Native Son - Richard Wright [59]
“No’m. You see,” Bigger said, feeling his way, “he was in it….”
“Who?”
“The gentleman.”
“Oh; yes. Take the trunk on. I suppose Mary was up to some of her pranks.”
He got into the car and pulled it down the driveway to the street, then headed northward over the snow. He wanted to look back and see if Peggy was watching him, but dared not. That would make her think that he thought that something was wrong, and he did not want to give that impression now. Well, at least he had one person thinking it as he wanted it thought.
He reached the La Salle Street Station, pulled the car to a platform, backed into a narrow space between other cars, hoisted the trunk up, and waited for a man to give him a ticket for the trunk. He wondered what would happen if no one called for it. Maybe they would notify Mr. Dalton. Well, he would wait and see. He had done his part. Miss Dalton had asked him to take the trunk to the station and he had done it.
He drove as hurriedly back to the Daltons’ as the snow-covered streets would allow him. He wanted to be back on the spot to see what would happen, to be there with his fingers on the pulse of time. He reached the driveway and nosed the car into the garage, locked it, and then stood wondering if he ought to go to his room or to the kitchen. It would be better to go straight to the kitchen as though nothing had happened. He had not as yet eaten his breakfast as far as Peggy was concerned, and his coming into the kitchen would be thought natural. He went through the basement, pausing to look at the roaring furnace, and then went to the kitchen door and stepped in softly. Peggy stood at the gas stove with her back to him. She turned and gave him a brief glance.
“You make it all right?”
“Yessum.”
“You see her down there?”
“No’m.”
“Hungry?”
“A little, mam.”
“A little?” Peggy laughed. “You’ll get used to how this house is run on Sundays. Nobody gets up early and when they do they’re almost famished.”
“I’m all right, mam.”
“That was the only kick Green had while he was working here,” Peggy said. “He swore we starved him on Sundays.”
Bigger forced a smile and looked down at the black and white linoleum on the floor. What would she think if she knew? He felt very kindly toward Peggy just then; he felt he had something of value which she could never take from him even if she despised him. He heard a phone ring in the hallway. Peggy straightened and looked at him as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Who on earth’s calling here this early on a Sunday morning?” she mumbled.
She went out and he sat, waiting. Maybe that was Jan asking about Mary. He remembered that Mary had promised to call him. He wondered how long it took to go to Detroit. Five or six hours? It was not far. Mary’s train had already gone. About four o’clock she would be due in Detroit. Maybe someone had planned to meet her? If she was not on the train, would they call or wire about it? Peggy came back, went to the stove and continued cooking.
“Things’ll be ready in a minute,” she said.
“Yessum.”
Then she turned to him.
“Who was the gentleman with Miss Dalton last night?”
“I don’t know, mam. I think she called him Jan, or something like that.”
“Jan? He just called,” Peggy said. She tossed her head and her lips tightened. “He’s a no-good one, if there ever was one. One of them anarchists who’s agin the government.”
Bigger listened and said nothing.
“What on earth a good girl like Mary wants to hang around with that crazy bunch for, God only knows. Nothing good’ll come of it, just you mark my word. If it wasn’t for that Mary and her wild ways, this household would run like a clock. It’s such a pity, too. Her mother’s the very soul of goodness. And there never was a finer man than Mr. Dalton…. But later on Mary’ll settle down. They all do. They think they’re missing something unless they kick up their heels when they’re young and foolish….”
She brought a bowl of hot oatmeal and milk to him and he began to eat. He had difficulty in swallowing, for he had no appetite. But he forced