Part 12 (1/2)

”He lives in that shack.” I pointed to the ramshackle little building on the other side of the dock.

”I seen him,” Wanda said. ”George and me went over there to fish one time and he chased us away.”

”I think he's hiding something,” I said.

George laughed. ”You just lookin' for trouble, ain't you, girl?” he said.

”He has a rooster and some chickens he just lets run all over his house,” I said.

Salena walked over with a big bowl of raspberries and offered me some.

”Thanks,” I said, taking a couple of the berries and popping them in my mouth.

”Your mama know you're over here, sugar?” Salena asked me.

I shook my head. ”No, but I'm allowed to go anywhere on this end of the ca.n.a.l,” I said, telling what I hoped was the truth. I knew I was allowed to take the boat boat anywhere on this end of the ca.n.a.l. No one had ever addressed my getting off the boat and visiting someone. anywhere on this end of the ca.n.a.l. No one had ever addressed my getting off the boat and visiting someone.

”Well, you ask next time, hear?” Salena said.

I nodded.

”Yeah, you say, 'Hey, Mama, can I fish with dem n.i.g.g.ahs?'” George said.

I was shocked he used that word. He looked at my stunned face, then broke into a laugh.

”Hey, girl,” he said. ”I'm just razzin' ya.”

Salena laughed, too, but Wanda looked at her brother with disgust. ”You so r.e.t.a.r.ded,” she said to him. Then to me, ”He turned eighteen yesterday and now he's more r.e.t.a.r.ded than ever.”

So, I had some new friends. They were different from anyone else I knew, but that only intrigued me. I went across the ca.n.a.l a couple more times that week. I liked being over there. Salena turned out to be their cousin, not their mother, as I'd originally thought. I learned that all of them-including the men, who stuck pretty much to themselves-were cousins. Wanda and George had no father and their mother was sick, so this bunch of older relatives took them in.

There was always a lot of ”razzin'” going on, as George would say, and it took me a while to realize it was a sign of affection between them. I gave them any fish I caught and discovered that they, too, released the blowfish and sea robins. I shared my binoculars with them, letting them take turns looking through them. I picked a bowlful of berries from the semicircle of blueberry bushes that grew in the sandy lot across from our house and shared them with the Lewises. I brought over The Clue of the Dancing Puppet The Clue of the Dancing Puppet, sat on an overturned bucket, and read it out loud to Wanda. She never offered to do the reading, and I didn't ask her, afraid she couldn't read as well as me and might be embarra.s.sed. I put a lot of drama into the reading, and even George and Salena listened after a while.

I took Wanda for a ride in the boat, making sure I'd brought an extra life preserver with me that day. I wanted to take her across the ca.n.a.l to meet my family but instinctively knew I'd better not. I'd told no one where I was spending my mornings. All they needed to do was look hard across the ca.n.a.l to see me, but they were so used to ignoring the colored fishermen that I guess they never did.

One day, though, I was standing next to Wanda, starting to bait my hook with a killie, when a white man suddenly emerged from the path cut through the tall gra.s.s. We all turned to look at him, and my thoughts were so removed from my family that it wasn't until I noticed his limp that I realized it was my father.

”Daddy!” I said. ”What are you doing here?”

I noticed some gray in my father's brown hair as he walked toward to me. He skirted a fish bucket and gave George an even wider berth. George cut his eyes at my father, looking as though he would happily stick a knife in his side if given a chance. It was a side of George I hadn't seen before.

”You need to come home,” Daddy said. His voice was very calm, but I knew the calmness masked his anger. My father was not a hitter, not even a yeller, but quiet anger could sometimes be even harder to endure.

”Why?” I asked, knowing perfectly well why. I was holding the killie in one hand, the hook in another, and both my arms felt paralyzed.

”We were looking for you,” he said. ”You know you're supposed to let us know where you are. Throw that killie in the ca.n.a.l and come with me,” he said.

Feeling self-conscious, I tossed the killie over the fence. ”This is Wanda Lewis, Daddy,” I said. ”And her brother George. And her cousin, Salena.”

”You got a nice girl,” Salena said. ”She's welcome to fish with us anytime she like.”

Daddy nodded to her. ”Thank you,” he said. He put his hand on my shoulder and I tried to measure the anger in his touch: Nine on a scale of one to ten. I was afraid to go with him. My hands shook as I gathered my up my gear.

”What about the boat?” I asked him.

”Grandpop can come over later to get it,” he said.

”Bye,” I said to the Lewises, then turned to follow my father. He was already halfway down the path on his way to the small sand lot where he'd parked the car.

He didn't speak until we were both in the car and he'd turned the key in the ignition. Then he looked at me, shaking his head slowly as though he couldn't believe I was his child.

”What in G.o.d's name do you think you're doing on this side of the ca.n.a.l?” he asked, a cold, hard edge to his voice.

”Fis.h.i.+ng,” I said.

”You think they've got different fish over here than on our side?”

Actually, I did, but I took a different tack.

”Grandpop said I should try to make friends with them,” I said, then cringed. I was a terrible person for pinning the blame on my grandfather. Daddy didn't believe me, anyway.

”You're starting to lie way too much, Julie,” he said as he drove the car from the lot onto the road. ”You have a good imagination, and that's fine. But you have to remember there's a difference between making up stories that are harmless-that don't hurt anybody, including yourself-and telling lies.”

”There's no girls my age near us, Daddy,” I said, and I suddenly thought I was going to cry.

”You can play with Lucy,” he said.

”I would, except she never wants to do anything.”

Daddy suddenly looked sad. He reached across and stroked his hand over my hair, his touch gentle, the anger gone and worry in its place, which was almost worse. ”Honey,” he said, ”I know you're lonely this summer. But don't try to mix with the Negroes. No good can come of it.”

”Wanda reads Nancy Drew,” I said.

”I don't care if she reads Dostoyevsky,” he said, his voice remaining calm. I had no idea who Dostoyevsky was. ”I don't want you to go over there again. Understood?”

”If Izzy was doing it, you wouldn't care,” I said.

”If Izzy was doing it, I'd lock her in the house for a year,” he said. He turned the steering wheel to take us onto the road leading to the Lovelandtown Bridge, then glanced at me. ”You think I favor Isabel?” he asked.

”I know know you do.” you do.”

He said nothing as we drove over the bridge, the steel grating rumbling beneath the car's tires.

”Isabel was my first child,” Daddy said quietly, once we'd crossed the bridge. ”She'll always have a special place in my heart, but I love all three of you equally. I'm sorry if I ever let you think otherwise.”

Although I hadn't meant to manipulate my father with my accusation, it definitely seemed to have worked to my advantage. Daddy hugged me when we got out of the car in our driveway and said he thought his lecture had been punishment enough. I cried then for real, because I loved him with all my heart-and because I knew I was incapable of being the obedient girl he wanted me to be.