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  LOVE’S SERENADE

  Decades: A Journey of African American Romance

  Sheryl Lister

  Copyright

  This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.

  This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Love’s Serenade

  Copyright © 2018 by Sheryl Lister

  Ebook ISBN: 9781641970167

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

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  Prologue

  Magnolia, Arkansas

  June, 1924

  “Hurry up, Mae Lee. Your parents will be back soon.”

  Mary Lee Johnson turned slightly. “Miles Cooper, I told you to stop calling me that old country name.” Miles gave her the patented grin that had melted her the first time she’d seen him playing the piano in Mr. Butler’s basement saloon.

  Miles chuckled. “Then what should I call you?”

  “Leigh. Leigh Jones. When I get to New York, that’s who I’ll be.”

  He placed a quick kiss on her lips and picked up her suitcase. “You won’t be going anywhere if we don’t hurry up and get out of here.” He paused. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “Yes. I want to sing and this will be the best chance for me to follow my dreams. I’ve devoted my whole life trying to please my parents. Just recently, they offered my services to carry food baskets to the sick and shut in, never mind all the other chores I have to do. I kept my mouth shut because that’s how I was raised—to obey my parents.” She rubbed a weary hand across her forehead. “It seems my entire world revolves around volunteering on every church committee and spending my evenings and summers taking lessons to students who missed school.”

  He stroked a finger down her cheek. “That’s because you have a big heart.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but for once, I want to do something for me. Something that makes me happy.” Besides, she had no desire to stay and marry Percy. Percival Williams, the pastor’s nephew, had somehow convinced her parents that he would make her a good husband and her father had promised her hand to him three weeks ago. But the man masquerading as a minister was fifteen years her senior, a weasel and a thief. Mary hated him. She snatched up her handbag and placed the note she’d written to her parents on the bed. After taking one last glance around, she turned off the lamp and headed out the back door. They made their way through the thick stand of trees at the rear of the property and exited to the road a half a mile away, where a car sat waiting.

  The driver hopped out, helped them load the bags and quickly pulled away. He let them out at the boarding house where Miles stayed and would be back at sunrise to drive them to the train station in Louisiana.

  Mary followed Miles inside to his room. She took in the sparse furnishings. “There isn’t much here.” The front room held a chair, table and lamp.

  Miles shrugged. “I don’t need much.” He led her to the bedroom and set the bag down. “You want something to eat or drink?”

  “No, thank you. We have a long day tomorrow. I think I just want to turn in.” She wondered if he planned for them to sleep together. Though she loved him and had given him her innocence, she wasn’t sure about the arrangement.

  He must have sensed her hesitancy because he said, “I can sleep on the floor if you’re uncomfortable.”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” She grabbed her nightclothes and went into the bathroom to change. When she came out, he was in bed, his bare chest visible above the sheet. Mary laid her dress over the chair and climbed in next to him.

  He turned off the light, pulled her close and draped an arm around her waist. “Good night, Leigh.”

  Smiling, she closed her eyes. A heartbeat later, she was asleep.

  Mary woke up the next morning alone. “Miles?” No answer. Puzzled, she took care of her needs, dressed and went downstairs to search the dining room. Not finding him, she returned to the room. On the side table, she noticed a piece of paper with her name on it and a stack of bills beneath it. Her eyes widened as she read. She rushed to the bedroom, pulled out the drawers and found them all empty. He was gone. Her gaze strayed to her slightly opened handbag on the chair. “No,” she whispered. A quick search confirmed what she already knew. Some of her music sheets were gone, too. A knock at the door startled her. Her ride. Fighting back tears, Mary gathered up her belongings and vowed never to trust anyone again with her music…or her heart.

  Chapter 1

  Harlem, New York

  May, 1927

  Leigh Jones dropped down on the side of her bed, kicked off her shoes and sighed in relief. Her feet ached, her head ached and she smelled like a smoke stack. Just as she’d done every Saturday night for the past three years since coming north, she’d spent the evening singing at rent parties and basement speakeasies—some of which no woman should venture inside. She shuddered at the memories. Thankfully, the piano player who accompanied her made sure she’d had no problems. Offers to sing in the big name clubs were few and far between, often times booked with more popular singers. Some days her dream of becoming a singer felt more like a nightmare.

  Leigh’s gaze strayed to the photo of her parents sitting on the dresser and she wondered how they were faring. A measure of guilt rose inside her. Outside of the note she’d left, she hadn’t written to let them know where she lived or how she was doing and figured they might be worried. She also hoped the school had found a good teacher. She’d left the principal a note, along with six months worth of lesson plans, just in case it took longer than expected. Then there was Percy. She wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. Hopefully by now, he had married some other gullible woman he promised to make famous. She had often thought about writing her parents, but wanted to wait until she’d become successful. Leigh had no desire to hear her father say, “I told you nothing good would come from you singing that devil music.” Determined to prove him wrong, she pushed down the melancholy. “I am going to be successful.” After spending so much time seeing to everyone else’s happiness, she was enjoying life on her own terms, even if it meant working hard.

  She retrieved the tin box from a drawer and counted the money she had made this week. With tonight’s take, Leigh had enough to pay her rent, buy a few groceries, but not much else. She couldn’t complain, though, because her rent was reasonable. Most places in Harlem charged members of the race three and four times more than their White counterparts, if they rented to them at all. She’d seen ads specifically barring Negros from applying. Her best friend, Elizabeth Bryant owned the building where Leigh lived, housing a profitable restaurant and catering business downstairs and four apartments upstairs. Liz’s parents had migrated to New York from Arkansas during the World War and made a fortune. Upon their deaths, everything had passed down to Liz.

  Leigh placed the tin back into the drawer and headed to the bathroom to take a bath. A knock on the door stopped her. The clock on the night table read one-thirty. Who’s knocking on my door this late? She dearly hoped it wasn’t one of the patrons from downstairs. Every now and again, one would somehow get into the building and venture up to the apartmen
ts looking for the man who lived two doors down. She walked back to the front door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Liz.”

  Leigh unbolted the door. “Is everything okay?” she asked, searching her friend’s face. “Come in.”

  Liz entered, took a seat in one of the chairs and leaned her head back. “Lord, I’m tired. Why did I decide to open a club?”

  She sat on the sofa and laughed. Six months ago, Liz had expanded the restaurant to include a club—aptly called The Magnolia Club to honor their hometown—that rivaled the ones downtown. “Did you come up to catch your breath or is there something else?”

  “I’m going to need a full-time singer starting next week. Irene told me tonight that she’s moving back to Chicago.”

  Leigh’s eyes widened. “Really? When is she leaving?” Irene Fields was a popular jazz and blues singer who had kept The Magnolia packed every night. Liz had graciously allowed Leigh to sing a couple nights a week on the bill.

  “Tuesday is her last night. She’s leaving at the end of next week.”

  “Do you have anyone in mind to replace her?”

  Liz sat up. “As a matter of fact I do. You.”

  “Me? I don’t know, Liz. I mean—”

  She lifted a brow. “Are you telling me you can’t do it or you won’t?”

  “I’m not saying that.” Leigh stood and paced. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. A moment of panic flared. What if she couldn’t do it?

  “The pay is thirty dollars a week.”

  Leigh stopped pacing and spun around.

  Liz chuckled. “I thought that would get your attention. Leigh, you’ve been working hard to make a name for yourself and I’ve seen the response from the audience. They love you. And so do I,” she added.

  Leigh smiled. Liz was the sister she never had. They had grown up together, went to the same school and sang in the church choir. “I love you, too. And I’ll take the job.” The promised pay meant Leigh didn’t have to worry about making the rent or singing in dangerous places anymore. It also meant she could fatten up her meager wardrobe. She and Liz shared a smile. Success, here I come.

  *

  Miles Cooper sat in a shadowy corner of The Magnolia Club Wednesday evening listening to the woman singing on the stage and felt the familiar tug in his chest. Rich, brown skin with eyes to match, full lips painted a deep shade of red, and enough curves beneath the knee-length black flapper to keep a man busy for weeks. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. After roaming for the past three years, he couldn’t stay away any longer. It hadn’t taken much to find her. He remembered her mentioning staying with her friend, Elizabeth Bryant and everyone in town knew about the restaurant. He found out that she had only added the club a few months ago. On the other nights he’d been there, Leigh shared the stage with another woman and only sang two or three songs. Tonight, however, he had been pleased to hear the announcement that she would be taking over as the house singer.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on her sultry voice. Miles always wondered how this small woman could possess such a powerful voice. He’d been drawn to it from the moment they met and it had haunted him since he’d left her. He hadn’t wanted to part that way, but the restlessness that plagued him since childhood had been so overwhelming that he’d had no choice. He had been on the road with his father since the age of four and didn’t know another life. Now he was tired of moving from place to place with nowhere to call home. And he missed Leigh. Missed her more than he could have ever imagined.

  “You want another drink, honey?”

  Miles took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke. “No, thanks.”

  The woman, who had identified herself as Belinda the first night he’d come to the club two weeks ago smiled. “And my other offer?”

  “Still no.” Belinda had expressed her interest in him, but he had eyes for only one woman. Though he didn’t expect a warm welcome when he made his presence known.

  Her smile faded. She snatched up his empty glass and stormed off.

  He refocused his attention on the stage where Leigh was singing a fast-paced jazz tune and frowned. She hit all the right notes and had the audience eating out the palm of her hand, but something about her voice seemed to be missing. It took him a minute to figure it out. Passion. He couldn’t feel her words. Taking another drag on his cigarette, he contemplated what to do. She had the potential to become one of the greatest singers in the world and he couldn’t understand why she had chosen to suppress her talent. As she continued to sing, Miles sat there deciding what course to take. As he’d noted before, Leigh would not be happy to see him. Memories of the way she felt in his arms and the softness of her lips against his surfaced in his mind. He had no idea how he would accomplish it, but he needed to see her, to touch and kiss her again.

  Leigh finished the next song and announced a short break. Coming to a decision, Miles stubbed out the cigarette into the ashtray and stood. It was time the crowd got a taste of Leigh’s full power. And he knew just the song.

  *

  “Girl, you were fabulous!” Liz smiled. “I knew you could do it.”

  Leigh stared at Liz through the mirror of the dressing room that Irene used as she sat blotting the moisture from her forehead, a smile playing around her lips. “Did you see the audience?” Folks had clapped, stomped their feet and danced. Watching them had given Leigh more energy and she’d enjoyed every moment of being on the stage.

  “I did. And when word gets out about how good you are, I’m gonna have to add more space.”

  She laughed.

  “Pretty soon one of those big recording companies will be offering you a deal.”

  “That would be something.” Leigh leaned back against the chair. A few years ago, record companies realized that Negro music would be popular. When the Okeh Record Company recorded Mamie Smith’s Crazy Blues in 1920, the record sold over a million copies in just a year. Now companies like Columbia and Paramount also offered deals to singers and musicians of the race and Leigh wanted to see her name on one of them.

  “I’ll let you get ready for your next set. Be sure to end it with Tain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do.”

  The song made popular by Bessie Smith was one of Leigh’s favorites and she sang it most nights. Leigh stood and squeezed Liz’s hand. “Thank you so much for giving me this chance. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.”

  “Just keep singing and filling the house. That’ll be thanks enough.” They shared a smile and Liz departed.

  Leigh stared at her reflection. The young woman staring back at her had changed considerably over the past three years. By society standards, she should have been married with children and following the lead of her husband, but she wanted more for herself. She was a college graduate, a teacher and now a jazz and blues singer, just as she had envisioned. Women were doing more than just sitting at home. They had even gotten the vote in 1920. She patted her hair and clipped the silk magnolia flower that had become her signature just above her left ear. Leigh surveyed her look. Her mother would probably have a heart attack if she saw her wearing a dress that left her arms and knees bare. Smoothing it down, she inhaled and went back to the stage.

  Thunderous applause greeted her. She glanced around at the small band—Frank Dixon on piano, Samuel White on drums, Willie Young on trumpet and Loyce Douglas on clarinet—and smiled. The men were accomplished musicians and she knew Liz paid them well to perform as the house band. The music started and, once again, Leigh was transported to the place that gave her the most pleasure. She sang a mixture of jazz and blues tunes that kept the audience out of their seats.

  The next song started and Leigh froze. She’d recognize that piano style anywhere. It can’t be. Her heart started pounding. She whipped her head around and her gaze collided with the one man she thought she’d never see again. Leigh’s breath stalled in her lungs. Miles smiled. She didn’t. She was so stunned sh
e couldn’t utter a sound. His smooth voice floated across the space. Finally, she gathered herself and jumped in to sing the second verse of the blues duet they had written together. Before she knew it, they sang with a passion reserved for the two lovers described in the song.

  When the song ended, Frank resumed his place at the piano. She finished her set and retreated to the dressing room. She scrubbed a hand across her forehead. Why in the world was Miles here? It had taken her months to forget about him and now he had the nerve to reappear. As far as she was concerned, he could go back to wherever he came from because she had no intention of starting up with him again. Leigh stayed in the room until the club closed thirty minutes later, confident that he would be gone.

  Miles sat at the table closest to the stage and his was the first face she saw when she came back inside the club. Her steps slowed. She stopped in front of him. “What are you doing here, Miles?” The musicians stopped packing up their instruments, the servers paused in wiping down the tables and Liz watched her warily from behind the bar.

  “I came to see you, baby,” he said softly.

  He smiled again and something inside of Leigh snapped. She punched him in the jaw, knocking him backwards in the chair. “Go back to wherever you came from.” Ignoring the stunned looks on everyone’s faces, she spun on her heel and strode out.

  Upstairs in her apartment, Leigh paced angrily. Her hand throbbed and would probably be sore for a few days. How dare he waltz back into her life as if he hadn’t walked away without any explanation? Things were finally going her way and she did not need this disruption. She hoped he heeded her warning and left. Leigh removed the flower from her hair and placed it on the dresser. She started to change, but heard a knock on the door. Groaning, she went to open it.

  “I thought you might need this,” Liz said, handing her a towel with ice.

  “Thanks.” She stepped back for her to enter.

  Liz followed her back to the bedroom and sat on the bed. “So, that’s Miles. How did he know you were here?”