Caleb's Wars (22 page)

"My brother went off to the war," I said, slow and loud. Folks started to get quiet again. "He was wounded fighting against the Germans. They blew off his hand and blinded one eye. And now he's in one of their prisons—a bad one. He might die there!" I was practically shouting.

A woman at the next table put down her iced tea.

"We don't know what's happening to Randall, but I bet he's not in a restaurant eating with Germans!"

I heard people muttering.

"But if
they're
good enough to eat here"—I pointed to where the prisoners sat—"so am I."

Davis looked at me with cold, hard eyes, but he kept his voice calm. "It's like I said before: whites and colored don't socialize in this town, and that includes the Dixie Belle. What say you and me go outside, talk things over, and let these good people finish their dinners?"

"I'm not leaving until I get a meal."

"That's enough!" Davis growled. "Get him outta here."

Two big white men appeared behind Davis. One of them yanked me to my feet and started pushing me to the door. I looked across the room and saw Andreas staring at me. "You said you were my friend!" I shouted at him. "Do something!"

He tried to stand up, but the man next to him pushed him down.

I was dragged through the door and shoved to my knees. Davis appeared and looked down at me. Other folks stopped to watch.

"Stand up." Davis told me. I got to my feet. His men held my arms.

"Can you behave now?" Davis asked. "You better, unless you want real trouble. My men ain't gonna let go until you promise."

"I haven't done anything wrong. Randall could be dying in a Nazi camp, and you let
them
eat in there! Why?"

He just looked at me. "You all done?"

I pushed my fear back and kept going. "So if Randall showed up in his uniform and wanted dinner, you wouldn't serve him, either."

"That's right. Colored got their own places to eat in my town."

Stewart appeared beside his father.

"How come you're not off fighting?" I asked him. "All the
real
men are."

"Good question," a bystander said.

"It's because you're yellow," I told Stewart.

He came roaring at me. I tried to go for him, ready to settle things once and for all, but one of Davis's men held me back, and the other grabbed Stewart.

"Let me go! I'll kill him!" Stewart cried.

"Get back inside," Davis ordered. "Tell Voncille to cut me a piece o' lemon pie. I'll be right there."

"Just you wait, nigger!" Stewart shouted. "This ain't over by a long shot."

"I'll be ready."

"Both y'all, shut up!" Davis commanded. "Didn't I tell you to get back inside?" Stewart obeyed.

"Show's over," Davis told the curious crowd. "There ain't gonna be a fight. Go on, now."

Folks moved away, and that left Davis, his men, and me.

"Let him go," Davis told the guy holding me. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, like he was trying to be patient. "Caleb, you might not believe this, but I'm your friend."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've always been a friend to the Brown family, and to all the folks out in Toad Hop. I didn't have to get electricity out your way, but I did, 'cause I like y'all. I think a lot of Frank and Lucy—Randall, too. When I heard the news about him, I felt real bad. That's why I did all I could with Colonel Ross. You think he'd of gone to all that trouble for y'all if I hadn't asked him? Y'all are like family, and I'll do whatever I can to help you, Randall, and your folks—anybody out in Toad Hop. But you know the rules, and you got to abide by 'em. Go against the rules, and I won't lift a finger for you."

I kept my eyes fixed on the sidewalk, where a black ant was dragging a scrap of food toward the street.

Davis addressed his men. "You boys go on and have you some coffee and pie. Caleb and me are all right now."

"You sure, boss?"

Davis looked at me. "Yeah. Everything's fine."

Now it was just Davis and me.

"You've been playing a game with me for a good long time, haven't you?"

I didn't know what he meant. "Sir?"

"'Sir.' I like that. That's better. But you don't really want to call me sir, do you, now?"

I kept my eyes down.

"Look at me, goddamn it!" I did.

"That shuffling and that nigger talk you use around me—that's all an act. Like the day you came begging for a job. Somebody taught you the game real good, but they never got the most important lesson down into your
soul.
That's why you think you're just as good as a white man. That's right, ain't it?"

I wouldn't look away.

"Answer me!"

"Yes, sir. I do."

Davis's face was bright red, and his forehead was wet with sweat. He took a step toward me. "You—"

"Caleb? Mr. Lee? What in the name of—"

Pop was running across Main Street toward us. I saw Ma, Nathan, and Henry on the far sidewalk.

"Mr. Lee, what's wrong?" Pop asked.

Davis wiped his face. "Caleb and me was just having a little talk. He came into my restaurant and acted like he could eat there, so I had to remind him of a couple things. That's all."

Ma and the others came up behind Pop.

"I swear, Mr. Lee, Caleb ain't been hisself," Pop said. "He don't know what he's doin'."

"I do, too!"

"Caleb!" Pop cried. "You best apologize right now."

I turned to the others. "There are German prisoners in there eating, Ma! Andreas is in there!"

"Hush," Ma pleaded.

"No, Ma. And Randall's—"

Pop cut me off. "We all been so upset over Randall," he told Lee Davis.

"Yeah, we know," Davis replied. "He's been hurt, and captured, and we're all right sorry. I feel bad for y'all, I truly do. And I pray Randall makes it home when the war is over. Who knows? Maybe he's a war hero, gonna come home with a Bronze Star or something. But that wouldn't change things around
here.
It don't mean we can't all be friendly, work together, help each other out. But in Davisville, Georgia, the races ain't ever gonna mix, 'specially not in my restaurant."

"We understand," Pop said. "But you know how this younger generation is. They got all these ideas in they heads—"

"Pop, quit making excuses! You know I'm right. And you're wrong," I told Davis.

"I'll let that pass ... this one time," he replied. "Take your boy home, Frank. I never had a n—a colored boy talk to me the way he just did. Can't say I like it. But I'm gonna let it pass. Now you best get him home. I'm tired of his face." Davis went back into the Dixie Belle.

"Come on," Pop said, "before that son of a bitch change his mind." He put his hand on my shoulder. "You're a fool to go up against Lee Davis. But you got more guts than I do, and that's the truth."

My heart was bursting, but not with fear. "I had to do it. For Randall."

"For all of us," Ma said softly.

Pop looked inside the Dixie Belle and sighed. "I pray one day folks like us'll be able to go in a place like that and enjoy a decent meal. Sure do smell good, don't it?" He closed his eyes for a moment. "You know, it's past our dinnertime. Hope Uncle Billy still got plenty o' barbecue and ribs, 'cause I could eat a horse. How 'bout y'all?"

"I'm
way
past ready," Nathan declared.

"Me, too!" Henry added.

All of a sudden, I was starving. "Let's go," I said.

"We're proud of you, son," Pop said quietly. He gazed down the empty sidewalk. "Let's go get us some dinner. It's all over now."

I reached out to my parents and my two best friends, and then they had their arms around me. "No, Pop," I told him. "It's not all over. It's just beginning."