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-An Honorable Man-
Betty snaked her arm around Agnes' waist. "Come on. Let's move over to the piano so folks can get by." They were drawing a lot of attention to themselves, and Betty thought impeding foot traffic in and out of the place would only make it worse. She sat on her piano bench, making room for Agnes to sit next to her.
Ruby stood, resting her arm on the glossy black top of the instrument. "Heavens, Agnes. You're telling me you were robbed, right out in broad daylight?"
Agnes nodded, brushing away a tear with the back of her hand. "Yes. Thank goodness I'd already stashed most of my week's pay at home. I doubt I'll ever get my things back."
Betty asked, "Was there anything valuable in there?"
"A few dollars, a pair of earrings, my makeup."
"Doesn't sound too bad," Ruby remarked. "Are you sure you want to stay and work your shift?"
"Yes. I need to distract myself." Agnes gave her a weak little smile. "Plus, I need to earn back that twelve dollars."
Betty gave her a squeeze, hoping to comfort her. "You're not wearing your grandmother's cameo."
Agnes absently stroked her fingertips over the bare hollow of her throat. "It's funny. I was walking down the street, mentally kicking myself for forgetting to put it on, when the man grabbed me. Turns out it's lucky I left it at home."
Ruby sighed. "What's this world coming too? Grown men, out terrorizing ladies in the middle of the day." She shook her head. "Are you absolutely sure you want to work today, Agnes?"
"Absolutely." She stood, giving Ruby a quick hug. "Let me call the police and file a report, but as soon as I'm done with that, I'm ready to work."
"You're a real pistol." Ruby winked at her, and the two walked away, headed for the kitchen.
Betty sighed. It pained her to think of what Agnes must have gone through. She looked to the window, wondering if the culprit was anywhere nearby. What did he look like? Would he strike again?
Warner sidled up to the piano then, silently assessing her for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry about...earlier."
She noted his reluctance to elaborate, but they both knew what he referred to. "No harm done."
He seemed to relax a bit. Catching her gaze, he asked, "Aren't you about to leave for the day?"
"Yes." Her shift most weekdays started at nine and ended at one after the lunch rush died down.
"I, um, couldn't help overhearing what happened to the other waitress, and, I was wondering..." He swallowed hard.
"Wondering what?" Curiosity drove her to prod him to finish his sentence.
"I thought...you might...I'd like to walk you home." He tugged at the collar of the robin's egg blue work shirt he wore. "If that's amenable."
She blinked a few times, mulling over the question. It was true that she wasn't terribly keen on walking alone, in light of Agnes' ordeal.
"If nothing else, you know my reflexes are quick and my protective instincts are strong." He gave her a cute little half smile.
A giggle escaped her mouth just before her hand flew up to cover it. "I certainly can't argue with that."
As if sensing and feeding off her amusement, he gave her a full smile, showing off his pearly white teeth. "Then you'll let me walk with you?"
She thought his offer over for a moment. It was generous of him to make such a gesture, and she saw no reason she shouldn't accept. I've known Warner for years. I'd certainly feel safer walking with him than with taking my chances alone out there.
She looked up at him, standing there, noting the way he looked down at the floor, and the subtle way he shifted his weight from side to side. She didn't have to look around to know the gossips were watching; their scrutiny felt as palpable and annoying as an itchy wool sweater. She took a deep breath. "Yes, Warner. I appreciate the offer, and I'm happy to walk home with you."
He perked right up. "Wonderful."
"Just let me get my things together and punch my time card." She started gathering up her sheet music, sliding the sheaves of paper into a stack.
"I'll wait for you by the door." He made his way toward the exit.
Retrieving the leather portfolio she kept in the small drawer built into her piano bench, she placed the sheet music in it and tucked it back into the drawer beneath her. She brushed a hand over the skirt of her dress to disperse the wrinkles, then walked down the short corridor past the kitchen and restrooms to the employee break room.
In the break room, Ruby was seated at her desk in the far corner, writing. Glancing up from her work, she stifled a yawn with her palm. "You headed out, Betty?"
"Yes, Ruby." She approached the metal timecard holder affixed to the walk, took out her card and inserted it into the slot of the timeclock. The old machine was notoriously fickle, and one never knew when it would roar to life. After she waited several beats for the punch, she asked, "Do you really think Agnes is all right?"
Ruby shrugged. "You know Agnes. She's not one to tell us her life story. She says she's fine, so I've got to take her word for it."
The machine groaned and jumped as it impressed the time on her card. She tucked it back into its slot. "I hope she's being honest."
"Don't worry, honey. Me and the rest of the staff will be looking out for her." Ruby tucked her ink pen into the base of her bun. "What about you? You gonna be alright walking by yourself?"
She blushed. "I'm... not going to be by myself."
Ruby's perfectly groomed brow lifted. "Oh?"
"Warner offered to walk me home." She looked away from Ruby's surprised face as she got her brown wool coat and matching purse off the coat rack in the corner near the time clock.
"So he was concerned for you, then. That explains why he was hovering while we were talking to Agnes." Ruby leaned forward over her desk. "An honorable man, that one. No surprise, though. Takes an honorable man to fight for a country that don't give him the same respect as a scarecrow."
Thinking about Ruby's words for a moment, Betty slipped into her coat. "I'd better be going. He's waiting for me."
"See you tomorrow, honey."
"Bye, Ruby." Draping the strap of her purse over her wool-shrouded shoulder, she left the break room and returned to the front. She could see Warner, leaning against the wall by the front door, looking out through the glass pane. She stopped a moment to watch him from the hallway, just out of sight. He was just as handsome in profile as he was head-on. The strong line of his bearded jaw was set as if he were in deep thought. She wondered what he might be thinking about. Was it something pleasant? Or something too terrible to say aloud?
Remembering that they needed to get going, she walked over to him.
He straightened as she approached, offering his bent arm. "Ready?"
Nodding, she slipped her arm into his. Ignoring the gasps and the whispers of the diners, she walked through the door he held open for her without a backward glance.
***
-The House on Royal Lane-
THE COOL AFTERNOON air grazed Warner's face as he walked arm in arm with Betty. Having her near him, with the breeze bringing the fresh floral scent of her perfume to his nose, made the day seem much brighter.
"You're still living in the same place, right?" He thought she did but wanted to be sure before they went too far from the Cashwell.
She nodded. "Yep. Still on Royal Lane."
He recalled the place, about two blocks over from his own modest home on Aristocrat Way. When his parents had moved down to North Carolina to take care of his father's grandparents, they'd left Warner there to look after his childhood home. Now it seemed his parents would remain in Raleigh, and the house now belonged to him.
They walked in companionable silence down Fourth Street, going around the corner at the intersection with Raynor Road. The King's Court neighborhood, where they both lived, was a good five blocks away.
"Let's go this way." She pointed toward the next intersection, Raynor and Martin Avenue.
He knew it would be just a hair faster than his preferred route, a more scenic trip past Carlton Park. Still, this was his first opportunity to spend any time alone with her, and he certainly didn't want to spend it arguing. "If you insist."
Silence fell between them as they waited to cross the street at Martin Avenue. As she stepped down from the curb, he heard the approaching roar of an engine and swiveled his head in the direction of the sound. His years spent performing complex repairs on both private vehicles and on Uncle Sam's tank fleet. The experience had made it easy for him to identify the vehicle by sound.
It's a Monobloc. Eight cylinders. Probably a Cadillac.
"There's a car coming." He said the words aloud but wasn't sure if she heard him.
Moments later, a fast-moving black Cadillac swung around the corner. Instinct kicked in again, and he extended his arm in front of Betty to halt her steps.
The Caddy raced by, cutting through the chilly wind and sweeping her curls to one side of her head as it passed. He kept his arm there for a few tense seconds as the car flew by. Once he made sure the way was clear, he dropped his arm.
She blew out a breath once they were safely on the other side of the road. "My. That's the second time today you've protected me."
He wasn't sure the first time counted since she hadn't been in any real danger, but he nodded and accepted her statement. "That man was driving much too fast. I'm just glad I was with you."
"Here I was worried about the purse snatcher. It seems you're aware of every danger that could befall a girl walking the streets of Fox Den."
He pressed his hand against her shoulder to gently shift her path, to keep her heel from getting caught in the opening of a manhole cover. "I suppose you could say that."
She smiled shook her head. "Tell me, Warner. Did anything exciting happen at the Lion's Lair after I left?"
He shrugged. "Not much of anything interesting that I can recall." She'd graduated one year ahead of him from Fox Den Central High- home of the Fighting Lions. The basketball team made it to the regional finals, but got pushed out by East Richmond Prep before they could make it to state."
"I was away at Howard."
He nodded. "I'd heard you went away to school but didn't know where, or what you studied."
"Mama and Dad insisted I go there to study education. They said it was the 'respectable career choice' for me." She sighed, looking off into the distance. "Music has always been the thing I loved most, so they agreed to let me minor in classical piano."
"Did you ever use your teaching certificate?"
She nodded. "Sure. Went over to Alexandria and taught music in the elementary school. Lasted one year before I couldn't stand it any longer. "
"Surely it wasn't the children that did you in?" Though they hadn't spent very much time together as classmates, he'd never known Betty to be impatient or unreasonable. If anything, she seemed like someone who would enjoy the company of youngsters.
"No, of course not. The little ones were a delight, for the most part. Our children just aren't given the same educational opportunities as the white children, and I just couldn't abide it."
"Sounds familiar." He knew immediately what she meant. He'd experienced similar prejudice firsthand in the military. White units were given far better uniforms, lodging, and equipment than Black soldiers, yet all were expected to be equally willing to give their lives in battle.
"What about you? You didn't enlist right after graduation, did you?"
"No." He shook his head. "Spent a couple of years working side by side with my father at Culbertson's Body Shop. He was able to get me a job there since he was a supervisor. When my parents went down to North Carolina to see about my grandparents, he left his job."
"And you didn't stay on at Culbertson's?"
He released a bitter chuckle. "Old man Culbertson wasn't too fond of me. He only hired me on as a favor to my father. As soon as my father was gone, he let me go." His memories of the months following losing his job were a blur of moving around northeast Virginia, boarding and taking rooms wherever he could. "I was a bit of a wanderer for a while after that. Even went down to North Carolina with the family. But with my parents, grandparents, and two uncles already living in a two-bedroom house, it got crowded, mighty fast."
She looked his way, her head cocked to the side as if she were analyzing what he said. "I can understand that. It was four girls to a room in my dormitory at Howard the first year, and by the end of the first semester I was fit to be tied."
He chuckled, marveling at her ability to take his unpleasant memories and soften them with humor, simply by sharing a bit of her own experience.
As they reached Royal Lane, he slowed his steps a bit. He realized he didn't want their walk to be over; didn't want to have to leave the pleasure of her company. No one in town had held any meaningful conversation with him, at least not since he'd returned from the front. Were they afraid to speak to him, or did they simply think him too simple or unstable to carry on a conversation? He didn't know. Still, walking and talking with her had been a refreshing break from the solitude and silence he'd been locked in since he came back to Fox Den.
At times, he wondered if he should have gone back to North Carolina, where his family was. Would it be better to live in cramped quarters with family, than to live alone here, where no one seemed to recognize his humanity anymore?
She stopped by the whitewashed gate, gesturing to the split level brick house. "We're here."
He gave her a small smile. "See? I got you home safe, just like I said I would."
"You did. Thank you, Warner." Her eyes held his for a moment. "I enjoyed our time together."
"So did I." He reached for her hand, grasping it loosely. Lifting it, he pressed his lips against the delicate skin of the back of her hand. He let her hand go, looking up to her face in time to see the color flash through her cheeks.
"I'll see you around." The words tumbled out in a hasty whisper as she unlatched the gate and slipped through it.
The gate swung shut behind her, and he watched her dash toward the house, wondering what had spooked her.
When he saw her mother, standing in the screen door and looking none too pleased, he understood. With a wave in Mrs. Daniels' direction, he turned and departed.
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