The Bernice L. McFadden Collection by Bernice L. McFadden Read Free Book Online Page B

accompanied her father on his collection rounds. Same as always, she rode with her feet dangling out of the truck window. But now those pretty toes were adorned with pink nail polish.
    Arthur parked the truck on the road, in the shade. He turned off the ignition and before he could reach for the door handle, Melinda was out of the truck.
    A look of astonishment perched on his face. “What are you doing?”
    “Coming along.”
    Barbara Payne met them at the door.
    “Afternoon,” she said, and then directly to Melinda: “Hello, so nice to finally see you … err … meet you. Please come in.”
    They followed her into the house. Melinda looked around at the modest surroundings. The sitting room wasn’t much bigger than her own bedroom and everything— couch, chair, woven throw rug—seemed to be a variation of the color brown.
    “Please, have a seat,” Mrs. Payne said as she hurried to the couch and fluffed the one limp pillow that graced it. “John is out back fiddling with something.” Her speech was hurried. “We weren’t expecting you this early. I’ll go out and get him.”
    Father and daughter sat down. Melinda wondered if she was in the very spot where Cole sat. She closed her eyes and conjured up the vision.
    “Melinda?” Arthur’s voice was cold. “What in the world are you doing?”
    Her eyes snapped open. “Nothing.”
    Barbara reappeared. “He’s coming now. Can I get you all something to drink?”
    Arthur shook his head. “No thanks, I gotta get back home soon. Got family coming in from Miami.”
    “Miami,” Barbara repeated in a dreamy voice, as if Arthur had said, I got family coming in from the moon.
    Melinda said, “I’d like something to drink, Mrs. Payne.”
    “You do?” Arthur uttered.
    “Yeah.”
    Barbara scurried off. When she returned with a tall glass of lemonade, her husband was handing over the rent money.
    Arthur counted the money, swiped it across the leg of his trousers, folded it, and stuffed it into his pocket.
    Melinda’s eyes darted from one corner to the next. Where was Cole? She attempted to stretch the time by taking small sips of lemonade. If she did it right, she could make that drink last for more than half an hour.
    Barbara noticed how little Melinda was drinking. “Is it too tart, dear?”
    “No, ma’am,” Melinda muttered without looking at her.
    Arthur scratched his large belly. “Come on, Melinda, we gotta go.”
    The daughter rolled her eyes and handed Barbara the glass. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I do hope we’ll see you again.”
    Melinda offered Barbara a small, disappointed smile. She’d painted her toes, dusted her body with an extra layer of the perfumed talc, and even washed her hair with her mother’s special—off-limits to her—shampoo. So much work and risk and not even a Cole sighting. Melinda was deflated.
    She knew she wouldn’t be able to survive thirty more days without seeing Cole Payne. And besides, school was due to start in another two weeks, and she would no longer be able to make the collection rounds with her father. Which of course meant that she would probably never see Cole Payne again.
    Melinda couldn’t ask either of her brothers to drive her out—there would be too many questions asked. She didn’t have any friends to speak of and the local buses didn’t go that far away.
    Melinda looked down at her feet. She could walk, but in the heat she was sure she’d melt away in under an hour.
    Her mind ticked.
    There was her bicycle. A brand-new Schwinn she’d gotten as a birthday gift and had only ridden twice.
    She smiled.
    The following weekend, Melinda announced that she was going to the library. Her mother, Connie, was in the kitchen instructing their maid in the art of stringing a rump roast.
    “Okay, see you later,” Connie sang without taking her eyes off the raw meat.
    Melinda rolled the bicycle down the driveway and onto the street. She mounted it and began to peddle. The bicycle