Shadows lay upon the street blocking the light of the moon and allowing the two men to pass through the construction site unnoticed. In his sleep, Jimbo tried to call out and warn his father but as usual his cries were not heard.

    The men crouched as they looked through each building at the construction site. Sam Hyche had just started his position earlier in the week and like all rookies, he had to spend the first month on security. He reached for the flashlight to make his round. The cluttered yard had many hazards, and you could easily get stitches from a piece of steel protruding from the exposed framework.

            Jimbo watched once more in his recurring nightly terror as his father left the small office. Tears already began to stream down his face. In his nightmare, he was still only nine years old and could not aid his father. When Sam shut the door , he heard a strange sound at the other end of the yard that startled him. He raised his light in the direction of the noise, but he didn’t see anything. The thirteen-story building towered into the sky and even the light of the moon could not penetrate the darkness of the large structure.  A dim light shining across from the opposite side of the street was all that illuminated the base of the tower.

            If I let someone steal something, I’ll get fired. He said as he slowly made his way forward.

            He walked cautiously toward the sound. The structure engulfed the light from the streetlamp and Sam stepped into the unknown. A chill moved across his body. The darkness seemed to consume him.

             “Who’s there?” he yelled as the door latched shut in front of him.

              “No, don’t go in there. Go back. “ Jimbo yelled in his sleep.

            Tears ran down his face because he knew how this ended.  All of this had been contrived in his brain.  He had not been there, but he had seen it in his mind so many times it was almost a memory.  Sam opened the door to the building and stepped inside. A man stood twenty feet in front of him

             “What are you doing. You aren’t supposed to be in here” Sam yelled.

             The man didn’t say anything. He stood motionless, not knowing if the person who yelled at him had a gun.  Sam’s mind was swirling because he wasn’t a security guard.  He was a brick mason. The light in his hand shook from the trembling.  One step forward, then he felt a searing pain in his side. A second man came from behind him and pushed a knife deep into his ribcage.  He grabbed the area which caused the anguish and felt a hand. The man pulled the knife from Sam’s torso.  Sam turned and faced his murderer.

             “No don’t” he pleaded. The man stabbed him again and this time pulled the blade across his across his stomach. Sam looked deep into the eyes of the man who was taking his life.

“Why?” Sam asked.  He was astounded at the sound of the steel as it entered him and the grunt of the man when he thrust it into his body. 

             The second man held him, and they stabbed him six more times before they left his body lying there in a puddle of blood. 

                                                                        #

Jimbo raised quickly from his sleep and sat motionless, staring out the bedroom window into darkness of the pine trees just beyond his back yard. Jimbo was now twenty-six years old.  He had never witnessed any of this.  He wished he had never heard his mother’s rendition of what happen when she told it over a thousand times.  The words reverberated in his mind.  Two black men, murder, stabbed, death, it was all too much.  The story haunted him, and the words seared holes into his brain that took a toll on his daily life. .  He wished he had never seen the pictures posted in the Chicago Tribune.  The man’s face was burned into his mind forever. His skin was dark brown and his hair jet black and full. He looked unkept with dark brown eyes set apart by wide nostrils. The two men who killed his father were black and he would never forget or forgive what they had done to his family.

                                                                        #

            The bright sun burned the skin on the back of Jimbo’s neck causing it to blister in the heat. It was at its peak and the evening sky had not summoned the clouds to cool the morning sun.  He sat the last stone in place and stepped back to admire the work he had just completed.  The structure looked more like a work of art than a doghouse. Colors of the rock matched perfectly with the surrounding wood of the cedar planks of the home.

            “Jimbo you are an artist.” Mrs. Jenkins said, then pushed the wheels with her hands to circle around the small house. She shook her head.

             “My Edward always wanted to build one, but his talk was always mightier than his actions. God rest his soul.”

            Jimbo walked over to her and knelt beside the wheelchair. Her dog jumped into her lap.

             “I’m sure Edward would have gotten around to it eventually.” He said graciously. 

            “Well, you have to let me pay you.” She said.  Jimbo stood up, gave her a smile, and started collecting his tools.

              “I am just happy to be able to do it for you, besides you have cooked me enough dinners to more than make up for it”

             “Jimbo, your heart is bigger than your wallet.” She said teasing.  He touched her hand as he walked by and smiled.

                                                                        *

            It took thirty more minutes before she allowed him to leave. He finally broke away and waved to her as he drove through the nice subdivision.  Mrs. Jenkins neighbor , Rosey Cook, waved as he past. Jimbo looked at him as he raised his hand. The man gave a gracious greeting to everyone he encountered. His big brown eyes and mahogany skin would wrinkle as he would great you, but Jimbo couldn’t get past the color. Rosey had known him his entire life, but the young man didn’t flinch.  He dropped his hand and took off the weathered hat as he wiped his brow. The old man looked down to the ground because he knew Jimbo’s heart but and was saddened by the hate that consumed him.

                                                                        #

            Now to spend the rest of the day fishing he thought as he drove down the narrow road. The breeze began to blow through his light hair. He lay back in his seat and enjoyed the grass and trees that lined the Highway. Occasionally vines of purple wisteria would add contrast to the lush green of the Alabama countryside. There is something  about how the colors of  summer can stir the emotion he thought.

#.

            Jimbo floated his boat in the deep river and tied to the pier at the boat ramp. He drove his truck to the top of the hill and pulled onto the wet grass.  His tires sank a little when he parked his truck. This was the first day it had not rained in two weeks. As he walked back to his boat a small car parked behind his trailer.

             He climbed inside the boat and paddled away from the sandy bank.  A deep breath  allowed him to wash away his stress.  His worries were absorbed into the gray clouds that reached from the distant trees up to the heavens.  The water always soothed his soul and took away the hate within him.

              A small fish popped the water near the shore. He looked toward the bank, and something took his breath. She stood there one hundred feet away looking at him. High cut blue Jean shorts revealed her muscular legs. The wind blew her long curly hair and her shirt swayed in the breeze exposing her smooth dark skin.

            Jimbo watched without taking away his eyes and for the first time in his life he saw no color. The current of the water took the boat down the river floating along the shore. It turned but they never broke their shared gaze. The white flowers of a dogwood tree came between them as the small gray boat floated away.

            He sat back and contemplated what he had just experienced. That was amazing he thought. She was gorgeous. His heart was still beating fast as he lowered the trolling motor.  Pressing the lever, the boat instantly turned against the current and began to pick up speed back up the river. The white flowers appeared, and he desperately tried to see around them. Jimbo could hear the thumping of his heart in his ears. The boat moved slowly, and he passed by the last flowery branch.  Her car appeared, and then his truck. He surveyed the bank in front of him looking for her, but she was nowhere in sight.

            Standing allowed him to look further onto the shore and he felt the disappointment in his chest. Jimbo sat down and sighed. For three years, he had not seen anyone that stirred his emotion. The only love in his life had moved away after high school. The backwards area held nothing, and she had left without asking him to follow. His racial issues were too much for her and he hadn’t heard anything, but had received letter saying that she loved him and prayed that God would change him one day. He reached for the rod, quickly cast, and allowed the boat to float idly away. He looked back once more but seen only the beauty of the dogwood and in his mind they did not compare.

                                                                        #

            He tossed the last fish of the afternoon back into the water and started the large gasoline engine to take him back to the landing. An unusual sight caught his attention. The tires of the car behind his truck were spinning. He attached the boat to the pier and walked to the car as it rocked forward then backwards. Jimbo tapped on the glass.  It stopped spinning, and the women lowered her window.

               “Hello” she said with a smile. He stood there mesmerized.

              “Uh, hi, mmmm. Would you like some help?  He asked.

            “Yes, I have been trying to get out for thirty minutes. This thing could get stuck on asphalt. I should have known not to park here but I saw your pickup and thought it would be fine. Now here I am stuck.  Yes, I need help.”

             He smiled at how fast she was talking, and it made her aware of her rambling.  She stopped and giggled at his expression. 

             “What’s that smirk on your face?”  She asked.

            “I’ve never seen anything as pretty as you make so much noise, plus all of this fishing has gotten me a little hungry” he said.

             “So that’s your hungry look?  Well, if you can get me out of this mud, I will buy you something to eat.” She said.

             He turned and looked at the car and noticed how it was positioned. 

            “The problem is your front tire is at an angle.  All you have to do, is straighten the wheel and then come straight back.  When you get a little momentum, turn back on to the pavement.”

     She looked at him with skepticism. 

             “If it were that easy, I could have already gotten out.  I think I am going to need a wrecker.” 

            “It’s just an old trick that us country boys know about.  We don’t tell anyone because it’s the only thing that makes us look smart.” He said.

            They both laughed longer than they should have, and he placed his hand on her arm inside the car.  The feeling of his firm grip reassured her.  She shook her head, straightened the wheel, and pressed on the accelerator.

             “Slow,” he said firmly.

            The car began to back out of the mud, spinning slightly.  When it reached the dry area, she turned the wheel, and it went onto the payment.  The young girl placed the car in park and looked at him through the windshield with a smile.  The door opened and she stepped out.

            The door closed and again his chest expelled his breath.  He knew the site of her would never get old.

             “Thank you so much.  Now I feel dumb.  I have been stuck here forever.”  She spoke.

             “It’s just something I figured out because I have been stuck a thousand times.  So, if this is your first time, then you are a lot smarter than me.” Jimbo said.

            She stuck out her hand.  “I am Sharla.”  Her large eyes were exotic, and her dimples were deep, but when she smiled, the warmth of it soothed Jimbo’s soul.

            He shook her hand and immediately noticed the contrast of their skin color.  He pulled back his hand and looked down.

             “Is something wrong?” she asked.  

            He stuck his hand in his pocket and immediately was ashamed for the way he felt.  His eyes blinked several times and his light brown hair fell forward into his eyes.

            “You okay, are you feeling well?”  she asked

            He stood there without saying a word then looked at her again. She touched his arm..  Their eyes met and for a second in time they were just two souls alone in this world with nothing but green earth and the clouds of heaven above.  Jimbo’s eyes were like the ice of a glacier and his brown hair was teased blonde by the sun. 

            She had never been in this situation with anyone, but men of color and she found herself puzzled by the way she felt. Sharla stepped back and examined her emotions.  Could she allow herself to go down this path?  Jimbo blinked and took another look at her. 

             “Nothing is wrong.  As a matter of fact, it’s perfect.  I am sorry for not introducing myself.  I am Jimbo Hyche.” He said.  

            She chuckled.  “Did your mom really name you Jimbo?”

            No Missy, she named me Jefferson Davis Hyche, but I prefer Jimbo.”  He said softly. 

            Neither spoke for a moment.  She knew exactly who Jefferson Davis was and for a split second regretted asking him.  In historically black colleges, they teach you exactly what black history is and educate you on how not to let it repeat itself.

            “Well, Jefferson Davis “Jimbo” Hyche, if you want to go, I will take you to get that food I promised you. Leave you truck and trailer if it’s safe and climb inside.” She insisted.

            “I don’t think.  Uhm, I, I probably.” Jimbo stuttered as she walked away.

            She went back to her car and her eyes grew wide.

            “Well, what are you waiting for.  Think I am going to kidnap you.” She asked.

             Jimbo laughed and started walking toward the car.

            “A man can only dream,” he said as he stood beside the automobile.

            I have to get my boat on the trailer.  I will be right back. 

#

            It took less than five minutes and he climbed into the car. Before he could get on his seat belt, she took off very quickly.  The small Camry was climbing the tall hills on the side of the river, before Jimbo could even fasten his seatbelt.

            “This may not have been a good idea.” He said as he clicked the metal fastener.

            “If you’re scared, go to church.” she said as the car took the curve fast enough for the tires to make a noise.

             “No, I love it.  Go for it.  Just let me find the OH Shit handle.” He yelled as he reached for the hand grip above the door.

             She slowed and turned-on music.  To his surprise it was the same music he loved, country and southern rock. 

            “Nice” he said.  “I’m surprised.”  He pushed his hair back with his hand and looked out the window.

            “What did you expect Gangster Rap?  Well, I love it all, but my grandfather loves old country and I love him, so I am a big fan.”

            The look on her face when she talked about her relatives reminded him of his own family.  He knew that they came from the same upbringing, although the cultures may be different.  They talked about everything as they made their way to the restaurant.  Somewhere in their hearts, they knew that it was the beginning of something special.

                                                                        #

             They pulled up at Marvin’s Catfish Cabin and Sharla jumped out as if the car was on fire.

            “Come on, I want you to meet someone.”  She said excitedly.

            Jimbo reluctantly got out of the car.  Two families were sitting outside eating and there must have been twenty people inside, all black.  She took him by the hand and pulled him inside.  Flashes of the men who killed his father came into his mind and his heart ached, but somehow her hand in his reassured him it would be ok.  They went through the double wooden doors and the place was alive with laughter and people enjoying their Saturday dinner.  The old wooden building was rustic and the wood on the wall was made with old pine from a different age. As they walked, the joist in the floor creaked.  A tall thin black man yelled as they entered.

            “Sharla, My baby!”  The man dropped the towel he had wiping the sweat from his brow and hurried over to meet them.  He picked her up and swung her around.  She squealed on the second turn.

            “You have grown up baby.  How did this happen?  I have missed you so much.”  He said it all in one breath. 

             “And who is this fine young man you have here?  Yall not married, are you?”  He asked

             “Heck no, I am not about to get married.  He is just a friend.  This is Jimbo.”  She said.

             “Jimbo, I am Marvin. You better put a ring on this finger.  She is as smart as she is pretty, but you better treat her right. I am her godfather and I keep a close eye out for her.”

            Jimbo didn’t know how to react or what to say.  He had never had a full conversation with a black man, but this person was as gracious as anyone he had ever met.

             “Glad to meet you sir.” Jimbo said.  He was always made to be respectful to anyone older and suddenly it was hard to see why he would ever think of Marvin in any other way.  He looked at Sharla and she was glowing.

             “What can I get y’all.  The catfish will make you go home and slap your mama.” Marvin said.

            “Catfish sounds great.  I’ll take some slaw and hush puppies if you have them.” Jimbo said.   Sharla looked at him, now reassured that Jimbo would fit in anywhere they went.

             “I’ll have the same Uncle Marvin.”  She said.

             She took Jimbo by the hand and led him over to her favorite table.  It was built for two and sat by the window.  You could see the river and the lush greenery of the trees that shaded the water.

             Everyone in the place spoke to the couple, teasing Jimbo and saying hi to Sharla who they had not seen since she went to college.  He had never felt so welcomed in any place that he had ever been. 

            They talked for two hours about everything.  His aspirations and her being accepted to Duke Law School.  He loved everything about her.  She had accomplished what he had always wanted, to escape.

                                                                        #

            They finished eating and said they goodbyes.  Marvin made Jimbo promise to come back even by himself.  There was nothing Jimbo hated in this world more than a hypocrite, and he suddenly had a profound disrespect for the way he was acting.  His mind was spinning, these people were black, they were responsible for his father’s death or were they.

             Jimbo opened the car door for Sharla, and he watched her every movement as she walked around him.  Before she climbed in, Sharla turned to him. 

            “Thank you for being you.  A lot of people would not have wanted to meet all of my friends, but you waded through it very well.” She said as she stood on her tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  He was in shock for a moment.  Her lips were full and warm.  JImbo could still feel the outline of them on his cheek.  He slowly closed the door and walked to the passenger’s seat.

             “Do you want me to take you back to your truck?” She asked hesitantly. 

            He looked at her expression and knew she did not want their time together to end. It was passed six o’clock on a Saturday night and there were plenty of bars in the area.

             “No, we can get a drink if you would like to.”  He said.

            “That sounds like fun.  We passed a bar on the river a couple of miles back.  Let’s go there.”  Sharla said excited.

             He knew exactly the bar she was referring to and it had a person singing every Saturday. 

             “Okay, lets go.  It sounds great.”  He said.

                                                                        #

            They pulled up to the club and could hear the strumming of s guitar.

            “I love live music. It’s just something about the way it touches my emotions.  I think I had to be a musician in a past life.” She said.

            He smiled and took her by the hand.  The color of her skin had not even occurred to him since the first time he touched her.  They sat down at the table and the musician spoke over the microphone.

            “Jimbo Hyche,” he yelled.  He saw who it was and walked up to the stage and embraced the man. 

             “This is my friend Sharla.  This is David Gates, a good friend of mine.”  He reached out and took her hand and kissed it. The older man looked at Jimbo.

            “I don’t know how he talked you into hanging around, but if you ever get tired of him, I am available.” He said. 

            “Well, he is doing ok so far, but if he gets out of line, I’ll yell.  Sharla said.

            They walked back to the table by the water and ordered drinks.

             “Who is that?” she asked.

            “He is a man who taught me how to play the guitar.  I have known him my whole life.”

            “You play the guitar.  I am very surprised.”  Sharla said.

            “What,  you think all I can do is get cars out of the mud?”

            “Well, I was hoping that was not all you could do.” She said teasingly.

            She allowed her mouth to travel close to his and he could feel her breath on his lips.  They barely had skin on skin and he pulled her slightly into him, touching gently and then pressing  his mouth onto hers.  Fire went through him as if he had felt the sun. He pulled away and turned her toward the water.  They watched as the light through the clouds painted hues upon the flowing water.  

David played for the next hour, and they held each other as the light of the moon replaced the summer sun.  The music stopped and he surprised the couple.

            “Jimbo, why don’t you come up here and play that sweet girl a love song.”

            He quickly said no, and Sharla turned to him and lifted her eyebrows.  Without saying a word, he walked up and went to the small stage on the pier.

            “I hope I don’t mess this up.  I met Sharla today and I don’t want to run her off.  This song never meant a lot to me before now, but I hope she likes it.”  He said into the microphone.

            He picked the chords with his fingers and the sound of the guitar mixed with the waves of the water with perfect harmony. 

            “ I met a girl, for me.  Darling just dive right in, follow my lead.  I met a girl, beautiful and sweet.  I never knew there was someone waiting for me.” He sang softly as she watched her eyes. She let the lyrics of that song go straight to her heart.  The man in front of her was still a stranger, but he was dangerous, because at that moment, she would have given him her life.

            Jimbo finished the song with a roar of applause from the crowd and when he walked back to the table, Sharla jumped into his arms and kissed him.

            Jimbo heard someone say something at the other end of the pier. He immediately knew who it was, and he knew it was trouble.  The man was a racist and was know for his bad attitude. 

            They ignored what was said,  sat down at the table, and David began to play. 

            “You should let the black girl sing.  Everyone knows they can perform.” the man in back yelled.

            Jimbo turned quickly toward him, but Sharla took him by the arm.

            “Don’t let it get to you.”  She insisted.

            “When did you start liking that kind there boy.  I thought you were allergic to chocolate.”

            Jimbo stood up even with Sharla holding him down.  Every bad thing Jimbo had ever said about people of color came rushing through his mind.  He could barely stay in the present. The faces of the people who killed his father passed tore at him.  He had been beaten up badly in high school by three black kids and he remembers every racist thing that came from his mouth.  He looked into the eyes of Sharla and seen the hurt this was causing. 

            “Let’s leave Jimbo, he isn’t worth it.  You can see that he is just a bigot.  He is just scared and ignorant.”  She said.

            The words stung him like a branding iron, and he couldn’t have been hurt worse if he were the one being stabbed all of those years ago.

            “You better listen to your pet boy, because we don’t tolerate her kind here.”

            Jimbo couldn’t take it any longer.  He ran across the dock, bringing his arm back and releasing it into the man’s face.  His arms were muscular and chiseled by the stones he lifted every day.  When his fist met the man’s jaw, he lost three of his teeth and was unconscious while still in the air.  The long-haired man beside him hit Jimbo over the head with a beer bottle and glass shattered into the air.  Blood gushed from the impact, but Jimbo turned and hit the man squarely in the face and they both went to the ground.  Jimbo’s blood was all over both of them, but it didn’t stop the beating.  He raised to his feet and kicked the man in the face breaking his nose with the end of his shoe.  A gun went off behind Jimbo. It was David, setting on the stool holding a pistol. 

            “ Jimbo that’s enough.  These dumb asses deserve the ass whipping you just gave them, but you need to go to the hospital, and I don’t want you with a murder charge. Everyone on the dock had scattered. 

            “I am sorry Sharla.  You didn’t deserve that.” Jimbo said.

            She was trembling.  Jimbo walked over to her and put his arm around her.  Blood dripped onto his shirt.

            “Come on.  We need to get you some help.”  She said.

                                                                        #

            They left the bar quickly and Sharla helped him into the passenger seat.     

            “Lean back and place this on your head.”  She handed him a t-shirt of hers from the back seat.

            “Put pressure on the cut to stop the bleeding.”

            She was driving quickly down the two-lane dark road.  The lights barely extended enough to maneuver the curves.  He lay against the seat with his eyes closed and the t-shirt  pressed against his head.

            “Does it hurt bad?”  She asked. 

            “No.  I am so sorry they said those things.  I am ashamed.”

            She looked at him curiously.

            “Why are you ashamed.  You didn’t say it.  You took up for me.”

            “It’s a long story, but I am no better than they are.” He said.

            He didn’t finish his story.  The car pulled into the driveway of a home.

            “We are at my grandfather’s house. He is a retired doctor and has supplies here.  He can sew you up.”  She said.

            Jimbo looked up.  He knew the house and he knew the man.  It was Rosey Cook. His heart was suddenly in his throat. 

            “Is this your grandfather?” he asked.

            “Yes, do you know him?”

            “I do and he has known me since I was young.  He may not want to see me.” Jimbo said.

            “It doesn’t matter what has happened.  He will take care of you.”

                                                                        #

            Sharla ran inside and told her grandfather that a friend of hers needed help.  They both came out together and Jimbo was standing outside sitting against the car.  Rosey saw who it was, and he slowed down as he approached him.

            “Jimbo are you ok son.  Let me see that cut.”  He took a small light out of his pocket.

            “You are going to need some stitches.  Come inside and let’s get you taken care of.

            Sharla helped him inside and sat Jimbo at a dining room chair. Rosey worked quickly as he cleaned the wound and prepared it for mending. 

            “What were you two doing tonight to get into this?” He asked.  Sharla smiled.

            “We were just spending time down by the river.  Some guys started talking to me the wrong way and Jimbo took up for me.”

            Rosey’s eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.  He slid back and looked at Jimbo and smiled. 

            “Bet you didn’t know horses had stripes before they saw a pretty girl.  Sure, they did.  A pretty woman can change the stripes on a zebra.”  Rosey said as he sewed.

            “Jimbo, what is he talking about.”  Sharla asked.  Jimbo hesitated then started to speak.

            “I have been a complete ass most of my life.”  Jimbo said.

            Rosey spoke up.  “Jimbo’s father was killed in Chicago during a robbery and Jimbo has not been able to get over it.  His father’s name was Sam Hyche.  He was one of my best friends.  As a  matter of fact, I was his primary care physician for twenty years.”

            Jimbo listened in astonishment and wondered how he could have been so wrong. 

             “Jimbo, black men didn’t kill your father.  Thieves killed your father.  They just happened to be black.  When they took your father’s life, they did the whole world a disservice because he was as good a man as I have ever known.” Rosey said.

            He finished and stood up at the sink to wash his hands.

            “So, what brought the two of you together?  She has only been back in town for two days.  Jimbo, you must work fast.”  Rosey said.

            She smacked her grandfather on the shoulder.

            “We met down at the river today and Jimbo saved me.  My car was stuck, and he helped me get it out.”

            “Well, fix you a drink and come out into the back yard.  I want to show you something.” Her grandfather said.

                                                                        #

            They sat down by a large firepit with beautiful stone benches.   Her grandfather took a seat beside them and turned on the natural gas and a fire ignited.  He walked back inside the house and brought out a book.

            “Son, your father built this fire feature.  It has been in my family now since before Sharla was born and we have gotten joy from it on numerous occasions. There is not a time that I don’t think about your dad out here working on this.  We had quite a few beers sitting right here.”

            Tears welled up into Jimbo’s eyes as he looked at his dad’s work.  He knew what it meant to put your heart and soul into a piece as beautiful as this and could see his father sitting there having a beer with a man like Rosey.

            Rosey opened the album he brought out and placed it on the table so the three could take in the pictures. 

            “This man and woman is my great, great grandparents.  They were brought against their will into this country in 1840 and lived in Virginia.  They lived as slaves for over twenty years until they were freed and moved to Wisconsin. It is one of the first pictures every taken in our family.  This photo is over one hundred and fifty years old.  This man was murdered at the age of eighty-nine by constables in Milwaukee. It had just become a city.  When it incorporated, there was a disagreement over land and my grandfather was killed by white settlers.”  Jimbo felt the hurt as Rosey spoke of his relatives.

            “My great grandfather and their family moved south into Tennessee.  This was him just before he was married.  My great grandmother was a white woman.  They did not allow that back then.  The world was not the same place it is now. They lived their lives in the mountains until he died of pneumonia during the depression.”  

            The amount of heart ache his family had experience hit Jimbo hard and Sharla could see the pain he was feeling.  She took his hand as they listened.

            “My father moved to Birmingham in the forties and raised us children.  There was five of us.  Two of us were doctors, my other brother died of measles and my two sisters were politicians.  Emma was the first black female mayor in Alabama.  Beatrice was in the First Baptist Church in Birmingham when it blew up and killed those little girls.  She never got over that and I would say she died of a broken heart, but the doctors said it was a stroke at the age of thirty-six.  I marched with Reverend King and was in Memphis when he was murdered by a white man.” 

            Jimbo looked into Sharla’s eyes and felt a closeness that he had never felt.  It was as if the pain and hate that had built inside him had gone.  All that was left now was shame because of what he had become.

            “I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad for me, but to tell you that I don’t look at the people who done this to my family as white.  Each one of these men were their own person and responsible for their own actions.  You can’t hate a whole race of people for actions of the few.  Take each one as an individual and treat them with actions that represent what they present to you.”

                                                                        #

            Jimbo stood up and walked out to the edge of the yard.  He finished the beer he had in his hand and looked into the sky.  The stars had never shown brighter.  Each one seemed to be their own entity putting off their own light.  Jimbo thought about what Rosey had said and knew he was right.  He had taken a whole race of people and convicted them for the murder of his father.  He turned and walked back to the open flame of the firepit.  Sharla wrapped her arms around him. 

            “I am sorry about your dad.  I know it must be hard for you.”

            Rosey stood up and walked over to him. 

            “Your father would be happy about the steps you made today.  I can see his spirit in you.” 

            Jimbo reached out to shake his hand and Rosey pulled him close.  He then turned and left the two young people under the ambiance of the night sky.

            They sat down on the bench and held each other until early in the morning.  When Jimbo left, he had found love, lost hate, and had an epiphany of color.  Color does not make a man, each one of us can only be judged by our singular actions.

                                                                        The End