“Well, Doc, I see you’re up again when a man your age ought to be home in bed,” Will said for all to hear. “Why don’t you stop getting up like this in the middle of the night and let the younger doctors sew up the guts of some slashed nigger?”
“I don’t know why I do it, Will,” he said seriously. He knew Will was trying to find out where he was going, because Will liked to appear unexpectedly at a gathering of Negroes and make an arrest on some pretext, but he had no intention of telling him that he was going to see Kathyanne Bazemore. “Maybe it’s because there’s always somebody who needs medical attention, and I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t try to do what I could. That’s probably why God put men like you and me in the world—to stay up late at night and look after people who need help.”
Will came right out with the question, “Who’re you going to see at this time of night, Doc? Some nigger who ought to be dead anyway? If you’ll tell me who it is, I’ll pitch him in the jailhouse and save you the trouble of keeping him alive.”
“We’re all human beings, Will,” he said kindly. “You’re going to have to learn to treat all people alike, white and colored, or else there won’t be any place for you one of these days. I know that you and a lot more like you think you can keep this a white man’s town, but you’re wrong. The world has changed a great deal in the last generation. I may not live to see the whole change come, but I hope you do.”
He sipped the hot coffee while records changed with a clang in the jukebox. Will was momentarily subdued.
“Well, you may be right, Doc,” he agreed solemnly. He looked at the two youthful truck drivers at the other end of the restaurant. He did not say anything more until the counterman came within hearing distance. Then, in a voice loud enough for all to hear, he said, “I reckon the only difference between me and you, Doc, is that you like to help other folks, and I like to be as mean as hell to the ones I come across in my business. I’d hate to have to turn in my gun and go to bed every night at nine o’clock now. I wouldn’t think life was worth living no more if I couldn’t scare hell out of some nigger every night and throw him in the lock-up.”
“That’s probably the only difference between us, Will,” Dr. Plowden commented quietly as he hurried to finish his coffee. It was a quarter to three when he left the Round-The-Clock, and a few minutes later, lugging his heavy satchel, he was getting out of his car in Gwinnett Alley. All the wooden window blinds were tightly closed, but he could see a flickering light shining through the crack over the threshold when he went to the door of the cabin and knocked. At first there was the expected loud scuffle of feet on the bare floor, and a chair was tipped over, and then there was complete silence inside the cabin. He waited a few moments and knocked again, this time more urgently. Presently the door was unlatched and cautiously opened a few inches. When he saw somebody peering at him in the darkness, he rapped impatiently on the weathered door. It opened another inch or so.
“Who’s that?” somebody asked in a guarded voice barely above a whisper.
“Dr. Plowden,” he answered brusquely, irritated by the delay.
“It is?” the voice said in a high note of surprise.
“Of course,” he said sharply. “Let me in.”
There were excited whispers behind the door. After a while he was asked through the narrow opening, “You want something down here, Dr. Plowden?”
“I want in! Open the door, whoever you are! I can’t stand out here in this freezing weather all night. What’s the matter with you? Open the door!”
He could hear the usual agitated discord of a hurriedly whispered conversation behind the door, but he still could not understand anything that was being said. He stamped his cold feet noisily on the wooden doorstep.
“Is anybody else out there, Dr. Plowden?” he was asked. “Anybody like Mr. Will Hanford, or somebody?”
“No. I’m by myself. Open the door!”
Presently the door swung slowly open, and he immediately went inside. In the bright flickering flames of the logs in the fireplace he recognized Henry Beck as he walked past him toward the hearth. Beyond Henry were two Negro women, Nettie Dunn and her daughter, Alethea, watching him with unconcealed concern. In the far corner of the cabin’s single room, bundled in brightly colored patchwork quilts in a big poster bed, was Kathyanne. He could see only enough of her face to be able to recognize her as he walked over the creaking floor to the fireplace and stood with his back to the blazing warmth of the oak logs. Several Christmas decorations had been placed over the windows and there was a large cluster of mistletoe hanging on a nail over the mantelpiece. Aside from the large double-bed, the only other furniture in the room consisted of several straight-back chairs, two rockers, a dresser, and a table. The exposed clapboard walls had been papered with colorful illustrations and advertisements cut from magazines.
“Good morning,” Dr. Plowden said pleasantly after a moment, looking from one face in the room to another as he rubbed his hands behind his back in the heat of the log fire. “We’re having a cold winter again this year. There’s been one cold spell right after the other all fall. There’ll probably be ice in the bucket by daylight. Maybe our climate’s changing. Some folks think it is.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry spoke up nervously.
Then one by one, Henry and the women huddled at the other end of the hearth nodded dutifully in response to his comments on the weather, but each of them continued to watch him with cautious, inquiring wonderment. He took off his heavy gray overcoat and dropped it on the nearest chair.
“Well, you seem to be the patient, Kathyanne,” he said briskly peering at her over the rims of his glasses as she lay still and quiet in the huge wooden poster bed.
“I’ll be all right, Dr. Plowden,” she said, trying to disguise her noticeably weak voice.
The older woman standing at the corner of the hearth, Nettie Dunn, still had not spoken since he came into the cabin and he turned to her questioningly. As he did so, it was then that he observed for the first time that the large wicker clothes basket on the edge of the hearth contained a newly born infant. The midwife and her daughter watched him tensely as he leaned over the basket for a closer look.
“What’ve we got here?” he said, taken completely by surprise. He reached for a chair and sat down beside the basket. Then he carefully pulled the cotton blankets back from the baby’s face. “Well, I’ll be doggone!” he exclaimed, his attitude completely changed. He smiled for the first time as he proceeded to uncover the baby.
The two women got down on their knees beside the basket and took the covering as he removed it.
“And a girl-baby, too, at that!” he said with a pleased expression. He was soon nodding to Nettie with professional approval. “I can see that she’s been in very capable hands, Nettie. You midwives seem to do these things as well as I could. Maybe better, after all.” He chuckled as he examined the infant more thoroughly. “Well, another girl’s born to make this old world of ours stay in balance,” he remarked after a while as though he were talking to himself. “And a pretty one, too. We’d be in an awful fix, if things didn’t happen just like they do. She’s a lot lighter in color than a lot of people who pass for white, and it’s my guess she’s a quadroon, Nettie. Nature still knows what she’s doing, all right. The baby’s going to outdo her mother for looks, and that’s going a far piece, I can tell you. You can count on that till kingdom come. I’ve brought enough babies into this world and seen them grow up to know that’s a certainty. It’s just what nature always strives for—to produce a beautiful woman—and there’s no arguing with nature in this life. Nature’s been striving for perfection for a long time now, and this’s just about as close to perfection as I’ll live to see.”
He carefully covered the infant and picked up his satchel and crossed the room to the poster bed.
The first thing Kathyanne said was, “Is she all right, Dr. Plowden? Please tell me!”
“As perfect as a picture, and as pretty, too, K
athyanne. Don’t you worry about anything. You’ve got a wonderful girl-baby. You’ve been in good hands, and the baby, too. I’ve never known Nettie Dunn to take a false step yet. How are you feeling now?”
“I feel all right.”
He pulled up a chair and sat down. After examining her, he patted her hand comfortingly.
“You’re a healthy girl, Kathyanne, and now you’ve got a fine baby, too. There’s nothing to worry about. But you should have sent for me for the delivery, though.” He shook his head at her in a reproving manner. “I could’ve given Nettie and her daughter a helping hand. Why didn’t you send for me sooner?”
“But we didn’t send for you at all, Dr. Plowden,” she told him, shaking her head and looking at him wonderingly. “How did you know about it?”
He leaned back and thought about what she had said before answering her. He was able now to understand why Henry had been so reluctant to open the door and let him in when he first knocked.
“Well, I guess news travels fast these days, Kathyanne,” he said at last. “Anyway, I came down as soon as I knew about it.” He stopped and studied her face meditatively as his thoughts continued to pass through his mind in confusion. “I didn’t know you were having a baby, though. Why didn’t you come to my office to see me before this? How long have you been married?”
She glanced across the room at the others before answering him. Henry was standing on the hearth facing them.
“I’m not married, Dr. Plowden,” she told him, lowering her voice.
He was unprepared to hear her say that. Leaning closer, and in a lower voice, he asked, “Who’s the father, Kathyanne?”
She looked straight at him, but made no reply.
“What about that boy over there?” he asked, indicating Henry with a motion of his head.
“Henry Beck?” She glanced at Henry on the hearth. “No, it wasn’t Henry, Dr. Plowden.”
“No, I guess it couldn’t be,” he was quick to say in confirmation. “Who was the white man, Kathyanne?”
Again she would not answer him.
“It seems to me that you were doing housework at the Swaynes at one time,” he said as if to himself. “That was back in the early spring, if I remember correctly. You went to work there about a year or more ago, when you and your brother first moved to town.”
When he stopped, he could see tears glistening in her eyes. “That’s all right, Kathyanne,” he said in haste, reaching over and patting her hand tenderly. “I understand.”
Nothing was said for a long time. Presently he turned around in his chair and looked at Henry standing in front of the fire.
“What’s Henry Beck doing here, Kathyanne?”
“He just came to help out.”
“Is that all?”
“He says he wants to marry me.”
“Now—after this?”
She nodded.
“Do you want to marry him?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Does he have a job?”
“Yes, sir. He still works at Mr. Tyson Porcher’s place.”
He watched the expression on her face until both of them were smiling.
“Good,” he approved, nodding to her. “You’ll need somebody to look after you now, Kathyanne.”
“I’ve thought of that, too,” she said.
His eyes were fixed upon the bright colorful patches on the quilt. “You don’t have your brother alive any more—an outrage if I ever heard of one. They’ll never bring Burgess Tarver to trial—and even if they did, he’s got a witness who’ll take the stand and swear it was self-defense. And now that your Aunt Hazel’s gone to the hospital to stay, you’re all alone. That is, except for your parents, I suppose.”
“My mother’s dead, Dr. Plowden.” There was a pause. “And I never had a father—I mean, I never knew him.” She lifted her head and looked at the wicker basket on the hearth. “But she’s mine. I have her now.”
“What are you going to name her?”
“Celeste.”
“That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl,” he approved. “What’ll her last name be?”
Without looking at him, she slowly shook her head. “I don’t know, Dr. Plowden. Unless—”
“I know. I think it’d be a fine thing for you to marry Henry Beck, if both of you want that. Does he really want to marry you—now?”
She turned her head on the pillow and looked at Henry. Henry still had not been able to overhear anything that had been said, and he was scowling unhappily at both of them.
“Henry,” Dr. Plowden called across the room, “what’s on your mind, son?”
The tall muscular boy twisted his body awkwardly. “I ain’t had much on my mind, except worrying about her, Dr. Plowden. Is she going to be all right now?”
“She’s going to be all right, Henry.”
“I sure am glad to hear that. I sure am.” He smiled at Kathyanne. “That’s mighty good news to hear.”
Dr. Plowden leaned back in the chair. “Let’s see. It’s now about five days until Christmas.” He nodded to himself. “By New Year’s Day she’ll be doing anything she wants to, Henry.”
Henry was looking at the wicker basket beside Nettie Dunn. “I didn’t know about—about that—till just a little while ago, Dr. Plowden,” he spoke out complainingly. “She never told me. And every time I came around to see her and asked her how come she was so different, she wouldn’t tell me a single word. She went and acted all the time like she had a whopping big secret up her sleeve and it wasn’t none of my business. I was positive something was going on around here that I didn’t know the first thing about, but I didn’t know for sure till just tonight. I never did like for nobody to gull me that way. She oughtn’t do it, neither. No, sir!”
“Well, Henry,” he said, trying to dispel the boy’s resentment, “everybody knows that girls have little secrets of their own. A man can’t expect to know everything about them. That’s the way all girls are. It’s natural for them to be like that. It’s part of their stock in trade, you might say. They wouldn’t be the same without it. They’d be in a bad fix if they couldn’t have their little secrets, son.”
“Leastways, looks like she’d of told me that, anyhow,” he replied, unconvinced. “But I reckon I still like her just like I always did, just the same.”
“That’s the spirit, Henry,” he told the boy approvingly. “A lot of things sometimes happen to a girl like Kathyanne that can’t be helped. You don’t want to blame her too much for that. She’s a good girl. Always remember that. Now, you and Kathyanne will have a fine start with a family. And it’s up to you to support them. You’ll have to stop throwing your money away from now on. It’s a great responsibility for a man.” He smiled at Henry. “Are you willing, son?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, taking a deep, resigned breath. “I’m willing.” He was frowning a moment later. “But she’s got to listen to me from now on, and quit acting like she’s hiding secrets from me like she’s been doing. I don’t want to be tied down to no bossy woman, neither. But I won’t stand back none at all if she’ll speak right out and promise that and get married to me. That’s what I want to do.”
“That takes care of everything then, Henry. All you have to do now is ask her.”
“Yes, sir,” he said with a hopeful look at Kathyanne.
Dr. Plowden could see from the corners of his eyes that Kathyanne was watching Henry admiringly. Her countenance was glowing with pleased expectancy. He stood up, and at the same time took the envelope from his pocket. When he placed the envelope in her hand, she looked at it closely in the dim light and then hurriedly opened it. The crisp new bill fell on the quilt.
“What’s all this money for, Dr. Plowden?” she asked him, amazed by what she saw. “Where’d it come from—who does it belong to?”
Henry came closer, gaping at the sight of so much money.
“It’s all yours, Kathyanne. It’s a present for you and the baby. It’ll buy a lot of nice
things, too. Now, be sure and spend some of it on yourself.”
“I don’t know why you should give it to me, Dr. Plowden. I’ve never seen this much money before in all my life. It’s a hundred dollars!”
He nodded toward Henry. “Don’t hand that over to Henry, now. It all belongs to you. Before you spend any of it, you’d better take it up to the bank and ask George Swayne to change it into smaller bills for you. I think he’ll be glad to know that you’ve got that much money.”
He turned his back and walked away, leaving her watching him speechlessly. He was confident now that sooner or later, if she had not already done so, she would realize where the money came from. After warming himself thoroughly at the fireplace, he put on his heavy gray overcoat with Henry’s help.
“You’d better get busy now, Henry,” he said with friendly admonition, “if you’re going to support a wife and family. It takes all a man’s time and ability to raise a family these days.” He smiled at the boy. Then he reached for Henry’s hand and shook it warmly. “But if it’s for Kathyanne, it’s worth it, isn’t it, Henry?”
“Yes, sir, Dr. Plowden,” Henry said solemnly. “I’ll take good care of them. I sure will.”
He walked to the door and waited while Henry was opening it for him. Over his shoulder he called to Nettie Dunn. “I’ll be back again late this afternoon to see how mother and child are doing, Nettie. Take good care of them in the meantime. Don’t forget to use scalding water when you rinse the dishes and things like that. You can never be too careful.”
Place Called Estherville Page 19