Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [66]
It crossed Essie's mind that the woman might be lingering because she was trying to get up the nerve to ask for money, as well as the clothes. Then she remembered what Rose Neese once told her—that the only way some folks knew how to get love was to beg for things. Saying a firm good-bye, she hugged the woman, then as she closed her door silently asked the Lord to forgive her for being judgmental toward this woman whom He loved just as much as her.
Essie's eyes now fell on her desk, where a large pile of letters had accumulated, all waiting to be answered. Most of them were requests for her to join the various Negro women's groups in the city. At first she had managed to fend them off by claiming that she was a new bride and wanted to be with her husband. But now the requests had started pouring in again and Essie didn't know what to do. She didn't really have the stomach to join any of them, preferring to work with the Greater Hope Sewing Club and to socialize with more down-to-earth pastors' wives, than to get mixed up in all the influence peddling of the city's Negro elite. If she got involved in anything it would be the local chapter of Southern Christian Leadership Conference. She and Theophilus had wanted to join in some of the civil rights protests in Mississippi, but Rev. James and Bishop Jennings had asked them to work from behind the scenes, where they could be more valuable as part of the movement's organizational network than in more visible and active protest activities. But there was still plenty of work to be done—mailings and phone calls about meetings and arranging lodging for protesters passing through Memphis, as well as bake sales to help raise money.
She was just thinking about dumping all those invitations in the trash can when the doorbell rang. To her surprise, Saphronia McComb and her grandmother, Mother Harold, were standing on the porch. Lee Allie had mentioned that the two were coming to town for an Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority reunion.
But they had never set foot in her house in Charleston, and she couldn't imagine what would make them want to visit her in Memphis. As she invited them in, she didn't miss the very large diamond ring on Saphronia's hand, evidence that the rumors of her engagement to Marcel Brown were true. As much as Saphronia got on her nerves, she felt sorry for her—falling in love with a man who was a well-known womanizer and, judging by his daddy's behavior, not likely to change when they were married.
"What brings you all to my neck of the woods?" Essie asked, praying that she had a welcoming expression on her face.
Mother Harold walked into the living room and handed Essie her purse, taking in everything like she was conducting a home inspection, before settling herself on the sofa. Saphronia followed, thinking of some excuse that would enable her to see the rest of Essie's house. She figured that she would have to make a long trip to the bathroom before she left.
"Would you and Saphronia like some refreshments?" Essie asked. "I have tea, lemonade, or Kool-Aid."
Mother Harold wrinkled her nose at the thought of drinking Kool-Aid, and Essie fought back the urge to roll her eyes. Mother Harold always walked around with her nose in the air, acting like she was some rich white lady in Gone With the Wind, instead of what she was—a snooty little Negro woman living in a small town in Mississippi most people had never even heard of. She knew goodness well that Mother Harold hated Kool-Aid. She and those other "old high-yellow biddies" in the church felt that Kool-Aid was the drink of what they called "field folk."
"We will have tea with a few sprigs of mint leaves in it," Mother Harold said.
"I only have lemons," Essie replied.
Mother Harold sighed and sucked on her teeth, looking at Saphronia as if to say, "See, I told you she wouldn't have anything decent in her house."
This time Essie did roll her eyes and just went to get them some tea with lemons. She thought to herself, "I oughta not put any sugar in it. Then it'll be just right for that old nasty-acting sourpuss."