Because of rejection and ridicule, Emmaline had been forced to run home many days. She never told her parents about it. She didn’t want their pity. Although all these things had driven her almost to the point of suicide many times, something always held her back.
Emmaline looked at her weeping mother. Since her dad had passed away from a heart attack a year ago, Maybelle Johnson had not been the same. She loved her children rightly enough. Sadly, something prevented her from giving them all her heart. It was as though her heart had gone to the grave with her beloved Alton.
Maybelle never mistreated Emmaline, Cardrina, or AJ. She simply spent so much time doing good for everyone else. It was as though Emmaline, Cardrina, and AJ were afterthoughts for Maybelle.
“Mom, I’ll be right at Fort Jackson for twelve weeks for training. I’ll do all my training there, both basic and advanced. I’ll try to make sure I get an assignment to Fort Bragg if I can when I finish so I’ll be close to home, Mama. I promise.” Emmaline knew in her heart that she was lying to her mother. She had already decided that her first assignment would be in Europe, Germany, so she could put as much distance between her and Charlotte as possible.
There were so many things Emmaline wanted to tell her mother but couldn’t find the courage to say. Bobby Joe’s rape two years ago after the Thanksgiving dance was only one of the things she wanted to tell her about. The whole date thing had all been a game, a plot, to shame her and Sonora, her life-long friend.
They were both raped that night. Sonora had also gotten pregnant that night. Like Emmaline, Sonora never told her parents what really happened. Her family shipped her down to Georgia to get her away from the shame.
When her mom and dad questioned Emmaline about that night, she was too ashamed to tell the truth about what happened with Bobby Joe. Her dad had questioned her, trying to get her to open up. He knew there was more to what she had told them but didn’t pressure her. Emmaline had honestly wanted to open up but something stopped her.
After Alton had the first of three heart attacks the next year, Emmaline wanted more than ever to confide in her dad. Instead, she allowed the abuse from her classmates to continue because she didn’t want to cause her parents any more worry. She didn’t know how to stop the abuse and couldn’t see a way out of any of it.
When Alton finally succumbed to heart failure in November of 1976, Emmaline was devastated. She couldn’t take any more of the anguish she was forced to endure in school. With her dad’s untimely death, she now didn’t have a champion even if she chose to tell her dad about her struggles.
She was finally going to tell her dad what had been going on when he died. She was going to tell him how she had become a scapegoat of sorts at school because she wouldn’t and couldn’t speak up for herself because she felt so worthless. Ugly, black, skinny—Emmaline felt she was worthless to everyone around her, especially to her family—mostly to herself.
Although her grades would have given her a scholarship to any school of her choosing, Emmaline started looking at the different branches of the military. She decided she wanted to get away from Charlotte for good. There was nothing but heartache for her there and she wanted out.
“Mama, don’t worry about me. You know I’m a fighter. I’ll make it,” she promised her weeping mother as she finished packing her bag. As her recruiter was picking her up in fifteen minutes, Emmaline said a brief goodbye to her brother and sister.
Cardrina had fallen into the same trap as Emmaline. Regrettably, the trap had ensnared her. Cardrina was five months pregnant and had quit school at the age of fourteen. She wanted out of Charlotte, too. She had begged Emmaline not to leave her there. Emmaline felt she could do nothing but leave her younger sister and her family so she could find a life for herself.
When Emmaline knocked on Cardrina’s bedroom door, the door swung open to reveal the pregnant young girl lying across her bed bawling her eyes out.
“Em, please don’t leave me here!” Cardrina pleaded frantically. “I don’t want to be here anymore!” Cardrina begged.
Emmaline looked pityingly at her younger sister. If there was a God, she could probably thank Him for allowing her to get an abortion after she was raped. Poor Cardrina didn’t realize she was pregnant until it was way too late to have an abortion. She was stuck with an unwanted child. Emmaline had neither needed nor wanted a child, especially one born of rape, just like she was.
But Emmaline doubted if there was really a God. Look at what happened to her parents. Just when things were going well for them, her dad died. He was only forty-nine or so. It just wasn’t fair.
Emmaline went to her sister’s bed and sat down on the edge. She took Cardrina’s hand and rubbed it the way she had done when they were little and one or the other was frightened of something.
“Drina, I got to get out of here. Girl, it feels like I’m drowning,” she confided in her younger sister. “I hate Charlotte and most of the people that live here. I am sick of the Hell in this place. I tell you what. No matter where I go when I finish training, I will ask Mama to let you come and live with me. OK?” Emmaline offered her younger sister. She loved this one that looked so much like her. It was almost like looking in a mirror whenever she looked into her face.
Cardrina brightened up when Emmaline made the offer. “You will? You promise, sister?” Cardrina asked, hoping against hope that she would also be able to leave Charlotte.
Cardrina had been raped several times as well. She knew that no one would do anything about it because, as had always been said, she was ugly, black, and skinny just like her older sister. And just like Emmaline, she had spent most of her school-going days running home all the way from school from bullies and the pretty people, those who thought they were all that. She was tired of Charlotte, too.
“Yes, Drina-Mina, I’ll have you come and live with me,” Emmaline promised her sister. Surely in this world there was some place for those who were not as pretty as the pretty people. Surely …
Emmaline heard a horn blow in the driveway. It was probably Master Sergeant Cloussen, her recruiter. She hurried to AJ’s room to say goodbye to her little brother. He sat up on his bed when she came into his room and wiped at his eyes so she wouldn’t see the tears he shed because “Sister” was leaving him.
“AJ, I’m leaving now,” she said softly. She looked around his room so he would not be embarrassed.
AJ leaped off the bed and threw his arms around his sister’s neck. Both of them speechless, they hugged as though they would never see each other again. Emmaline cried in her heart for the family she would miss when she went to the Army. But it couldn’t be helped. Every time she rode around town and looked at some of the places in which she had suffered abuse, it caused her to relive those moments again and again. Sometimes, she felt she would go crazy from the memory.
“AJ, I’ll see you in about eight weeks for basic training graduation. Grandpa Stanley already promised to bring the family down to Fort Jackson. Don’t worry, squirt, you’ll see me again. I’ll even call home when I can. OK?” Emmaline promised her brother, trying not to let the tears fall from her eyes. It was hard. She and her brother and sister were closer now than they had ever been before.
Emmaline loosed her hold on her little brother and turned toward the door to his bedroom. “Hey, squirt. Take care of Mom and Cardrina for me, will ya?” she asked as she walked through the door, not waiting for an answer.
Emmaline hugged her mom, her best friend in the whole world. Emmaline knew how much her mother cared for her. She had proved it before Emmaline was born by shielding the unborn Emmaline so her late husband couldn’t kill both of them.
Emmaline had heard all the stories and had loved her mother unconditionally and beyond measure all these years. Leaving her was not easy. But it was something she would have to do in order to maintain her sanity and find her identity.
“Mom, I love you with all my heart,” Emmaline said, finally sobbing at the thought of leaving her beloved mothe
r. “Mom, I have to do this. Please understand,” she begged Maybelle.
Maybelle pulled back to look up into the eyes of her wonderful first-born child. Maybelle knew there were things that had happened to this young woman, things she could do nothing about. All she could do was let her go.
“Go, child. Do what you have to do. My love will go with you. Even more importantly, God will go with you, Emmaline Ruth Johnson,” Maybelle said, knowing her daughter didn’t believe in God the way she did. Since her daddy had gone home with the Lord, Maybelle had felt Emmaline pulling away from the Lord. She continued to pray she would find her own relationship with God. She knew only He could keep her safe.
Emmaline grabbed her bags and went out the front door of the only home she had ever known. She saw the faces of her brother and sister as they looked out of the windows facing the street. As Master Sergeant Cloussen put her bags into the trunk of the car, Emmaline turned to face the house. She lifted her hand in a short wave before she got into the car. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.
Joyce
FORTY NINE
Jamaica Queens, New York: June 20, 1979
Preparing to leave for Army basic training, Joyce looked at her younger sisters and brother. Sharon was five, Angie was three, and Allen was one. They gathered around Joyce’s suitcases, not quite understanding where JoJo was going as she packed her bags.
“You coming right back, right JoJo?” questioned five-year-old Sharon, brown and gold streaked eyes big in her pig-tailed head.
Joyce looked at her little sister thinking how much she would miss her much-younger siblings. After Jeffrey died, much of her sanity when she wasn’t on the run came from having to take care of little Sharon right after her birth. Even though they had different biological dads, Sharon looked much like Jeffrey and Joyce.
Looking at Angie picking through the things she had just packed and baby Allen crawling around her room, Joyce smiled fondly at “her” babies. These two looked just like Pops. She loved them just as much as she loved the twin with whom she had shared their mother’s womb but was now gone. To where, she didn’t know.
“I’ll be back in a couple of months, Pretty Thang,” Joyce answered. Because Sharon had no real concept of time as yet, Joyce didn’t bother to explain what “a couple of months” meant. “But I’ll call you and write you and let you know where I am,” she assured Sharon and Angie, the only two really paying attention to her. Both little girls nodded their heads in agreement. To what, they knew not. They only knew they would miss their big sister.
Joyce looked forward to going into the Army. Since the recruiters came to her high school for career day, she had planned everything out. She knew her decision would be one she would have to take seriously. But she was prepared to make the decision and many more to follow it.
Even though she loved New York and her family, she was sick of the city and sick of being under her parents’ rule all the time. She was ready for adventure on a grand scale. She knew there was more to life than what she faced each and every day of her life—babysitting, same old friends for years, more school if she decided to go to college, and her parents.
Finally graduated, she wanted something different, something she knew she wouldn’t find in New York. She certainly wasn’t inclined to go to college right now, especially in New York. She wanted to experience freedom she had never had before.
After talking further with Army recruiter Staff Sergeant Sanborn, Joyce discovered she could serve in the Army and get a college education at the same time if she wanted. The Army would pay for it. And the Army would allow her to go to different places, overseas places, she had always wanted to travel to.
While celebrating her eighteenth birthday last week down South with all the grandparents and cousins, Joyce informed her family that she had signed up to serve in the United States Army. Surprised gasps filled the humid country air as her family realized she wasn’t joking. Music and conversation stopped in the field behind her grandparent’s home.
Pulling out the paperwork she had completed at the Army recruiting station prior to coming South for the yearly family reunion, Joyce shared her ASVAB scores and other information showing where she would go for basic training and what job she would pursue as her specialty with her stunned family members. She gave a big slow grin as a feeling of accomplishment settled in her heart. She was going into the Army, her biggest adventure yet.
Samuel, her stepdad, stared at her, tears welling in his eyes. Of all his children, Joyce was the most adventurous. Always willing to go and do what no one else had ever done, Joyce was bold, brash, and beautiful. Samuel was glad God had made her his daughter.
Since Jeffrey’s death five years ago, Joyce had been in sort of a self-destruct mode. Sometimes disappearing for days or weeks at a time, no one ever knew what she was up to. When she finally made an appearance, though, she would nonchalantly come into the house as though she had never left. They knew the girl loved her family, but Marie and Samuel had almost given up hope with her after some of her escapades. Samuel decided the Army just might be the thing Joyce needed to get on the right track with her life. Lord knows she had already searched with no good results.
At fifteen, Joyce came home with her head covered, claiming to have found religion at an Islamic mosque in Queens Village. She called herself “Amira Bahja Mohammed” and would only answer if they referred to her by her new name. She kept that mindset for seven or eight months until she discovered she stood the chance of being one of many wives when she was chosen to be married. That didn’t sit well with her. She quickly renounced the Islamic faith.
At sixteen, she went from Islam to a Pentecostal holiness church and stopped wearing pants or any clothing that were manly in nature. Women were advised not to wear any makeup, perfume, jewelry or anything that drew attention. During this time, she constantly rebuked her mother for wearing slacks and dressing her little sisters in pants, giving them a warped mind. Marie suffered in silence because she wanted her oldest child to find her way even as she had. However, Joyce only continued with that movement long enough to discover that the men were able to dress decently but the women had to appear drab. That was their code of belief.
At seventeen, she disappeared for two months during the summer of 1978 and was found living in a Rainbow Family Commune in upstate New York. She enjoyed the communal living until she discovered the leader of the commune, Father Good, was having illicit relations with everyone under his leadership—men, women, boys, and girls.
From this fiasco, she came home and vowed she would not serve anyone or anything because there was no God. As a matter of fact, she knew there couldn’t be a God. A real God wouldn’t have allowed Jeffrey to be killed like he was.
Joyce remained devastated by the loss of her brother. A part of her was lost forever on that crucial day five years ago. No one seemed to understand the loss she felt in her heart from not having Jeffrey with her any more. Her mom and dad seemed to have moved on. She couldn’t make herself come out of what she had felt since that day.
They never found the person who killed Jeffrey. Soon after his funeral, though, strange envelopes addressed to “The Mother and Sister of Jeffrey Jones” occasionally arrived at their apartment. Enclosed in the envelope inside of a card were wads of cash money. Never a return address, no one ever called to explain where the money came from or what it was for. Samuel and Marie decided it must have come from the killer. They started the Jeffrey Earl Jones Foundation for Youth to help young people in their neighborhood find their path in life.
During Jeffrey’s funeral, many people showed up that Joyce had seen around the neighborhood but didn’t know their names or who they were. One guy in particular who showed up cried almost as hard as the rest of the family. Joyce didn’t know who he was but thought he must have been very close to Jeffrey.
On the occasions when she took her younger sisters to the park, many times, Joyce noticed someone else there who seemed to be watching
over them. He was a nice-looking guy who appeared to be in his twenties or so. She thought she recognized him as the guy who cried at the funeral but wasn’t sure. He always sat opposite where she sat waiting on the girls to finish their play. He never came closer to where she was. A few times, she started to approach him. But when she walked toward him, he always got up and left the park.
Joyce felt there was a connection between her brother and the man but never knew what it could be. When she started dating and hanging out with the wrong crowd, she found that guys wouldn’t bother her the way they messed with her friends. She didn’t know whether Jeffrey was protecting her or if someone here on Earth was looking out for her.
Samuel looked at his daughter as she made her announcement. He had long quit referring to Joyce as his stepdaughter. She was his daughter—that was the way he felt about her. He went to her and hugged her, telling her how proud he was.
No, he didn’t want her to go into the military. However, one thing he had found out about his women was this: they were all headstrong and had to learn from their own mistakes.
He stood with her at the reunion and glowed as only a proud father could. Her grandparents and the rest of the family were shocked that Joyce wanted to go into the military. But in a way, they were all thankful. They knew how much trouble she could get into in the city. Everyone hugged her and told her how proud they were.
Homer remembered the day he had met this little one at the Amtrak station in Atlanta. When he had gone there to pick up Ree, he had no idea he would also be picking up his twin grandson and granddaughter at the same time.
As he first laid eyes on them, Joyce was the one kicking and screaming because no one paid her any attention. She let out a bellow to let him know she was somebody and he would do well to pay attention to her.
“Well, baby,” he told her as he hugged her. “With that mouth of your’n, you should be able to make a good soldier in that Army. They’ll be lucky to have you. Good luck, shuge,” he said teasingly, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.
The Baby Chronicles Page 23