The Book of Harlan. Bernice L. McFadden

strong white teeth that never failed to startle a smile out of women and even some men—Sam was a carpenter by trade, quiet and inconspicuous. He could be in a room filled with people, and the next day, not one person could recall him having been there, which was why it took a minute before Emma even noticed him.

      The first time Sam saw Emma Robinson he was sitting in the barbershop with his back to the glass-pane window, staring at his reflection in the wall of mirrors, trying to decide whether or not to get his shoes shined before the barber called him to the chair. Sam lowered his eyes, slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat, and thoughtfully fingered the loose coins inside.

      When he looked up again, Emma’s reflection appeared in the mirror, sheathed in yellow sunlight, glowing like an apparition.

      “Pssst,” Sam hissed at the barber.

      “Yeah, boss?”

      He tilted his chin at the reflection. “You see that girl?”

      The barber’s head swiveled from the mirror to the window and then back to Sam. “Yeah, I see her,” he replied, and then added with a chuckle and a wink: “Wouldn’t mind seeing more of her though.”

      Sam grimaced at the barber’s off-color remark.

      “You know that’s the reverend’s daughter, don’t you?”

      “Is it?” Sam replied.

      “Yep. So you ain’t got a chance in hell.”

      * * *

      Sam thought about Emma for the rest of that Thursday, but by Friday afternoon his mind had moved on to more immediate concerns, like work and food and rent.

      But just as quickly as Emma was crowded out of Sam’s memory, she was thrust back in when she passed him in the street on Saturday morning and then again the following Tuesday. The encounters continued with increased frequency until Sam became convinced that God was trying to tell him something, which was funny in and of itself because Sam wasn’t quite sure if he even believed in the Almighty.

      That aside, Sam had become undeniably smitten with the pretty Emma Robinson and decided that he’d better develop a personal relationship with God if he wanted to get acquainted with her. So the following Sunday, Sam walked into the Cotton Way Baptist Church smack in the middle of Reverend Robinson’s fiery sermon.

      An usher planted herself squarely in Sam’s path and aimed her white-gloved index finger at a space along the wall.

      “I see a free seat up front,” Sam whispered.

      The grim-faced usher shook her head and again pointed at the wall.

      Sam didn’t budge. He and the old woman glared at one another until Sam feigned submission. When the usher dropped her guard, he faked left and then right, swiftly maneuvered around the woman, and trotted noisily up the center aisle. He had to climb over a mother and her three small children to get to the vacant seat. In the process, his heel came down on the woman’s big toe and she cried out, “Lawd, Jesus!”

      Sam apologized profusely, but the woman’s godliness had sailed out the window. She swatted his arm with her fan and called him a fool under her breath.

      When the service was over, the hoodwinked usher cornered Sam in the pew and gave him a good tongue-lashing. By the time she was done, the reverend and his family were standing on the church steps shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with the parishioners.

      Sam thought of joining the line of congregants, but decided against it. The time didn’t seem quite right, and besides, the barber’s discouraging words had rattled his confidence. Sam would have to repair it before he moved forward.

      That night, unable to sleep, Sam went down to the Ocmulgee. The river had teeth, so he hung back amongst the saplings, a safe enough distance between him and the alligators trolling the riverbanks for food. Overhead, a family of bats swooped and screeched in the milky glow of the quarter moon; the blanket of leaves on the ground crackled with foraging insects and snakes.

      He stood for hours pondering the murky waters. In time, his mother’s words echoed in his mind: Son, if you take your problems to the water, she will solve them for you.

      His mother had never told a lie. Within minutes, Sam felt able.

      Chapter 4

      The following Sunday, Sam marched confidently into the church and took a seat in the pew directly behind Emma’s mother and brothers. When the reverend directed the congregation to greet their church family, Louisa’s eyebrows climbed at Sam’s strong grip and too-wide grin.

      After service, he went to stand beneath a flourishing hickory tree as Emma and her parents said their Sunday farewells.

      When Emma started down the church steps, leaving her family behind, he straightened his back and walked boldly toward her.

      “Good morning to you, Miss Emma.”

      Emma blushed. “And to you, Mr. . . . um.”

      “Sam. Sam Elliott.” He extended his hand.

      “Nice to meet you, Mr. Elliott.”

      “Likewise,” Sam said. “Have a blessed day.” And with that, he turned and abruptly walked off, leaving Emma frowning.

      “Now that was strange,” she mumbled to herself.

      * * *

      Strange, but deliberate.

      Sam knew he couldn’t come at Emma full-on. He had to plant a seed and wait for it to sprout.

      The following Sunday, when service was over, Sam joined the line of congregants. When he reached Emma, he barely glanced at her as he took her hand into his, wished her a blessed day, and then fled. Sam did this for three consecutive weeks. The fourth week, he didn’t attend church service at all.

      By Tuesday, word reached him that the reverend’s daughter was asking around town about him.

      “Yeah, what she asking?”

      “Who your people. Where you live. What you do.”

      “Is that right?”

      On the fifth Sunday, Sam arrived at the church early enough to snag a seat in the front pew. When Emma looked up from the organ keys and spotted his smiling face, she became all thumbs. Flustered, she stumbled clumsily through the last scale of “All God’s Chillun Got Wings,” garnering annoyed glances from Lucille and other members of the choir.

      After service, Emma took her place in the receiving line alongside her mother, distractedly greeting parishioners as she searched for Sam’s brown face.

      But that Sunday, Sam wasn’t in the line. He was across the street, secretly watching her.

      Afterward, he trailed Emma and Lucille to Schlesinger’s Confectionary, a place popular with the young after-church crowd. When Emma and Lucille exited the store, each holding a waffle cone piled high with vanilla ice cream, Sam finally made himself known by sidling up alongside the pair and offering a sunny, “Good day, ladies.”

      Emma’s face brightened. “Good day to you too,” she called back to him as he passed.

      “He the one?” Lucille asked.

      Emma’s face warmed. “Yes!”

      Chapter 5

      Emma couldn’t be seen keeping time with a man who wasn’t her father or one of her three brothers. It wasn’t proper behavior for a Christian girl, especially the daughter of a minister.

      Since Lucille’s character had already been sullied—what with the low-down music she sang and the paint she wore on her face—she had nothing to lose and so volunteered to play decoy for Sam and Emma.

      Lucille was with them on Saturday mornings at the open-air farmers market, as they grinned