Editor’s Note: This is the second installment of the serialized novella, “Willie,” by local author, Bill Hunt.

Part 2 is illustrated by the author’s daughter, Carole Foret. Read Part 1 online at: enewscourier.com

What has gone before

Willie London, a black servant born in early 20th-Century New Orleans, has been laid to rest and grieved by the adult children of wealthy businessman and landlord John Abbott. They remember in John Abbott’s words his recollections of Willie. Abbott told of eating dinner every night with his friends and tenants, Willie and George London, and how he told them of his impending marriage.

The story continues…

I left George and Willie’s house that evening knowing they still had questions about how our long relationship would certainly change should Margaret accept my proposal.

The neighborhood with its long rows of small houses, painted unapologetically bright, was abuzz with kids, frantically dashing about as children do when darkness is setting in. Their mamas and daddies visited on the porch while the familiar aromas of the neighborhood mingled with the damp air wafting in from Lake Pontchartrain.

The gentle breeze blowing through the streetcar window lulled me into a near snooze and my eyes drifted shut to the sound of the rails. In a few minutes I was jolted awake by the lights and sounds of the city where hundreds of late shoppers crowded Canal Street.

A few blocks after crossing Canal Street, we came upon another neighborhood, a wide, tranquil boulevard lined on both sides by grand homes with tall columns and wide porches. Lacy gazebos with tall, pointed roofs stood dressed for a party and iron gates in brick walls opened to quiet gardens, overflowing with flowers, while palms swayed lazily overhead. Ancient oaks, solid and strong, stretched out their silky-gray moss-draped arms.

My neighborhood.

“Hurry, Mr. Abbott, please, suh!” Willie was crying, and quickly I slammed the phone earpiece into the hook.