Authors: Delores Phillips
The Darkest Child (20 page)
“Mama,” I said, “what’s Crow’s real name?”
She held the cigarette away from her face as she considered my question, then she said, “I don’t know. All I ever knew was Crow. That’s all anybody ever called him. Now, get me some bathwater! And, Tangy Mae, you go on back and work them two days for them people ’til something better come along.”
Mama had bathed, napped, dressed, and left by the time Sam came in that evening. Her car was gone, but Sam looked for her in her room anyway before asking, “Where’s Mama?”
“She went out,” I answered.
“Tangy Mae, did you and Mama go over to East Grove and fight wit’ them Griggs boys today?”
“Mama told me not to talk about it, Sam. She said it’s best forgotten.”
“Mama got a bruise on her face?”
I nodded, figuring he would see it sooner or later.
He nodded, too.“Yeah,” he said, “it’s best forgotten.”
P
ith a cup of water, Pakersfield soil can swallow itself and make a puddle. During an all-day rain, it swallowed my mother’s car. I arrived home from the Whitmans’ on Saturday afternoon to find Mama pacing the muddy road below our house, swearing and condemning Velman Cooper to Hell for all eternity.
Out in the field, Harvey, Sam, Wallace, Hambone, Maxwell, and Skip Carson were attempting to push the car out of the thick mud and up onto the road. Anybody could see that they were wasting their time. In fact, the car sank a little more with each push.
“It ain’t coming out, Mama,” Harvey yelled.“We gon’ have to wait ’til this rain lets up, and dig it out.”
Mama stopped pacing and turned to me.“Will you just listen to that fool,” she said, then raised her voice and shouted out, “It’s a
car,
Harvey. Drive it out. And don’t get none of that mud in it.”
“Didn’t you already try that, Mama?” Sam asked. “Ain’t that how it got stuck in the first place?”
“It got stuck ’cause y’all didn’t cut that field right,” she answered. “Instead of paying attention to what you oughta been doing, y’all was out there running from a rat.You hadda laid planks like you shoulda done, the damn thing wouldn’t be stuck.Now, you shut up, Sam, and get my car outta there!”
“On three,” Harvey said, and began to count.They pushed, and all four tires disappeared with a sucking sound, sending mud splattering across the fenders and the hood of the car.
“Well, I just be damn!” Mama spat, placing her hands on her hips, and shaking her head in disbelief.
Out in the field, five young men stood with their arms dangling idly at their sides.The sixth, Maxwell James, held his abdomen and convulsed with laughter. He lifted an arm and pointed to the sunken car, then he leaned forward. Each time he tried to straighten up, his howls would fold him over again.
“Max!” Hambone said sternly. “Max! Shut up, nigger. Ain’t nothing funny.”
“Damn, man, I’m trying, ”Maxwell gasped, “but did you see that thing? I mean, plop, man. It just went plop.”
Harvey kept his composure. He trudged two steps, then stopped.“Mama, we can’t get it out,” he said.“We done tried lifting it wit’ planks.We done tried pulling it.We done tried pushing it.We . . .”
“We, we, we, we, we, ”Mama shouted angrily.
At that, Harvey chuckled, then they all began to laugh, hooting and howling in mirth and frustration. Mama stared out at them. Rain dripped from her nose and chin. She slid a hand from her hip, made a fist, and knocked me to the ground.
“Come on, Miss Rosie,” Hambone said.“You don’t need to hit nobody.We’ll come back tomorrow and try again. If there’s somewhere you gotta go, I’ll take you. How about it?”
“I got somewhere to go awright,” Mama said.“I’m going to get Martha Jean. I ain’t gon’ stand by and let that Velman Cooper swindle me. He can have that piece of junk back.”
Pulling myself up from the mud, neither hurt nor embarrassed, I went up to the faucet in the yard to wash the mud from my arms and legs. Mama, muddy shoes and all, stomped over to Ham-bone’s car and opened the door.
“You coming?” she called to Hambone.
“Just give me a minute to get this mud off my hands, Miss Rosie,” he said, as he and the others joined me in the yard.“I don’t know about taking your mama over there, Sam,” Hambone whispered.“ What do you think?”
“I think she going whether you take her or not,” Sam replied.
Harvey agreed.“Yeah, man.When she makes up her mind to do something, ain’t no stopping her.”
“I sho’would like to see that boy’s face when yo’mama go over there and take his woman,” Maxwell said. “What kinda man, you reckon, just gon’ let somebody take his woman?”
No one answered.They rinsed the mud from their hands, then Skippy asked, “What time y’all getting up to Greg’s tonight?”
“’Bout seven or eight,” Sam answered. “They got everything ready?”
“Yeah, man,” Skip said, “but they scared.You better make sure you be there.”
“I’ll be there,” Sam assured him.
“Yeah, Sam’ll be there,” Hambone said. “How about you, Harvey?”
Harvey shook the water from his hands and dried them against the legs of his pants. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “I just don’t know about this.”
“I’ll be there,” Max said.
Sam gave him a slap on the back.“I know you will, Max.”
Skip and Maxwell went with Hambone, but Harvey did not leave right away. He came inside and dried himself in the kitchen while I prepared supper. Laura and Edna clung to him until he shook them off and shooed them away.
“They miss you, Harvey,” I said.
“I know. Any other time I’d be glad to see ’em, but I think I done hurt my back pushing that car.”
“Boy, that was really something the way it went down in that mud, ”Wallace said.“You think we gon’ ever get it out?”
“Somebody will,” Harvey answered. “I ain’t straining my back on it no mo’. Mama gon’ have to wait and get a tow truck.”
“She ain’t gon’ pay for nothing like that,” Sam said, leaning back on a chair with his bare feet propped on a milk crate.“Mama didn’t need that thing no way.You ever seen how she drive? She be all over the road like other people ain’t got no business on it. Like the world belong to her.”
“It do, don’t it?” Harvey asked with a chuckle.
“I don’t know about that,” Sam said, “but Martha Jean belong to her. I hope Velman don’t go acting no fool.”
We heard the front door open, then Tarabelle came into the kitchen carrying a newspaper that was drenched from being held over her head. She wiped rainwater from her face as her gaze met Sam’s.
“Sheriff ’s right behind me,” she said. “He got that Chadlow wit’ him. Asked me if you was here.”
“What they want wit’ me?” Sam asked, slowly lowering his feet, bringing his chair into an upright position.
“I’m here to arrest you, Sam,” Angus Betts answered, stepping into our kitchen with Chadlow on his heels.“Has to do with one of the Griggs boys from over in East Grove. I’ve got a complaint that you threw a brick through the windshield of his car. Heard you drug him from that car and beat him to within an inch of his life.You know anything about that?”
“He hurt my mama,” Sam said, “but I didn’t beat him that bad.”
The sheriff arched his brows.“Well, that’s the complaint I got from Kirk Griggs’s hospital bed.That boy says you tried to kill him, and it looks like you did beat him up pretty bad. His daddy is screaming bloody murder, threatening to take matters into his own hands if I don’t do something about it, so I’m taking you in. And speaking of murder, a description of you keeps coming up in connection with the death of Tannus Fess. It seems you were the last one seen with him.”
“What?” Sam exclaimed, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I didn’t kill Junior.”
“That may be so, but right now I’ve got one fellow in the hospital who positively identifies you as his attacker, and I have a witness who says he saw somebody looks like you with Tannus Fess.”
Sam rose from his chair and glanced toward the back door. He placed his hands flat on the table that blocked his path, then he glanced at Chadlow who stood with one hand resting on his hip.
“Come easy, son,” the sheriff said.“Don’t make Chad shoot your knee caps off.”
“I didn’t kill Junior,” Sam protested.
“Maybe not, but I’ve heard Tannus was last seen with a white boy,” the sheriff said. “I don’t know any white boys in this county who run around with coloreds. I’ve spent some time thinking about this, and I keep coming up with you. Now, after this thing with Kirk Griggs, I’m pretty sure I should have arrested you a long time ago. I’ve seen that bunch of hoodlums you run around with. It’s a wonder I haven’t gotten you for something long before now.”
“It couldna been me,” Sam said, his lips quivering as he spoke. “Ain’t nobody seen me wit’ Junior, and I ain’t white.”
“No, you’re not,” Angus Betts agreed, “but it was you, and we both know it.”
Chadlow stepped around the table and, with more force than necessary, handcuffed Sam’s wrists behind his back, then shoved him toward the door while the sheriff kept watch on the rest of us. I looked at Harvey, waiting for him to do or say something, but he remained unmoving and silent.
“Where’s Mama?”Tarabelle asked, after the sheriff had left the kitchen.
“She went to get Martha Jean, ”Wallace answered. “She’s taking her back from Velman.”
A short while later, Mama arrived home with Martha Jean, and Harvey broke the news to her. He led her to a chair in the front room, and held her as she sobbed. She clutched his shirt and would not let go.
“Don’t leave, Harvey,” she pleaded between sobs.“Don’t go.You stay here wit’ me tonight. I need you here.”
“I’ll stay, Mama,” Harvey said. “I ain’t gon’ leave you.”
“Harvey, do you think I’m being punished for bringing Martha Jean home?”Mama asked, as tears rolled down her face.“I had to fight Skeeter to get her.Maybe I’m being punished. I’d rather have Sam.”
“He’ll be back,” Harvey soothed.
“When?” Mama screamed.“They done took my baby from me. They done took Sam. People trying to take all my babies from me.”
Wallace tried to explain things to Martha Jean. She nodded, although her eyes seemed not to follow the movement of his fingers. They appeared hollow, staring out at nothing.
Surprisingly, we were able to eat supper, and as we did, the rain gave a final tap against the roof and hushed.
“Roof holding up pretty good, ain’t it?” Harvey observed.
Mama nodded absently, and no one else said anything for a long while, not until Edna announced that she was sleepy.
We settled down, and the house was quiet, but I knew we were all thinking about Sam. He was easily influenced by Hambone, he had a mean streak, and he hadn’t denied throwing the brick through Kirk Griggs’s car window or beating the boy up. But he never would have killed Junior Fess.
I drifted into a light sleep and was awakened by Tarabelle shaking my shoulder.“Tan, listen,” she whispered.
I brought my head up from the floor and strained to hear the low voices coming from the hall. It was Mama and the sheriff.
“Rozelle, I did it for his own good,” Angus Betts said.“Do you want somebody to kill him?”
“I want him outta jail,” Mama answered.“Ain’t nobody gon’ kill him. Let him out, Angus, or I’m gon’ tell everybody he’s yo’ son.”
“Don’t threaten me, Rozelle. I’m trying to help. Bill Griggs cares about his boy the same way you care about yours. He didn’t say it to me, but I’ve been hearing rumors of trouble. He could get a bunch of men together to come out here and snatch Sam from this house, and you know what would happen. I’m trying to keep Sam safe until this dies down some.”
“Go to Hell, Angus!” Mama said angrily.“Why you trying to keep him safe? We ain’t asked for yo’ help.You ain’t never claimed Sam to be yo’ son, so why you all of a sudden wanna keep him safe?”
“First of all, I’m not convinced that he is my son. All I know is what you told me. I was just a boy, Rozelle, and you had me thinking you were a white woman. Remember that?”
Mama laughed bitterly.“You knew what I was.That’s the reason you wanted me. Stop fooling yo’self, Angus.You wanted me then, and you want me now.You can have me if you let Sam go.”
“That was a long time ago.That was before I became sheriff, and before I had a wife and children to think about. I don’t want you, Rozelle.”
“Yes, you do,” Mama said. “I can smell wanting all over you, Angus. Let Sam out, and I’ll do anything you want.”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” the sheriff said. “I wouldn’t dare touch you.You’ve been with just about every man in this county. I wouldn’t take that kind of filth home to my wife.”
“By this time tomorrow, everybody gon’ know that you my boy’s daddy,” Mama threatened. “They gon’ look, Angus, and they gon’ see.”
“I’ve told you once, don’t threaten me,” he said, his voice heavy with contempt.“If you so much as whisper my name, you’ll never see that boy again.You try to remember that, Rozelle.”
The front door closed, and I lowered my head to my arms and held myself rigid as Mama stepped into the room. She walked past us and out into the kitchen. “Harvey, wake up!” she snapped. “I want you to run up to Pearl’s and get me something to drink.Tell her to send me something. I don’t care what it is. I gotta have something to help me think.”
M
ama was waiting for us at the top of Fife Street when we came from church that Sunday afternoon.“I’m waiting for them Munfords to come home from church,” she said.“I want you to go over there wit’ me, Tarabelle. I think Mr.Munford can help me get Sam outta jail.”
That was plan one, and it didn’t work.According to Tarabelle, Mr. Munford had told Mama that he couldn’t help her, and he doubted if she would find a lawyer in town willing to take Sam’s case. He had suggested she go to one of the neighboring counties to find a lawyer, but even then he thought she’d have to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find someone willing to defend a Negro charged with assaulting a white man. He thought she’d stand a better chance if Sam’s only charge had been the murder of a Negro.
Poor Tarabelle had been forced to follow Mama from East Grove all the way to the flats. There Mama had barged in on Harlell Nixon, not at his barber shop, but at the home he shared with his wife and three children. He hadn’t been happy to see her, but he had told her that he was sorry to hear about Sam’s troubles. He, however, could not drive her to Atlanta to look for a lawyer. He didn’t think his car would make it that far.
On Tuesday evening, after Mama came home from the jail in tears, I suggested she go talk with Mr. Pace, Mr. Hewitt, or Reverend Nelson.“They’re educated men, Mama.Maybe they can tell you how to help Sam.”
“Educated?” she spat at me. “Junior Fess thought he was educated, and where is he now? I don’t need nobody that’s too smart for they own good.”
I wanted to tell her that any lawyer she found would be an educated man and, hopefully, a smart one, but I knew it was time for me to be quiet.
Several days passed before Velman came to reclaim Martha Jean. He arrived with Skeeter, Red Adams, and a tow truck.They went directly to the field where the sun had baked a mud crust around the tires of my mother’s Buick.
Mama, sitting on her porch chair, lit a cigarette and squeezed it between her fingers as she watched them. “I think I’ll run up to Pearl’s for a bit,” she said, but made no effort to move.
Velman pulled a pickax from the truck and began to chop at the dirt around the tires, and Mama rose from her chair to stare down at him.“He don’t know what he doing,” she said.“He gon’ bust my tires wit’ that thing.” Ordinarily, she would have said as much to him, but she was refusing to acknowledge them until they acknowledged her. She tossed her cigarette butt over the side of the porch and returned to her chair.“What you think they up to?” she asked.
Tarabelle, sitting a few steps below me and Martha Jean, looked up and rolled her eyes. “They trying to get that car outta there,” she said.“That’s why they brought that truck.”
“I know that, Tarabelle. That ain’t what I mean. I just wonder why they ain’t spoke. They act like we ain’t here. That boy ain’t even looked at Martha Jean.”
“Maybe he decided he’d rather have his car back, ”Tarabelle suggested.
“I’m going down to help ’em, ”Wallace said.“You want me to find out what’s going on, Mama?”
“Yeah, Wallace.You find out what they planning to do.”
Wallace went down to the road, but instead of going out to the field, he climbed into the cab of Red’s truck. Mama yelled for him to get out, but it was more to call attention to herself than to get Wallace to obey, and Wallace must have known it. He stayed where he was.
“Boys,” Mama said sorrowfully. “That’s why Sam in jail right now. They don’t listen to nothing you tell ’em ’til it’s too late. Leastways, they ain’t hurt Sam none, not yet.”
“When do you think they’ll let Sam out?” I asked.
She ignored my question, and I assumed she had no idea.
Sitting beside me on the step, Martha Jean concentrated on Laura’s hair, her fingers working the strands into thick braids. I bumped her knee and pointed, and she nodded, indicating that she had already seen the men.
I propped my elbows on my knees and watched the men as they worked in the field.Velman had removed his shirt, and his bare back glistened with perspiration. I imagined it couldn’t be easy trying to remove a buried car from crusted earth, but Velman’s agile, flowing movements made the task seem effortless.The sight of him caused my stomach to flutter and my underarms to prickle, and I didn’t know why.
Folding my arms across my abdomen, I turned away and focused my attention on Laura’s neatly parted braids, anything to keep my thoughts away from Velman. I was beginning to like him. I hadn’t at first, when he had seemed pushy and gabby, and when I had thought he was courting my mother. I knew now that he hadn’t cared anything about Mama; he’d been teaching her to drive, bargaining with her for the love of Martha Jean. Now he seemed strong and protective, like someone I could depend on.
My mother’s grunt of annoyance caused me to glance up. She was frowning and staring down at Velman, who had made his way up to the yard and was standing below the porch.
“Miss Rosie, I need the key,” he said.
Mama was slow in doing so, but she reached into the pocket of her dress, then tossed the key down to him.Velman strode back across the road, and Red Adams backed the tow truck into the field.They chained the car to the truck, and on the first try, the car noisily rose up and out of the field.Mama watched until her car was out of sight, then she lit a cigarette, and rocked her body against the back of her chair.
Martha Jean finished braiding Laura’s hair, then started on Edna’s, and never once glanced up. I think she was staying busy to keep from thinking.That was supposed to work, I knew, but it seldom did.
We went inside and ate our supper in the stifling heat of the kitchen, then returned to the porch where Mama began telling us of her plans to get Sam out of jail.Tomorrow she would go and talk to the sheriff. She would tell him that Sam hadn’t killed anybody and hadn’t tried to kill anybody.We all knew she had already tried that to no avail.Wallace wasn’t paying any attention to what she said.He was reaching out from the steps and snatching fireflies from the air. “That looks like yo’ car, Mama,” he said, as a Buick turned onto the road.
Mama leaned forward and sighed wearily.“What he want now?” she asked.The car came to a stop, and Velman got out.
Velman entered the yard and stopped at the steps.“I got your car all clean and running, Miss Rosie,” he said.“Now we both know it wasn’t my fault it got stuck out there, but I got it out for you just the same. I came to get Martha Jean.”
“I changed my mind ’bout all that,” Mama said. “Martha Jean gon’ stay right here where she belong. She too young to be over there wit’ you and Skeeter, anyway. People talking.”
“Then it all stops, Miss Rosie, ”Velman said.“It all stops, and I’ll have Martha Jean no matter what you say.You can’t keep us apart.”
“Pretty sho’ of yo’self, ain’t you?” she challenged, eyeing him with contempt.
“No, ma’am. I’m pretty sure of Martha Jean. And you right about one thing; people talking, but they ain’t talking about me and Martha Jean.They talking about you.They talking about what you did to Judy.You a mean woman, Miss Rosie. It don’t make no sense to be so hateful.”
My mother made a sound like a snake being chopped in half in the middle of a hiss, then she turned on her chair and slammed her fist against the porch wall. It was nearly dark, but I was sure Velman could see hatred in the gray eyes that glared down at him.
“You can be stopped, Miss Rosie,” he said.“Don’t think for one minute that I don’t know what happened out here.”
“Shut up!” Mama shouted, then reached a hand up and began to snatch invisible bugs from her nose.
Velman glanced at me, his brows raised questioningly.
I shrugged.
“Bugs, ”Tarabelle said.“Mama, you want me to fetch you some bathwater?”
“Shut up! I need to think,” Mama said, and snatched a bug from her forehead. After a minute or two, she stared once more at Velman. “Give me that damn key.You go on and take that girl. What do I care? People trying to take all my children, but they ain’t gon’ get ’em all.”
Velman stepped between us as he climbed the steps with the key. “Miss Rosie, I can’t be going through this,” he said. “I don’t want you coming back to my house tomorrow or next week saying how you done changed your mind again.This ain’t no good for nobody.”
When it became apparent that Mama was not going to respond to him, Velman placed the key on the floor beside her feet, then backed away.He crossed the porch to the steps, took Martha Jean’s hand, and led her down to the yard. My sister did not even turn around to wave as she followed him up Penyon Road, and this time it was easier for me to watch her go.
“Mama, can I drive yo’ car?”Wallace asked, as soon as Velman and Martha Jean were out of sight. “Just down the road a bit and right back? Can I?”
“You can get me some bathwater,” Mama said, as she picked the key up from the floor.“Tarabelle, you and Tangy Mae get the house clean.There’s something in there.”