Native Son - Richard Wright [84]
“Want more coffee?”
“No’m.”
“You ain’t scared of all this trouble we’re having round here, are you, Bigger?”
“Oh, no’m,” he said, wondering if something in his manner had made her ask that.
“That poor Mary!” Peggy sighed. “She acts like such a ninny. Imagine a girl keeping her parents worried sick all the time. But there are children for you these days.”
He hurried with his eating, saying nothing; he wanted to get out of the kitchen. The thing was in the open now; not all of it, but some of it. Nobody knew about Mary yet. He saw in his mind a picture of the Dalton family distraught and horrified when they found that Mary was kidnapped. That would put them a certain distance from him. They would think that white men did it; they would never think that a black, timid Negro did that. They would go after Jan. The “Red” he had signed to the letter and the hammer and curving knife would make them look for Communists.
“You got enough?”
“Yessum.”
“You better clean the ashes out of the furnace in the morning, Bigger.”
“Yessum.”
“And be ready for Mr. Dalton at eight.”
“Yessum.”
“Your room all right?”
“Yessum.”
The door swung in violently. Bigger started in fright. Mr. Dalton came into the kitchen, his face ashy. He stared at Peggy and Peggy, holding a dish towel in her hand, stared at him. In Mr. Dalton’s hand was the letter, opened.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Dalton?”
“Who…. Where did…. Who gave you this?”
“What?”
“This letter.”
“Why, nobody. I got it from the door.”
“When?”
“A few minutes ago. Anything wrong?”
Mr. Dalton looked round the entire kitchen, not at anything in particular, but just round the entire stretch of four walls, his eyes wide and unseeing. He looked back at Peggy; it was as if he had thrown himself upon her mercy; was waiting for her to say some word that would take the horror away.
“W-what’s the matter, Mr. Dalton?” Peggy asked again.
Before Mr. Dalton could answer, Mrs. Dalton groped her way into the kitchen, her white hands held high. Bigger watched her fingers tremble through the air till they touched Mr. Dalton’s shoulder. They gripped his coat hard enough to tear it from his body. Bigger, without moving an eyelid, felt his skin grow hot and his muscles stiffen.
“Henry! Henry!” Mrs. Dalton called. “What’s the matter?”
Mr. Dalton did not hear her; he still stared at Peggy.
“Did you see who left this letter?”
“No, Mr. Dalton.”
“You, Bigger?”
“Nawsuh,” he whispered, his mouth full of dry food.
“Henry, tell me! Please! For Heaven’s sake!”
Mr. Dalton put his arm about Mrs. Dalton’s waist and held her close to him.
“It’s…. It’s about Mary…. It’s…. She….”
“What? Where is she?”
“They…. They got her! They kidnapped her!”
“Henry! No!” Mrs. Dalton screamed.
“Oh, no!” Peggy whimpered, running to Mr. Dalton.
“My baby,” Mrs. Dalton sobbed.
“She’s been kidnapped,” Mr. Dalton said, as though he had to say the words over again to convince himself.
Bigger’s eyes were wide, taking in all three of them in one constantly roving glance. Mrs. Dalton continued to sob and Peggy sank into a chair, her face in her hands. Then she sprang up and ran out of the room, crying:
“Lord, don’t let them kill her!”
Mrs. Dalton swayed. Mr. Dalton lifted her and staggered, trying to get her through the door. As he watched Mr. Dalton there flashed through Bigger’s mind a quick image of how he had lifted Mary’s body in his arms the night before. He rose and held the door open for Mr. Dalton and watched him walk unsteadily down the dim hallway with Mrs. Dalton in his arms.
He was alone in the kitchen now. Again the thought that he had the chance to walk out of here and be clear of it all came to him, and again he brushed it aside. He was tensely eager to stay and see how it would all end, even if that end swallowed him in blackness. He felt that he was living upon a high pinnacle where bracing winds whipped about him. There came to his ears a muffled sound of sobs. Then suddenly there was silence. What’s happening? Would Mr. Dalton phone the police now? He strained to listen, but no sounds came. He went to the door and took a few steps into the hallway. There were still no sounds. He looked about to make sure that no one was watching him, then crept on tiptoe down the hall. He heard voices. Mr. Dalton was talking to someone. He crept farther; yes, he could hear