“Uh, hey, Marcia. Nothing. JuJu and I were just catching up, chatting about the summer and stuff. You know.” Ricky glanced from Marcia back to JuJu, who stood paralyzed with shock and hurt. Marcia turned her full attention to Ricky. Pulling him by the arm, she said, “Well, we need to get to the cafeteria. The gang’s holding a table for us!”
With one last look at JuJu, Ricky shrugged and allowed Marcia, dressed in all her cheerleader glory, to pull him away.
JuJu watched until she could no longer see Marcia’s blonde head resting on Ricky’s shoulder.
1964 Thanksgiving Holiday
JuJu could no longer pretend or deny. If missing her period twice wasn’t enough to convince her, the morning sickness certainly was. She turned up the volume on her transistor radio to cover the sound of her retching, then turned on the faucet in the tub as well. Flushing the toilet again, she wet a washcloth with cold water, pressed it against her cheeks, and looked in the mirror. She was surprised to not see the word pregnant stamped on her forehead.
What am I going to do?
A wave of nausea washed over her as she reached to flip the lever for the shower. Undressing, she stepped in and pulled the curtain. She looked down and self-consciously placed her hands on her belly. It was still flat, thank goodness. She had no idea how long it would be before others would notice. Grabbing the soap and another washcloth, she began to scrub her skin as though she could wash away what was growing inside her.
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“Oh, dear Lord, child, are you sure?” Grandma Jean asked in disbelief.
“I’ve missed two periods, and I’ve been sick in the mornings, can’t eat much of anything either,” JuJu said, sounding as miserable as she looked.
“Oh, dear Lord, child,” Grandma Jean repeated.
“Grandma, what am I going to do?” JuJu asked again as tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. Just don’t you worry, all right?” Jean Ready didn’t know exactly what they would do, but she would not abandon her precious granddaughter. She just needed a little time to get her thoughts together.
“You must be about two months along,” said Jean, “so you’ve got another couple months before you start to show.” JuJu nodded. Jean continued, “JuJu, look at me. We’re going to pray about this and leave it in the Lord’s hands, you hear me? I’m going to make some phone calls in the next few days, but the most important thing to do is pray.”
“Grandma Jean, I’m so sorry,” JuJu choked out the words. “You must be so disappointed in me.”
“Child, I’m disappointed for you, not in you. We all make wrong choices, and unfortunately, some have lifelong consequences. I’m grieved to see you suffering, especially since you have a mama and daddy who have never given you any support or understanding.” Jean shook her head. “You just hold your head up and focus on your school work, all right? And try to eat a little bit of saltine crackers if you can. They’ll help settle your stomach. Put some peanut butter on them, too, if you like.” Jean patted her granddaughter’s hands as she bowed her head, saying, “Oh, dear Lord...,” for the third time.
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One Week Later
“JuJu, what’s wrong with you lately?” Martha asked. “All you do is mope around like a sick puppy.” Her mother stood at the door to JuJu’s room with her hands on her hips, a gingham apron tied primly around her waist, hair in a French twist. Only the lines on her forehead and around her mouth told the truth behind the perfect exterior. “Did that boy you were so taken with this summer dump you? I told you boys were no good. If he dumped you because you wouldn’t do what he wanted, then good riddance, I say.” Martha turned without waiting for a response. JuJu breathed a sigh of relief. It was a Friday night, and under normal circumstances, she would be at the last football game of the season, and there would be a big celebration after. Now, it was the last place she wanted to be. She’d told her friends she wasn’t feeling well, which was true, but they continued to bug her about missing out. She finally told them she didn’t want to see Ricky there with Marcia, so they reluctantly left her alone.
She closed the door to her room and put on some records. Since it was a Friday night, her dad wouldn’t be home until late. She and her mother could have a few hours of peace and quiet. Although, she wasn’t feeling much peace lately. She turned off the record player, grabbed her sweater, and headed for the front door.
“Where are you going, JuJu?” Martha’s voice cut through the darkness in the living room where she sat with her glass of rum and Coke. She told JuJu it helped settle her stomach. Martha never appeared drunk, so JuJu didn’t give it much thought. After all, she didn’t mind a little now and then herself to settle her nerves. That’s what Ricky told her that first time, that it was good to settle her nerves, help her relax and forget about her troubles for a while. Her parents had no idea she raided her dad’s liquor cabinet. If he ever noticed anything missing, he blamed it on her mother.
“I’m going for a walk,” JuJu shouted without stopping.
“I thought you didn’t feel good.” Martha’s words were slightly slurred.
“I’m fine, I just need some air is all,” JuJu answered and stepped onto the porch.
JuJu walked over to the swing, forgetting that it was broken until she saw the lopsided tilt. Something else her father never got around to in addition to the steps and screen on the back porch. She kicked the swing, pulled her sweater a little closer, and headed across the yard, tennis shoes crunching on dry grass. Before she even thought about it, she crossed the highway and walked up the long, dusty drive to her grandmother’s house. Grandma Jean would be asleep at this hour, but JuJu found comfort in the presence of the farmhouse. She tiptoed up the wide front steps and over to the old swing. It creaked slightly as she sat down, joining the cricket song.
Moving slowly back and forth, JuJu tried to remember how to pray. It came naturally to her at one time, but since God didn’t seem to answer any of her questions or prayers, she gradually stopped asking. She still went to church because that’s just what you did on Sunday, but she felt no joy in it. Most of the preacher’s sermons made her feel worse. When she complained to her grandmother, Jean said, “Baby, you can’t know joy until you’ve met pain.” JuJu certainly thought she had met pain on more than one occasion…so, where was joy?
The sound of an approaching vehicle interrupted JuJu’s wondering. She couldn’t see anything but could tell by the sound that the car slowed. She heard the crunch of gravel in the distance and knew someone had turned in at her house. It was too early for Malcolm, so she listened warily for the faint sound of a car door slamming. It was late for visitors, and JuJu certainly did not want to see anyone, but she wanted to find out what was going on. Making her way back towards home, she listened for further noises. As she drew nearer to the house, her father’s angry voice through an open window brought her up short.
“What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?” Malcolm demanded. JuJu heard glass breaking.
“Malcolm, please stop. I told you, she just said she was going outside. I thought she was on the front porch. I had no idea,” Martha pleaded. “She’s probably over at Jean’s.”
“Mama’s not up this late, why would she go over there? She probably snuck off with another one of those lowlife boys. What kind of mother are you? Don’t even know where your daughter is, huh?”
“I’m right here,” JuJu’s voice was steely.
Malcolm whirled around unsteadily. “Where you been, girl?”
“I was over at Grandma’s, sitting on the porch swing, since ours is still broken.”
“With who?” Malcolm grumbled, ignoring or not recognizing the dig.
“Nobody,” JuJu kept her voice steady in spite of the building anger inside.
Malcolm stared at her, his eyes watery and bloodshot. She stared back. He blinked twice,
turned to glare at Martha once more, then stumbled to the den at the end of the hall where he often slept off his drunken binges. JuJu stood still until she heard the door to the small room slam.
“Oh, JuJu, thank you. Your daddy is sure in a bad way tonight. I don’t know what he might have done to me if you hadn’t showed up when you did.”
JuJu glared at her mother in the gloomy light. “I didn’t do it for you.”
With that, she turned and walked slowly upstairs to her own room, softly closed the door, and pulled a small bottle of whiskey from under her mattress. It burned her throat while the tears burned her cheeks.
Chapter 7
1964, Week Before Christmas Break
Jean Ready had been knocking on heaven’s door for weeks now, asking—no, begging—for a solution to the pressing and growing problem of JuJu’s pregnancy. So far, the Lord had not seen fit to answer. But she had a strong faith and was not giving up. She knew in her heart something would work out. She had made a couple of surreptitious inquiries here and there, trying not to arouse suspicion, but it was challenging in a small town. There was a home for unwed mothers in the next town over, but that was way too close.
Lord, what are we going to do? Jean asked that question a dozen times a day. She knew the Lord didn’t forget, but she wasn’t taking any chances. How she wished this hadn’t happened. JuJu promised years ago she would keep herself pure for her future husband. Jean had watched sadly as tension, guilt, and anger eroded her granddaughter’s innocence and emotional stamina. Tears flowed for the child she feared she was losing.
“Lord,” she whispered, “I do not understand why you let this happen, but you did and there’s some reason for it. But that girl needs you above all, no matter what else happens. Please bring her back to your love. She’s hurting, and nobody but you can relieve the pain. Lord,I’m asking you again to help us figure out what to do. She can’t tell her parents. She can’t raise a baby at sixteen. And I’m too old to be any help, either. Please, Father in Heaven, show me what to do. Amen.” Jean wiped her face and gazed upward as if waiting for an answer to drop from the ceiling.
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1964, Last Day Before Christmas Break
JuJu put on her gym clothes, sucking in to get her shorts buttoned. She wouldn’t be able to hide much longer. She exhaled and trudged into the gym with her classmates. Today was volleyball day, at least. She hated basketball, but always looked forward to pretty much any other sport. It was too cold to go outside, thank goodness, so volleyball was it.
Teams were chosen, and she took her place at the left rear corner, her favorite position. She was a good player, so she was picked first. It would be nice to focus on something other than her problem for an hour or so, and since she was no longer sick, her energy had returned. She widened her stance and waited for her teammate to serve. The game was on.
Twenty minutes later, the teams switched sides. JuJu was now in the right front corner, her least favorite position. She was still good even there, she just preferred the back row, with the other players in front of her, rather than behind where she couldn’t see what they were doing. She was breathing hard, but it felt good. She positioned herself near the right boundary line, close to the net.
It was the other side’s serve, and they were up by one game. The server popped the ball too high, then panicked, knocking it hard as it came down. The ball bounced off the center and shot towards the net in front of JuJu. She took a step back in preparation for a block. The ball crossed the net faster than expected. JuJu stumbled as she shifted left. At the same moment, her teammate from behind made a mad dash towards the ball, slamming into JuJu and knocking her backwards into the support pole. JuJu dropped to the hard floor, momentarily dazed.
“JuJu, are you okay? JuJu, look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?” JuJu heard Mrs. Peters, the gym teacher, from far away. She opened her eyes, trying to focus on Mrs. Peters’s hand, holding up three fingers.
“Three,” JuJu muttered.
“Okay, let’s sit you up slowly. Take it easy. Girls, stand back, please, give her some space,” Mrs. Peters instructed. “Oh, dear me.”
JuJu looked at her teacher who was looking down at the floor where JuJu sat. “Oh, dear me,” she repeated. “Debbie, go get a towel, quick!” she yelled to one of the girls standing behind her.
JuJu followed her teacher’s gaze to the blood that was now seeping through her shorts onto the shiny hardwood floor. She felt nothing other than a strange disconnect from what was happening. Debbie returned with the towel.
“JuJu, let’s get you up now, slowly, slowly, take it easy.” Mrs. Peters helped JuJu stand. She instructed another girl to get the janitor to clean the blood from the floor. Taking JuJu by the arm, she led her away, turning to bark at the others, “You girls do some laps until I get back. Go!”
Inside the locker room, Mrs. Peters spoke to JuJu. “Get undressed, and get in the shower.” She obeyed, letting the warm water wash over her. The unexpected cramp nearly crumpled her to the floor, and she cried out.
Mrs. Peters asked, “JuJu, are you all right?”
JuJu took a deep breath to steady herself before responding, “Yes, ma’am, I think so.”
“Do you want me to call your mother?”
“No! I m-mean, no ma’am, thank you. I just started my period is all. I’m a little crampy, but I’ll be fine.” JuJu hoped her teacher would accept her explanation and leave it at that, but she’d seen the look on her face. That was way too much blood for someone starting their period.
“All right, I’m going to check on the other girls, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Okay, Mrs. Peters, thank you.” JuJu tried not to groan. She felt a thick heaviness, something moving inside her. Making her way to the toilet, she was struck breathless by another cramp. The room spun around her. She sat down and put her head between her knees, the pain gone almost as quickly as it came. Shakily, she stood up, blood dripping slowly down her legs. Holding onto the wall for support, she stared at the bloody water for a long moment. Only numbness surrounded her as she pressed the handle and watched the contents swirl around before disappearing. Problem solved. She needed to let Grandma Jean know her prayers had been answered.
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Jean Ready knelt by her bed, face down on the blanket, arms outstretched. She was so weary, too old to deal with this kind of stress. Lifting her face to Heaven, she prayed, “Lord, I don’t understand your ways, but I trust you. This is not what I expected when I asked you to help me figure out this situation with JuJu. Not this, not this!” A ragged sob escaped as she continued, “Lord, that girl is damaged already, and I see her heart getting harder right before my eyes. Help me understand what you’re doing, please. I’m afraid she’s lost to me, Lord, and, worse, lost to you. You can bring her back, I know you can. Tell me how to help her. Lord, I don’t know what to say. JuJu is my heart. And both are shattered right now. Help me, please. Amen.”
Jean got up slowly and crawled into bed with little expectation of sleep.
Chapter 8
Spring 1965
JuJu sat by her window, gazing at nothing, her heart as dark as the moonless night. She finished her homework hours ago, and, thankfully, her parents had left her alone for the moment. Malcolm was passed out in his recliner, and Martha was knitting. They were oblivious.
Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, her seventeenth birthday, and Valentine’s Day had all come and gone like icy sleet, cold, hard, and relentless. Easter was now on the horizon. She used to look forward to Easter break, dyeing eggs for the kids at church. This year she dreaded it. She dreaded everything. Instead of finding solace at church, she found guilt, so she stopped going. She loved her grandmother dearly, but the shame she felt over disappointing her so badly was almost more than JuJu could bear, so instead of receiving comfort from the one person she loved, she wallowed in self-pity and
withdrew.
She found some comfort in the bottle under her mattress. Ricky was right about that. It did, indeed, help her relax, put aside her memories for a while. She was very careful about how much she drank, swearing she would never end up like her sorry excuse for a father.
Her major focus now was getting through the rest of the school year and graduation. She opted to graduate early, extra classes moving her forward. Her grades were excellent in spite of her tumultuous life. There was nothing else for her here. She had no desire for boyfriends after Ricky, and her parents wouldn’t allow her to participate in extracurricular activities, so she studied. And studied.
She was smart, and school work came easy. She’d been accepted without question to the local community college but no way was she hanging around this town despite what her parents wanted. A full scholarship to the state university in South Carolina offered the escape she desperately craved.
She would miss her grandmother, but JuJu’s guilt and shame kept her from enjoying the woman who was once her anchor. Maybe after she was settled at school, she would call or write.
You can’t know joy if you haven’t met pain. Grandma Jean’s words whispered through her mind. Well, I have met pain, Grandma. I know it all too well. So, where’s the joy? Where is joy?
The years flew by, and JuJu never seemed to find time to call or write often, much less visit her grandmother. The freedom at university gave her wings she didn’t know she had. Small-town Georgia was in the past, and that’s where she intended to keep it even though her grandmother was there.
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May 5, 1968
“Julia! Julia! Wake up! Telephone. Julia, are you in there?”
Someone pounded on the door to her room, but it felt like drumbeats inside her head. Julia rolled over and squinted at the clock on her bedside table.
A Seed Planted Page 3