The Brightest Day: A Juneteenth Historical Romance Anthology

by Alexander, Kianna

  “Too bad.”

  He was not giving up on her.

  When her tin clock struck the half-hour, she opened the door. Arlo slumped into the doorsill, with clear drama, making much more of it than what it was. “Thank you, Missy.”

  “You’ll not take your clothes off in my cabin.”

  Oh yeah. She was plenty mad. Might as well have added, ever again, for all the times he had done just that. Arlo looked around at the tidy room that had been a home to him so recently. He sniffed the smell in the air. Just as he thought those things, his stomach gurgled loudly as if to fill the space of silence between them. He shrugged at her, but Missouri, as solid as the state she was named for, went back to her rocking chair, hands over her growing stomach, immovable.

  “I’da been by, but—”

  “You’ve been running that place, that den of iniquity you came to Winslow to run. Making these people in this town dependent on you for good times.”

  “Hey. That’s no fair.” Arlo stepped forward, dripping onto one of her rose-patterned carpets. She cut him with her beautiful eyes. Ones he had stared into many a time.

  “It’s perfectly fair. I’m trying to bring something of value to this community and you, with your drink, destroy it.”

  “You didn’t mention dancing.” Arlo smiled. Come on, honey. She always had a small spot, just a small one for him. She would forgive him. Eventually. He just had to hang in there with it. He didn’t want to face her mad anymore, or the time when she would find out about how cursed he was.

  “I don’t hold with dancing, Mr. Tucker, but I see no wrong in it. You play good music. They have to go somewhere to hear it. They could drink sarsaparilla.”

  “There’s no money in sarsaparilla, honey lamb.”

  “Is that all this town is to you?”

  Well, yes. He wouldn’t have come down to this God-forsaken place to just hang out. What man didn’t need money? That’s what made Paul Winslow rich. He came here and decided to build the towel-producing mill closer to the cotton fields. A man saw a moneymaking opportunity and made the best of it.

  Better not tell Missy that, though.

  She said nothing, but went to her cookstove and stirred her stew then dished up a bowl of it. She opened the oven and pulled forth what he thought he smelled: corn-batter cakes, ready to dip a spoon down into that savory broth and soak up some of that goodness for eating. Nothing like a talented woman.

  Missouri put the bowl and one hot cake onto a place at the table. Arlo had to refrain from rubbing his hands together. Looked like beef. Beef was his favorite, although it was mighty hard to come by. How did she get a hold of some beef for stew? The smell of the tender meat, potatoes, and veggies reached his nose and nearly drove him insane. “Where you get some beef from?”

  His mind surveyed the residents of the small town, but he couldn’t think of a man with beef which would be willing enough to put his feet up under Missouri’s table, or one free enough to.

  He watched her as she bustled around, making the place at the table nice and welcoming, arranging this and that.

  Then she sat at the place. Ignoring him.

  He spoke into the silence. “Looking mighty good there.”

  She bowed her head, clearly enraptured in prayer. There she went. What was wrong with these people? Missy hadn’t even been here that long and she was all caught up in it herself. Maybe that was why things didn’t work out between them.

  Things didn’t work out because you made it that way.

  A man had to be able to be free. Pure and simple. He would do right by what was his, and now he could see what her situation was and how the town was. Missy surely wasn’t going to starve. Women never did. She dipped her spoon down into the beef stew and ate an entire bowl before he could turn away to look from her. Where did she get those kinds of eating skills?

  Probably cause she ate for two now. Might be his son tickling around in her belly, wanting to get that nourishment. He moved from warming himself in front of the cookstove as she rose gracefully to get another bowl for herself.

  “Your family. Even if Lona took it upon herself to fire me, at least John Bledsoe cared enough to offer me some beef to eat.”

  Something struck him in his gut. The kindness of his brother-in-law was legendary. Still, he felt a pang in his gut that he should have been the one to get the beef for her, and John’s gesture was more like a scolding to him when he was a child.

  When I was a child, I spake as a child. When I became a man, I put away childish things. What? Where had that come from? Why did he remember those words?

  “You going to eat that whole pot of stew yourself? You look mighty lonely at that table by yourself.”

  “I’m fine, thank you. Just figuring out what I need to do.” She took a bite down into one of those crispy corn cakes, and the crunch she made connected with his stomach juices and made them flow. Lord, smelled like she put just a touch of sugar in there this time. Some didn’t hold to that, but clearly, Missouri Baxter was her own woman. His heart warmed at the sight of her. His woman. He cleared his throat.

  “I’m going to do right by you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Take care of you and my son.” He sat himself down into a chair at her table and tried not to mind the piercing look she gave him.

  “We don’t know if it’s a boy. And I don’t want your ill-gotten gains made off of people who resolved to temperance, but couldn’t because you offer up good liquor at cheap prices. Children come to my school with hunger in their bellies because their fathers drank up all of the money and there was nothing left for breakfast. I got used to buying flour to make biscuits to take to school for something to give them so they might concentrate on their lessons. So no. No thank you. None of your blood money.”

  “It’s not for you to say, Missouri.”

  “It’s everything for me to say, Arlo.”

  Was that a shine of tears along her eyes? He was nothing but trouble for a woman. Again. “I don’t see how.”

  “I gave you a chance. And you didn’t take it.” She faced him, licking some of that good beef gravy from her spoon.

  “That’s all a man get from you is one chance? You let a man get cold out in the rain and don’t offer him no hot stew, and that’s all? You like the rest, Missy. Thought you was different.”

  She put down her spoon. “The rest. You mean there are others like me? Ones you offered to stand by?”

  He opened his mouth. And shut it. “Not exactly. There’s no one like you, Missy.”

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “Maybe.”

  Missouri folded her arms. Again. “I need to know if this child has blood in the world that’s not you. That way, my child can know he or she might have family they can count on.”

  “Two that I know.”

  “Two. And what are they?”

  “Girls.” He screwed up his face and wanted to spit, but knew Missouri would push him back out into the rain if he dirtied her floor.

  “What’s wrong with girls? They can’t travel around doing what they want as easily.”

  “Yes. They always have to be cared for.”

  Missouri laughed. “No one is caring for me that I see. Not even the Negro part of the town of Winslow.”

  “Hey. That’s not fair.”

  “It’s perfectly fair.” She soaked her cake in the broth and dipped her spoon in it to eat on.

  “What you going to do, Missy?”

  “What I do and where I go is my business. Look like you are drying off, so you need to get on about yours.”

  “I told you—”

  “Yeah, that my child has blood in this world. Sisters. Thank you for that information. How old?”

  “One is five. The other’s two. Five-year-old is Kate and two-year-old is Addy.”

  She nodded. “Five years old. About Emerald’s age. This one will be the age of Lona’s baby.”

  “No need in bringing up my niece.
”

  “Oh, that makes Kate real to you? So sorry to remind you of your obligations. No, Arlo. I want nothing from you. Just as you so desperately seem to want, you are free. Please leave.”

  “Listen, I got to tell you…”

  “What? I’m sure your family got nice beefsteak cooking for you at your sister’s house. Someone like you will never want for a place to be. Lots of pretty girls here in Winslow who work down at the mill and are looking for a good time. All you got to do is ask.”

  His hands itched, but not for the usual reason. Unclaimed women had made him feel that way before, but this time was different. No, Missouri’s little speech and how she was always, always teaching him something in her voice made him be still and think. “Don’t want none of them.”

  “Can’t believe you would grow up that fast.”

  “I’m not interested in no one but you.”

  “I don’t like the way you show your interest.”

  That was it. Her words left him flatter than one of those corn cakes she was crunching on with her stew. He wasn’t going away that easy.

  “One time, you used to like it fine, Missy.” He stood up, went to her to tuck some of her soft hair back behind her ear.

  She didn’t move. A bad sign.

  “That was one time.”

  “You forgot?”

  “I’m trying to every day, but my body won’t let me. I have a little something to remember it all by.”

  He moved behind her, to hold her, but he could see wet circles forming at the top of her striped shirtwaist. All because of him. This is what it meant to love someone, to willingly take her pain into himself. He’d do it too, just to help lessen his pain when the inevitable happened and he caused her more pain. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “It don’t have to be this way, Missouri.”

  She kept her arms folded over herself. “I’m afraid it does, Arlo. Glad you came by and are all dry now. Rain’s stopped and you can get on home and away from me.”

  “I’m coming back.”

  She rubbed herself. “Unfortunately. I’m growing kind of large and can’t do anything about that. But I would rather you didn’t. Just stay away from me. Us. We’ll make it fine without you.”

  When she stepped away from him, the cold wrapped its arms around him again and he made his way to the door and opened it. “You know how to make a man feel like he needs to go.”

  “Well, when I made a man feel welcome in my cabin before, he sang me songs. Told me pretty words with sweet guitar music. And left me at a time when I needed him most. So I figure, if I can get along fine at a low point of my life, I’ll make it.”

  Without him. Two words never seemed so big or empty before. “You going back to Milford?”

  “I can’t. They all think I’m a great big success. I’ve got to think of some reason, some illness about why I can’t go back for the summer now.”

  Arlo snapped his fingers. “The consumption. No one will want you around.”

  He faced her, and her mouth turned up in one corner with a smile. “I should have known to ask you about the proper disease. Thanks.”

  “So you staying here?”

  “I think I will. I have some money saved up. I should be all right until the baby comes in September.”

  “Then?”

  “I’ll think about that then. Can’t think about it now.”

  “Missy, I grew up without a pappy and I don’t want that for this child. I’m not as bad as you say. I’ll do for this child.”

  “Long as it’s a boy, right? Should I ask Kate and Addy’s mothers about how and what you do? No. You might want to get on to the spool-winding room of the towel mill to see if there are any young girls who are interested. Only, everyone here in Winslow knows how you do. Including your nieces you seem to be so fond of…”

  He shrugged, striking a funny pose. The last thing, nearly the very last thing he wanted was her hurt. That was the reason why he had to stay away from her. “Their mothers. I got to tell you about them. Then you can decide if you want anything to do with me.”

  Her smile disappeared and her bottom lip quivered. “Why wouldn’t I? I need all the help I can get. I’m all alone in the world in this.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He went to her and embraced her, awkwardly from the side, as if he didn’t know how to hold her anymore. Missouri didn’t move. Didn’t turn her body to him, didn’t respond in any way.

  No use. Didn’t she love him just the least little bit? But if she didn’t want to listen to what he had to say…what could he do? All of his bad luck was hard to take in, even for himself.

  Dropping his arms, he moved to the door, opened it, and stepped through into the steamy late May night, feeling as roasted as the beef in the stew.

  There were times when freedom felt humid. Sticky wet, with a heaviness inside of him, just like the small, wet circles on Missouri Baxter’s shirtwaist.

  Chapter 4

  When Arlo left, Missouri wanted to sit in the chair and have a good cry. But she couldn’t do something so wasteful. That was not the Milford way. Instead she filled a bucket with water from the pump, warmed it, and scrubbed the soot from the front part of her fireplace. There. That would show him.

  The knock on her door startled her. She thought maybe he had come back. The hold on her heart slipped a bit and she felt herself relenting. Maybe he did care just a little.

  When the door swung open, it was Miss Annie, the town midwife, and her new assistant, Missy’s sole graduating student, Ruby. “Good evening, ladies.”

  Miss Annie fixed her gaze on her with old, cobwebby eyes and sniffed the air. “The daddy been here, hasn’t he?”

  “Why, Miss Ann, I—”

  The old lady must have come up to her waist or thereabouts, but she grasped Missy’s wrist with an iron grip. “Don’t let him make you mad, ‘cause this child needs watching. You understand me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Missouri’s Baxter upbringing gave her no room to say anything else to this woman, who had been a slave for a good part of her life.

  “We coming to check on you. Baby boy born tonight over there by the mill, so we checking around on all the other babies hereabouts while we out.”

  Miss Annie hobbled in, and an eager Ruby trotted in behind her with a graceful gait. The girl’s light-colored skin and black hair brought to her mind her uncle’s complexion. Would a daughter of hers be that color, or something else because of her own deep brown skin?

  She patted the girl on the shoulder. “You have a new teacher now that you are getting all graduated.”

  “Yes, Miss Baxter, I do.”

  “How are you liking it so far?”

  “Fine, ma’am.”

  She refrained from embracing the girl. The child had a fine, quick mind. Missy was happy to see it being put to use in some way that was not the mill. Still, she couldn’t help but wish there was a high school in town, or at least nearby, for Negro children. Ruby would gain a lot by it if there was, but Missy knew the Bledsoes wouldn’t be able to afford to send her. Sometimes, a body had to know when to be quiet about raising such possibilities. Especially when they were about to become relations.

  She patted the girl’s rounded shoulder. “Good to hear that. Where do you and your capable assistant want me?”

  “Get yourself over on the bed. We’ll wash up our hands to see how you doing. How you feeling besides fighting with the daddy?”

  “Seems like this baby accommodates to everything I’m doing.”

  Miss Annie shook her head. “No. What you gots to understand is that baby is just going along with what it think you want. You the mama. You got to be in the mind that you got to do what that baby needs. And it needs you strong, whole, and fighting. Not pining after the daddy.”

  “I wasn’t pining. I was cleaning.”

  Miss Annie used her iron grip to lay Missouri on her back, but she couldn’t breathe and had to lay on her side.


  “Trying to get him to do right by you? Well, honey. Sometime that happen. Sometime it don’t. He don’t do right by you, we all going to love this one as part of this here town just the same.”

  “Some love. I was fired.” Getting the words out made it more real. It made Missy feel better to face the truth of her situation in Winslow.

  “Child, you going to be all right. You the most smart one in this town. We need you to help put our children on the right road of this life. You done set up this one here right. Winslow ain’t got no sense about you, then there’s other places, other ways. Trust in God. He’ll see you through.”

  She blinked her eyes fast, not wanting to cry in front of Ruby. The girl was still her student, technically. She turned her face to the wall as Miss Annie’s bony fingers poked and prodded at her. Miss Annie spoke gently to Ruby about what she was doing and what she hoped to see.

  Miss Annie shouted out into the room, not just speaking to Ruby anymore. “You want to know what the baby is?”

  She whipped her head back. “What’re you saying?”

  “You want to know if this child is a boy or a girl?”

  “You can’t possibly know that.”

  “I knows. I always do. You want me to tell you?”

  If she knew, she could tell Arlo. If it were a boy, maybe he might stay around more. No more running off for weeks at a time. No. But, what if it were a girl, and she told him and he left her completely alone as he must have with Katie and Addy’s mothers? Her heart, her training, or maybe it was her body’s changes, betrayed her. She didn’t care what he did.

  “No.”

  Ruby’s eyes took on a hurt look. The girl looked down at her feet, even as Miss Annie barked a sharp command at her to get to the sink.

  “Baby moving right?”

  “It does. Several times a day.”

  “Good. Keep track of what that little one does. It goes still, you send Ruby to get me and we going to figure it out. It’s not good for you to be here alone, as you getting on in the way, you know.”

  “There’s nothing I can do.”

  “There’s always something to be done, child. You the teacher lady. You figure it out.”