“Goodbye, Purnell,” she mumbled. Then every once in a while, she’d cry out, “My baby!”
Ibby fanned herself with her hand, just as the Reverend Jeremiah opined about the scourge of murders that had overtaken the city and how needless and unnecessary it all was. Ibby looked up, drawn by the preacher’s fiery tone. T-Bone was sitting just behind him, and his eyes met hers. She didn’t know how long he had been staring at her. She smiled back, lowering her head so no one would notice that she was blushing.
As the preacher raised his hands, the sleeves of his robe flapped like angel wings. “I ask you God Almighty to take this boy into your arms.”
With that, Queenie got up, walked over to the casket, and began sprinkling white powder all over the body, before taking her seat again.
“Why did she do that?” Ibby whispered to Fannie.
Fannie leaned in. “I believe that’s baking powder. She wants to make sure Purnell rises up to Judgment Day.”
When the Reverend Jeremiah finished his sermon, T-Bone stood and played a solo on his trombone. The congregation clapped and sang along to “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”
Queenie stood once again and went over to the casket. When the reverend nodded, she bent over and kissed Purnell on the lips.
“Goodbye, my baby,” she said as she touched his hand.
Then she began wailing so loudly that Reverend Jeremiah came over and put his arm around her. Doll and Birdelia went and stood beside her. Then the whole congregation filtered into the aisles, waiting in line to view the casket.
Fannie nudged Ibby. “Follow Birdelia.”
Doll leaned over and kissed Purnell on the cheek. Birdelia did the same.
Ibby looked back at Fannie with alarm. “Am I supposed to kiss him?”
“Just touch his hand and move on,” Fannie said.
Ibby held her breath, closed her eyes. She reached into the casket, feeling for Purnell’s jacket because she didn’t want to touch his hand, but instead of fabric, her hand fell on something hard. She opened her eyes to find her fingers on his nose. Horrified, she hurried up the aisle, her heart beating fast.
After the last of the congregation paid their respects, the pallbearers lifted the casket and carried it out of the church. Once outside, the band started to play “When the Saints Go Marching In.” The pallbearers raised the casket into the air and began shaking it to the beat of the music.
“What are they doing?” Ibby asked.
“They’re giving Purnell one last dance,” Fannie said. “We all deserve one last dance, don’t you think, darling?”
A dark cloud made its way across the sky as the pallbearers put the casket in the waiting carriage. A light sprinkle fell around them, but people didn’t seem to mind. They danced in the rain behind the carriage that was rolling slowly toward the cemetery, waving white handkerchiefs.
Ibby was about to follow along, but Fannie held her back.
“Aren’t we going to the cemetery?” she asked.
“No, dear. This is one time I think we should just let them be.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
When Mr. Henry came by the next day, Fannie placed a sizable wager that the National League would win the All-Star Game. They were busy watching the game that afternoon when Ibby heard the back door open.
When she got to the kitchen, she found Queenie putting her purse away in a drawer and Doll picking up a broom from the utility closet.
“What are y’all doing here? I thought you’d take some time off after . . .” Ibby wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.
Queenie shook her head. “Life ain’t no cakewalk, baby.”
Ibby went over and hugged Queenie. “I’m sorry.”
“I know, but we got to move on. You got to dance even when there ain’t no music.” Queenie paused. “Especially when there ain’t no music. You know what I’m saying? Besides, we just come by this afternoon to make sure you all doing okay. We’ll be back tomorrow for good.”
“Willie Mays gets an unearned run!” Fannie screamed from the front room.
“She must be in there watching the All-Star Game,” Doll said. “She never misses that.”
Queenie opened the icebox. “Mr. Henry been by with the groceries, I see.”
Her words were cut short by the sound of the tree scraping against the house.
“I thought that tree looked like it was leaning more than usual when we walked up the driveway just now,” Doll said.
“It’s been making a lot of noise the last few days,” Ibby said. “I said something to Fannie, but she said it had been that way ever since Hurricane Betsy and not to worry about it.”
Doll nodded. “Sure, that hurricane’s when that tree started to lean, back in 1965, but it’s been getting worse every year since.”
Queenie looked up at the ceiling. “Listen. Don’t it sound different somehow?”