The Bernice L. McFadden Collection. Bernice L. McFadden

      It went on like that for some weeks, until Cole finally understood that it was over. He didn’t accept it though, and remained awake at night trying to figure out ways he could get Sissy back. The boy was so distraught, so out of his mind with longing, that he took to lying in the field beneath the afternoon sun dressed in nothing but his drawers. Why? Well, to get dark, of course!

      He stupidly thought that if he was a darker shade of white, Sissy’s father might accept him. But all he got for his effort was sunburn and a slight case of sun poisoning.

      Cole’s parents didn’t know what was wrong with him. His father told him that he’d take him out to the shed and beat the sense back into him if he didn’t shape up and stop acting crazy.

      Turns out, Cole didn’t need a beating from his father, all he needed was to see Sissy strolling hand-inhand with Mac Gosling, and just like that his broken heart turned to dust. You know, dust barely has any feeling at all.

      A few months after the sighting, Sissy and Mac Gosling married. Throughout the better part of her marriage, and certainly for as long as her father breathed air, Sissy did not dare allow her mind to run on Cole Payne. But I know that when Edgar passed away, and he lay serene and silent in his casket, unable to dish out penalty or retribution, Sissy did allow her mind to wander back to that amazing spring and loved-filled summer, and the memories raised a smile amidst her tears.

      Cole, well, he let go of the idea of having Sissy as his wife, but try as he might, he couldn’t push the memories out of reach. Sometimes nostalgia got the best of him and he’d try to recreate the magic they had. It was despicable and embarrassing to watch him usher one white girl after the other to that fence.

      He told them to laugh and say: Your mama made johnnycakes; they taste like a little piece of heaven.

      The girls, they did as he asked.

      Anything for Cole Payne.

      “Your mama made johnnycakes; they taste like a little piece heaven.”

      Again.

      “Your mama made johnnycakes; they taste like a little piece of heaven.”

      Again!

      “Your mama made johnnycakes; they taste like a little piece of heaven!”

      The melody was never quite right and the girls always cried when they saw the regret shining in his eyes.

       Chapter Ten

      Arthur Thompson owned the land that both Cole and Sissy’s family sharecropped. For years, Cole had witnessed Arthur come by once a month to collect the rent and part of the crop. He was a short man with red cheeks and sparkly blue eyes. He always counted the rent money aloud. Afterward, he’d swipe the bills across the leg of his trousers, before folding the stash in half and shoving it into his pocket. Cole took that as a slight. It was as if the sweat his family put into earning the money had soiled the cash, rendering it too dirty for Arthur’s pocket.

      Other than that, Arthur seemed like a decent man. Oftentimes he’d sit on the porch with Cole’s parents, telling stories and crude jokes.

      Arthur had two sons and a daughter. The girl, Melinda, sometimes rode out with her father on collection day. She would sit up front with her bare feet sticking out the window. Sometimes she wore shorts, other times soft skirts that fluttered in the breeze.

      She always stayed in the truck, and Cole’s mother, Barbara, thought that it was rude how the girl never came out to speak to them.

      “Would your daughter care for some lemonade?” Barbara ventured one day.

      “Aww, she’s all right. She got a Coke in there if she get thirsty.”

      “She don’t ever get out the truck. Is she shy?”

      Arthur’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Shy ain’t the word. If she could live her life inside her bedroom, she would,” he whispered. “If I didn’t bring her out on my rounds with me, the child would never get any fresh air or sun.”

      Cole’s mother huffed. “Well, that can’t be good. What she do in the house all day?”

      “Read.”

      “Oh.”

      On one particular day, when Melinda felt her father was dawdling way too long, she angrily honked the horn. Arthur sighed, rose, and patted his money-filled pockets.

      “I guess that means it’s time to go.”

      “Aw right now,” Arthur said as he rose. “I’ll see y’all next month.” Halfway down the walkway, he spun around. “I think I need to use your facilities before I head off.”

      Cole’s father pointed toward the side of the house. “It’s just ’round back.”

      Cole waited until Arthur was out of sight before he announced that he was going to introduce himself to Arthur Thompson’s impolite daughter.

      Barbara giggled. “Yes, you should. Be nice though.”

      At the truck, Cole stuck his face through the open driver’s-side window. Melinda had her head buried in a book, and so when he yelped, “Hey, how you doing?” it startled her, and the book fell from her hands and tumbled down to the floor. “I’m Cole Payne,” he announced thrusting his hand at her.

      The flustered Melinda said nothing. Her eyes searched frantically for her father.

      “And you’re Melinda, right?”

      The young woman shook her head no and then yes.

      Cole’s hand hung in the air between them. “This is where we shake and you say something back,” he laughed.

      “Yes, of course.” Melinda hesitantly extended her hand. “I’m Melinda Thompson. Pleased to meet you.”

      Cole grabbed hold of her hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Nice to meet-cha, Melinda Thompson!” He noticed that she had her father’s brilliant blue eyes and curly blond hair. The square chin and thin-as-a-line nose, Cole assumed she’d inherited from her mother.

      “Oh, uhm … yes … you too. I mean, me too … I mean …”

      Cole released her hand and sniffed the air. “It smells nice in here. Is that you?”

      Melinda blushed. “It’s the perfumed talc I’m wearing.”

      Cole made a face. “Talc? What’s that?”

      Melinda leaned over, retrieved her book from the floor, and placed it in her lap. “Powder.”

      “Powder?” Cole scratched his chin. “What kinda powder? Like gunpowder?”

      Melinda stammered. “No-n—”

      Cole waved his hand at her. “I’m just pulling your leg, Melinda,” he laughed.

      She cautiously joined in on his laughter. “Oh, of course.”

      “Well, it was nice to finally meet you and see you.” He fashioned his thumb and index finger into a gun, aimed at her, winked, and clucked his tongue. “I thought you were just a pair of pretty feet.”

      Melinda’s cheeks glowed.

      “See ya.” And with that, Cole thumped the top of the truck and trotted off.

      Melinda watched him until her father’s bloated belly floated into view.

      “What you staring at so hard?” Arthur asked as he climbed into the truck.

      “Nothing.”

      Arthur turned the ignition and popped the clutch. The truck jerked forward and then settled into an easy roll.

      Back at home, Cole’s smiling face swam circles