by Afton Locke
She wanted to throw herself on a desk and nail herself to it so she never had to leave.
A thin white woman at the reception desk looked up from her papers. “May I help you?”
Sadie’s enthusiasm slipped a few notches at the woman’s closed expression and cold tone of voice.
“I-I’m here to—” She cleared her throat and spoke slowly, striving to sound like a cultured person. “Inquire about enrolling in this here…ahem…your school.”
“For whom?”
Sadie frowned. “For myself, ma’am. How much does it cost?”
Not much, she prayed. She and her mother kept their savings in an old soup can, and it barely filled half of it.
“We don’t accept your kind here.” The woman craned her scrawny neck. “This is a white school.”
Told you so, Mama’s voice hissed in her mind.
Sadie squared her shoulders. “If I painted myself white, would that suit you?”
“Get out.”
“I have a good mind.” Sadie clenched her hands into fists as she stepped closer. “And just as much right to use it as any white gal.”
“Such impertinence!” The woman’s face wobbled above her stick of a neck and turned red. “Get out or I’ll call the police and have you thrown out.”
She froze. Getting arrested would make her miserable life even worse and leave her mother in the cold. Without another word, she left, but she couldn’t resist giving the front door a good slam on the way out.
“Well, that went well,” she muttered to herself.
She unwadded the list of schools she’d balled up in her hand. Before she could read the address of the next one, a tear fell on it. Her shoulders shook as the ink bloomed in the moisture until it was almost illegible.
As she trudged toward the next address, she wished she’d worn her comfortable work shoes instead of her Sunday heels. The second school wasn’t any more receptive than the first.
“Give me an entrance exam, so I can prove how smart I am,” she’d insisted.
But it was no use. Accepting someone with black skin wasn’t their policy. Well, she hoped they choked on their stupid policy. Didn’t they realize she still had to make a living even though she didn’t fit their perfect rules?
And what’s the use of being born with a headful of brains if I can’t use them anywhere?
She plopped onto a park bench to ease her aching feet. Mama was right. She should never have even considered business school. If she’d never come here, she could always hold the dream in the back of her mind—something she might try if she got desperate enough. Now she knew it would never work. Oyster shucking would now feel ten times worse.
All she had to look forward to were a nauseous ride home on the steamer, more slimy oysters, and the life of a complete failure. With any luck, the boat would sink before it reached Oyster Harbor.
* * *
The next Monday, Sadie ripped the oysters apart so hard, she tore a glove and had to get another. The floor supervisor didn’t look too happy about it. Tough ham hocks. If he gave her any lip, she’d tell him what he could do with his lousy glove.
Mama peered at her and frowned. “Sadie, stop taking your frustrations out on those poor oysters. You’re ruining them.”
“I don’t care,” she muttered. “I hate oysters.”
“Didn’t I warn you not to go traipsin’ to Baltimore? None of those fancy white schools would ever accept you.” She broke her oyster open. “I could have told you that.”
“Enough, Mama.” Sadie threw down her knife. “I know it was a mistake.”
Passing under the low ceiling, she carried her two buckets of shucked meat to the weigh window. Tears blurred her eyes as she glared at the slimy things, but it was better than looking at the endless floor and tables of gray concrete. Smelly boat fuel drifted in from the unloading dock, competing with the stench of raw seafood. And the constant racket of shoveling and shucking was enough to split her skull open.
How would she get through this day? This week? The rest of her rotten, miserable life?
When she reached the window, she plunked her buckets on the wooden sill harder than she intended. The stiff-looking man working the scales frowned at her. His eyes looked enormous through his spectacles as he dumped one bucket of her oysters into the basket.
“They’re all horribly mangled,” he exclaimed. “There’s hardly a fit one in the whole bunch.”
The man complained to everybody. He wouldn’t recognize the world’s most perfect oyster if it fell on his head. Instead of replying to his insult, she drummed her fingers on the ledge as she waited for him to write her tally in the book. It better be good because the count determined her pay. When he wrote a big zero, fiery heat shot through her blood.
“No! I worked hard to shuck those,” she insisted.
“Well, you’d better work harder to make sure they stay in one piece. We ought to charge you for ruining them.”
Her mouth opened and quivered as she scrambled for the right thing to say. Mama depended on her, she reminded herself. A line formed behind her as other workers waited to check in their oysters.
“Let’s see the next bucket,” Dan Short, the weighman said. “I hope they’re better than the first. Hurry, now.”
“I hope so, too,” she muttered before flinging the wet, slippery mess straight toward his face.
Everything that followed happened so fast she could hardly keep track of it. The people behind her gasped and made rueful sounds.
“Lord, she’s done it now,” a woman said.
But Sadie’s gaze was riveted to the weighman. Oysters covered his thin hair, and one was stuck to his spectacles while still another oozed down his hollow cheek. If the situation wasn’t so grim, she’d laugh because he sure looked ridiculous.
“This is an outrage,” he yelled. “I need some help here!”
Bill Murdock, the grumpy floor supervisor who’d given her a hard time about her glove, rushed over. His lip twitched as if he stifled a laugh or horror. Maybe both.
“Good heavens. What happened?”
When Short pointed a long, shaking finger at her, she forgot how to breathe. Her last breath lodged in her lungs, a big, painful lump that grew staler by the second.
“This calls for dismissal,” he yelled. “Or worse. Get the police.”
The supervisor blinked at him. “Well, you hardly look injured. I’m taking her to Mr. Rockfield. He’ll decide her fate.”
“Just—” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d been about to beg him to fire her, but she needed this job. Maybe if she begged hard enough, Henry Rockfield would take pity on her since her family had worked here so long.
A vise of anguish squeezed her chest. Because the thought of facing that handsome man after what she’d done was worse than anything she’d been through yet.
Chapter Two
When Murdock marched into Henry’s office, dragging a female employee by the back of her dress collar, he dropped the handful of papers he held.
Sadie.
He thrust his hands into his pockets before they could latch onto the supervisor’s throat. His role as manager must be played at all times. Even when his blood roared in his ears so hard he could barely hear.
“What’s going on?” he asked as calmly as he could.
The man’s lip curled as he tightened his grip on her. “This one assaulted the weighman.”
Please don’t let it be true. The last thing he wanted to do was fire her and make her life even harder.
“How?” he asked.
“She threw a bucket of oysters at him, sir.”
Henry pressed his fingertips into his palms because the urge to laugh overtook his need to throttle the supervisor. When Caleb worked here, he’d fired him. Pressure from the Klan had forced Henry to give him his job back. Dan Short was even worse, always assuming the employees plotted to cheat the company.
And he�
�d rather walk on a bed of rusty fishhooks than check endless columns of numbers.
“Is he injured?”
“Only his pride,” Murdock replied. “Shucked oysters are soft, and she didn’t throw the bucket itself. His spectacles, however, will require a good cleaning.”
“Oh…boy.”
Henry masked his bark of laughter with a pretend cough. What he wouldn’t give to have witnessed it. The incident sure added a spark of interest to his dreary day and hopeless task of saving the company.
Sadie squirmed the entire time she stood there, like a worm on a hook. The man’s grip continued to tighten on her collar. She must be close to choking by now. The faded orange and brown flowers on the fabric pulled taut, exposing more lush, dark skin.
Stop fighting it, sweetheart. Don’t make it worse for yourself.
Why had she done such a thing? Didn’t she know the town had rules and the only way she could survive was to abide by them?
“How shall she be punished, sir?” the supervisor asked. “Should I call the police?”
Dread gripped Henry’s heart. Even though he didn’t care for the rules any more than she did, he’d have to enforce them. Especially if he wanted to save this company. Damn her! Why had she done such a foolish thing?
“Leave her with me,” he said after releasing a heavy sigh. “I’ll decide what’s to be done. In the meantime, please do the weighman’s work until he gets…er…cleaned up.”
“Very well.”
The man glared at Sadie with hard, disappointed eyes under his round, white hat. Clearly, he’d hungered for an arrest or dismissal. He released her with such a jerk, she lost her balance, inches away from sprawling across Henry’s desk. Although he could imagine some interesting things to do to her in that position, his muscles tensed, aching to punch Bill Murdock’s big nose for treating her so roughly.
Maybe he should. Was running the company worth more than a human being? He extended his arm to help steady her, but she managed to catch herself first.
“You may go,” he told the supervisor.
The man didn’t look as if he wanted to leave them alone, but Henry faked one of Caleb’s commanding stares. After the man left, Henry invited Sadie to sit in the guest chair.
Her shoulders trembled—with fear or rage? He forced himself not to stare at her full breasts, which heaved up and down harder than a stormy sea. Why couldn’t he hold her? Calm her down, at least? Tell her everything would be fine?
Today wasn’t the first day he wished he hadn’t been born a Rockfield, but he’d never felt it so intensely before.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did he hurt you?”
Surprise flashed in her intense brown eyes as she shook her head. She must not have expected him to care. If she only knew how much he did. And he had no idea why. Plenty of other women worked here. What was it about this particular one?
Most people wouldn’t even call her pretty, like Caleb’s slender, long-haired wife. The other female employees here wouldn’t throw oysters on the weighman, either. If he had to be attracted to a woman—and he sure didn’t have time for one—why couldn’t he pick a gentle one who played by the rules? And one from the same race.
He sat in his chair, keeping the desk safely between them.
“Please don’t send me to jail.” Her voice quavered as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Mama’s old and frail, and I’ve got to take care of her.”
“I’m not going to call the police.” At least he’d decided that much. “But why did you do such a thing?”
“I don’t know.” She stared down at her lap. “Something snapped in me, I guess. He didn’t approve of my oysters and wrote a zero in the tally book.”
“A zero?” Electricity jolted down his spine. The weighman ought to be fired or arrested, not her.
“Why would he do that? Surely, you know how to shuck an oyster by now. You’ve been doing it for years.”
“My oysters were sloppy today,” she admitted with a loud sniff. “I-I was upset.”
He held his palms up. “About?”
“Just punish me and get it over with.” Her voice was so low, he barely heard it. “I’m sure you have better things to do than hear about my life.”
“Tell me, anyway.”
She looked up, piercing him with her steady gaze. “Why do you care?”
Why did he? Was the attraction merely physical? Simply because he ached to unpeel that threadbare cotton dress from her generous curves and lose himself in her deep-brown skin? To take the pins out of her hair and slide his fingers through it? To catch her full bottom lip between his teeth and taste her?
Rockfield Heavenly Oysters. He forced himself to read the label on the empty blue can sitting on one of the cabinets. It reminded him of his mission, which did not include undressing the staff.
He cleared his throat. “Because everyone deserves a fair trial.”
“You’re an unusual man, Mr. Rockfield.”
The desire in her eyes echoed his own, shooting so much blood below his waist, he almost fainted.
“Since you insist on knowing, I’m tired of shucking oysters. I want a better life for me and Mama.”
“I understand.”
He’d shucked enough oysters to know how miserable the task was, even for a short period of time. Doing it all day long, day after day, year after year must be hell. Maybe he should just shut down the whole damn plant, but people needed the jobs. Honest work was better than a life of beggary or crime, wasn’t it?
“I wanted to go to business school. Work in a nice, clean office like you.”
“Cleaner than this, I hope,” he said, pointing to the messy papers on his desk.
The heat collecting in his groin hovered there when a small smile flashed across her face.
“So I went to Baltimore yesterday, in my Sunday best.” She pursed her lips. “And had doors slammed in my face.”
He wasn’t surprised, given the way things were, but he admired her for being brave enough to try.
“I have a good mind,” she insisted in a strong, clear voice that sent ripples over his flesh. “I could do well in school and one of those office jobs.”
“I bet you could. You must be very frustrated.”
Without knowing why, he stood and approached her chair. He’d simply meant to say he was sorry, but she deserved more than patronizing words.
She needed help. Someone who gave a damn.
Darn her husband for leaving her for another woman. If he was still around, she’d be his problem, not Henry’s. Why had he asked her to show him a porthole into her wretched life? The less he knew about it, the easier it would be to ignore.
Too late for that. For better or worse, he was involved in Sadie Johnson’s life. Her struggles. Her problems. His.
The air vibrated with more electricity than a summer storm on the water. As if she sensed it, she stood and faced him. Before he knew it, he’d clasped her face with both hands and lowered his mouth to hers. He’d meant to give comfort but found it instead in the softness of her parted lips. She yielded to him so fully, he could hardly believe she was the same woman who’d thrown oysters in the weighman’s face.
Her cheeks, sticky with dried tears, warmed beneath his fingertips. A low groan ripped from his throat. He knew better than to lean against her body. If he did, he wouldn’t stop until he was inside her. With his heart thudding, he pulled away from her.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Because you needed it.”
He staggered into the desk, knocking Caleb’s business books to the floor. Before he could pick them up, she grabbed them and studied the covers. Apparently, she couldn’t look him in the eye right now, either.
What the hell had he just done? Was he out of his head? If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose the company and end up in jail himself.
“Business books,” she exclaimed, opening one.
&
nbsp; She flipped through the pages of the first one with reverence, as if it were the Bible instead of an accounting text.
“Oh, I could learn this. I know I could.”
Henry peered over her shoulder. “You mean that stuff makes sense to you?”
“Yes.” The corner of her mouth twisted and she shot him an annoyed look. “I told you I wasn’t stupid, didn’t I?”
“You’re probably smarter than I am,” he agreed. “Caleb wants me to learn them backward and forward, but I’m afraid I can’t make much sense of them.”
“What a shame.” She closed the volume. When she stroked the cover, he wished his skin lay under her fingers instead.
He cocked his head. “Maybe I should let you borrow the whole stack so you can read them and explain them to me.”
Her eyes widened and lit with joy. “Would you?”
He’d meant it as a joke, by why not? He had nothing to lose and relished the fact he had the power to turn her tears into smiles.
“Now, about your punishment.”
“Go ahead and fire me.” She gripped his arm. “I don’t think I can’t bring myself to shuck another oyster.”
Before he could answer, she set the books on the desk and covered her face. “No, I’ve got to take care of Mama. Please don’t fire me.”
“Well, I have to think of something or I’ll be in more trouble than you are.”
“How about a week’s furlough? It would give me time to read the books.” She twisted her lips. “Since I can’t get into business school, anyway, I don’t suppose losing a week’s pay will kill us.”
“You are smart,” he said. “I like your idea, but I am going to pay you, secretly.”
She squared her shoulders. “I don’t need your money.”
“Yes, you do, and studying those texts for me is honest work. In fact, I’m going to pay you double.”
When a knock sounded on the door, his entire body twitched. Thank God his employees knocked and hadn’t walked in a minute ago when his mouth was on Sadie’s.