“I lied,” she said finally. “Marie is- was- my mother’s name.”
“I know. I figured,” Burke said, “When I saw your cigarette case.”
“What would you have done?” Janie asked. It was important she know, for some reason. “What would you have done, if you’d found me?”
Burke shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He stood there like a tree, unmoving. She wanted him to react. She wanted to demand why he had led her here and dug up that kind of memory. What did he want from her? Was he trying to lay some claim on her body, based on a forbidden moment they’d shared years ago?
With a sinking feeling, Janie came to grips with what she’d been pushing away. They came from different worlds. So what if he’d found her again, all those years ago, looking for another kiss? It wouldn’t have worked out then. Just like it wouldn’t work out now.
“Come here, Janie,” he said.
She stayed where she was.
“Janie.”
“No, Burke,” she said. She looked sad. “For whatever you’re tryin’ to do, it’s useless. I can’t be your wife, and I won’t be your whore. It only ends one way, can’t you see? And the past is past. I wish it would stay that way.”
“I’m not tryin’ to make you do a thing more than you want to do,” Burke replied, his voice controlled. His arms folded across his chest defensively. She could tell this wasn’t going how he’d intended.
“I want to go home,” she said. “I wish...I almost wish you hadn’t showed me this. It’s better to forget.”
“I thought you should know,” he said. Something was brewing inside him, she could tell. He wanted to say more. Did he think she was being unreasonable? “Otherwise I’d be dishonest with you. I didn’t want that.”
He hadn’t expected anything from her, truly. Whether she believed him or not was up to her. Maybe he had wanted to show her, to confirm that that brief moment in his young life, one he had instigated out of sheer impulse and bravado, had meant something to her as well.
But Janie’s eyes were troubled. “Well, now I know,” she told him. Emmett was right. This could never be. “So take me home, Burke.”
They trekked back in stony silence. Burke was cool when he dropped her off on the schoolhouse steps.
“I understand,” he said. There wasn’t a note of aggression in his voice. Only, perhaps- disappointment?
“You’re right, Janie. I’ve been selfish with you. You don’t owe anythin’ to me.”
“I’m sorry, Burke.”
“We can forget about it. It’s alright.”
“Alright.”
He nodded. Then he jammed his hat on and strode away.
***
“We can’t see each other anymore,” said Evelyn Bricassart. Her voice, usually so light and airy, always faltered around him. Perhaps she could tell that despite his carnal desire for her he held her in the highest contempt. A contempt that was not undeserved. Beneath the frills and elegance she was a sadistic, brutish sort of person. Subtlety and prudence were not her strengths. Empathy eluded her completely. She was not stupid, merely careless, self-centered, cruel- as all women of her ilk were. But even if she could read his thoughts, his hatred seemed only to spur her desire for him. As it did his, for her.
The man stared at Evelyn now, absorbing this new revelation with only a small flicker of annoyance. This was not the first time Evelyn had made such a proclamation. “Why not?”
“If my husband finds out…”
“He won’t. You won’t tell him.”
“Burke knows.”
The man rolled his eyes to the sky, as if praying for patience. “Mary and goddamned Joseph.”
“It’s not my fault!” She screeched, forgetting herself. His furious gaze cowed her. They were in their usual spot, away from the town, away from people. In the Blue Forest the rules were bent and twisted. But even here the fear remained, and voices tended to carry.
“I know you wouldn’t be so stupid,” the man said. “But for God’s sake, woman.”
She slithered up against him; his fingers glided naturally up her skirt. In the dark she could have been any woman, or any creature. She moaned against his throat.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to stop.”
“What if they find out?”
“Don’t let them, darling,” she gasped. His fingers worked harder inside her; arousal shooting through him like molten fire in his veins. She was wetter than he would have believed.
“Hypocrite,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’ll kill me, one of these days.”
Chapter 3
The Message
“Burke! Burke!”
The knock on the door came loud and insistent. It jerked Burke from his dreams like a fishhook.
Burke’s house was little more than a cabin, nestled at the base of a small mountain which fed the hot sulfur springs. The knocking practically shook the house; Burke was up and out the door in seconds.
The moon cast a shadow on the dark, drawn face of Jeremiah Green. It was a pale and weak moon, for dawn was coming.
“What’s happened? What’s all the commotion?”
“Woah, woah!” Jeremiah said. At the sight of Burke’s tense expression he seemed to calm himself down. “Sorry to wake ya. But some of us is scared. We’re callin’ an emergency meetin’. Look what showed up on our doors.”
He pulled a flyer out of his pocket and handed it to Burke. Burke handed it right back. “I can’t read that. What’s it say?”
The drawing at the bottom was clear enough, though the words were not. Someone had painted a Sambo child under the writing. Exaggerated red lips stretched in a grotesque smile. The rest of the caricature vanished in the mouth of a crudely-drawn alligator labeled KKK.
Slowly, pressing his finger under each word, Jeremiah read aloud:
NEGROES BEWARE!
Rickshaw will NOT SUBMIT to integration. Whites and Negroes will be kept separate in accordance with Jim Crow Laws. Race Traitors will leave Rickshaw. A curfew for all Negroes, Indians, Jews and Catholics, begins immediately. Walk around after dark at your peril.
Report all discussions of Communism, Social Equality and Negro Advancement to Post Office Box 81, Rickshaw MS.
THE KU KLUX KLAN IS WATCHING.
Jeremiah crumpled the paper in disgust. “I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it wit’ my own two eyes.”
Burke shook his head, as if clearing his hearing.
“They ain’t serious,” he told Jeremiah. “They wouldn’t dare. A curfew?”
“You think they don’t mean it?” the black man exhaled sharply. “You ain’t got sense to fill a thimble if you think these sons of bitches won’t do it. You saw it comin’, Burke, don’t tell me you didn’t.”
Burke couldn’t deny it. He shook his head. “This is real bad, Jeremiah.”
The other man lowered his voice, though he and Burke had to be the only souls around. “You ain’t heard nothin’ about this?”
“Aw, come in you bastard. You givin’ me goosebumps standin’ there.”
The black man ducked inside; the door banged to.
“Can’t stay long. There’s a little meetin’ early-early, and the wife’s scared to pieces with me goin’ out to tell you. You should come. We’re holdin’ it in the church. Just four of us.”
“Naw, it ain’t my place. Handle your business, I’ll hold up my end of it.”
“So you really heard nothin’?”
“Nope. They don’t let me in on stuff no more. Not even Francis. They don’t trust me, not since I started workin’ on the school.”
Jeremiah’s eyes slid curiously over the spare apartment. “I heard rumors ‘bout you and Miss Janie.”
“False,” Burke said quickly. Memories of their last interaction surfaced. He pushed them away. “We keep it respectful. I like the gal, don’t get me wrong. But I ain’t stupid. ”
“Just be careful, now,” said Jeremiah. He squeezed his hat so tight
ly Burke feared it might rip in half. His mouth twisted wryly. “Guess that means we can’t come ‘round no more for the springs, huh?”
“We’ll see about that,” said Burke.
“I don’t mean to say we ain’t gonna fight back,” said Jeremiah. “We’re about tired of livin’ with this bullshit.”
“I know,” Burke agreed. “You’ve got a friend in me. All of you. Whatever y’all need.”
“Some still won’t trust you,” Jeremiah said. “You can’t blame ‘em. But I know who you are, Burke. I know you got your reasons. I trust you.”
“Don’t go out yet,” Burke urged. “I can put some coffee on.”
“Naw, I gotta scramble like eggs and get home. The meetin’ is soon.”
“Then I’ll walk you there.”
Burke shouldered his father’s rifle, and the two men set out together.
***
Janie had received not one, but three of the posters at the schoolhouse. One slid under her door. The other nailed to the frame. And the third crumpled up and tossed through a window. In fact, it was the smashing of the new glass pane that Burke himself had installed that woke Janie up. Grating laughter followed the sound. She lay in bed, terrified. At any moment the men, whoever they were, could break through the door and she couldn’t do a thing to stop them.
But they left.
Two black men came by later that morning to check on her. Janie nearly sobbed in relief to see a friendly face. She untied her hair and threw on an old shawl, insisting on accompanying them back home. Being left alone after her fright was intolerable. Yet the men were adamant.
“Dark times, Miss Janie,” said Wendel Brown. He was Esther’s husband, a portly, genial man in his fifties. “You better just set right here until it’s day. One of the womenfolk will come for you.”
Then they left her. Alone. She sat miserably upstairs, watching the dawn roll churlishly into a gray and gloomy sky. The clouds choked the first rays of sunlight. And it began to rain.
Burke came a couple hours later. He was soaking wet. He thumped hard on the door until Janie cracked it open.
“It's me,” he grunted.
“ Jesus! Burke?” She fought the urge to fling herself into his arms.
“Let me in, let me in,” He stamped inside and shook out his shaggy hair, droplets flying all over the blackboard. In the dim light he filled the room like a dripping wet bear. He stacked the old rifle in the corner and sat on one of the benches to pull off his shoes.
Janie hurried to put on some coffee.
“You must be outta your mind.” She fluttered back to help him with his boots. “They sent out these papers-”
“I know,” Burke sighed. “I saw ‘em.” He eyed her wide, slightly frantic expression. She’d wrapped the shawl tightly around her shoulders. Dark crescents dug pockets under her eyes, and the lines on her face were pronounced. She had barely slept.
“I owe you an apology,” he said at once.
“What?”
“Puttin’ you in danger. It was wrong of me.”
She sat on a bench across from him. The rain was driving outside, pouring in through the smashed window.
God damn it. That thing was eight damn dollars.
“It’s alright.” said Janie.
“Are you alright?”
Janie laughed bitterly. “Well, I ain’t hurt and I’m breathin’.”
Burke nodded. “You read the poster.”
“Yeah. They left me three of ‘em. Burke- I think they know about what happened. They seen us together, somehow…”
“Impossible.”
“How do you know?”
“All they got is suspicions, Janie.”
“Suspicions was enough to hang Samuel.”
He couldn’t dispute that.
“I just wonder, Janie- why now , of all times. What’s makin’ ‘em so jumpy?”
She shook her head. “You tell me.”
Janie spooned out the coffee. She took hers with a lot of sugar, Burke with none. Betty had loaned her two chipped China mugs, which she served between the two of them now.
“Someone- something, is upsettin’ ‘em,” Burke pronounced.
“I don’t doubt it,” she replied, blowing on her coffee. “And it can’t be a thing so small as what’s goin’ on with us.”
“I don't doubt that.”
“It’s gotta be somethin’ bigger.”
Burke shrugged. “I ain’t in a place to find out anymore. I wish I knew.”
They sat in silence for a minute, drinking the coffee. The rain picked up. In the distance thunder rumbled.
“By God,” said Burke, looking up at the ceiling. He’d fixed the roof just days before. “This might be a big one.”
“Oh, please don’t say it,” she sighed. The last time it had rained like that in Rickshaw, the schoolhouse flooded.
“I meant to dig you a drain,” said Burke. “Whatever fool built this place has it right in the creek’s path. The darn thing cuts right through here, practically.”
“Well, it’s too late now,” Janie said. “And you’ll catch your death in that. Better you stay here and wait it out.”
Burke downed the rest of his coffee. A mischievous glint flickered behind his eyes. Janie caught it, and was immediately suspicious.
“What?”
“You don’t have a slicker, do you?”
“Of course not. Don’t even think about it, Burke. You can’t pay me to go out there.”
“My house is ‘bout a half mile from here.”
“Naw! It’s a dead mile. You can’t fool me. And I ain’t walkin’ through them woods, with the Creek ready to bust any minute.”
Burke grinned. “Alright, alright. I guess we’ll just have to keep entertained in here.”
Janie glanced out the window. It really was coming in fast! She smiled.
“Alright. What you got in mind?”
His eyes roved over the corners of the schoolhouse. It had come a long way since Janie first arrived. He dropped his gaze to her. The anxiety in her brown eyes had softened. Maybe it was the coffee, but she looked brighter- happier. And of course, very beautiful.
“I got a few things in mind,” he said softly.
She got up and took the mug away from him, setting his on the windowsill next to hers. She stared out at the sky thoughtfully.
“When Mama used to bring me here, when I was real little, and the rain came down like this, we’d strip buck-naked and go dancin’ right through it. Nearly drove my Aunt Sarah to fits, when she found out.”
“I used to do the same,” said Burke. The memory made him smile. “You ever wish you coulda maybe stayed a child?”
“Naw,” said Janie, shaking her head. “I like bein’ grown, you know? I like knowin’ things like I do now. But I guess…” The rain made pools in the grass outside. The trees of the Blue Forest were wet and shiny, shivering from the force of the water. Lightning broke in the distance, and thunder chased it away.
She turned back to Burke. “Sometimes I guess I miss the freedom, is all.”
He stood up and went to her, trapping her body between his chest and the windowsill. She leaned back in his arms. He felt the unspoken words between them. At any moment she would pull away, say they shouldn’t touch, that he should leave…
But Janie only leaned back against him and closed her eyes. Tall as she was, the top of her head still tucked perfectly under his chin. She smelled a lot like sweetgrass.
“What d’you wanna to do with your life, Burke?” She murmured. “You’re a big old mystery.”
“I dunno. Stay in Rickshaw, I reckon. I’ve got land here- good land. It’s worth a pretty penny if I feel to sell it.”
“Would you sell it?”
“Don’t have a reason to. I kinda like it here. It ain’t so bad. I wouldn’t do so well in the cities.”
“Well, it’s different for you, I guess,” sighed Janie. Black people in this town didn’t have the privilege of liking it. Rick
shaw was no better than a prison for them. It definitely was, for her.
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