Three Lives: Stories of The Good Anna, Melanctha and The Gentle LenaStein, Gertrude
General
Three Lives: Stories of The Good Anna, Melanctha and The Gentle Lena
Stein, Gertrude
Working class women -- Fiction
It was summer now, and they had warm sunshine to wander. It was summer
now, and Jeff Campbell had more time to wander, for colored people
never get sick so much in the summer. It was summer now, and there was
a lovely silence everywhere, and all the noises, too, that they heard
around them were lovely ones, and added to the joy, in these warm
days, they loved so much to be together.
They talked some to each other in these days, did Jeff Campbell and
Melanctha Herbert, but always in these days their talking more and
more was like it always is with real lovers. Jeff did not talk so
much now about what he before always had been thinking. Sometimes Jeff
would be, as if he was just waking from himself to be with Melanctha,
and then he would find he had been really all the long time with her,
and he had really never needed to be doing any thinking.
It was sometimes pure joy Jeff would be talking to Melanctha, in these
warm days he loved so much to wander with her. Sometimes Jeff would
lose all himself in a strong feeling. Very often now, and always with
more joy in his feeling, he would find himself, he did not know how or
what it was he had been thinking. And Melanctha always loved very well
to make him feel it. She always now laughed a little at him, and went
back a little in him to his before, always thinking, and she teased
him with his always now being so good with her in his feeling, and
then she would so well and freely, and with her pure, strong ways of
reaching, she would give him all the love she knew now very well, how
much he always wanted to be sure he really had it.
And Jeff took it straight now, and he loved it, and he felt, strong,
the joy of all this being, and it swelled out full inside him, and he
poured it all out back to her in freedom, in tender kindness, and in
joy, and in gentle brother fondling. And Melanctha loved him for it
always, her Jeff Campbell now, who never did things ugly, for her,
like all the men she always knew before always had been doing to
her. And they loved it always, more and more, together, with this new
feeling they had now, in these long summer days so warm; they, always
together now, just these two so dear, more and more to each other
always, and the summer evenings when they wandered, and the noises in
the full streets, and the music of the organs, and the dancing, and
the warm smell of the people, and of dogs and of the horses, and
all the joy of the strong, sweet pungent, dirty, moist, warm negro
southern summer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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