The Road to Memphis by Mildred D. Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

Jeremy and answered just as quietly. “His pa and him ditched their truck on the road just past Great Faith, and we helped get them out. You know how Mr. Simms is. Didn’t show any appreciation. Jeremy just came by to thank us for what we done.”
    Papa nodded and said nothing else about Jeremy. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jeremy; he did. Jeremy always showed him respect. But to Papa’s way of thinking friendships that got too close between black and white could only lead to trouble. Papa always kept his distance with white folks, figuring that was the best way. He didn’t trust getting too close. He had told us he figured that was the best for us too. He had said long ago that he figured when childhood was over and Jeremy was a man, he would change toward us and go his own way. Even though now Jeremy was twenty, a man grown, and remained the same, Papa still was wary. He figured as long as there was breath, a body could change on you.
    Christopher-John stepped forward and sliced the silence. “Papa! You not going to say anything ’bout the car?” He knew Papa’s thinking about Jeremy, as did we all.
    Papa glanced at him, at Stacey, then stepped closer to the Ford. “Well, now, what’s this here?”
    “It’s a ’38 Ford, Papa,” I announced proudly, “and it belongs to Stacey.”
    Papa seemed not a bit surprised. His back to Stacey, Christopher-Johnand Little Man, he smiled at me and winked, then studied on the car and was silent.
    “It’s something, huh, Papa?” asked Little Man, coming along side him.
    Papa didn’t answer. Hands in his pockets, he walked slowly around the car, saying nothing.
    Stacey looked a bit anxious. He came closer, waiting on Papa’s assessment of the car. But Papa, after rounding the car, just grunted and still said nothing. Stacey looked at the car, then back at Papa. Papa’s good opinion was a mighty precious thing, not only to him, but to all of us. “Papa?” he said finally. “What do you think?”
    Papa didn’t crack a smile. “Well, now, I been hearing ’bout a new car all up and down the road. Got stopped three different times by folks braggin’ on it . . . . Seems you been showin’ it off.”
    Stacey looked away, his face solemn. “Wasn’t showing off, Papa. Was just taking folks for a ride.”
    “You sure ’bout that?”
    Stacey looked back at him, “Well, I suppose the truth is I was showing it off . . . a little.”
    Papa grunted again and walked once more around the Ford, giving it another close inspection. Stacey, Christopher-John, and Little Man all stood aside, awaiting his decision, but I knew how Papa felt. The wink had told me all. Finally he came back around and joined us. “Well, I’d say folks are right. It is something!” He smiled wide and put his arm around Stacey’s shoulders. “Now, when I’m gonna get me a ride?”
    Stacey gave Papa a joyous hug, then tossed him the keys, much as Uncle Hammer always did whenever he came down from Chicago with his new cars. “Right now, Papa!” he said.
    “Ah, now, son, look like you just finished cleaning it—”
    “Don’t matter! We’ll clean it again—”
    “That’s right, Papa!” volunteered Christopher-John, though I, myself, had no intention of chammying down this car one more time. “We don’t mind.”
    Little Man opened a back door, eager for another ride. “Papa, come on!”
    Papa laughed and got in the driver’s seat. Stacey got in the front with Papa, and I was about to get in, too, when Big Ma came down the back porch. “Now, where y’all goin’?” she yelled, hands on her hips. Then she squinted. “David, that you?”
    “Yes, ma’am, Mama!” Papa called back. “We’re just gonna take us a ride.”
    “Son, don’t y’all leave from here! Supper’s ’bout on!”
    “Won’t be but a minute, Mama! My son just done bought himself a car, and I got to take me a ride in it!”
    “Well, Cassie, don’t you leave from here! You gotta get this here table