Part 4 (1/2)
”Her boys weren't used to menfolk living in their house. Had never seen a man less than forty feet off their porch and now there was one sleeping in the next room with their mother. They ain't know how to deal with him so they kept their distance and treated Clemon as if he was one of the flowerpots Ciel had placed everywhere there wasn't furniture; they just stepped around him.
”Not Bertie, though. She was glad for Clemon being there, because he softened Ciel up like b.u.t.ter and almost made her forget how much she hated Bertie Mae.
”Bertie Mae was careful not to say too much to Clemon when Ciel was around and Clemon was careful of the same, but when it was just them two, they talked and talked and Bertie Mae even laughed.”
Sugar's mouth was dry. She wanted some water, but she didn't dare interrupt Sara.
”Ciel kept a close eye on Clemon and Bertie Mae. She made sure to keep Bertie busy running errands, cleaning where she had already cleaned. Anything to keep her out of her sight. Out of Clemon's sight. That's about the time Bertie Mae started spending time beneath that birch tree that sit over yonder, just a few feet off our property. That's where she met ...”
Sugar knew without ever hearing the story. She knew but she needed to hear it said and so she fixed her eyes on Sara and waited.
”... your daddy,” Sara whispered.
”What's his name, Sara.”
”I don*ta””
”What's his name,” Sugar insisted.
”I-Ia””
”Sara, say his name,” Sugar said and stood up.
”My G.o.d, you look just like him.” Sara looked at Sugar as if seeing her for the first time.
”Say it,” Sugar said and took a step forward.
Sara shrank back and gulped. ”Joe Taylor.”
Sugar felt her body go limp, her shoulders slumped as she sat back down on the bed. Hearing it said out loud made it real.
”You knew?” Sara asked, regaining her composure and straightening her back.
Sugar just nodded her head, thought about the picture of Joe and Bertie Mae with those sad, sad eyes.
”Joe Taylor pa.s.sed that birch tree twice a day,” Sara began again, Sugar's father's name comfortable in her mouth now. ”Once at six a.m. and again at eight p.m. He was working on the new railroad that was being built right outside of Short Junction. He was lucky to have gotten the work; there were only seven colored men working on the railroad and four of them were water boys.
”Joe knew that the Klan would eventually show up and claim that it wasn't right for a black man to be working *longside white men, even if the black man wasn't even earning a quarter of what the white man was. That was life then and now too, I guess.” Sara ended her sentence with a yawn and for a long time there was just the sound of Sara's wheezing intake of air and Sugar's heartbeat.
”How did you meet him, my father?” Sugar asked after the chiming of the four o*clock bells ended.
Even in the moonlight, Sugar could see that Sara's eyelids were heavy, the skin beneath her eyes puffed and red. Sara would tell the entire middle part of the story with her eyes closed.
”Well,” Sara started with a tired breath. ”He usta come *round here on Friday nights, 'long with the rest of the menfolks that worked and lived here. He was different from the rest of them other boys, though. Quiet. Polite.” Sara stopped and wiped at her nose. ”Ain't never spent a dime on anything other than food or whiskey.... Well, he lost some in cards and c.r.a.ps, but that's about it.”
Was Sara stating that her father had never laid down with her or her sisters, never?
”Nope, he ain't never even looked up the stairs toward the bedrooms, and ain't never referred to none of us any other way except ma*am,” Sara said, answering Sugar's unspoken question.
”I think he just like being *round people, you know? He liked being in social situations. Yeah, he would play cards and shoot c.r.a.ps, but never, not once, did he come upstairs to the bedrooms.
”Oh, but the women loved him, fussed over him, made up excuses to touch him. *Oh, Joe, you got some dressing on your lip.' *Joe, you got a piece of lint in your hair.' *Oh, Joe, your arms, they so big and strong!' ”
Sara was smiling as she spoke; her eyes were squeezed so tight Sugar could see water seeping out from the corners.
”Yeah, he sure was fine,” Sara said, and then opened her eyes and looked at Sugar. ”But I suppose you know that,” she said before turning her head and closing her eyes again.
”Your mama had noticed him too, I mean it was hard not to. Well, he had noticed her the same way and had asked May and me about her on more than one occasion. I guess he finally got up the nerve to speak to her.”
”Nice evening,” Joe said, looking not quite directly at Bertie but s.n.a.t.c.hing glances at her and the horizon behind her.
Bertie nodded her head in agreement and forced herself to smile. She had seen this stranger in town. Had seen him pa.s.sing in the evenings as she sat quietly beneath the birch tree and had appreciated the fact that his eyes just peeked and dropped away. Not like the other men that leered at her.
She had felt ashamed at the heat that traveled through her whenever she laid eyes on him and hated the flush that stayed in her cheeks long after he'd walked away.
Now here he was talking to her.
”Yes,” was her simple, concise response.
Joe nodded and kicked at the dirt, but said nothing else. Bertie Mae dropped her eyes and looked off to her left.
”Well, I'm on my way *cross to the Lacey home, I was wondering if you would like to uhm, come along. They fried fish is the best I ever had. 'Course, I'm sure you probably been living here all your life so you must be acquainted with it so I ain't said nothing but a word.”
Bertie Mae liked the sound of his voice and the low unhurried way he spoke. She blushed and smiled before catching herself and reminding herself whose child she was and what place this man was inviting her to.
”No, sir, I ain't never had anything them Lacey women cooked up. Fact, I don't know *em. Not personally anyway. Just know what folks say 'bout them.”
Joe smiled and breathed in the sweet night air. He looked directly at her and caught the smile Bertie Mae had tried to tuck quickly away.
”Is that right? So what is it folks say *bout them?”
Bertie wasn't sure if he was mocking her by asking that question. Surely if he was keeping company with the Lacey women, he was fully aware of what was said about them.
”They ain't the kinda women I oughta be a.s.sociating with, if you know what I mean,” Bertie replied, looking quickly at Joe and then to the field that lay behind him. Bertie Mae had never had this many words with a man that wasn't one of her brothers, the minister, or Clemon. Her behind was going numb on the hard ground and she wanted to stand up, but she didn't want to stand up in front of him.
Joe considered her words before responding.
”Well, I *pose some people might not think of them as upstanding citizens, but I make it a point not to judge n.o.body, 'cause I don't want n.o.body to judge me, *cept the Almighty.
But no matter what kinda women they may be, that fish sure is something. Maybe some other time then.” And with that Joe smiled, nodded his head and walked away.
For the next few weeks Joe pa.s.sed Bertie, just as he had before, with a nod of his head and an almost inaudible greeting. It upset her that he didn't make any further attempts to speak with her and she became annoyed with herself for caring that he didn't.
Bertie was eager to have another encounter with him. She needed a name to place with the face and warm demeanor. She found herself thinking about him all the time, replaying the words they'd exchanged. She tried to shake him from her thoughts, but all it did was give her a headache.
She decided that she had to speak with him again, had to! So she got herself all gussied up best she could with the one good dress she had. Parted her thick hair down the middle and braided two large plats, tying the ends with yellow ribbons that bounced on her shoulders when she walked.
When she arrived, the sun was already dropping from the sky and the crickets were out and loud. She settled herself beneath the tree and waited.
”Hey, gal, you sure do look nice.”