That night, our house was mostly quiet. Mama didn’t even offer up her usual dinnertime small talk. The windows were open and the radio was off, but outside, crickets were creating music and lightning bugs were making their nightly summertime appearance. The tick of the grandfather clock seemed louder than usual.
“You think he left already?” I asked as I helped with the dishes.
“Dunno,” Daddy replied. “Hope not. I have those car papers for him.”
“What if he forgot?”
“Not likely. Havin’ those papers is pretty crucial, especially since he won’t likely be back anytime soon.”
“Can we drive over there and see?”
He folded up the newspaper. “It’s mighty important to you, isn’t it, Gabriel?”
“Yessir, it is.”
And before I knew it, the windows had been closed, and we, including Mama, were inside the car, headed to Meriwether’s house.
“His car’s still there!” I exclaimed as we drove up. I was so happy, I wanted to cry.
The two pastors were still there too, but they smiled as soon as they saw us. “Evenin’, Pastors,” Daddy said. “This is my wife, Agatha.”
“Evenin’, ma’am,” they replied.
We were all standing on the porch when Meriwether opened the door. His wife, Phoebe, and Abigail huddled in close beside him. Pastor Honeywell stood behind them.
“We were just comin’ to see y’all, but y’all got here first, huh?” Abigail said.
Meriwether grinned, opened the screen door, and welcomed us inside.
“Gabriel was worried that you’d already left,” Mama explained.
“Would never leave town without sayin’ goodbye to friends,” he replied.
“Before I forget,” Daddy told him as he reached into his pocket, “got those title papers for the car in your name, and the registration.”
Meriwether took the papers, examined them, and smiled. “Ain’t this somethin’.”
“Wanna thank y’all for everything,” Phoebe said. “Our time here has ended sooner than expected and certainly not in the way we’d planned, but Birdsong has some fine folks.”
“My wife is right. Thank you, Jake, for the opportunity you gave me . . . and for the automobile.” Meriwether patted my shoulder before continuing, “Gabriel’s very much like you . . . kindhearted and respectful. Y’all have a right to be mighty proud. And sorry to leave you so sudden-like without another mechanic, but Pastor says it’s likely when word gets out about me bein’ at the garage when Lucas died, there’s bound to be trouble.”
“I’ll make out fine . . . Might even be able to lure the fella who went up to Raleigh to come back. Word is his romance didn’t work out,” Daddy told him.
Pastor looked at his watch. “Hate to interrupt such pleasant farewells, but it’s ’bout that time. Y’all got your Green Book, Phoebe? It’s not safe for y’all to travel that far without it.”
“Got it right here,” she replied, and displayed it for him to see. And then the Hunters—Meriwether, Phoebe, and even Abigail—glanced around their parlor one last time.
The ’36 Chevy was packed so full, there was barely room in the back seat for Abigail, but she squeezed in and grinned.
“Likely we won’t cross paths again anytime soon,” Meriwether commented as he settled in behind the steering wheel. “Even though my wife and I still have family in Charleston, Michigan’s quite a drive from Carolina.”
“And cold with lotsa snow in the wintertime,” Abigail said.
“Lotsa snow is something you know a lot about, right?” I reminded Meriwether.
“Sure thing. You remember the story, Gabriel. We had a lot of snow at the Battle of the Bulge.”
“I remember, and you know what I hope?” I said.
“What’s that, Gabriel?” Meriwether asked.
“That one day there’ll be a parade for you and all the other colored heroes too.”
He scanned the starry sky. “My heart wonders if that could ever be, but I’ll hold on to your hope. After all, you were right about me havin’ a car someday, weren’t you?”
I chuckled. “Yessir, I was.”
As he backed the car out of the driveway, everyone waved, and as it slowly disappeared into the darkness, I thought about what he’d taught me about seeing things more clearly when we look at them through more eyes than just our own. I stood there and imagined myself peering through Meriwether’s eyes and realized he was heading off to what he hoped would be a better place with a better future. But through my eyes, I was losing a friend.
This allowed me to be happy and sad at the same time.
And that’s why I was smiling when the tears came.