The Governor’s Sons

by McKenzie, Maria

  He purposefully avoided looking near the open casket. But this proved difficult since it was the center of attention and main focal point in the living room. All the furniture had been moved against the walls to accommodate its size.

  His family had purchased the expensive piece. Besides a glimpse of mahogany and the ivory satin lining, Ash saw nothing else, and didn’t want to. He couldn’t bring himself to see her—at least not now.

  Several people, all colored, except for the Kroths, milled about the small house eating and talking. Ash had seen his mother and father offering condolences to Kitty’s parents moments earlier. Now Dad was at Mother’s side while she hugged Betty Jean. Ash saw Heath approach the Wilkeses and talk to them for a short while before moving on to Betty Jean.

  Now it was Ash’s turn. He dragged his leaden feet in the direction of Kitty’s parents. Sophie’s dress was simple; an elegant short sleeved black satin. Ward hovered next to her like a big black giant. Wearing a dark suit, he looked uncomfortable, and his large frame confined.

  Once he’d reached Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes, Ash pulled the letter from his breast pocket. Sweating heavily and almost too choked up to speak, he only managed to say, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ash,” Sophie said quietly.

  To Ash, her eyes looked accepting, but Ward only nodded, then dropped his gaze. Ash grabbed his large callused hand and forced the letter into it.

  Ward raised his head.

  “Please, sir,” Ash’s voice shook, “when you can—please—read this.”

  Ward’s eyes were filled with hurt and anguish. But Ash also detected hate—hate only directed at him—the white man responsible for his daughter’s death. Ash lowered his eyes and moved away, not wanting to peer into the dark pools of sorrow and loathing a moment longer.

  He slowly walked toward Betty Jean, but from the corner of his eye, saw the rest of his family viewing Kitty’s body.

  Talking to Kitty’s sister would be easier than talking to her parents, but Ash was angry with her. She knew he and Kitty loved each other, and he resented the story chosen to explain her death. “Betty Jean,” he clenched his fists for a moment, “I’m sorry.”

  She grabbed his hand with both of hers. An overlay of black lace covered her dark dress. “Thank you, Mr. Ash.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, so Ash turned away from her and steeled himself to view the casket. No one was there now, except for an old black woman who loudly blew her nose. Ash hesitantly approached, and soon Kitty’s body became visible.

  The old woman stuffed her handkerchief into her purse, then remarked, “Don’t she look pretty--and natural, too?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ash said, as the woman walked away. He sadly gazed downward. Although Kitty looked pretty— to Ash, she hardly appeared natural. The spark of life was gone. With arms crossed at her chest, she resembled a sleeping wax figure in a pink satin dress, with softly set hair and perfect make-up.

  Kitty’s glowing brown skin and the glimmer of her lips almost compelled Ash to touch her. Perhaps his touch would bring back her warmth and softness. He longed to look into her sparkling eyes again. And he’d give anything to hear her laugh, to see her smile. But this would be the last time he’d see her—as she lay cold, still, and lifeless.

  The shock of seeing her dead once more spread like acid through his veins. Ash started to tremble. He tried to repress his emotions and wear a poker face. “Don’t fall apart,” he told himself, “don’t fall apart.” Seconds later, the trembling stopped, but the pain didn’t go away.

  As Ash continued to gaze at Kitty, he felt the presence of a dark figure hovering nearby. He turned his head only to meet Russell’s coal black stare.

  “She was too young to die,” Russell said in an accusatory tone. His searing eyes burned into Ash’s.

  “She was.” Hoarseness cracked Ash’s voice. Not wanting another confrontation, he began to move from the casket. But Russell clutched his arm. His hand dug into Ash’s flesh like a claw.

  “What do you know?” Russell whispered.

  Ash said nothing.

  “What do you know--about her being raped?”

  Ash looked him coldly in the eye, pulling free from his grasp. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  Ash angrily stalked away from Russell and headed toward the dining room. The table was heavily laden with food and many were gathered around it eating. But Ash had no appetite. From the dining room, he could see into the kitchen. The back door was open. As he walked toward it, he saw several guests congregating in the backyard. Ash decided he’d do that too, as a means of escape.

  “Mr. Ash!” Alfie yelled, upon seeing him outside. She smiled while gracefully striding to greet him. She wore a black dress that resembled a tent draped over her rotund body. “I didn’t know you was in town. You here just for Catherine’s visitation?”

  Ash nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Such a tragic thing for a young girl to die. But Mr. Ash, before Izolla passed, she told me your family was as kind as could be to her great nieces. And she said your Mama was mighty generous to ‘em.” Alfie beamed. “But y’all just some good people!”

  “Thank you, Alfie. And--we couldn’t have hired two nicer girls last summer.” There was an awkward silence between them.

  “Shall I—tell Miss Lillian Ann you’ll be calling later?”

  Ash’s mind went blank for a moment as he tried to think of an appropriate response. “I—uh—don’t think so, Alfie. But—send my regards.”

  “Oh, I will, sir. Miss Lillian Ann’s gonna be awful sorry she missed you.”

  “Maybe next time, when I’m in town—I’ll stop by.”

  “You do that, Mr. Ash. And it was good to see you, sir.”

  “Good to see you too, Alfie.”

  Alfie waved as she walked to the house.

  Meanwhile, Ash shoved his hands into his pockets and lowered his head upon seeing Betty Jean come outside.

  She quickly approached him. “Ash, I need to talk to you.” She grabbed the crook of his arm and pulled him to a secluded spot near the side of the house where no one could hear them. “Look, I’m sorry about—about what Thomas told you.”

  “Betty Jean—why did it have to be a story like that?”

  “It protects everybody. You’re name stays out of it. Mama would rather die than have people know Catherine willingly slept with someone outside of marriage. And Russell doesn’t need to know that she broke up with him because she fell in love with you.”

  Still angered by the fabrication, Ash asked, “So whose idea was it to come up with that story in the first place?”

  Betty Jean hesitated. “Thomas.”

  “That figures.” Ash sighed. “Does he know that I loved Kitty--and didn’t take advantage of her?”

  “I’ve told him that.”

  “But he doesn’t believe you?”

  “I know the truth, Ash. And before Catherine died, she wrote me a letter and told me everything. She said that y’all decided not to tell anybody about your plans until after the baby was born—but she told me anyway. She figured since you’d told Heath, she could tell me. So I know all about you intending to marry her and move overseas. After she died--I told Mama, Daddy and Thomas all about it. I even showed them her letter. Whether or not they believed it—and that you really loved her--is up to them. But I know you did.”

  Ash’s eyes welled. “Where’s the baby?”

  “Next door.” She motioned her head toward the green shingle house on the next lot. “Miss Weaver, the old lady who lives there, said she’d keep him during the visitation so he wouldn’t be a distraction.”

  Ash let out a deep breath. “I don’t want people looking at him—like he’s a freak—or a rape baby. And I don’t want anybody thinking his father’s a monster.”

  “He’s an innocent baby, Ash. No one’ll think that way about him. And nobody’s gonna think one way or the other about his father.”


  Heath found them and interrupted, “Betty Jean, Ash, excuse me. We’re getting ready to leave.”

  “Okay,” Ash said. “Uh—y’all go ahead. I’ll walk.”

  “Alright. Then we’ll see you later.” Heath hugged Betty Jean as he said goodbye, and then, “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Heath. And thank you for coming.”

  After Heath walked back to the house, Ash said, “I want to see my son.”

  “Ash,” Betty Jean’s eyes shot around quickly. “You can’t. Not right now.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s probably best to wait until I have him.”

  “But that’ll be weeks!”

  “Look,” Betty Jean said, “if I take you next door now—people are gonna talk. And I don’t think you’re gonna want to visit him while my mama’s keeping him.”

  Ash shook his head.

  “Will you be in Joy Hope this summer?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be working full time at Dad’s law office.”

  “If only you’d been working full time last summer, we--” Betty Jean stopped herself. “I’m sorry. Look, after Thomas and I get married--I’ll write and let you know when you can see the baby.”

  Ash nodded. Although he wanted to see Harland, he had no choice as to when he could.

  Betty Jean looked around cautiously. “I’d better go before tongues start wagging.”

  “Yeah.” Ash agreed. “Betty Jean—congratulations on your—getting married.”

  Betty Jean smiled. “Thank you, Ash.”

  “I’m sorry—Kitty can’t be here—to celebrate it with you.”

  Betty Jean’s eyes watered. “Me too.” She turned to go inside.

  After Betty Jean left, Ash surveyed the dark sea of faces scattered throughout the backyard. He knew none of them. But they all knew him to be Louis Kroth’s son. They also knew that Kitty had worked for his family last summer. When Ash walked home, he wondered how many of them thought that he was the white man who’d raped her.

  Chapter 14

  Four Months Later

  Fall, 1937

  Ash lived in Clarkstown again, while attending Simpson Leggett University for his second year of law school. Clarkstown’s sprawling downtown, all twelve blocks, was home to some of the city’s finest shops, including Lacy’s Toy Store.

  Ash ignored the tempting aroma of roasted peanuts and chocolate fudge while looking at the large array of the store’s stuffed animals. The panda or the brown bear? He couldn’t make up his mind. Both were cute and cuddly and almost as big as Harland. The brown bear wore a smile, but the panda had large sad eyes. Ash finally decided. He grabbed both and walked to the cash register.

  The pretty brunette cashier smiled. “Two little children are gonna be mighty happy today.”

  Ash smiled back. “They’re just for one little boy.”

  “Is he yours?” She asked, ringing up the teddy bears.

  Ash paused. “He uh—belongs to a friend.”

  Her eyes quickly darted to his naked ring finger. Her smile broadened. “Well, isn’t he lucky—and spoiled?” She laughed while bagging the toys.

  “He deserves it.”

  When Ash started to leave, the cashier winked and said, “You come back and see us again, now.”

  Ash nodded. “I will, and thank you kindly.”

  He left the toy store through the revolving door and walked to his car. Ash placed the oversized shopping bag in back, then took off his gray jacket and tossed it down next to it. Once in the driver’s seat with the motor running, Ash felt a shard of sadness painfully twist through his heart.

  The lie didn’t come easily to Ash. Denying his own flesh and blood never would be easy. He released the clutch, then pressed on the accelerator. But at least Ash could see his son behind closed doors, once a month in Cherrywood. He was motoring there now to visit Betty Jean and Harland. She and Thomas lived in a duplex. From Clarkstown the drive was just under an hour.

  Ash’s plan of going to Cambridge and living in Europe had died along with Kitty. So now he focused on his first ambition: to become a lawyer, county superintendant, a senator, and eventually the governor.

  To Ash, becoming governor wasn’t an “if,” but a “when.” If he weren’t so young and inexperienced he’d try to run right out of law school. But he’d get his foot on the first rung of the political ladder by starting small in county politics. Of course to do that, knowledge of his love affair with a Negro woman, and their child, would have to remain a closely guarded secret. Ash couldn’t afford to be followed by scandal. Nevertheless, he still wanted to be a presence in his son’s life, albeit a limited one.

  ****

  Betty Jean walked into the bedroom holding Harland. Thomas could see their reflections as he knotted his tie in front of the mirror over his dresser.

  “I know someone who feels mighty good after a nice long nap!” Thomas smiled at Harland’s happy face in the mirror.

  “And he feels even better with a nice fresh diaper on.” Betty Jean kissed Harland’s cheek while patting his bottom. “Thomas, are you sure you feel up to going out this evening?”

  “Harland and I both had good nap.” Thomas laughed. “Remember?”

  “How could I forget?” Betty Jean smirked. “He doesn’t need to be sleeping on our bed, he might fall off.”

  “C’mon, Betty Jean, I was holding him the whole time we napped. I’m a light sleeper. If he’d moved, I would’ve woken up. I’m not gonna let anything happen to my little man.” When Thomas finished his tie, he turned from the mirror and pinched Harland’s cheek. The baby gave him a large gummy smile in return.

  “Next time he falls asleep while you’re playing with him, you put him in his crib,” Betty Jean scolded.

  “I would’ve done that today, but since I was feeling kinda lousy, a nap seemed like a good idea to me, too.” Thomas walked to the closet and pulled out the vest and jacket of his brown herringbone suit.

  “Are you really well enough to go out tonight?”

  “Betty Jean, I’m fine.” As Thomas buttoned his vest, Harland babbled robustly. “See, the baby agrees!”

  While bouncing Harland, Betty Jean shook her head and smiled. “Well, it’d be better if you stayed home and had soup. You don’t need to be going to Eugene’s Place for steak. But I suppose your mind’s already made up. They have soup. Just get that—and some Jell-O.”

  “Look, I woke up with my head pounding and a stomach ache. That was a long time ago. When I was playing with Harland I felt better. Now I’m fine, and ready for a big, juicy steak.”

  “You know, Thomas, it won’t kill you to miss one of your monthly get-togethers.”

  “Betty Jean—I’m feeling great, okay? And I’d rather be at Eugene’s than around here when that cracker comes knocking at the door. If I see Kroth, I can’t guarantee I won’t rip his head off. It’s bad enough him coming here, at all. But since it’s only once a month, on the same Saturday night I have dinner with my buddies, I guess I can tolerate that—for now, anyway.

  Thomas paused for a few seconds. “I’m having second thoughts about him visiting Harland. I’m starting to think it’s not such a great idea.”

  “Thomas, Ash wants to, and he’s doing the best he can for his child. And—I think—under the circumstances--”

  “Look, honey, just forget about it now, okay? We’ll talk about it another time.”

  Betty Jean sighed. “Fine, but I hope you don’t make yourself any sicker by going out when you just need to stay home.”

  “Betty Jean,” Thomas slipped on his jacket, “stop worrying about me.”

  She finally gave up. It was useless arguing with him. “So, who’s coming tonight?”

  Thomas smiled. “All the usual suspects,” he said, in reference to his five law school friends that he met with on the first Saturday of each month. “Everybody plans on being there tonight.”

  “I don’t think you’ve missed a Saturday since the tradition started two years
ago. But what are you gonna do when we move to Atlanta? You better not plan on making a special trip back here each month!”

  “No, honey, but maybe once in a while I will.” Thomas looked at his watch. “I’d better go.” He kissed his wife and child goodbye. “I’ll be in a better mood if I don’t run into that cracker on my way out.”

  ****

  Ash slowed down his car as he approached the red brick duplex where Betty Jean and Thomas lived. Their building sat secluded at the end of a cul-de-sac in a colored neighborhood.

  After parking out front, Ash grabbed both stuffed toys and climbed from the car. Once he’d shut the door, he thought better of it. He didn’t want to indulge the child too much. That would only damage his character. He’d save the sad-eyed bear for the next visit. Ash opened the car and tossed the panda onto the passenger seat.

  When he strode to the front entrance, he was just in time to greet the colored widow, a Mrs. Lowe, who owned the property. A tall woman in her sixties, she was leaving the building and looked dressed for an evening out, wearing a rust colored suit with a wide brimmed black hat.

  Ash nodded to her. “Good evening, Mrs. Lowe.”

  “Evening, Mr. Kroth,” she said pleasantly. “Just what have you got for that baby today?” When Ash held up the large bear, she smiled. “If that Teddy isn’t the cutest thing. You certainly are a generous ex-employer, bringing Betty Jean’s boy a toy each time you pass through town.”

  Ash smiled. “It’s the least I can do for Betty Jean. She and her sister did some fine work for my family. And her late aunt was employed by us since before I was born.”

  “Well, Betty Jean says you’re some fine people.”

  “That’s good to hear, ma’am,” Ash said. “Now you have a good evening. You look mighty nice.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Kroth.” She adjusted her hat. “And you enjoy your visit.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ash waved as she walked to a waiting car, then he opened the door to the duplex. He bounded up the stairs, two at a time. Casually attired in navy blue pants and a blue and white striped shirt, Ash was dressed comfortably enough to play with Harland on the floor.