Lay that Trumpet in Our Hands by Susan Carol McCarthy Read Free Book Online Page B

have it.
    “Ah ’preciates what you saying, and Ah’m proud to call you friends ’cause you’s quality folk; but you’s in the South and got to get use to they ways. If Ah was to call you jus’ Warren and Lizbeth, the white folks ’round here bound to think
you’s
crazy, and they’d laugh at you and leave you alone. Worse’n that, they’d take a notion that
Ah’s
getting uppity and that don’t bring nothing but trouble, Ah
mean
!”
    Eventually my parents surrendered to Luther’s logic, yet, in his way, Luther rebelled against it, pruning the customary
Mistuh
down to
Mist
’ for Daddy, grafting
Miz
and
Lizbeth
into a single word.
    What is it, Luther?” Daddy asks, sitting in the chair nearest the piano bench, leaning forward.
    “Armetta’s plum grief-struck over losing our Marvin. Since it was the Klan that kilt him, and Mistuh Reed Garnet’s a member, Armetta swears she can’t never set foot in they house again. Miz Lucy Garnet’s been up to our house with they little girl crying,
please
come back, saying Mistuh Reed had nothin’ to do with it, it was the Lake County devils that kilt our boy. Armetta won’t take a listen—though she loves that li’l May Carol like her own, such a sweet child. But, Mist’Warren, Armetta’s use to working, she
needs
to work, take her mind off funeralizing. Ah’m wondering if you might have something for her to do. Not in the house. We know MizLizbeth likes to tend her own. But, maybe at the packinghouse, cleaning up, clearing out. Just enough to get by ’til she finds herself a new fam’ly to work for.”
    Daddy sits silently, thinking.
    Yes!
I think.
You must say yes!
    “We don’t usually hire help this time of year, except for Robert, who sweeps up a couple times a week. But . . . it has been several seasons since the showroom had a thorough cleaning. We could keep Armetta busy for a week or so, maybe two. That help?”
    Luther’s and my shoulders sag in relief. “Bless you, Mist’Warren. Thank you. Can she start tomorrow?”
    “Eight o’clock, before it gets too hot.”
    Luther looks down at the keyboard, then back at Daddy.
    “They’s something else . . .”
    Daddy’s nod tells him to continue.
    “Ah had a visit from Mistuh Harry T. Moore. You know who he is?”
    “Leads the N-double A-C-P over in Brevard County, doesn’t he?” Daddy says. “Helped the Negro teachers get a bigger paycheck?”
    N.A.A.C.P.? Marvin used to joke that those letters meant Ne
groes Annoyed by the Abuse of Colored People.
    “That’s him, ’cept he’s the State leader now. Mr. Moore heard ’bout Marvin and come to see me and Armetta, asking what the authorities been doing ’bout it. Ah told him Constable Watts says he’s ‘looking into it,’ which is ’bout like a diamondback wonderin’ where that rattlin’ noise come from.”
    “Exactly.”
    “So Mistuh Harry T. Moore say he talk to Mistuh Thurgood Marshall ’bout what happened. You know him? Head lawyer for the national N-double A-C-P in New York City?”
    “Know
of
him.”
    “Mistuh Moore say since we was together when we found Marvin, Mistuh Marshall be wanting to talk to you, Mist’ Warren. Mistuh Moore say Ah need to ask if you’d be willing to talk to them.”
    “Of course, Luther. I’d welcome the opportunity to speak with either of those gentlemen.”
    “Mistuh Moore say Mistuh Marshall been a good friend of the coloreds in Florida. He say Mistuh Marshall has big friends in Washington, D.C., might be able to get the local authorities to pay more attention to this.”
    “Tell Mr. Moore I’ll be happy to help, any way I can.”
    “The hang of it is,” Luther says, his voice all of a sudden choked, and his eyes glimmer, “Jerry Tee heard some of those ol’ Crackers talkin’ at the gas station. They say the Klan wasn’t even after Marvin. They just confused him with somebody else in a white Cadillac with New York plates.”
    Luther’s head drops, his shoulders fold in on it as he