Family

by J. California Cooper

  “Yes suh. I knowed most the place money was buried cause I help bury it with em.”

  Doak couldn’t keep that note of anger comin into his voice tho it wasn’t exactly aimed at Always. “Well … it seem that money, that gold, is gone now.”

  “Yes suh. I done heard of it.”

  Doak waited for her to say more. She didn’t. “Well … as a reliable slave …” He stopped. “… person in my family, you should ought to know more bout what happened to it. I need to try to get it back where I can fix our house up here and get to work on makin this land pay again. I need money to do that.”

  Always moved a few things round on that little lopsided table she had under the one window, thinkin. She had planned this way head of time, should he come home safe. “I know one place where nobody did find, where there is some gold money.” Doak jumped lightly. She said, “I will show you that when night falls.”

  Doak stood. “Show me now.”

  So, Always got two shovels and took him way down by the creek overhung with the wild trees full of birds, possums and squirrels. They walked in silence, Always steady watchin him from behind where she was walkin, fillin her eyes with her son and her pride. “Thank you God, he safe,” she thought over and over.

  Finally she stopped, reached out a hand to touch him. Lookin round carefully, she said, “We digs here.”

  They dug in the light rain til a spade hit a hard sound, then Doak got down on his knees and dug with his hands til he uncovered a small chest. He pulled it up and worked it open with his knife and fists. There was gold and silver. He looked up at Always, who was smilin.

  “Is this all my daddy saved? All them years?”

  “No such, there was more …”

  “Where?” His tone was hard.

  “Don’t know where now. Can try to find out. I needs time.”

  Doak stood, holdin on to the chest. “You find out and you will never have to worry bout a home the rest of your life. I’ll see to that my damn self!”

  Now, Always had been enjoyin the doin of these things with her son. Feastin her eyes on him as they worked together. Her hands wantin to touch him. Her arms wantin to hold him. But now, her mind came to itself. “Yes suh. That’s somethin I wants to talk bout with you.”

  “Well,” he declared, “we done talked. You have a home here for as long as you want it … do you find me that gold.”

  Always rubbed the mud from her hands. “Yes suh. But I has somethin I wants to talk to you bout. I wants a place of my own. All my own.”

  Doak took a deep breath to keep his patience up with this nigga. “Well, I ain’t got much money but we can even find you a little ole place to live out your years in … in peace … do you find me that gold.” The birds were now shrilling, screeching at the intruders. Thunder was heard off in the sky. Water just layin on the air, steady. They looked at each other, hard. She didn’t turn away like he half expected.

  They walked back carryin and draggin the heavy, small chest. They finally got back to Always’s cabin. He was goin on with his load. Always turned to him. “Please, Masr Doak, come in one more time. I wants to say somethin to you.”

  Doak was eager to be home to count his gold and his future. But he thought of the other gold and drug the chest in and sat on the three-legged stool again with one foot on the small chest. “Well, Always?”

  Now Always took a deep breath, looked out her small shack window at the rain drizzlin down on the green, green trees puffed up with water, trees she had done planted. All her life, all her grown life, she had lived here, slaved here, give birth here, cried here, died a thousand times here, buried in loneliness here. Worked, worked, worked here. Lost her children here. Here. She looked at her son, thinkin, “Gave birth to you here. Now you gon take the gold and give me a home for my life. When I die, I be all gone and won’t stand for nothin cept I been blonged to you and your daddy.”

  She took another deep breath, sighed, said, “Old Masr Perkins done died. His widder, Miz Perkins, done died too. They done left that Perkins plantation crost the way, empty and goin down to ruin.”

  Doak spoke, impatient. “Yes, yes, that’s too bad. Mayhap I can buy it up and add to my land. That is why I need that gold so bad, Always! Now is the time to get richer, get ahead! Add to what we, my daddy, done already done! Do you understand that?”

  Always nodded her head slowly. “I wants to live there. Cross the way from you’ll.”

  Doak laughed softly, but wildly. “Oh, is that what this is bout? Well, if I can buy it, of course you can live there and take care it for me! Long as you want to.” He smiled.

  Always turned to him directly. “No suh. What I mean, I wants to live there … and die there … as on my own land.”

  Doak frowned. “Well, that takes money. And what would you do with a place even that size? Must be a hundred acres.”

  Always frowned. “I took care of this here place and this’n is bigger.”

  Doak held his hand up. “You had overseein and help, white help, white leaders. My daddy was runnin this place, you just worked …”

  Always shook her head slowly. “Naw suh. I took care this place, me and Masr Jason. Cause your daddy was a fool.”

  Doak stood. “Now Always, don’t get beyond yourself, even if you is free now.”

  Always stood her ground. “Tellin you the truth. I’m the reason you got that gold there.” She pointed to the chest at his feet. Doak looked down at the chest, then slowly up at Always.

  Always went on talkin, “I done worked enough for you to give me my own place … suh.”

  Doak, his lips tight. “There is not enough money for me to buy that plantation for you and do things for myself too! Sides, it ain’t fittin for me to have to buy you no house. You was bought and paid for, that’s why you worked.”

  Always, head bowed, looked up. “When we finds that other gold?”

  Doak stepped closer to Always. “You already know where that gold is, don’t you?”

  “I’m gonna see if’n I do.”

  Doak glowered. “You are tryin to deal, to bargain with me! A white man!? You are a nigga slave tryin to be smart! And a woman, too!”

  “Just tryin to live, suh.”

  “You get me that gold or you won’t have no life left to live, niggah!”

  Always sighed deep. “Don’t talk to your mama like that son. I … I could call you them same names … but I ain’t.”

  Doak laughed, ugly. “Just cause you raised me …”

  Always looked in his eyes. “Done more than raised you. Birthed you.”

  Disbelief and insult all over his face. “Birthed me?”

  Always looked steady at him. “Birthed you.” She pointed at her cot. “Right on that cot in this shack.”

  Doak forgettin to be quiet. “What are you talkin bout, crazy nigga woman? I am a white man! I know my mother!”

  Always didn’t fear. “You know the mother I gave you.”

  Doak, “YOU gave me?”

  Always still spoke softly, but firm. “The woman you think is your mama did birth a son that same time. You both had the same daddy. You looked much alike. So I gave her my son. To be sure you wouldn’t not be a slave. Would live right. I took her son … and raised him as mine.”

  Doak instantly thought of Soon.

  Always continued softly, even with love. “I am your natchel-born mama.”

  Doak reach out and slapped my Always so hard, so hard. She didn’t do nothin. He said, “You spect me to blive you my mama? Just like that? So you can use me? You are crazy!”

  “Can prove it, son.”

  Doak, about to leave, froze in his bent position to pick up the chest. “Prove it?”

  Always nodded her head. “Can prove it.”

  “How can you prove such a thing? A lie? A black lie?”

  Always pointed at her son. “God gave us somethin … to prove it. A sign.”

  Doak wanted to snarl. “A sign? What sign can prove you, black as you is, is my rightful
mama!?”

  Always stepped back in the small space, lifted her dress to her breast, pulled her underdrawers down enough to show her mole. Doak stared at her first in more than dismay, disbelief. Then, he went into shock. His mind exploded a little.

  Always held the mole in sight. “I knows God gived you one just like it, in the same place. That marks you for mine. My own son.”

  Doak put his hand on his hip over his own mole, stared at this slave who was his mama and howled. “I won’t, I can’t … I’m not your son! I’m not your son, black bitch!”

  Always reached out to him. “Don’t talk to your mama like that, son. Yes suh, you my son. Black man, you my son.”

  Doak saw red everywhere in his head. His hands reached out and caught Always round the neck. He flung her down and leaned over her to kill her. They struggled. She was strong. He was young, but tired. They looked in each other’s eyes as they silently fought, each to win. He wanted to rid hisself of this ugliness that called itself his mother, who could ruin his life, his dreams. Change his world. Always fought cause she had always had to fight to live, this was just another time to get pass.

  Her throat almost closed, she whispered, “Son, don’t kill me. God won’t never forgive you.”

  His horror told him, “Fuck god.”

  Her mind was workin fast as it could for her dear life. God didn’t work, so, “You ain’t never gonna find out all where that gold is, do I die, son.”

  Doak glared at her with hatred, but he loosened his grip on her throat. She took his hands firmly and pulled them from her neck, steady lookin at him in the eyes. “I blive I know how I can find out where it is. I blive I can.” He raised off from her slowly. She pulled herself to her feet, shaking her head, gettin her breath, thinkin, all at the same time.

  Doak, breathin hard, said, “You get me my gold. I’ll let you live, but don’t you never tell them words out loud again!”

  Always moved to the far corner of the little shack. “I the onliest chanst you have to get that gold. Don’t put your hands on me no more again. And if you don’t help me, your mama, out of the kindness in your heart … then help me cause I will tell Loretta and everyone else … And they will listen to me. You can’t cut that mole out, cause it will only leave another scar. So YOU IS MY SON.”

  Doak stood there with hate written all over his face, tears runnin down it too.

  Always stepped toward him, then stopped herself. “I don’t never need to tell nobody. I wants you to keep on livin good and fine. Just … I want to live good too. Just help your mama, son, help me get away too. They will let you buy that land and give it to me cause they blive you white and you can do whatever you wants to.”

  Doak thought again of killin her. When he spoke his voice was full of tears, hatred, and despair as he jerked his shoulder away from her reach. “I don’t have enough money.”

  Always’s voice broke. “I done save my own money over these years. Don’t need you to spend all yours.”

  He looked up eagerly now. “You know where that gold is, don’t cha?”

  “I’m gonna try findin out. But I still gots my own money, son. Is we got a understandin of what we both us want to do? I will find you more gold. Not tell nobody you is my own son. I will move crost the road a way, you don’t have to see me no mo. You just do the legal papers for me. That’s all I’s askin.”

  Doak Jr., beaten, “I … I’m goin to the house.”

  Always, hopin, “I’s gonna count on you, son.”

  “Don’t ever call me son again.”

  “Done called you son all your little life.”

  Doak started through the little door. Always spoke urgently. “Soon, soon, soon. We got no time to waste. That land be gone.”

  Doak threw back to her, “I’ll think on it … when the rain stop. When you get me that gold.”

  “Whatsomever you say, son. But weather ain’t got nothin to do with my life. Ain’t never matter to nobody before. But if you say so, I’ll wait. I’ll wait to try to find the gold too. The best be for me to do it soon befo somebody done took it off, too. Like they can do that Perkins land I wants.”

  Doak looked at Always over his shoulder, was hunched up with carryin that chest. With hatred and respect. “Awright. I’m goin today bout the land. But you get out and find that gold today too!”

  “Yes suh, son. Yes suh.” She shut the door softly and slowly, then sat down on her cot and cried and cried. Cried with relief. Somethin off her shoulders after all the years of burden.

  She had not known exactly what her plan was all these years, but it was workin out. It was maybe gonna work out.

  Later in the day, when the drizzlin had stopped, tho the dark clouds remained in the sky, Always went walkin to relieve her tight nerves. She had never gone this far with nobody before in a thinkin game of life. She walked over the land, thinkin and talkin to herself.

  She reached down to the rich black earth and took up a handful. She stared at it, rollin it round in her hands. She looked up to the heavens. “Lord, do freedom mean I got to leave my home? This my home too. Where else I’m gonna go? Where else lay my tired body down if not here where it got tired. Here, where my dead sister and baby is layin dead at? All my babies you done give me … been sold by this master to buy this land. This land I hold here in my hand. If that don’t make it mine, Lord, what do? What make it his? Thems? Cause he own me? Naw Lord, naw Lord, you ain’t be no way like that.” She started to cryin and runnin round them fields, lookin up at the Lord sometime. “My blood done ran out on this ground. My tears done run down on it. My sweat done built it up. Done fed us all. Don’t that make it mine too, Lord? I hurt all over my body cause of this land, Lord. My feelins is used up over this land, Lord. WHO can tell me to go? Don’t you. Don’t you Lord, please.”

  Always was runnin, cryin, stoopin to pick up that dirt and crush it to her breast. I ached for her, and I understood.

  She went on and on. “I didn’t want to come … I came. I came, worked, cried and slaved. I came and now they want me to go. I’m stayin, Lord. Stayin here, if they don’t get me my land. I’s tried to find in somewheres in me to call some place other Home. I can’t, Lord. I know this dirt like my own blood runnin in my body. Like my own heart bein inside my chest. Like my hands and feet. My body don’t stop, Lord. This land is part of my body. My roots is deep in this ground. I came, they bought me, I slaved here, This my land. Even freedom, sweet as it be, ain’t gonna make me leave this land. It mine, Lord. Now, it mine, Lord, I ain’t never gonna go. You hear me, Lord?” She raised the dirt to the sky, tears flowin. “It mine, it be mine, it be me, Lord! Sho! Just like you done give me my life, now my life is mine, so is this here land. It mine. I tell you it MINE! LORD! Or give me some land of my own self I can call my home.”

  SHE WOULDN’T GIVE Doak any more gold except for the amount needed to buy the Perkins land. She had to keep tellin him he would get the rest of his when hers was all set. Doak grew to hate her more. He tried to plan some way to kill her. But the gold! He felt like the slave! So he did her biddin … and grew to respect her more. But he never thought of her as his mother.

  It was good she could read cause he woulda fooled her with them deeds. But she could read. She saved herself. Doak was all times amazed with her sense. When he finally got the gold she was gonna give him, she was through with needin him and stayed way from him, til she felt time could smooth him down.

  The land bought and hers, she took to roundin up old slaves and young, promisin them a home if they help her fix her place up. They knew how to do most everything. People in the stores thinkin she buyin for Doak Jr. gave her the best at a good price.

  Her place was goin to be nice. She furnished it with the best of things, tho she never lowed no one in them special rooms. She didn’t much go in em herself cept to go sit and look round at what was hers. Hers.

  She had long ago started goin round that church house and keepin her eye on that quiet Tim. He watched her too. One day they was
told to hold hands in a circle and sing together. He came to where she was and held her hand tightly, she held his tightly back and they almost never did let go, even when the meetin was over. Finally they did tho.

  One day, when she had made up her mind on him, she smiled at him and took his hand again. He smiled back and left his hand in hers. In a quiet, sort of slow way, wary, timid love peeked above the soil of their hearts, lookin round to see was it a rocky place.

  Always wanted to move quick tho. She asked him, “Is you a married man?”

  Tim answered, “Was.”

  “What is you now?”

  “Cain’t find my wife, my woman.”

  “She sposed to be round here?”

  “Naw, I don’t guess now.”

  “Well, how you gonna find her stayin in one place?”

  “Done foun somethin else.”

  “What you think you done found?”

  “You?”

  “You ain’t too bashful, is you?”

  “Cain’t hep it, no how.”

  “What you mean to do with me? I ain’t no easy woman.”

  “Don’t want none.”

  “What you to doin with me?”

  “What kin I do wit you?”

  “I’ll think on it.”

  “I likes that.” Then he moved slowly away. Smilin.

  The scissor-man was long gone out of her mind. She had been goin to marry him for livelihood and security, she thought. The way she felt about Tim … was love. Her first real love. Now that she was free, and he was free, their love was free to give to each other. And they did.

  They took their time, but not a lot of time cause they didn’t have much time. Always had most moved into her new house as it was movin along and now she was ready for marriage. Tim had been helpin, but mostly he was a livestock worker with just general knowledge of buildin a house, like them little shotgun houses for the tenant farmers on her new land.

  They waited for their lovin. Didn’t make none. Wanted it all right, marriage and all, for the first time in all their lives. The day came, at last. Always had on a white weddin dress she made herself. Tim had on a brand-new blue suit. Flowers was everwhere. Even vegetables was set up in bouquets when the flowers ran out. Cause that’s what she raised was vegetables, you see? The peoples was there, ex-slaves now tenants on her farm. After the bride kissed the groom and laughed out loud, too long, cause she was so happy, everybody had a good time bein free. They ate her good cookin and drank some of the homemade wine Tim had made. A few others at the weddin got so mixed up in all that love they was tryin to find somebody to marry while the preacher was there. It was romantic, you see.