That night Maggie and I lay atop her blanket, our hands entangled, our breathing matched, the silence of the house pressing in on us.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“You shouldn’t be scared, Pix. You should be angry.” Maggie spoke with little to no emotion, as if she’d accepted the anger that had replaced our previously happy family.
“I don’t know what to feel. Ever since I found Mr. Bingham, my whole life has gone crazy.”
“What was it like? Findin’ him?” she asked.
I thought about the moment I realized that what I’d thought was a lump of refuse was really a body. The memory seeped back in from the crevices of my mind where I’d tucked it away. I cried as I told Maggie about the bruising, his bloated body, and the way his eyes looked up toward the sky with a permanent shock of terror that I couldn’t look away from. I must have squeezed Maggie’s hand, because she yelped and turned on her side, facing me. She took her finger and moved my hair off of my forehead, the way Mama used to do.
“I’m sorry you found him, Pixie. That must have been horrible.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“I wish I could bundle you up and take you back to New York with me. I hate leavin’ you here.”
The weight of my life tumbled around me. Jackson swam in my heart and Jimmy Lee clawed at my mind. Maggie was pushing herself out of our family faster than a chicken chased by a fox, and Mama was standing up in ways I’d only imagined in my dreams—and it all felt so wrong. I put my hands on Maggie’s arms and curled into her, wishing I could climb beneath her skin and soak in her strength. She wrapped me in her arms and held me as I sobbed.
Maggie didn’t ask me why I was crying, she didn’t try to fix what was wrong. She honored my sadness with patience, allowing me to lie against her beating heart until my eyes were red and swollen, with no more tears to shed.
Chapter Twelve
By mid-afternoon, Mama was already wrist deep in apple peels. The kitchen was alive with the aroma of cinnamon and baked apples. It was Wednesday and Jackson would be returning to his military service on Friday. I needed something to keep my mind off of him leaving. Three days had passed since Maggie returned to New York with promises of weekly letters and being home before the wedding. And it had been exactly four days since I’d seen Jackson. I just couldn’t muster the courage to sneak out after what I’d witnessed between Daddy and Maggie. My heart pulled and fought me to see Jackson again, and I cringed with sadness every time I thought of him looking for my library books on the porch. He must hate me by now, I was sure of it. But after the rift between Maggie and Daddy became a fissure that I wasn’t sure would ever close, I knew I wasn’t ready to take a stance and chase away my Daddy’s love to be with Jackson.
Mama focused on the apple she was slicing. She sighed, long and low.
I pretended not to notice, figuring she’d tell me what was wrong when she was good and ready.
She finished coring and slicing the last apple, then removed the first batch of baked apples from the oven. I mixed the brown sugar, cinnamon, and honey in a big bowl, dipping my finger in for a taste of the sweet nectar before adding the butter.
While Mama mixed the apples and the sauce together, I leaned against the counter, licking my fingers and wondering what I could do to mend Maggie and Daddy’s relationship.
“Honey, wash your hands, please.”
I turned on the water and glanced out the window over the sink. Albert had come back to work, although he wasn’t working in the fields yet. He and Daddy stood by the barn. My father pointed to the tractor, and I looked in that direction, catching sight of Jackson coming in from the furthest field alongside several other colored men, their arms heavy with containers of DDT, their faces glistening with sweat. Smiles lifted their lips as they chatted back and forth, throwing a rag like a ball between them. They stopped their playful banter as they neared the barn.
“Mama, shouldn’t we bring those boys some lemonade?” Seeing Jackson opened the door to my heart that I’d closed out of fear.
“Your father has water for them.”
“But, couldn’t we bring them lemonade? On a day like today it might be more refreshin’.” I eyed the bowl of lemons on our counter.
Mama put her hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s probably best if we don’t.”
I spun around and asked her why.
For a long time she just looked at me, measuring her response. “Well, when you were younger, your father didn’t want you takin’ them anything, because he worried for your safety; but I think if we do it together, it’d probably be just fine.”
I made quick work of cutting and squeezing lemons into several pitchers of ice water, dousing them with sugar, and making sure the end result was sweet and refreshing. We put the pitchers on trays and carried them outside just in time to greet the men as their day came to an end.
I didn’t trust myself being too near Jackson for fear of blushing. I knew Mama would see the desire in my eyes. Fifteen young colored men grabbed glasses of lemonade. I was too young to be called ma’am, and yet these men, some just about my age, with fatigue in their eyes and sweat on their brows, treated me as if they knew the place Daddy had spoken of so often—my place.
Some of the men were as slim as the day was long, holding their glasses out for more of the cool drink. Their long arms bubbled with baseball-sized muscles. They gulped down a full glass worth in one swallow and set their glass back on the tray with a sincere measure of gratitude.
Jackson stayed a respectable distance from me, accepting a glass from Mama’s tray with a generous thank you. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were cold and distant, locked on the fields beyond the house. Our fields, as I’d come to think of them. I swatted at a bug, awkwardness grasping at my movements. What had I done? Four days was too long. I hadn’t talked to Jackson since we’d made love, and now I worried that I’d never have a chance.
I coughed, played with my hair, spoke too loudly, and still he didn’t look over. I told myself that Jackson would never take a chance of being caught eyeing me, then worried that he hadn’t wanted to. There was no secret smile, no symbolic gesture, and the absence of even the smallest acknowledgment hurt like a paper cut, swift and deep. Today, my books were going on the rocking chair.
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as the house was silent, I tiptoed to my parents’ room and peeked in. They lay still, Daddy’s arm arced over his head, the other across his stomach. Mama slept with her back to him. I made my way silently downstairs and out the back door. As soon as the night air hit my lungs, any hesitation I’d felt the days before turned to determination. I might not be ready to give up Daddy’s love, but the hurt I felt that afternoon when Jackson shunned me made me realize that I wasn’t ready to give him up, either.
The rows of plantings were thick and soft beneath my feet as I ran toward the creek. When I finally reached the end of the field’s grasp, I saw Jackson sitting on a rock beside the water, his back to me, his strong frame hunched forward. I ran to him, brushing his shoulder. He flinched beneath my touch.
“Hi,” I said, out of breath.
He nodded. He didn’t move toward me, he didn’t reach for my hand.
I crouched before him and touched his knee. “Hey, you okay?” When he didn’t answer, I said, “I missed you.”
He nodded again, then sat up tall. “I’m leavin’ tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? That’s only Thursday. I thought you were leavin’ Friday.” It was too soon. One day. One day wasn’t enough.
He shrugged. “Tomorrow, Friday, what’s the difference?”
“A day. A full twenty-four hours.”
He stood and crossed his arms. “Right, and what’s the big deal about that?”
I shook my head. “What do you mean? Don’t you want to be with me?”
“Me?” he raised his voice. “Yes, I want to be with you, but you’ve made it clear how you feel. I haven’t hea
rd from you in days.”
My stomach tightened. I touched his arm, desire warming my throat. “I’m sorry.” It was the truth, I was sorry. “I couldn’t get away.” I’m too weak.
“I’m sorry? Is that all it takes for you? Well I don’t know how you treat Jimmy Lee, but that’s not enough. We…” He lowered his voice and pulled his shoulders back, like he was recovering from saying Jimmy Lee’s name and bringing him into our conversation. “We were close, and then you disappeared. How do you think that made me feel? I look at your porch everyday, hopin’ your books are there, and everyday I’m shut down like a used-up mule.”
Hearing him say Jimmy Lee’s name was strange. I hadn’t thought about Jimmy Lee in days. I was too busy worrying about how to keep my family together, and the steps I needed to take to protect myself from losing them.
“I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I’ve been confused.”
“Yeah, well you’ll have four months to get unconfused, because that’s how long I’m gonna be gone, and when I’m out of the service, I’m goin’ straight to New York.”
“Wait, I thought we were goin’ to New York together?” I heard the falseness of my words as they left my lips. I wouldn’t run away with him and leave my family behind. I couldn’t.
He touched my arm, then, and said softly, “Alison, you’re not goin’ anywhere. You’re one of them. What we had—”
Hot tears fell down my cheeks. He wiped them away, and I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips. I kissed his palm, then rested my cheek on it. “I love you.”
“Maybe, but if this is how you love, it’s not enough for me. I’ve been oppressed my whole life, held back by the ropes of color. I want to love for real. I want to know that whoever loves me will love me regardless of my color, regardless of what others think, and you can’t do that, not here.”
“I could lose my family.”
“I know.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I grabbed his waist and held on. His words were true, but they didn’t stop the ache in my heart. The cool night air stung my lungs as I sucked in a deep breath, hoping to dislodge the lump from my throat. “I can do it. I do love you.”
“I know you do, but I watched you these last few days, avoidin’ the fields, avoidin’ me. I couldn’t think past your name, Alison. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. It’s killin’ me.”
Our bodies trembled, mine from the fear of being without him, and his, I was sure, from the truth his words carried.
“No,” I cried, shaking my head and pulling away. “I want to be with you. Maybe I can do this.”
“Alison, you’re gettin’ married in a few weeks. Maybe means you can’t do this.”
“No,” I cried. “Be with me, I’ll show you. One more time, before you leave?”
He shook his head. “You’re not mine. You never will be.”
“It hurts too much. I want to be.” I wiped my eyes with my arm. “Will you write me? Through Albert? We can find a way, like my mama does with your mama?”
Again, he shook his head. I dropped to my knees, the harsh sting of rejection stealing my strength. “I just made a mistake. I should've given you a message. I should've met you. I’m sorry. I was afraid. My sister had a fight with Daddy, and I was afraid he’d tell me to leave, too, if he found out.”
“You’re right. He would have, and I would never forgive myself if he did. I love you. I will always love you. But I won’t steal you from another man, and I won’t be your hidden lover.” He came down on his knees. His lips met mine, soft and delicious.
When our lips parted, my eyes remained closed. I knew that the moment I opened them what we had would be forever changed.
“I don’t blame you one bit,” he whispered.
I opened my eyes and saw tears in his.
“Maybe I’ll see you when I visit Maggie?” I knew it would never happen.
“Maybe,” he said. He held my hand and we sat there, on the side of the creek, the trickling water moving by like the past few days, sure and steady.
I touched his face, his eyes, his hair, his ears. I wanted to memorize every bit of him. His musky smell, his taste, sweet and ripe, the feel of his palms, soft like butter, yet peppered with callouses across the tops. I let my hands drop to his wide, solid hips. His hands moved down my shoulders, my arms warm beneath his touch. Moonlight streaked through the umbrella of trees, illuminating the grass beside us. I wanted to fall asleep there beside him, and wake with his gentle caress. I wanted to make baked apples for him, and to take his mother a batch without having to hide. More than anything, I wanted our love not to be forbidden.
He pulled me to my feet, our chests touching. I pressed into him and felt his desire firm against my hip. He kissed away my tears.
“You deserve a beautiful life,” he said. He turned and walked away, following the creek toward town.
“Jackson,” I called after him. He turned, and our eyes met. Mine, pleading for him not to go, his knowing he had no choice. I blew him a kiss. He reached toward the sky and caught it, then put his hand to his heart. Run after him. My legs were rooted to the ground by my Daddy’s love. He disappeared into the darkness, taking a piece of my broken heart with him.
Chapter Fourteen
The weeks before the wedding passed painfully slow, like molasses from a Mason jar. Each breath took an insurmountable effort to push past my feeling of loss. I had created my own darkness by pushing Jackson away instead of following my heart, and God knew how much I loved him, but I held a mantra in my mind that it was the right thing to do.
I found myself longing for Maggie’s presence, but she hadn’t returned home from college at the end of her term. She stayed in New York to work as a secretary for a law firm. She’d written me a letter and confessed that she’d joined the Black Panthers, as she’d hoped to, and that the law firm that she was working for was really into making changes with civil rights. She made me promise not to tell Daddy. She said she was making a difference, and I was happy for her, but every time I looked at her empty bed or brought up her name at the dinner table, a wave of despair settled in around me. Daddy wouldn’t even say her name, and in his silence, sadness pressed forward. The blue in his eyes dimmed with hurt. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have him feel that way because of me.
One day I snuck over to the side of the field where Albert Johns was working, and I’d asked him if Jackson had sent any letters for anyone. He’d taken two steps backwards, whipping his head around like we were doing something against the law—in a way we were, though the law was unwritten. Albert looked at me like I was crazy for talking to him, and that’s when I knew there would be no letters. As much as I missed Jackson—and I surely did—I thought I’d made the right decision, no matter how sad it made me.
With my love for Jackson put on hold, and without Maggie around to sidetrack my thoughts, I finally gave in and chose a light pink for our wedding invitations, which seemed to please Mrs. Watson. Jimmy Lee had graduated from college, and although I was too sick the morning of his graduation to attend, I was proud of him. I had high hopes that once he returned and was a working man instead of a schoolboy, he’d stop his crazy antics and settle down.
Chapter Fifteen
The morning of my wedding arrived with a bout of nausea. Mama said it was just my nerves, and Maggie, who’d arrived the evening before, held my hair back as I threw up the previous night’s dinner. My father had yet to say two words to her.
“You’re sure about this, Pix?” she whispered when Mama left the bathroom.
“I’m not you. This is best for me.” The inability to see Jackson made it that much easier to convince myself to start fresh with Jimmy Lee. Even if I didn’t love him the way I loved Jackson, and maybe I never would, I knew it was best if I stayed in my safe cocoon of a life. I didn’t have what it took to be on my own the way Maggie did. The comfort I drew from Daddy’s warm embrace, and his conditional admiration, no matter how unrealistic, was something that I cherished. Th
ere was no doubt in my mind that I needed Daddy in my life.
We moved into the bedroom to prepare for my wedding. I sat at the dressing table with my puffy eyes and pink nose, soaking in the tenderness of Maggie’s efforts as she combed through my hair.
“Okay, but you know, the offer is still open for you to come to New York with me.” There was a sparkle in her eye that made me want to follow her anywhere. The thought of seeing Jackson in New York excited me, then saddened me. I’d made my bed, and it was time to sleep in it.
“I’m good, thanks, though.”
“Will you at least visit me?” she asked.
“Right after we’re settled.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” And so it was set. I’d take the train to New York at the end of the summer. I was sure Jimmy Lee wouldn’t mind. He knew how close Maggie and I were. Maggie told me all about her job with Mr. Nash’s law firm. He was a civil rights activist and had warned Maggie about the Black Panthers, but she assured me that they had never done anything violent, he just worried they might. She said she’d remain safely behind closed doors with the families.
“I won’t protest, don’t worry. I just want to do my part,” Maggie said.
“I wish I could do somethin’ like that here, help the colored families to do little things, like eat in the diner.”
“Little things?” Maggie said sarcastically. “That’s a huge thing, Pix.”
“Girls, need any help?” Mama came into the bedroom in a flurry, nervously looking around the room. She looked gorgeous in her blue dress with her hair brushed shiny and full away from her face.
“We’ve got this, Mama,” Maggie said, zipping up my dress.
I stood in the middle of the room in Mama’s wedding dress, which was less like a frilly wedding dress and more like a long, white ball gown. She’d hemmed it, and it fit like a sleeve, though noticeably tighter than it had when I’d first tried it on.
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