After Doc left, Junia’s long, quavering bray sounded and I peeked out the window, surprised to see Queenie.
She nudged her mount closer to the porch. “I’m going to pick up my last pay,” she said and slipped down off her horse, then stopped, pressed a hand to her chest. “Lord love Betsy, what has happened to you, honey? You lost your color. Plumb lost your blueberry now.”
It was said without meanness, but her words still made me flush. I rolled up my sleeves; the late June weather was sticky and hot.
“Mmm-hmm.” She glanced at my arms.
“Doc gave me some pills to try. Reckon they’s working.”
“Well, they sure ’nough work. Lord.” She grabbed my hand and inspected. “As if you wasn’t pretty enough before, you’re a’might prettier now. All of you!”
I blushed even harder at her compliment.
“Come on. You must come to town with me and show those bossy ladies your pretty self. They’ll have themselves a passel of kittens and scratch each other up just as sharp when they get a look-see. Especially that ol’ stinky polecat pussy, Miss Harriett.” She tugged at my hand, laughing. “Come on, it’s Thursday, and you only have to go to your outpost today.”
“I was going to pick up my pay later, but I reckon going early won’t harm none. Let me get your dictionary.”
She held up her palm. “You keep it, honey, ’cause where I’m going, they’ll have rooms full.”
“But it was your pa’s.”
“My dear papa would be mighty pleased if you were the keeper of the words. I would too, and besides, you’ll keep giving me your words. Only difference is you’ll be posting them in letters.”
“Letters. Liaison, litany, lithe, luminary, luxuriant,” I said my latest new words, smiling as they flew musically out into the air.
“Don’t you have yourself one fine, fine lexicon,” Queenie said, just as proud. “You’ve made it up to your Ls and so quick. Keep it, honey. We can’t have you stuck in the Ls like that.”
“Much obliged. I’ll take good care of it and write you.”
“Maybe you can visit me one day. Be real nice to see the city together.”
“Sure would be something,” though I’d never have the money for such an extravagance.
“You try and come visit, honey.” She patted my arm. “It’d be real good to see different folk other than hillfolk.”
We rode to town. When the nausea returned, I had to stop once and dismount to empty my stomach by the path, heaving, my breaths coming hard.
“Lord,” Queenie called out and rushed up behind me. “You okay, honey? Here, let me get you something for your sour belly. Did you have yourself a proper morning meal?” She fussed over me, swept the hair back from my face.
“It’ll pass once the medicine takes good root. I’m fine,” I said between shallow breaths.
In a minute, she pressed a jam-packed biscuit into my hand and ordered me to eat.
I pushed it away. “I’ll not take your food.” I wouldn’t dare. It would be thieving, and all because of my vanity. The thought knotted my belly, and I pressed a fist into it.
Queenie laid a soft hand on my shoulder. “You will because I know plenty, know’d you’d give me yours. Eat, honey.”
I sat on the ground and ate while she made sure I gobbled every bite. When I wiped away the last crumb, I felt stronger and was ready to journey on.
Queenie ordered me to rest a few more minutes, and by the time we mounted, a half hour had passed and I felt pert, excited, and scared about how folks would look at me, what they’d say.
Queenie chatted about her new job. “To think I’ll be there in time to celebrate Independence Day. My independence.” She smiled. “I reckon that city’ll have itself a grand parade.” She shot me a look. “You should go to Troublesome’s this year.”
“I’ve never been but once.” I ticked off the eleven days until the Fourth.
“I reckon they couldn’t stop you now that you lost the color.”
I chewed on the notion.
Queenie pulled back to her job. “I aim to get myself a librarian degree.”
“A degree,” I said in awe.
“I’ve dreamed of opportunity forever,” she said. “To think how important it is for one to have chances over everything. They give the body life.”
I plucked up her words and turned them over in my mind.
She went on, “My sons and their sons will have it, and they won’t be tethered to their color, choked by the leashes of those who would cinch the tightest with the longest of ropes.”
Before today, I couldn’t imagine there would be such opportunities in my blue world. Now, my mind slipped over her bubbly talk, and it stole away to new thoughts of what might be, what I might become, dipped into fanciful worlds away from here.
Safe in my mind, I had enough courage to take those opportunities I got from books and magpie them away as my own.
We arrived in town, tied our mounts in the back of the post office, and walked into the Library Center together. Queenie chattered cheerfully and made me excited for her, for the both of us.
As I stepped inside, I smoothed my skirts and began to roll down my sleeves when Harriett spotted my face and arms. She let out a gasp, then jumped up and screamed, “Out, out, out!” Harriett stabbed a finger to the door. “I knew you had the disease in you. You was just waiting to pass it to us Godly folks. Both of you. Out! Eula…Eula, make them leave!”
Postmaster Bill poked his head around the post office’s doorway and said, “Widow Frazier? Widow Frazier’s sick.” He crooked his head back and told someone in the post office. “Sir, ya may want to see her.”
At that, Doc came up behind the postmaster, holding his mail. He pushed Bill aside. “What is it, Bill?”
Postmaster Bill pointed to me.
“What in tarnation… What’s going on?” Doc demanded, confused.
“Oh, Doc, it’s one of the coloreds. The Blue one,” Harriett screeched. “Look! She’s turned white from her disease and is going to infect us all.”
Eula, taking big gulps behind a hankie pressed over her nose, had rushed to Harriett’s side.
I wanted to turn and run for home, but Queenie latched tight onto my arm.
“I said get out,” Harriett ordered. “Get your filthy sickness away from us. You’re fired. Eula, dismiss her—”
I felt the air leave me. Queenie patted my shoulder, whispered something soft into my ear.
Doc stepped forward. “She is not sick. Mrs. Frazier is my patient, in my care, and I have declared her fit and of sound mind as any two strong men in this land.”
“But she’s white. White,” Harriett said.
“And a fine, pretty white if I’ve ever seen one. And I’ve seen myself many, Miss Hardin,” Doc snapped, glaring at her over his spectacles.
Harriett’s eyes filled with rage. She raked them over the length of me. Then her chin lifted, and I glimpsed the tilt was unspoken jealousy.
“But look at her, all of her.” Harriett pointed to my face, neck, body. “Her whole figure, her—”
“Silence, madam!” Doc barked and nailed his finger to Harriett’s face, then slowly lowered it to her belly, poking. “You, my dear, would do well health-wise to attend to your own figure, and if you cannot watch that”—he jabbed his finger again—“be forewarned, nor will any man.”
The old doc had a fury and might I’d never seen, a glint in his old eyes that rent a youthful, strong spirit.
Queenie tightened a giggle, tapped a finger to her lips.
Harriett bared her teeth and hissed.
I realized I was holding my breath and slowly released it before I fainted, or worse.
Doc thrust a hard jaw toward the assistant supervisor.
Clutching her chest, Harriett opened, then snapped her mouth shut. Her lips quivered, and a harder anger spiked in her eyes, spilling hot tears. Again, she worked her mouth, clenched a fist. Afraid, I cast my eyes downward, stepped back. She picked up her skirts and ran into the ladies’ room, slammed the door, rattling wood and windows.
Eula plopped into the nearest chair, eyes downcast, wringing her handkerchief.
“Bluet,” the doc boomed, and loud enough that I know’d Harriett heard, all of Troublesome even. “May I say you’re looking quite lovely today.”
Queenie murmured in agreement, and my face burned with pride and embarrassment. Never in my life had folks talked about me being pretty. My tongue tried to scrape off a proper thank-you, but the words stayed locked, bubbling inside like a drowning frog.
“Yes,” Doc said. “I’d wager the fairest lady in all Kentucky… Mrs. Johnson, Miss Foster.” He tipped his head to us. “Good day, ladies.” Doc slipped out the door.
I let out a ragged breath.
Eula still had her hands in her lap, folding and unfolding the hankie, as if waiting for someone to tell her what she should do next, or maybe even do it for her.
Gracious, Queenie did just that, stepped over to her and said, “Miss Foster, I’m here for my final pay, ma’am.”
“Yes, yes of course,” Eula managed hoarsely, dabbing her mouth with the handkerchief. She stood, picked up an envelope off her desk, and set it on the edge. Queenie took it.
Eula swallowed twice and said, “The—” She sniffed and took a small breath. “The Pack Horse librarians thank you for your service. Godspeed, Widow Johnson.”
Queenie gave her a tight smile, then reached over and touched my arm. “I’ll write to you, honey, as soon as I’m settled. You write me back.”
“Sure will,” I promised. And Queenie was out the door. The screen clacked twice, cheering her on.
I stared after her, thinking of the places she’d see, the people she’d meet, the opportunities she’d have. Finally, she’d be living the books she’d read about.
Eula called my name. “Widow Frazier.”
“Ma’am.”
She slid my pay envelope over to the edge. “Your pay.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” I slipped it into my pocket and headed toward the door.
Birdie strolled in with her baby hitched on a hip and stopped and turned to me, her young eyes dulled from restless nights. “Bluet, you’re—”
“White,” I said happily.
“White. Oh! You’re white.”
I nodded. “Doc gave me a cure.”
“Oh my,” she said. “So pretty, and the prettiest li’l daisy I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that right, Samuel?” She jiggled him up and down on her hip. The baby squealed with delight, poked a finger into his drooling mouth, and grinned at me. “Yessir, our Bluet’s a looker, and one the boys are gonna want to hook,” she told him teasingly. “And look at you, Samuel, already a’flirtin’.”
Harriett walked out of the ladies’ room.
“Uh-huh. One pretty lady,” Birdie said.
Harriett’s heel landed beside me. She leaned her head dangerously close to mine. “A pig in lipstick is still a stinkin’ pig,” she spat, her wet hiss spinning in the air as she swept past to her desk.
I turned. Her red eyes bored into mine. And I held them, locked, and lifted my chin two-man tall, snatching back some of the humankind that had been stolen.