there?”
    “He’s not there,” Nicky said. “They said he got badly hurt yesterday.”
    “At work?”
    “No. Something about getting beat up.”
    Reverend Peters resumed sweeping. “How far along are you?” he asked.
    “Excuse me?”
    “The baby. When are you due?” he said.
    “Couple of weeks. Do you know Leroy?”
    “Do you have others?” the reverend asked.
    “Other children? No, this is my first.” Nicky shifted her feet; the baby was cutting off circulation to her legs. “Do you know where Leroy lives, sir? I just want to see if he needs help.”
    The reverend stopped sweeping. “The thing is, Mrs.…?”
    “Nicky. Nicky Stewart.”
    “Mrs. Stewart, you’re pregnant. It’s not such a good idea for you to be driving around not knowing where you’re going, getting involved in things you don’t even know about. You go home to your husband and get ready for that baby.” He shifted his attention back to pushing the broom across the steps.
    “Sorry to trouble you.” Nicky opened her purse and wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Reverend Peters. “If you see him, tell him I was asking after him. If there’s anything he needs, he should call me.” When she got back in her car, she started to weave her way around the unfamiliar territory of Bluefield’s North End. Even the smallest house, she noticed, had a garden, and it seemed like marigolds were in bloom everywhere. Nicky was not sure what she was looking for, only hoping something would turn up. She spotted a pool hall and pulled over. Several young boys sat outside on the porch, huddled in the shade. They followed Nicky to the door as she stepped