As she paced the dusty classroom floor, Abbie's bravado and courage faded. She didn't know Crane. He's still practically a stranger. She's gone mad. That's what Mama would say. Let her instincts flutter. Mama would say that, too. Her head and her instincts wrangled.
"Hello? Miss Mills? It is I, Ichabod Crane."
She stepped into the hallway. Her dress squeezed her a little too tight. And her skin warmed. The walls looked like they shrunk or expanded. She couldn't tell which.
"Hi," she said.
"Hello."
Snow melted in his beard and on his blue coat. His fingers wiggled. His feet stayed seeded where they were. His eyes glanced above her head or at the flaky walls or on his black boots.
She listened to that flutter. You can trust him, it said.
"Come in."
He followed her.
Abbie sat in a crooked-legged desk while Crane remained by the door.
"There are plenty of seats," she said.
"Yes, there are. I—Why—? Are you positive about this, Miss Mills?"
She nodded. "I want to be friends, too. I needed a safe environment though. No one ever comes in here, except me. Most people think it's haunted."
"I wouldn't be surprised if it were." He smirked. "I am curious to know its age."
She shrugged. "Older than me, I'm sure."
He touched the chalk board and the teacher's desk. "Thank you for inviting me, Miss Mills. It took me by surprise to say the least. However, I am very glad you took this chance, though you did not have to. You have my word that I will not disclose this location under any circumstances."
"Thank you, Crane. Was it hard getting here?"
"Not at all."
"Did people stare?"
"A few residents did, but no one bothered me. I kept my head down mostly as not to draw attention to myself." He smiled.
She laughed, shook her head.
"What is so funny?"
"Crane, you're as tall as a tree. How could you not draw attention?"
He took a seat. "I suppose you have a point there. How often do you frequent this building?"
"Every Saturday morning. I teach self-defense to women and sometimes little girls in here."
"That is a very admirable tool you are teaching to them. I'm certain they appreciate it."
She nodded. "I'm very grateful for my students. I think my class has gotten a little larger since…."
"Since what?"
She didn't want to tell him too much too soon, but she's already done the unthinkable by inviting him here.
"Remember I told you I was going out of town?"
He nodded. "Again, I am sorry for your loss." He started to cover her hand with his, but retreated. He fixed his buttons.
They didn't know each other, and yet Abbie said, "It's okay. I don't mind."
She wanted the comfort. Jenny hadn't offered any lately. It's been nearly impossible to talk to Mrs. Ann.
He squeezed her hand. "I'm terribly sorry."
"Her name was Stella. She was my student. Only twenty-one. We lived in the same apartment building." She recounted the rest.
His mouth opened and closed. His eyebrows did weird things. "Abbie."
She wiped her wet eyes. "It's not me you should pity."
He took out a handkerchief.
A laugh came from her as she cleaned her face with it. "You always carry these, huh?"
"Indeed." He paused. "How is her family?"
"They're hanging in. They miss her a lot."
He rubbed her back as she gathered herself. "Thank you for trusting me with your heartache."
"There's a shit more of it, but we won't get into it."
"You may take all the time you wish."
It felt good to talk to someone about it again, to release it. She needed that.
"Thank you for being here."
"It is my pleasure."
"And thanks for this. I threw the first one out the window." She giggled. "It's not funny, I know. I hope you're not offended. You really caught me off guard when you came to my defense. I didn't know whether you were being sincere or not."
"What do you believe now?"
She thought about his kindness: the scarf he gave her, the book he let her keep, the broom he swept with in Corbin's shop.
"I believe you."
"That means more than you know, Miss Mills. I will not break your trust. Unfortunately, we live in a society where barbaric acts and laws are implemented on your community, your people. I don't where mine get their goddamned nerve. It's more than appalling. On behalf of them, I'm—"
"Don't apologize for those racist fucks. Let's not even talk about them."
"Very well. Would you tell me more about your classes?"
She told him about her dad. How his presence filled their small apartment, how he taught her and Jenny self-defense, how he died.
"You've suffered so much loss, Miss Mills. You have remained strong throughout it."
"Sometimes, it brings me to my knees."
"I can only imagine. What about your mother?"
"She died, too." And she told him her Mama's story.
His eyes looked glassy, like he was about to cry himself. "I wish you didn't have to know such pain, Abbie."
"I'm a black woman, Ichabod. I knew pain before I was born."
It was passed down from woman to woman, from her broke-backed great great aunts, grandmothers, and cousins. Their fingers bled and crippled from cotton thorns and cotton picking on burning summer days. She couldn't even fathom the amount of ruddy, harsh lashes slave owners rived into their backs. Or the countless times they dreamed of running to freedom, to gold lands and full skies. Daughters were sold in the market, sometimes without the remembrance of their mother's milk or snug voice. Some daughters were lucky enough to swell in their mother's spirit and lullabies. Most often, black women ached alone. They nudged all of their strength into their husbands, their children, their relatives and friends. There was hardly any left for them. And so they ached into the night for a life that tasted like sweetwater and honey.
His hand circled her back again. What could he say?
"But I'm surviving and I'll keep on surviving."
Black women will keep on surviving.
"I do not want you to just survive with me while we are here and growing our friendship. It is my hope for you to be unbound, to laugh loosely, to sing joyously, even if it is only for a couple of hours."
She clinched the handkerchief in her hands and quickly found herself wiping her eyes again. She knew he meant it.
"Thank you, Ichabod."
"Would you mind?" He held his fingers near her cheek.
"No."
He dried the tears that were there, and then she gripped his hand, grateful. They listened to the snow fall.
After she gathered herself, she said, "I'm okay now. Thank you."
"It is my pleasure. I do not mind comforting you in the slightest." He paused. "Your parents would be proud."
"I hope so."
"Would you mind teaching me?"
"What?"
He stood up, took off his military coat. "I would like to learn self-defense, if you do not mind."
"Are you serious?"
"I am." His wiggling eyebrows made her laugh. "What stance shall I take?"
He held his hands up like he was about to karate chop the desk. She shook her head and stood in front of him, giggling.
"Not like that."
Abbie balled his hands into two fists and put them near his chin. She told him to widen his legs. And then she laughed.
"What is funny?"
"It's awkward to adjust your body. I'm used to working with women my size, not a six-foot man. You're so tall."
"All the better to see you, my dear."
"Or loose me in a crowd."
"I would never."
"So you say. My dad did that once. I was right beside him. Ok. You're in a front kicking position. The goal is to kick an attacker's knee as hard you can with the ball of your feet. It's less injury that way. Make sure you curl your tops up. In other words, point them to the sky. Now, go."
He kicked off.
"More force. I always tell my girls they have power and to use it. Use yours."
He kicked the air harder this time.
"Great. Try again. And watch your posture. Keep your balance." She straightened his back.
He kicked a few more times before she ended their lesson.
She smiled up at him. "You did well. We'll have to work on your balance. To be so tall, you're so clumsy."
"Under your instruction, I shall have the best balance there is."
"Damn right."
"You're a great teacher. Have you thought about doing this full-time instead of working at the library?"
"I have, but I would need to earn enough to make a living. Most of the women I teach can only come on the weekends. I'd have to find a better location than this school room, too. Somewhere in town maybe. I would love to teach every day though. I love my students."
"It shows. Thank you for the lesson. We'll have to have another."
"Definitely."
She wanted to see him more. They had to arranged times and days to meet, which she mentioned. They agreed to meet after work. Abbie would get on the trolley first and then Crane. They'd make small talk as they waited for the trolley, but nothing that looked too suspicious to others.
"Shall we exchange numbers? If one of us isn't able to meet during the week, I figured we could contact each other over the weekend ahead of time."
She grabbed a paper and a pen out of her bag. They scribbled down their numbers.
"I don't even know what time it is. I'm sure it's probably around 7ish. I should get home before it gets too late. I don't want my sister to worry."
"Of course. Thank you again for a lovely evening. Would you like to meet again tomorrow?"
She nodded, gathered her things.
"Abbie, would you be opposed to a hug? I know we hardly know each other. However, I would really like to comfort you if you ever need it. I'd—"
"Crane. The answer is yes." She chuckled. "You ramble when you're nervous."
She stepped closer to him. They embraced, with her head on his chest and his chin in her hair. She breathed a little easier in his arms. His pine trees and woodsy smell soothed her. Then she briefly felt his lips in her hair. It made the tips of her fingers and toes shiver.
"Rest well, Abigail."
"You too."
He cleared his throat. "Would you mind if I walked you to your apartment as well? I don't have to enter the building, of course. I only want to make sure you get home—"
"There you go again." She smiled.
He blushed.
"Come on. I don't live far. I'm literally across the street."
In a couple of seconds, they stood outside her apartment building.
"I had a lot of fun. Thanks for meeting me and for your support."
"It was an honor, Miss Mills." He bowed for her.
"Chivalrous, huh?"
"Very much so."
She shook her head, smiling once more. "I'll see you tomorrow, Crane."
"See you tomorrow, Miss Mills."
As she walked the two flights of stairs to her apartment, she thought about his hug that strengthened her, his words that cooled her, and his lips that tingled her. And when she got into bed, she rested well.