The Singing River Read Online Free PDF Page A

crickets had already started singing, and white dandelion seeds floated on the air. The heady, heavy scent of azaleas was strong where large bushes crowded freshly mowed lawns. A few children screeched in late afternoon sprinklers, but mostly it was as quiet as a summer day ever got.
    A voice broke the silence as I turned onto my road.
    “Got some tomatoes for you, Haven!”
    An elderly black man waved at me from his wooden porch, his peeling, white washed house dull in the longer afternoon shadows.
    I shaded my eyes. “Mom’ll be excited about that, Mr. Nelson!”
    Edging into his overgrown yard, I climbed the first few steps of his porch.
    Thomas Nelson was a kind, old man in his late seventies who grew a small garden behind his modest home. He’d lost his wife a few years back, and he tended to get lonely, rocking for hours on his front porch, his eyes watching the road. I’d admired the Nelsons’ marriage, their devotion. In the end, his wife had been unable to leave the house much, and Thomas had never strayed far from her side. I’d often seen him walking with her in their yard, his hand on her arm as she used her walker to exercise.
    Thomas held out a large, ripe tomato.
    I clasped my hand over my heart. “Wow, they are big this year!”
    Thomas grinned proudly. “It’s all about the fertilizer.” He snapped open a brown paper bag he kept next to his chair before filling it with a few tomatoes from a bucket at his feet.
    I took it gratefully and grinned. “BLT’s for us tonight.”
    “A fine meal,” Thomas agreed.
    He sat on his rocking chair, his old, trembling hand resting on the arm.
    My gaze moved to his yard. “Why don’t I come mow for you tomorrow, Mr. Nelson? I’m off of work, and I’ve got to cut ours anyway.”
    Thomas shook his head. “You ain’ gotta do that, child.”
    He received the best surly look I had to offer. “Well, I know I ain’t gotta, but you know how I hate taking free stuff without paying, and I’m thinking about those vegetables in that garden of yours.”
    Thomas rocked, the chair creaking. “How about some butter beans?” he asked.
    I grinned. “Perfect.”
    Thomas rocked some more before he said, “Your mom stopped by earlier and gave me my mail.”
    I froze. “Did she?”
    Mr. Nelson’s teeth flashed white against his brown skin, his eyes crinkling.
    It was taking everything I had not to shake him. “Well?”
    Mr. Nelson nodded. “She got the job.”
    Whooping, I gave Thomas a quick hug before jumping off his porch.
    “I’ll be back tomorrow!” I yelled over my shoulder.
    “Your tomatoes!” he called.
    I leapt back up and grabbed the bag before running, barely noticing when Mangy Beast joined me, his black furry legs pounding the dirt, his tongue hanging. He pushed at my side, and I fought not to stumble as I reached our trailer. The green Cadillac was parked outside, the rust even redder in the afternoon sun.
    The trailer’s door flew open before I even touched the knob. The smile I gave Mom was dazzling.
    Her hands went to her hips. “The old coot told you, didn’t he?” she asked.
    My smile grew.
    She shook her head. “How many tomatoes did you get out of it? I got three for telling him.”
    Laughing, I held up the brown paper bag. “I got four to hear the news.”
    “Damned old man.” She scowled, but the twinkle in her eyes belied any annoyance.  
    I pushed past her, groaning in pleasure when cool air hit my face.
    “Landlord sent someone to fix it.” Mom waved at the thermostat on the wall. “It was froze up again. We’re going to need a new AC eventually.”
    Dropping the paper bag on the small table in the kitchen, I turned to face her. “When do you start?” I asked.
    Mom’s face lit up. “Monday.” She came to me, taking my hands in hers. “It’s a good job, Haven. Good hours, decent pay.” A wicked gleam lit her eyes. “ And I got you something to do with your summer other than work.”
    As I pulled my black tank over