around bare wooden tables. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a small stage in the far corner. The woman we’d met in the street rested her elbows on the top of an upright piano and smiled big and bright down at the player. He was a lean black man with a pencil-thin mustache and his black hair slicked down tight against his scalp. A cigarette burned in the stand ashtray at his elbow. His long hands moved slow and easy across the keys, coaxing out the tune.
I took a step. The dusty floor creaked underfoot, and the man and woman stopped.
“Well, it’s about time.” The man swiveled his stool toward me. “Shimmy said you’d be coming along. Hello, Callie girl.”
“Who’re you?”
“Well,” said the woman, “I guess I’d better perform the introductions. Callie LeRoux, meet your papa, Daniel.”
11
The floor tipped. My lungs closed up tighter than they ever had when they were full of dust. I was sliding sideways. I had to put my hand out to stop from falling against the wall.
“Easy now, honey.” The woman-Shimmy-beamed at me, like she’d just brought home the canary for the cat.
“I’m sorry to break it to you so sudden, Callie,” said the man-my papa? Really? “But seeing you there, I couldn’t hold off.”
“You… you’re my papa?” I whispered.
He smiled, showing his teeth, which were straight and even and bright, bright white. He wore neat gray trousers with red suspenders over a crisp white shirt. A gold and pearl pin held his red tie in place, and a big gold ring glittered on his pinkie finger. I couldn’t see his eyes. The room was too dim for that.
“I’m awful glad to finally meet you, Callie.”
He held out his arms, ready for me to run right in. He was so handsome, and he sat at an upright piano that might have been the twin of the one in the Moonlight Room. But more than that, his voice was familiar. I was sure I’d heard that voice before, somewhere else, a long way away. With memory kicking my shins, I was tired, frightened, and starved enough that if this had been maybe two days ago, I just could have believed him.
But it wasn’t two days ago, and my brain was going full steam ahead.
“You told Mama you’d come back for her.” I didn’t run forward. I walked a couple of steps, keeping my eyes wide, just like Jack had done when he was lying up a storm to Shimmy. “She said you told her, ‘Always remember I’m coming back for you, Josie.’ ”
“I was on my way too, but I got held up in this duster. I couldn’t believe it when Shimmy said she saw you on the street right here in town. But we’re together now, and that’s all that matters.” He lifted his arms an inch.
I took another step. His eyes twinkled in the dim light. At first glance, they were a warm brown like Shimmy’s, but now I was close enough to see they were gold and silver and black too, all mixed up together in a way that wasn’t quite human. Close, but not quite. But even with his strange eyes, he looked so happy. It would be so easy to sink into belief, just because this man wanted me to.
“Mama said you’d know me right away when you saw me.” I could feel this word game was dangerous. I was playing with something I didn’t understand all the way.
“I couldn’t miss you, Callie,” he said. “You look just like my Josie.”
That did it. I grabbed his hand and shoved it down. “My mother’s name is Margaret. I don’t look a thing like her, and whoever you are, you
That bright smile fell off his face so far I could have kicked it across the floor.
Shimmy threw back her head and laughed. “Well, sir, if she ain’t the clever one after all.” Still chuckling, she pulled a compact, the kind with a mirror inside, out of her purse. She studied what she saw there and dabbed at the corner of her mouth for a second before she snapped it shut and tucked it away. “Don’t you mind Shake, Callie LeRoux. He’s just mad ’cause you’re smarter than he looks. Sit down here with me.” She sauntered off the stage and slipped behind one of the tables.
Truth to tell, I didn’t want to get any closer to her. But I wanted her to talk to me, so I pulled out a chair and sat, trying to keep to the far edge without looking like I was. That just made her laugh again.
“You hungry, Callie?” She spread her hands out. There wasn’t anything on the table in front of us. Then there was.
A huge roast turkey with corn-bread stuffing spilling out of it sat in the middle of a sea of food: three kinds of congealed salad lined up alongside green beans, sliced bread, macaroni and cheese, and a bowl of creamy white mashed potatoes. There was a bowl of soft butter, and another of rich brown gravy.
A fresh wave of dizziness made me really glad I was sitting down. I wished I could wipe my mouth with my sleeve like Jack did. “No thank you, ma’am,” I whispered. “I ain’t hungry.”
Shimmy rolled her big, coffee-colored eyes. “You been listening to stories, ain’t you? Well, the rules ain’t the same for family.”
That finally got my eyes off all the magic food. “We ain’t family.”
“You so sure about that, Callie?” said Shake.
I took a long sideways look over at the lean man where he sat glowering by the piano.
“Oh, let go of that.” Shimmy waved the man’s entire existence away, just like that.
“But we
That food smelled so good. It was like an itch begging to be scratched. Every part of me wanted to reach over and grab up just one piece of bread and take a huge bite. Despite that, I knew the last thing I could trust around these folks was a feeling in my bones.
“You say we’re related? You prove it.”
“Yeah, go on, Shimmy. You’re so smart, you prove it to the gal.” Shake leaned back and folded his arms. “This oughta be good,” he added to me.
“Just my luck,” Shimmy muttered. “I find the girl everybody’s looking for, and she turns out to be stump- stubborn.” She brought her hands together, and all the food vanished. Not a sight or smell remained. My heart broke into about five hundred pieces. “You want to see how close kin we are, you go ahead and make us dinner.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” But I was already looking at Shake’s upright piano. He jumped back up onto the stage, pulled out a red silk handkerchief, and made a big show of dusting off the stool.
I took a U-turn back to my own good sense. “Uh-uh. No. Bad stuff happens when I make music.”
“That’s because you ain’t had none of your own kind around to teach you.” Shake smiled. “It’s all about concentration. You’ve got to keep your mind on what you want, and only what you want. The more practice you get, the better you’ll be able to put it over.”
Just then, a beam of light sliced through the room. I turned in my seat. Jack had thrown open the shutters on the far side of the house and was peering in the window, hands framing his face. I waved, to try to show him I was okay. But he just frowned and went around to the next window. The shutters opened, and he pressed his face right up against the glass.
“What’s the matter with him?” I waved again, but Jack just rattled the frame. After a minute, he pulled out a pocketknife and worked it into the sash, trying to jimmy the lock.
“He can’t see you,” said Shimmy. “He ain’t got the eyes.”
I felt bad. He must have followed me after all, and was waiting for me to come out. Now he was worried, and still hungry because I didn’t know how to bum. Plus, it was really starting to look like he’d been right about me all along.
