The Brightest Day: A Juneteenth Historical Romance Anthology

by Alexander, Kianna

  “He won’t come here.”

  “Did I say anything about that old daddy? No. That’s completely up to you if that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We going now. You stay on that bed. Get your rest. Take care of that young one.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Good night. Good night, Ruby.”

  She could barely hear the girl’s soft voice respond to her as they left the cabin. Missouri turned over. Miss Annie was right. How in the world would she get someone to come and stay with her, when she needed help? Maybe going home was the best way to deal with this. There would be an uproar, but she wouldn’t be alone.

  Please, God. Give me an answer, a way to deal with this soon. For the sake of my baby.

  She hoped He heard her prayer.

  ~~~

  Missouri knew that people didn’t think she would show up to church with her big belly poking out, but she needed the solace of a building where, five days out of the week, she had fulfilled her dream of becoming a teacher. Now that the dream was at a near end and they didn’t want her back, she could still have the reassurance that it had happened. So, a few days later, bright and early, she took up her reticule and walked the short distance into the bright morning to enjoy God’s blessings of the day.

  Approaching the church, she wove the strings of her reticule with her fingers. All of a sudden, the little building where she had spent a good portion of her year seemed strange to her. Doris Bomead, one of the leaders of the community, eyed her as she approached the building. Missy went to her, remembering how they had spoken before. “Good morning.”

  “Hmph. Is it?” the heavyset woman said.

  “Yes.” Missouri folded her shawl over her, sensing a chill in the June air. “All is well in the Lord.”

  At that point, the Bledsoe girls ran up to her and embraced her, leading her away from the seemingly enraged Doris Bomead. Was the woman’s anger about the baby? About her sin?

  “Uncle Arlo wants to see you,” Mags said. She was already taller than her older sister, much to Ruby’s dismay. That was the way things happened sometimes. Life wasn’t always fair and didn’t keep to an order, Missouri often told the children.

  “He does, does he?”

  “He surely does. He told us to come and get you.”

  What was Arlo up to? Using his nieces to plead his case?

  Instead of returning to the church, the girls led her off to the creek that ran next to the church, the so-called First Water that the church was named for and where all the baptisms took place. Arlo sat there on a pile of rocks, smiling that smile at her that made her heart leap. Every single time.

  “Come here, sugars.” He gave each of the girls some money, a coin of some kind. Missy couldn’t see how much. They each ran past her, in turn, grinning at their ill-gotten gains. Ruby was last.

  “Thank you, Uncle.” Ruby said in a snappy voice that wasn’t like her and flashed Missy a shy, hopeful smile as she passed her by.

  Yes. Missouri folded her arms over herself. She was trying not to smile in Arlo’s presence, lest he think it was about him. Ruby had a deep admiration for her uncle. So sweet. Good thing she was too young to really know him.

  “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

  “For what?”

  “For slaying that old dragon, Doris Bomead, for you.”

  “No. We were chatting.”

  “She was passing judgment on you. I bet you she’s the one that put Lona up to firing you. Lona wouldn’t have done that if she had been in her right mind.”

  Missouri put her hands on her hips. “Why isn’t she in her right mind? Because she’s with child?”

  “Yeah. All the time. Now you…”

  “You don’t need to insult me anymore. I’m going to church.”

  Arlo grabbed her by the arm. Missouri turned around, watching the retreating backs of his nieces as they ran through the thinly wooded thicket to the white-painted church. “Look. I want to apologize for the other day.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  He laughed, showing those pretty teeth of his. “That was quick.”

  “You need all of the grace I can give you.”

  “Look.” Arlo’s voice got real serious. What could he say? Every time he was with her, she felt like a fool. He had conned her good, and there was nothing to say. She was caught. He wasn’t. End of story. Just like Kate, Addy, and whoever else’s mothers. “They not approving of what I do either. We’re out here in God’s church. Together.”

  “Nice try. That’s made for people like you.”

  “Don’t be mad. I told you from the beginning I was bad luck.”

  “What if the baby were a boy?”

  “Huh?”

  The expression on his face changed, as if someone had hit him in the head with an anvil. She thought so.

  “You want to see what I’m having before you do something. You’re willing to ‘do right,’ as you say, for the mother of your son, but a girl…” She whirled around, wrenching herself from his hold. “I need the comfort of the Lord this day. Not you. Excuse me.”

  He followed her, making protests, but she stomped off as quickly as she could in the hot June day, ignoring the tears that were coming down her face. The sweet strains of a piano tinkling reached her ears. Bob was playing a hymn, barely able to keep the refrains of the Saturday night good time place from the melody he was playing, but it was still a good hymn.

  Ignoring all the stares, she slid into a back pew and whipped out a handkerchief. Trying not to be obvious about it, Missouri dabbed at the corners of her eyes, which were running free, like the nearby creek.

  She put a hand to herself. She would be fine without him. She didn’t need him. God would take care of them both. But how?

  The air moved and a shadow appeared in the row. Maybe the Bledsoe girls were coming to her rescue again.

  No.

  It was their uncle, hovering in the aisle. “Is this seat taken, ma’am?”

  He pressed in on her knees. His physical presence was so overwhelming she nearly couldn’t breathe. There seemed to be no air in the church at all. And the music, the tinny minstrel show melody Bob had laid on top of “Shall We Gather?” had stopped.

  Everyone in the church had stopped to watch this little drama unfold.

  Was Arlo coming to claim her?

  True to his form, he was leaving the decision to her. Once more.

  She stood and edged herself past him. “You can sit wherever you want. I’m not sitting with you.”

  “Missouri, sit yourself down. Come on.” He grasped her hand in his warm one and pulled her next to him.

  “I don’t want to sit with you.”

  “This is the place where all of us sinners go. Near the back door so we can be cast out quicker.”

  Despite herself – her anger, her hurt, and pain - a small bubble of laughter betrayed her deep in her soul. She let it go into the quiet.

  A frown crossed Doris Bomead’s features. Missouri held up a hand, waving at her.

  “You’re nothing but the very devil, Arlo,” she whispered to him.

  The saddest expression crossed his face. “That’s what they all say in the end, Missy. Trying to save you from the hurt and pain of all of that.”

  He dropped her hand and turned from her, staring out of the window into the June day. What was it that she said?

  Was Arlo’s reluctance to marry born of something else she didn’t know about?

  Chapter 5

  Church. The place where God and old witchy people like Doris Bomead hung out. The nerve of her to give Missouri a hard time. Probably never had a man cozy up to those ham-hock thighs of hers in her entire life. For a past Arlo, she’d have been someone who could solve all of his problems. Except he would be selling his soul, and he didn’t have no more soul to give that way. ‘Cept to one person.

  Missouri. The smartest, most beautiful and dignified woman he ever met. When she had trembled in his arms, her he
art shone in her beautiful eyes, so open to him. That was the closest he had gotten to knowing real love.

  And it scared him to death. Arlo Tucker wasn’t worthy of that. Might as well keep on keeping on. Here and there, they always wanted a good-time man around. Get a little place set up, serve something to drink and people would come around for miles.

  Except Missouri had taken all the fun out of it. He had known the things she told him, of course. But he really didn’t understand how it touched others—until her.

  Every move that she made, everything she did was a way to show him how to be better, how to do better. The big man up above had sure put her in the right place when he made her a teacher, because every time she came near him, she taught him something new. And just like anything else, her teaching him caused an itch, an itch that meant something different in his life.

  It never occurred to him about what happened to the people after they left his place. He just gave them their drinks, got their money, made sure they had a good time listening to the music he and his friends made, and they left. Never occurred to him that some of those men, or even Doris Bomead, who was a regular visitor, had someone at home to think about. After all, he didn’t.

  He just thought they made the same choices he made trying to keep life simple and easy.

  And she made a point. Life since those two little girls got more complicated. What was he when he fussed over, his jewel girls, as he called his nieces, but didn’t have Kate or Addy to fuss over?

  Was the hot June day getting to him? The teachings of this insistent, dignified woman? God? All of them? He lifted an arm to air out his shirt a bit. She turned to him, first frowning, but then, seeing what he needed, she shifted a little.

  “I know you hot if I am.”

  “I’ll be fine. You can get some more air if I just move away a little.”

  Did she want to move away? Was that what that was about? Had she forgotten so quickly how it had been for them?

  As soon as he thought it, he could see her point. Had he forgotten?

  Naw. He hadn’t forgotten. None of it. Like that sorry white man who called himself him and Lona’s daddy, and how he never was there for them. Every time he thought of that man, he wanted to curse, but he was in church now. He would hold out.

  Or hold on.

  He lifted his arm and put it up and around her shoulders and drew her to him. He wanted her heat near him, needed to know her warmth, the warmth that made a home for their son. Her eyelashes fluttered up at him. Her smell that was like oranges and pure Florida sunshine moved over him in a wave.

  He might have sighed if he wasn’t in church. Missy was amazing, far more amazing than what he deserved. Did she deserve to be hurt by who he was? He could take no more pain. God, it would kill him if he promised himself to her and something terrible happened to her.

  But he couldn’t resist her. He needed that warmth.

  He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, kneading it with his fingers just a little. Just to let her know he was there and wouldn’t go anywhere away from her.

  She shook her head at him a little. Arlo gave her half a smile.

  “Stop.”

  “No. You don’t like me touching you?” His voice went up a bit. The squeaking caused old Bomead to look back at him with a frown. Lord, he knew that woman was one who had an itch for him. But he had a new way now. He would never cause some hurt to Missy.

  “No,” she said.

  “You lying. Up in the church. For shame.”

  “Arlo.”

  Now Ruby looked back at him, smiling at his insurrection. Yes, that niece was the one most like him. A troublemaker. She’d better be careful though. Girls had a harder time of it when they made trouble.

  Look, I know it’s been a long time since we talked, but watch out for that girl child. She got a piece of me in her and she going to need someone to come on and look out for her. Her mama ain’t going to do it and her daddy got his hands full with the others.

  Was it meant to be him, with this coming child? What would that take? What would it mean for him? “Love,” the minister intoned, and Arlo couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes. Was the minister going to go into the whole love made the world go round thing? Love thy neighbor? Be Christian? Missouri squeezed his knee.

  He winked at her.

  Shaking her head, she withdrew her hand fast. Nope. Couldn’t get to shake her from what she believed. Admirable. A strong woman. No fear in her. Good thing she had taught the girls, but it was all over now, thanks to him. And his sister couldn’t help. Lona was too busy lying up having babies for John, trying to get a son for her husband.

  Give them a son, Lord. Please. So my sister can be all right in her body. And mind.

  Still, now, because of what they had been up to, Missouri wasn’t the teacher anymore. A pang invaded his heart at what Missouri had already been through. Just proved his point. Things happened to the women he was involved with. Lord help the one that he loved. He wasn’t any good to any woman. Best thing he could do for her would be to get up, walk out of this church, and never return.

  No more running now. He had been running too much. Too much running made a man weak, and he wasn’t weak. No. Not ever since he stopped drinking up his profits. He would stay and take up his part in it too. She deserved his support in front of old Bomead and the others who would judge.

  “Some say love made the world go round.”

  “Amen, brother,” Arlo said, and Missouri’s eyebrows flew up.

  Yeah, old minister love it when they get encouraged to go on and speak their foolishness.

  “When that which is perfect comes…tell me about it…when you know what is perfect for you…the rest. I said, the rest needs to go on away.”

  “Amen,” Missouri said, and she sat back away from him.

  He nodded at her and smiled. It was getting good to her too.

  “Because yes, say it with me, those of you who know… When I was a child I spake as a child, but when I became a man, I put away all the childish things…”

  Missouri’s pretty pink lips recited the verse right along with that old minister.

  Those words again. Did it mean it was time to shut his place down? If he did what would he do? How would he do?

  Unless he went and hired himself out as a field hand to his brother-in-law for his prosperous farm. Arlo shuddered remembering those first few months when he came to Winslow, working to get a few coins to rub together for the good-time place. Lord a mercy, farming was some hard work. He didn’t envy John none. John did well for his family, but that just wasn’t him.

  Wasn’t nothing left for a man in Winslow but the mill.

  The mill. The place where people offered up a bit of their soul every day in exchange for some coin from old man Winslow. The very definition of hell.

  He turned to see Missouri’s eyes shining while she listened to the minister, taking in God’s words. Her skin glowed with health and the pounding blood of their son beat within her. His skin warmed to know of the task that she was doing. It was time to put away childish things. Past time.

  “If anyone, anyone wants to come forward into His house, His divine presence, His love, step into the aisle. Just step into the aisle and let God’s light lift you up into His paradise.”

  Yes he was.

  Arlo pulled her to him and said, “We’re going to work this out. And you’re going to be happy. Got me?”

  “What’re you talking about, Arlo?”

  “God is speaking to my heart this morning. Trust me, it’s all going to be what He wants for us.”

  He reached down and tasted her sweet orange lips, drew in all of the good sweetness of her. It had been so long since he had kissed her. Why had he waited so long? What had made him want to wait? Missouri was worth it, worth every bit of closing his place and of going into the mill and inhaling the deep stink of lint and burnt cotton into his lungs. He would work under the whip of that Satan, Paul Winslow, a
nd know he was doing it all for the cause of his son to come into the world.

  He stood up. “A man from Aleppo said, send me, Lord!”

  Instantly, Ruby shot to her feet and started clapping. “Praise Him! Praise Him, Uncle Arlo!”

  The minster looked at him from under his eyebrows. “We have a soul for the church today?”

  “Yes, I’ma be a soul for Him. Yes indeed!”

  The minister took a handkerchief and mopped his brow, but said nothing. Why? Arlo was offering him this chance and the man didn’t take it? What kind of minister was he?

  “Well now. I’ma have to take this under advisement with the council.”

  Now Arlo was the confused one. “I want to be saved in the way of God. Why does the council have to be convened for that?”

  “Because you.” The minister cleared his throat.

  “Can’t have no sinners up in the church!”

  Was that Doris Bomead? She was willing to condemn him in front of everyone?

  Arlo went past Missouri’s knees, even as she grasped his hand. He squeezed her hand, to let her know it would be all right.

  He stepped into the aisle, the place where the anointed walked in First Water Christian, and worked his way up to the front of the church. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. How is it that there is silence now that I’m trying to mend my ways in His house?”

  He could hear the brook babbling outside the open windows of the country church. Instead of feeling comforted by the brook, he smelled a stench of something rotten. “All souls are not welcome in God’s house? Is that it?”

  The minister stepped forward. “Why don’t you meet me for some talk and we’ll discuss this together?”

  “Well, I cannot believe that my soul isn’t good enough for this church. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen—”

  “Are you sober, brother?”

  “Are you saying I would come into God’s house with liquor on my breath?”

  No one said anything. Not a single one of his regular customers who would have been with him last night if the place had been open. Not one.

  Ruby was still standing. She believed in him. Blessed child. Still, now, tears were running down her face. Rather than cheering for him, she felt sorry for him. And he could endure almost anything other than that.