Sadie closed her eyes. Dear Lord. She sounded like a black racist. She who’d loved Everett Devlin with every fiber of her being, not because of his color but in spite of it. She who counted as her oldest son a blond, blue-eyed prototype of the Anglo-Saxon race. She’d hurt this son needlessly, casting aside his good looks, his high intelligence, his compassion, his character, and all the traits making him the fine, good man he was.
She’d done Serena a great wrong, assuming a white woman couldn’t possibly love a black man. Maybe Serena was Sadie in white skin. And maybe she loved Joshua not because he was white or black or even calico. Just because he was the man he was.
“I’m sorry. You and yo’ brother and yo’ Daddy, you all men any woman with any sense would love.”
She turned to leave. They needed some time apart.
“Mama? It’ll take a while, I’m not just going to pack up and leave, you know.”
“But dat’s ‘xactly whut you needs to do, son. I wish you would. You right, ain’t nowhere goan be easy, but other places, people more inclined to leave you ‘lone. You goin’ back to Boston?”
“Yes. I’ll get everything set up here and I’ll do the same thing in Boston I’m doing here, but probably not through a Church, Serena’d probably cause problems with that.. But I have friends in Boston, I can get set up.”
“Son. Listen to me. Y’all go ahead and leave. Now. Travel separately, leave tomorrow. Leave tonight. I get things situated down here. Got folks to help, yo’ brother can tell me whut I needs to do, do I not be sure.”
“I can’t do that. And I don’t want to leave you. Come with us.”
“To Boston? Now why for you think I want to traipse off to Boston at my age? New folks, new places, new start, snow? No, las’ winter ‘bout did me in down here, couldn’t handle de cold. Me and Tamara, we do jest fine. ‘Sides, yo’ daddy and yo’ brother. Dey here.”
Joshua felt it. The relinquishment of the short rein Sadie had unconsciously placed around his neck, tethering him to her. Ever since Cain. He’d always known it was there and he’d never resented it or tried to escape it, even when it chaffed badly. He’d created it himself. Now, in the first moments of its absence, he missed it.
“I love you, Mama.”
“An’ I love you. But you got de right to a woman’s love, too. I bein’ a foolish, selfish ol’ woman, actin’ like you a young’un can’t tie his own shoes, like I think you ain’t worth a woman’s love. But son, you gots to be careful. ‘Til you leave, you gots to be careful.”
“We will be, Mama. I promise.”
* * *
He watched Sadie move to the house, her head high and her back straight. He turned back to Twister. Serena’s voice came from the door.
“Joshua, what’s wrong? Sadie’s been glaring at me all morning and just now she came through the kitchen and hugged me! And you’ve been gone all morning.” She started towards him and he threw up his hand.
“Don’t. Talk low, and don’t ever, in daytime, in the open, act like you’re about to touch me. I’ve been out and we have to talk.”
Serena’s fragile shell of happiness broke.
“I’ll pack. I understand.”
Joshua sighed. “Serena. Sit down, over there, on that bale of hay, and listen to me. And listen good, ‘cause I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life giving you three hours of reassurance anytime I’m gone for an hour. Know it’ll take a while but you got to get over that.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Sit down and hush.”
She sat.
“I’ve waited a long time to feel about somebody the way I feel about you. Pretty much gave up, in fact. You?”
“You have to ask me that?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Sure enough to do whatever we have to do to stay together?”
Serena’s eyes widened.
“Yes.”
“It would mean leaving.”
“Leaving Gorley House?”
“Gorley House, Macon, the South. Everything you’ve ever known. All of it.”
“What would you do? Where would we go?”
“I went to school in Boston. I have friends there. And I have money. I already told you that. We’re never goin’ to be accepted, but I’m used to that, story of my life. You, though. Could you handle that?”
“I can handle anything with you.”
“Easy to say now.”
“Anything.”
“It’ll take me a couple of months to get things arranged here and set up in Boston.”
“You’d do that? Leave everything and everybody, everything you’ve worked for? For me?”
Joshua laughed shortly. “I’m not that noble, so don’t make me something I’m not. No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t leave everything and everybody for you. But I’ll do it for us. If you’re sure. If you want it.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
She stood and he threw his hands out again.
“I told you, don’t. Don’t ever act like you’re about to touch me. We’ve got to be careful.”
Suddenly Sadie’s actions of earlier that morning made sense. “Your mother?”
“She saw you coming out of my room last night.”
“Oh. Oh, dear God! What she must think of me!”
“Darlin’, she spent twenty years in my father’s bed. The moralities of the situation ain’t bothering her. She’s scared. And she’s right. And you have to be scared, too. We’re not out of here yet.”
“I understand. And I can do it. Whatever it takes. But Joshua! Your brother!”
Even knowing they were alone, he turned around and scanned the interior of the barn. He’d been certain she’d figured it out. At least, some of it. No way she’d figured out all of it, of course.
“Serena, when we’re settled, I’ll tell you about my brother. But for now, believe me. He can take care of himself and Mama, too. Go on back in, I got things to do.”
He smiled and Serena’s world lit up. And for the first time in her life she was happy.
Chapter Thirteen
Joshua’s plans moved swiftly. They’d be leaving Macon sometime in the early part of September 1907. Sadie mourned silently. Everything was a trade-off. Nothing was free. It was Joshua’s trade to make.
Paul shuddered at the consequences should this alliance ever come to public attention. More selfishly, he dreaded the nights of the coming years when he’d be miles away from his brother. Doubt haunted him, too. For the first time he wondered if he’d done right by his brother, giving him the intense education consigning him to no-man’s land between two cultures. Too damn late to worry about it now, though. Nothing left but to help Joshua as much as he could.
“I can buy you a mausoleum in Boston if we could just get you there,” Joshua said, “so what kind do you want?”
“Italian Carrara.”
“Damn! You ain’t cheap, are you? Would you maybe consider it?”
Paul dropped his levity. “I can’t. Not now. Mama and Tamara—”
“God, I hate to leave them.”
“Both of us can’t. Mama’s in good shape physically but Tamara isn’t.”
“I know. Started sometime last year. How long you reckon?”
“Not long. And then Mama’ll be by herself. I have to stay.”
“God, Paul!”
“We’ll still see each other. Sometime.”
“How far do you think you can travel? And how fast? I mean when you—do that thing you do?”
“I’ll start experimenting.”
“We could always pay freight and ship a crate to Boston.”
“Thank you, no. Don’t much like the idea of being manhandled in a box. Joshua, does Serena know anything about me?”
“No. She ain’t stupid though—”
“Don’t know about that, fell in love with you, didn’t she?” asked Paul. Brotherly love in action.
; Joshua ignored the interruption. “And she sort of figured out who the doctor was when she was in labor. Your voice, more than anything, said she was hurting too bad to really see you. But the way you talked reminded her of me. Told her it should, I spent enough years imitating you.”
Paul laughed.
“But she thinks you’re in hiding for some reason or other, presumed dead. I told her you could take care of yourself and I’d tell her ‘bout it when we got settled.”
“That should be interestin’.”
“Oh yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. Ain’t took her to see Tamara yet, either. Can’t you just hear that? ‘Honey, this is my aunt, the Voodoo Queen. She specializes in exorcising Blood Drinkers. You know, Blood Drinkers. They got real bad manners and you just can’t take ‘em anywhere!’”
Joshua stood up and parodied an introduction worthy of the English court. “’And you’ve never actually met my brother, either. Dr. Devlin. He’s the family vampire. Had a run-in with one of those Blood Drinkers and he just ain’t been the same since.’”
“Let me know how that works out for you, little brother.”
* * *
It was such a little thing, the thing that culminated in two nights more horrible in Paul Devlin’s memory than the two summer nights in 1888 when life as he knew it ended.
Sadie didn’t feel well when she woke one day in mid-July. Today was shopping day, though, and there was a house to feed. A big one. She got up and dressed and went to the kitchen to double-check her standard shopping list. She started at Bone & Chapell, the grocers on Poplar and Fourth, then she’d go to Lieb’s, on the corner of Cherry and Cotton, to pick up some special items Joshua loved, and then move to O’Gorman’s Dry Goods to restock the staples. She’d finish at Jacques’ Grocers on Fourth and Cherry. They had the best meats. It was her biggest day and she didn’t have the time or patience for the growing swells of nausea rumbling in her stomach.
The nausea didn’t take kindly to being ignored. She retreated to one of the bathrooms. One bathroom was a luxury at the time, multiple ones unheard of, but Joshua considered them a necessity when he built the shelter, given the numbers of people who’d be in the house at any given time.
Sadie came out and started firmly towards the door. Then she stopped in mid-stride, grabbed her stomach and retreated again.
Serena pounced when she came out from the second visit.
“Bed,” she said firmly. “Now.”
“Girl, get out of my way.”
“Bed,” she repeated, taking Sadie’s arm and leading her down the hall. “Now.”
“Got things to do, we almost out of dry goods and—”
“I’ll do it.”
“You doan know where I go an’ what I buy.”
“I know how to read a list. And I’ll take Jerry with me to drive the wagon just like you do. He’ll know exactly where to go,” she declared. Fourteen year old Jerry Smith had been one of Joshua’s first permanent orphans.
“You ain’t got no business goin’ out.”
“I’ll be careful and I’ll wear a big sunhat. Besides, I’m going to the grocers’, I’m not going to parade around in society.”
“You needs to ask Joshua.”
“Joshua’s already left. Clara Cranton died this morning and he’s out with the family making plans and all. “
“He ain’t goan lik’ dis,” Sadie said, sinking gratefully down on the bed.
“He’ll like it a lot less if the children don’t have supper.”
Mind over matter wasn’t working, and the bathroom called again. Sadie gave in. “Girl, you watch yo’self.”
“I will, don’t worry.”
* * *
Serena did watch herself. But someone else did, too. Serena wouldn’t have recognized him if she’d seen him, but she never saw him. He’d been at her wedding. Kent Wentworth. A cousin from the Lexington, Kentucky branch.
Some months before, Kent’s father entered into negotiations to purchase Findley Ironworks. He wanted one of his own to run it. He looked around the family and settled on his youngest son, Kent. Findley Ironworks sprawled over one block at the industrial end of Third Street. In Macon, Bibb County, Georgia.
Kent didn’t frequent grocers’ establishments for fun and entertainment. However, his wife Miribelle wasn’t terribly receptive to relocating. And she sure as hell wasn’t relocating without some idea of the standard of living in Macon, Georgia, including the availability of certain imported food items. And she’d made it clear he needn’t come home without answers to the list of questions she sent with him.
Kent liked Macon. Findley Ironworks would make the family tons more money, and there were some wonderful houses. Now he was checking the shopping scene. Miribelle was a damn Tartar when enraged. He wasn’t about to go home without answers to every question on her list.
One shop’s sign proclaimed Leopold L. Lieb—Importer of Fine Groceries. God was good. Life with Miribelle in Macon, Georgia might be tolerable after all.
He walked the aisles and thanked God again, and just as he was leaving, a laugh caught his ear. A good laugh, a pleasant combination of daintiness and heartiness. He glanced over at the counter. Fine figure of a woman, from the back, anyway, trim and small and reminiscent of Miribelle’s figure before childbirth. She’d never bounced back, turning Kent into a furtive but avid admirer of the female form.
Then she turned. Kent ducked back behind the nearest aisle. Lord God. Was that? Could it be? Yes. Definitely. His cousin David’s wife, who’d run away in the dark of night, carrying David’s unborn heir with her. Woman must have the luck of the devil, too, none of the Pinkerton agents ever caught the first scent of her. The child should have been born sometime in March and her figure definitely wasn’t pregnant. When she left the store, he moved to the counter.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Well, actually, my wife and I’ll be moving to town real soon and I was just browsing through.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, sir. I hope you’ve found everything you were looking for.”
“Oh, I did. I surely did. My wife’s goin’ be real happy here, I’m sure of it. As a matter of fact, that lady that just left?”
“Yes, sir?”
“She looks real familiar to me. In fact, I’m almost sure she’s a friend of my wife from finishing school days but her name escapes me right now. They were right close but they lost touch, you know how it is, and it sure would tickle me if I could go back and tell my wife I ran into her and she lives in Macon now. Life’s strange, ain’t it?”
“Yes sir, it sure is.”
“You happen to know who she might be?”
“Well, to be honest, sir, I’ve never seen her before. Usually, Sadie shops for Gorley House.”
“Gorley House?”
“It’s a shelter, sort of. The preacher for the black Episcopal Church runs it, Joshua Devlin. A combination shelter, orphanage, school.”
“But that lady’s white.”
“Well, Joshua Devlin’s place, it’s—different. See, he sort of works with folks nobody else wants, people don’t have nowhere else to go. He don’t bother anybody, I mean, it’s not like he’s one of them uppity niggers trying to be better than he is. He grew up here, raised by a real good white family who took him in, so I guess folks kind of overlook a lot of things they might not overlook otherwise. Besides, some of the white folks, the white churches, they give him a hand every now and then, one of their charities. Now that you mention it, she don’t much seem like she’s one of his street people.”
“You sure she’s from this Gorley House?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Charged it to the account and believe me, I wish some white folks paid their bills like Joshua Devlin does. And besides, she had Jerry with her. Jerry’s one of their orphans, usually comes in with Sadie, that’s Joshua’s mama, to help out with the weekly shopping, so I’m sure.”
“I see. Well, ‘preciate your time. I’m sure my wife’ll be adding to y
our business real soon now.”
“We’ll look forward to it, sir.”
Kent walked out and stood on the streets, shaking his head. So that’s how she’d avoided leaving any traces. Hiding out with the niggers. Probably did it in every town she ran through on her way here.
Kent grudgingly admitted she had a lot of spunk. He didn’t like his cousin, and he wouldn’t want one of his daughters marrying any man who remotely reminded him of David Wentworth. But she’d birthed a Wentworth child with the niggers? And was raising him with them? He hadn’t wanted to ask too many questions of the obliging clerk but if this Gorley House was a Church offshoot, he might ought to tour the local churches. He hadn’t checked out Macon’s religious circuit as yet. Actually, Miribelle hadn’t mentioned it. Church for her was a social function more than anything else but she ought to be impressed with his thorough investigation.
A big Presbyterian Church stood on the corner of—now, what were those streets? Mulberry and First, that was it. God, new towns were hell. He collected his horse and rode on down the street.
He emerged from the minister’s office knowing a lot more than he’d ever wanted to know about Macon’s First Presbyterian Church. More important, he knew a lot about Gorley House and Joshua Devlin. Tolerant city, Macon. Basically, the white folks just let him take care of the business of needy folks so they didn’t have to.
Visiting the police station probably wouldn’t work, even if he flat out told them his cousin’s runaway wife had kidnapped a child and demanded they make the recovery. Because he was pretty sure when the residents of Gorley House denied it, unbelievable as it was, the Macon police would take their word for it. After which, of course, Serena would be gone in about fifteen seconds. Besides, the Wentworths didn’t go through channels. They made their own.
He consulted the street map, turned his horse and trotted down to Third Street, turning onto Congress Street.
He rode casually by Gorley House. The huge, clean clapboard structure wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Well-fed, well-clothed children played in the side yard. But half the faces were white and half were black. And Serena was raising a Wentworth child here?
Dark Series, The Color of Seven and The Color of Dusk (Books We Love Special Edition) Page 29