Embracing Darkness by Christopher D. Roe Page B

he were afraid of dropping it. He quickly unwrapped it and tossed it into his mouth.
    Arthur Nichols suspected that the boy hadn’t eaten, but he didn’t know for how long.
    It was hard candy, and after one attempt to bite down the child grimaced wildly. The schoolteacher was amazed that the boy once again tried to bite down and break it.
    “Hey now, son! Take it easy, or you’ll break every tooth in your mouth. You have to suck on it.”
    The boy paid Arthur Nichols no mind and made a third attempt, this time succeeding. The sound of the candy breaking between the child’s teeth made Nichols wince, since it sounded as though it must have hurt.
    “Okay,” said Nichols. “Now that you’ve triumphed over the evil candy ball, what’s say you tell me your name?”
    The boy was still chewing and showed no enthusiasm for wanting to speak, so in the interim the retired schoolteacher figured he’d go first. “I’m Mr. Nichols.”
    The boy swallowed the sticky chocolate candy, which he frankly didn’t think tasted very good but was glad nonetheless to have had it. He then said in an almost inaudible voice, “Jonas.”
    Nichols, who felt that he’d somewhat eased the child’s apprehension, bent down a bit, put his ear in the direction of the boy, and asked him to repeat what he’d said.
    “J-Jonas. Jonas be my name.”
    Still leaning over to be closer to the child’s mouth, Arthur Nichols repeated, “Jonas? Jonas what?”
    The boy began to speak in a louder voice, as he was beginning to feel a bit safer with Mr. Nichols. “Jonas Hodges,” he said.
    “Well!” the schoolteacher exclaimed. “Jonas Hodges. That’s a wonderful name, a magnificent name! And tell me, Master Jonas Hodges, is your family new to Holly?”
    The boy lowered his head again and chose not to answer, which made Nichols think he had struck a nerve. Was it the word ‘family’? he wondered. Perhaps he has no family. Maybe someone dear to him died . He asked again, “Come now, son. You do have a family, don’t you?”
    Jonas raised his head slowly. “Yeah. I do gots one. Me, my mamma, an’ my daddy.”
    Nichols had so many questions for the boy, but it wouldn’t be long before dozens of people started walking up and down this part of the street, and he didn’t want to cause a scene. He assumed people would think that he, Holly’s newest retired teacher, would attempt to enroll this Negro boy at the Academy, and Arthur Nichols was well aware of people’s potential prejudices.
    Nichols wanted to inquire again as to where the boy came from but thought he’d ask in a different way. “Do you live nearby?” he inquired politely.
    Jonas looked over his right shoulder, seemingly a bit worried. As he did so, Nichols noticed that the fabric around the shoulder of the boy’s shirt was torn. Jonas opened his mouth and paused, wondering whether he should answer the nice white man. Without taking long to think it over, Jonas decided in favor of congeniality. “We live over this place. It real popular at night. It get loud real late. Sometimes it be hard to sleep.”
    Arthur Nichols knew right away that the boy was referring to “The Watering Hole,” a local speakeasy in the center of downtown frequented by many and known by all where both the elite and the dregs of Holly would converge. Among the well-to-do social butterflies, Holly mayor Errol Aberfoyle would most surely be in attendance, as well as almost all the town elders. There also would be the chief of police, who was paid under the table for not closing down such an establishment. Then of course you’d have to count the rest of the population. It was the place for people from all walks of life who had one thing in common: they weren’t going to let the government take their liquor away. For the sake of the town’s reputation, it was known as a restaurant that had live shows (including ones with naked ladies), and due to the nature of the business on the ground floor this was