The Year of Jubilee, page 4
Mr. Drake let out a swear word to describe Kennedy that I had heard plenty of times at school. “He’s a Socialist, maybe even a Communist!” Drake spat out the words like they were bitter in his mouth.
Daddy worked silently, not looking up. I assumed that Drake swore freely because he didn’t notice me sitting there. I swiveled my chair around to watch him.
He looked up at the ceiling of the garage, releasing another tobacco cloud, then blurted out, “I ain’t about to share no bathroom or eating place with ’em, no sir.”
Daddy looked over at me. Our eyes met. He shook his head in disapproval.
Drake kept going. “Once we do that, they’ll want to marry our women. Then we got all these mixed babies messing up the gene pool. What do they call ’em? Mulattos? That’s what’s coming next, you just watch and see!”
I looked at my own skin, much lighter than Daddy’s, since Virginia’s skin looked like peaches and milk. What was the name for someone like me that was part Cherokee, part Jewish, and part white?
Daddy gripped the hatch with his rag and slammed it shut. “Drake, you can either leave the car and get a ride or walk back to town, or you can bring it back some other time, because I am in no mood to listen to your mouth.”
My breath turned to ice in my throat. Drake jutted out his chest and pressed it into Daddy, then backed off smugly, sizing up his opponent like some dirt under his fingernails. Daddy stayed calm.
“I shoulda known with that Injun and Jew blood in you that you’d be a Yankee sympathizer. I was hoping you’d come around, John, see it the way we do in the brotherhood.”
I was pretty sure I knew what “brotherhood” he was talking about.
“Drake, in case you missed it in history class, the Confederacy lost the war.”
“Well, some of us are still holdin’ to the old ways. Just because some people have caved don’t mean we all have to.”
“I have work to do, and I can’t do it when you keep running your trap.”
Old Man Drake and Daddy stood nose to nose. I could barely breathe. Finally, Drake dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his shoe, then aimed a wad of spit on the floor beside Daddy’s black work boots. He left a stream of cussing behind him and drove his daughter’s car out of there. I was glad to see him go.
Unfortunately, I knew I’d be seeing him again come Sunday. He was a deacon at our church.
Daddy crouched down eye level to me. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Grace.”
“It’s okay. But, Daddy . . . Miss Adams says that things are changing. Says that there’s a good chance schools will integrate next year. Do you think she’s right?”
His face showed a bit of surprise. “Did she say this during class?”
“Yep. None of the other kids liked it much.”
He nodded, not surprised by this. “You sure think a lot of Miss Adams, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“Well, she’s not wrong. There is a good chance. But Drake and the others like him . . . they will fight it every inch of the way. It’s amazing how his daughter turned out so nice. Goes to show that someone can end up very different than their raising.” He added, “You can’t change who your father is.”
He squeezed my shoulders, then walked back over to the engine he’d been working on.
It was true—whenever I saw Drake’s daughter, Miss Rachel, at church, her face was warm and open and you couldn’t help but like her right away. I wondered if Miss Rachel felt the same about her father as Virginia did about hers. When I was younger, I would ask Virginia to tell me stories about him, but she always would change the subject. Before long I stopped asking. Thankfully my eavesdropping from the hallway filled in the gaps of her mysterious history.
Virginia’s father, Willy, had come and gone like a bad toothache during her early childhood. Then when she was around ten years old, he left for good. Granny Bee and all her kids had worked through the summer months to grow a huge garden and canned everything under the sun, but by winter, supplies got low. Willy sometimes showed up on their doorstep needing a warm place to stay and some food, and Granny Bee always let him in. Maybe hoping this time things would be different. He had a big appetite so he would dig into seconds before everyone had their first helping. One time they got down to a single jar of green beans and a handful of cornmeal. With five mouths to feed, Granny Bee told him to go get a job. He disappeared into the night after everyone had gone to bed. She had to go begging at the welfare office, humiliating for a proud Kentucky woman.
To her credit, after that, she kicked him out for good. The only way to receive help was to divorce him, so she did. But being a divorced woman was a disgrace.
I tried to imagine how Virginia must have felt with a father who never supported her family and, worse, left them cold and hungry to fend for themselves. Maybe that was why she put so much energy into fitting in with the ladies from SWS. Trying to outrun being the girl with no daddy.
Swiveling around in my chair, I watched as Daddy hummed along to a song on the radio. God had chosen him to be my father. My heart felt like it would burst. I launched myself out of the chair like a rocket toward him. He caught me in his arms and spun me around, and it was once again a perfect day.
5
SUNDAY MORNING
We heard Virginia’s voice echoing down the hallway from the kitchen.
“Sissy, Isaac, Grace, it’s time to get up and get ready for church!”
She sounded almost pleasant.
I would have been suspicious of her good mood, except she had shared the reason at the dinner table last night over turnip greens, fried chicken, and cornbread.
“Cordelia put me in charge of running the bake sale. The proceeds will buy winter coats for the orphans over in Middlesboro. As y’all know, they are announcing the decision for the new secretary this week. I can’t help but think she put me in charge because she knows it’s gonna be me!”
Her smile was dazzling. Daddy had reached his hand out to smooth the side of her face and said, “Of course it will be you.”
She called again but a little louder. “Sissy, Isaac, Grace, come on now, it’s time to get ready for church!”
I could smell bacon frying and fresh biscuits. Virginia was humming a hymn in the kitchen. I wandered down the hall to find Daddy. I opened the kitchen door and saw Virginia all decked out in her yellow chiffon dress with little pearl buttons all around the neckline. “Where’s Daddy?”
“Now what kind of manners is that, Grace? No ‘good morning, Mama.’ Just ‘where’s Daddy?’” A trace of a hurt ran across her face.
“I . . . I’m sorry. Good morning.” Then I waited. She never even looked up.
“Your daddy’s in the backyard reading the paper.”
I left as quietly as I could and ran down the hallway, out the back screen door, and into the yard. There was Daddy, under the big oak in his rocking chair with a cup of coffee and the morning paper propped up in front of him. I could see one of the headlines: “Willie Mays Slams Eighth Homer!” Just beside his chair was a worn black King James Bible his mother had given him when he was baptized. He had told me about his trip to the altar at a mountain revival when he was thirteen. Even still, Daddy was his own kind of believer.
Beside the Bible, Rojo sat quietly as if he was waiting to be read to.
“Hey, Gracie.” Daddy put down the paper.
I rubbed my eyes and sat on the ground beside his chair, careful not to get too close to Rojo.
“Look at ole Rojo, waiting for his Sunday morning sermon.”
I knew what this meant. It was, as far as I knew, my father’s only flaw.
“Daddy, are you coming to church with us this morning?”
He took a long drink of coffee, then let out a deep breath. “Gracie, my church is here in the backyard with the Lord among the worms and the birds and Rojo.”
He lifted my chin up to look in my eyes and smiled. I knew exactly how he felt. I would have rather mowed the yard with my teeth than go to church and face some of the uppity people at the First Church of Christ of Jubilee.
“Could I stay home too? I could sit here by Rojo and listen to you read!”
His smile drooped. “You know how important it is to your mama that you kids attend church.”
“But she wants you to go too. Why is it different for us than for you?”
“I’m sorry, Gracie. It’s hard to explain.” He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “You better start getting ready before your mama comes looking for you.”
I got up and slumped back into the house. I understood why he didn’t want to go, but I wished he would go just the same. Church was so much more bearable with him. I always felt so nervous when Virginia got around people at church. People like Old Man Drake and Cordelia Bluin who looked down on anyone who wasn’t up to their standards.
When I was around ten, Virginia told Daddy that it was downright shameful for a woman and her children to attend church alone every Sunday. I heard them arguing in the kitchen from my usual spot in the hall.
“Virginia, if we could go to a different church, somewhere I didn’t feel so . . . out of place . . .”
“But John! It’s the nicest church in town!”
“Virginia, you know what I’m talking about.”
“John, please, darling. If not for me, do it for the kids.”
He gave in. That Sunday morning, he let us out at the front door of the church to find a parking spot.
He asked Virginia to save him a seat. He’d meet us inside.
I wondered why in the world Virginia chose a seat so close to the front. I kept turning around in the pew to watch for him. As he walked in through the double doors, his dark Native features stood out in our church like a neon sign. The church grew silent as everyone watched him walk down the aisle. His face flushed and he stared down at the carpet, too embarrassed to look up.
I wanted to run to him, show them how proud I was that he was my father, but I sat there rooted to my pew, betraying the man I loved most. He and Virginia argued about it in the backyard after church. I could hear them through the window of my bedroom. After that, he only came on Easter and Christmas and an occasional Potluck Sunday.
Like him, I never felt like I belonged. At least if Daddy came with me, we could feel like outcasts together. But he could make his own choice. Virginia made mine for me.
I was going. He wasn’t.
“Sissy! Let’s go!” Virginia’s good mood evaporated when Sissy decided to take forever in the bathroom. “Isaac and Grace, you two go ahead and get in the back seat. We will not be late . . . Sissy!”
Finally we were all piled into the car and on our way.
I hated Sunday school, but Sissy loved it for reasons of the flesh rather than the spirit. Taylor Bluin, Cordelia’s oldest son and Emoline’s big brother, helped out with her class. You never had to twist her arm to go. He had that perfect mixture of bad boy and Southern-gentleman charm that turned girls to mush.
Virginia thought Cordelia was grooming him to be a preacher like his daddy.
The reason I hated Sunday school was Emoline. As if being a bragger and a know-it-all wasn’t bad enough, she had humiliated me in class earlier that year when I had first transferred to the ninth grade.
I tried not to hate her, but she made it so easy for me. I saw her standing in the doorway of our classroom. She greeted me with her usual warmth.
“Hello, Grace. My, my, did you sleep in that dress?” she said, turning her perfect little nose up at me. “Doesn’t your mama have an iron?”
“Your face needs an iron.” The words were out before I could stop them. Something about Emoline thawed my frozen tongue.
She got up close to my face. “Grace, it’s not Christian to say such unkind things . . . when I was just trying to help. How do you expect to find a boyfriend looking like that? Since I obviously know how to make a boy notice me and you don’t have the first clue.”
“Fine by me. You can have them.” I had witnessed for myself how shamelessly Emoline gushed and flirted with Douglas Henry and a couple other decent-looking boys in class.
“Well, if you ever want me to give you a makeover, I could give you some tips on how to attract boys.”
“I bet you could.”
Her eyes narrowed, her hands squeezing into fists. “So ungrateful! Don’t come crying to me when nobody wants you.” She stormed to the other side of the room.
An afternoon with Emoline would be an endless opportunity for her to belittle me. She was great at finding your weak point and grinding her elbow into it.
I noticed a group of boys surrounding Billy Raines, engrossed in something he was saying. He had been in my eighth-grade class and had always been nice. I moved closer so I could hear. He lifted his hand to wave at me and kept talking.
“I had to hide until nobody was looking then I jumped on right before it took off. Then I jumped off the train over at the old shoe factory at the edge of town.”
The boys were guffawing with open mouths and giving him high fives, obviously impressed with his story.
“That’s dangerous. Why in the world would anyone want to hop a train?” I blurted out, not meaning for the thought to reach my lips and fly into the air. They all turned sharply in my direction, annoyed by the intrusion.
“That’s ’cause you’re a girl,” one of them said, rolling his eyes at the others.
I wanted to crawl under my chair.
Billy came to my rescue. “She’s right, I guess.” Shrugging his shoulder, then beaming a mischievous smile at me, he added, “But since when is playing it safe any fun, right?” Then he winked at me. I felt my stomach flip and averted my eyes, relieved when the Sunday school teacher called us to order.
Emoline sat by herself at the front. Being the preacher’s kid, I wondered if she was always trying to be the perfect daughter her parents expected her to be. She was the first to raise her hand whenever a question was asked, which was annoying.
Halfway through, Cordelia peeked her head in the door. “Sorry to interrupt. I need Emoline’s help with another class.”
“Of course! Whatever you need,” the teacher gushed. The Bluins had so much influence, most people wanted to be in their good graces. They were the closest thing to royalty that Jubilee had.
Emoline tossed a nasty look at me as she passed by.
I once asked Daddy how Pastor Bluin got to be head pastor of the largest church in town since I could hardly stay awake through his sermons. Daddy said he had “pull.” Cordelia’s daddy was the president of the bank.
I guess that explained why Cordelia’s brother, Oden—or Dr. Oden, I should say—had just been appointed chief of medicine at Middlesboro General Hospital even though everybody knew that Dr. Clarke was just about the best doctor in all of Kentucky. Daddy said he graduated at the top of his class at Duke University, which had one of the most prestigious medical schools in the country. Dr. Oden, on the other hand, had come close to flunking out of the medical school in New Orleans. Even the Bluins had secrets to hide, but they had money and influence to smooth them over.
Daddy once asked Dr. Clarke why he ended up in a small town like ours. He said he used to spend summers with his grandparents who lived in Middlesboro and remembered the poor care they received as they aged. Small hospitals in the South often provided second-rate care because the best doctors left to work in the city.
When the bell rang for Sunday school to be over, I walked out into the hallway and met up with Isaac. As we headed toward the sanctuary, Virginia was standing in the foyer talking to Cordelia and Emoline. She looked in our direction and waved us over. No way this could be good.
“That’s a marvelous idea,” I heard Virginia say as we got closer. “Grace, Emoline was just telling me about her sweet offer to give you a makeover. She says you were reluctant to agree.” She stressed the word reluctant as her eyes bugged out at me.
Cordelia looked down at me with pity. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
I stared at Emoline, who was smiling at me as if we were the best of friends.
“Grace, I’m sure you would just love to spend an afternoon getting a makeover, wouldn’t you, dear?” Virginia’s bulging eyes made it clear what my answer better be.
“Well, Grace,” said Cordelia. “What do you say?”
Isaac nudged me with his elbow.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am, what?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’d be happy for Emoline to give me a makeover.” The words came out robotic, but it was all Virginia needed.
“How perfect.” Virginia gave her most charming, plastic smile and clasped her hands together in delight. “Maybe we could have a visit while the girls are enjoying their afternoon. When should we do it?”
There it was. Her ulterior motive revealed.
Emoline chimed in, “How about tomorrow?” She looked up at Cordelia.
“Tomorrow is fine.”
“Marvelous!” Virginia rushed to answer. “Say, eleven o’clock?”
“We’ll see you then.” Cordelia seemed as pleased at the thought of torturing me as Emoline did.
6
BANGS
Virginia woke me up tearing through my closet. There wasn’t much to choose from. She paused on the brown jumper, holding it out in front of me on the hanger.
“What about this?”
I shook my head with determination. That brown jumper had been the cause of the most humiliating moment of my life. She relented and moved it out of sight to erase it from both our memories.
While she searched for a dress, she started lecturing me. “Be polite to Emoline. She is so nice to offer to do this. Maybe you two will become good friends!”
I rolled my eyes.
The words on the tip of my tongue were, “I just hope I don’t end up punching her.” But I squeezed my lips tight, swallowed hard, and tried to be the obedient daughter Virginia wanted me to be.
