Finding Bluefield Read Online Free PDF

her cigarette and passed Leroy the matches.
    “Have you seen To Kill a Mockingbird over at the Squire?” she asked Leroy.
    “Haven’t.”
    “You should. It’s probably the best movie I’ve ever seen. I might see it again. It makes the South look bad. But it also makes us look good. That’s what I liked.”
    “I haven’t seen it,” Leroy said.
    Nicky put down her coffee and picked up her newspaper. She started flipping through the papers.
    “You see this?” Nicky said, showing the paper to Leroy. “A million people are expected for Dr. King’s march in DC?”
    Leroy took the paper from Nicky. “That’s a lot of people.”
    Nicky retied her hair. “You know Stella’s boyfriend Tommy? The one who’s a cop?” She took the paper back from Leroy.
    “Sure.” He started back in on the pots.
    “Well, he told Lucinda that one of the black churches is organizing buses. Mixed buses. Who would have thought people from Bluefield would want to go? Are you going?”
    “No.”
    “You should.” Nicky inhaled her cigarette and slowly released the smoke.
    “Are you?” Leroy asked.
    “I wasn’t planning on it, but I’m thinking it’s a chance to see Dr. King in person. That guy might be president some day.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Why not? We elected a Catholic.”
    “That’s not the same.”
    “I know. I’m just saying no one thought that was possible.” Nicky slid off the counter. “Anyway, you know which church is organizing the buses?”
    “No,” Leroy said softly, looking around the kitchen. “Maybe Stella knows.”
    “That’s funny. Real funny.” Nicky retied her apron. “Let me know if you hear anything.” Nicky returned to her area and got back to filling orders.
    That afternoon on her way out the door, when she put her hand in the pocket of her jean jacket, she found a flyer along with her car keys. She read it quickly and shoved it back into her jacket. She opened the kitchen doors and stepped into the restaurant where the waitresses were filling ketchup bottles, sugar dispensers, and salt and pepper shakers while the radio blared. Nicky flipped through the phone book near the restrooms.
    “What you looking up, Nicky?” Lucinda called from the register where she was adding up receipts, just as she had done after every lunch for eight years since her husband died, leaving her in charge.
    Nicky didn’t look up. “The Squire. I wanted to see what’s playing.”
    “I got the paper right here,” Lucinda said, swinging at a fly.
    Nicky put down the phone book and went over to look through Lucinda’s newspaper.
    “You going tonight?” Lucinda asked as Nicky checked the listings.
    “Nothing good.” Nicky put down the paper and turned to leave.
    “ Mr. Ed’s on tonight,” Stella called. “I love that horse.”
    “See y’all tomorrow,” Nicky said and stepped outside. The air was so still it made things quiet. She sat in her car making up her mind. At a gas station, Nicky checked the phone book and wrote down the address of the First Baptist Church. Twenty-six years in Bluefield and Nicky didn’t know her way around the North End. She’d been by it and through it, but not in it. Never had a reason to stop. The North End was a neighborhood of small, single-story houses, originally built for GIs, white GIs, on their return from WW II. Gradually, post-war prosperity and progeny sent most of those families in search of newer and larger homes on the south side of town and the North End became home to the many black families who had come to town to work in the new factories and services of Bluefield’s expanding economy. Nicky found Jefferson Street and spotted the church. She turned into the parking lot and turned off the Bel Air. The sanctuary doors were wide-open, and the sounds of the choir practicing spilled out of the building. When Nicky’s father died a year earlier, Nicky and Carol-Ann had sung together at the funeral. Nicky hadn’t been to church since. She took a