Treasure in a Tin Box (Wall of Silence Book 1)

by Dorey Whittaker

  In the wee hours of the morning, Jubilee and I headed for bed. Since I was now sleeping on the sofa, Auntie Pearl and Auntie Ruby took Momma out into the kitchen so I could get some sleep. They lowered their voices, but I could hear my aunts telling my momma all about her daddy. As I drifted off of sleep, I heard my momma’s voice asking the sisters the same questions I had asked as a child. That night, my momma was seeing her daddy in a new way, and my heart was full.

  The next morning was very busy. With two additional people getting ready for the wedding, I decided to take all of my clothes over to Sulley’s place, drop them off, and then head to the church to make sure all of Ruth’s plans were being followed. People began bringing in fresh-cut flowers from their gardens. Each bouquet was that person’s gift to us, and notes of congratulations were tucked into each bouquet. Ruth and I were going to love reading all of those notes together. By noon, the sanctuary looked like the big flower shop downtown. Once I felt everything was in order, I headed back to Sulley’s place, put on my new suit and tie, and walked back to my house so I could walk my family back to the church.

  Ruth had decided to wear her mother’s wedding dress. She had lost her mother when she was only five years old and wanted something of her mother’s at the wedding. When most of the people were seated, I walked in with Sulley at my side, knowing I was making the best decision of my life. I smiled at all of the guests as I waited for my bride to enter. My two aunties, beaming with love and pride, sat in the front row. I blew each of them a kiss and mouthed, “Thank you for everything.” I then turned to my momma and mouthed, “I love you, Momma.” My heart was filled to overflowing as I waited for my bride to appear. I was reminded of the declaration my Grandpa Samuel gave the day I was born: “May this boy never live a day without knowing he is loved.”

  I bowed my head and prayed, “Lord, would You please tell my Grandpa Samuel You answered his prayer?” As I lifted my head and wiped the tears from my eyes, I saw Ruth standing at the end of the aisle with her father, and she was smiling at me. As they both approached me, I stepped forward, took her arm and said loud enough for everyone in the church to hear me, “I am indeed a blessed man.”

  “Not yet you aren’t, young man,” Ruth’s father smiled as he announced, “I have waited twenty-two years to give this girl away, and you are not going to rush it!”

  The whole church exploded in laughter as I blushed. That day my beautiful, wise, loving, gracious, and patient Ruth was going to be mine forever. As Sulley handed me Ruth’s wedding ring, I leaned over to him and said, “Sulley, now I know how you felt the day you married Whippoorwill.”

  Sulley’s eyes welled up with tears as he smiled back at me. I took the ring from Sulley, turned back to Ruth, and slid the ring on her finger. I have no memory of anything else until her father said, “Tobias, you may now kiss your bride.”

  The ladies of the church brought out the cake and punch as everyone came around to congratulate us. I felt like a giggly school girl that afternoon. I could not stop smiling, and I kept whispering in my bride’s ear, “Hello, Ruth Bascom, I love you.”

  Since honeymoons were for the rich and famous, Ruth and I decided we would spend our wedding weekend locked away in our new rental. I had arranged to take that Monday off of work but did not dare ask for more. As a wedding gift to us, several of the church women told us they were going to stock our kitchen with food. The night before our wedding, Ruth baked several special treats for us and took them over to the rental, along with all of her clothes. I had taken all of my clothes over a few days earlier. After we had greeted all of our guests, Ruth and I walked to our new home. Still in our wedding clothes, we were laughing and talking non-stop all of the way there. I knew my momma would be well cared for by my aunts, but we did arrange to get back together on their final night in town. Ms. Ruby said she would prepare a big family dinner on Tuesday night. With all of that settled, I could focus on my bride.

  As we reached the back door, a wonderful smell greeted us. One of the ladies had come to the house that morning and had placed a cast iron pot in the oven filled with a pot roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions. A tray of yeast rolls was rising on the counter, ready to pop into the oven. The kitchen table was already set and ready for us. Oh, how we felt loved and cared for.

  Our three days flew by. We knew we would have a lifetime together, but neither of us wanted this glorious weekend to end. But end it must, and life goes on. We both had responsibilities to attend to, but we always knew that the other one would be waiting for us at the end of every day.

  I returned to the freight yard bright and early Tuesday morning, while Ruth returned to the bakery. That evening we celebrated our family history over dinner. Ms. Ruby told Momma the story about their time of living in the cavern. Afterward, Momma cried, “I’m so glad to know all these stories. Daddy never liked to talk about the past. He really was an amazing man.”

  The next morning they boarded the train back to New York. We didn’t have a lot of time together, but the time we had was precious.

  CHAPTER 32

  The Battle For Gladys

  OUR LONG WEEKEND had been wonderful, and now that the wedding was over and my momma was gone, I needed to start thinking about people other than myself. After all, Whippoorwill’s baby would be coming soon, and the situation with Karl and Gladys still remained. Would our friend have his heart broken? Would Gladys respond? Would she become our friend or remain our life-long enemy simply because of the color of our skin?

  One week after our wedding, Karl had invited Gladys to come to the warehouse to join him for lunch. Karl did not ambush Gladys. He straightforwardly told her that his purpose for having her come for lunch was in order to introduce her to his best friend. Gladys knew this was a deal-breaker for Karl. The fact that she had even agreed to come was a victory of some sorts.

  The night before that first lunch, I was beside myself. Ruth’s gentle words did not reduce my anxiety. I confessed, “Ruth, Karl has painted such an ugly picture of Gladys’ anger, and I do not want to let Karl down, but a man can only take so much disrespect, especially when it’s right in his face.”

  True to form, Ruth just smiled at me and said, “Tobias Bascom.” I knew I was in trouble when Ruth used my full name. “You cannot do this on your own. Loving the unlovely—black or white—can only be done with God’s grace. God has poured out His grace on you, and He expects you to share His grace with Gladys. This young woman has been put in your path, and you need to ask God to give you the strength to control your pride and love her like God loves her.”

  That night, Ruth and I prayed for my pride and for Gladys’ wounded soul. If we were never to see her again, we wanted an opportunity to share God’s love with her while we could. That night as we were getting ready for bed, Ruth said, “Toby, you have built Gladys’ anger into a huge giant, and you are feeling like a grasshopper, right? Remember, Gladys is not the giant. It is her anger, not her, you are fighting. You walk up to her tomorrow and imagine yourself a grasshopper sitting on God’s shoulders. When you see that flash of anger, just imagine God taking control of it. This is not your battle to win or lose. It is God’s alone.”

  Again, I realized how blessed I was to have Ruth in my life. By the time I was leaving for work the next morning, I found myself almost excited to finally meet this Gladys.

  The lunch whistle blew right at noon, and Karl headed over to the main gate to escort Gladys to our table. I found myself fidgeting with my lunch box—not so much out of anxiety; rather, today was a day of excited anticipation. After struggling to do what is right, and the struggle is finally over, something good will come from that struggle. By the time Karl and Gladys walked up to the table, my heart was sincere, and my soul was calm.

  I did not extend my hand to Gladys because I did not want to offend her. I simply smiled and said, “Hello, Gladys, it’s nice to meet you.”

  Gladys did not look directly at me. She nodded her head and took a seat as far away from
me as she could. Karl decided to ignore this choice and said, “Gladys, this is my best friend, Tobias. Tobias, this is Gladys, the girl I wanted you to meet.”

  Gladys and I both caught the fact that Karl did not introduce her as his girlfriend. As Gladys opened up the picnic basket she brought with her, I opened my lunch bucket and placed my meal in front of me. I wanted Gladys to know that I did not intend to eat her food—not because I feared she might have tainted it, but because she wanted nothing to do with me.

  Karl suggested he pray for our lunch, and, for several minutes, things remained quiet as Gladys began removing her lovely spread from the basket and placing each item in front of Karl. She had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to impress him. By the time she had everything laid out, the ten-minute warning whistle blew. Karl started eating quickly, and Gladys joked, “I guess I need to be faster next time if you’re going to be able to eat everything before the whistle blows again.”

  “I’m glad you want there to be a next time, Gladys,” Karl responded. “I really do want you and Tobias to get to know each other.”

  Gladys just smiled but said nothing. I don’t think she ever actually looked at me during that first lunch or for several others that followed, but she did keep coming, so there was hope.

  I could feel her seething rage boiling under the surface, but I remained calm. After a week of just enjoying our lunches, Karl suggested that I lead us in a short devotional. I had been preparing them since we had first started planning these lunches. I would open with a Bible verse that talked about how much God loves us and would make only one or two comments, then close in prayer. I kept it simple, nothing profound, just sharing the simple truth that God loves us all.

  For several weeks Gladys sat quietly, not engaging with me at all. She would not look at me or talk to me. She would not respond when I addressed her directly. Several times, she even leaned over to Karl and asked if they could eat their lunch alone. Karl remained steadfast. “Gladys, if you’re not going to even try, why are you still coming around? Do you think I will change my mind? Do you think you can bat your pretty eyes at me, and I will ignore your serious problem? For weeks you have sat here hearing all about how much God loves you, yet you would rather hold onto your rage than to open your heart and accept God’s love.”

  For the first time, Gladys got very real and very serious. Casting a quick smile my way, she confessed, “Karl, I really don’t mind listening to Tobias talk about God’s love. I’ve actually gone home a few times and looked up the verses he used and liked what they said.” Then turning directly to me for the first time, Gladys asked, “I want to believe what you say about God, Tobias, but how can you say that God loves us when He allows such terrible things to happen to us?”

  This was a truly honest question from Gladys, but before I could even gather my thoughts, the lunch whistle blew. With all the compassion God had poured into my heart for this woman, I said, “Gladys, if you will come back tomorrow, we can talk about your reasonable question. You have asked a fair question that everyone asks at one point in their life, and a quick, glib answer would not be fair to you.”

  That evening, Ruth, Karl, and I prayed for wisdom. Gladys’ pain was real and deep, and only God’s grace could reach that deep into her to heal her wounds. We knew we needed to talk about her pain, but we needed more wisdom than any of us possessed. I knew I could find lots of Bible verses that said how much God loves Gladys. I also knew I could find lots of Bible verses that would tell her she needed a Savior. I did not think I could, as a black man, be the one to talk to Gladys about the torture and murder of her beloved brother by a black man.

  No, let me rephrase that. I did not want to be the one who would look Gladys in the eyes and dare to talk to her about her brother. One wrong word and the gates of hell would open up and try to swallow me. Again, I struggled to surrender my rights to protect myself. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I knew it had to be me—the black man. Not Karl, but me.

  I knew if God could direct my words and bring healing to Gladys’ soul, the healing would be so much more complete if it came from a person who represented her biggest giant—a black man. That night Ruth and I again prayed for God’s grace over my life and that of Gladys’ life. We prayed for eyes to see Gladys the way God sees her and to close my ears to the words that would inflame my feelings of pride.

  Karl and I were both quiet as we clocked into work that morning. We were both concerned that Gladys might not even show up, but then if she did, how was she going to respond? We hardly spoke all morning, trying to stay focused on the work at hand so the morning would go by more quickly. I found myself checking the big clock on the freight yard tower several times. I still had no idea how I would begin my conversation today. Ruth had already warned me about the dangers of setting my agenda in my head. “Toby, you need to let Gladys lead the conversation. People respond better when you answer questions that they have asked, rather than giving them a lecture about what you think they need to know.”

  At times like this, I feel like a puny grasshopper. Nothing is in my control. Gladys might have gone home and regretted even asking that question. I wondered what to do if she goes back to her stone-faced countenance. Then I remembered Ruth’s admonition, and I smiled at my continual need for control, and admonished myself, “Tobias, this is not your battle. You are simply the tool that God is using to show His love to this girl. This is not about you, Toby; it is about Gladys. If she requires patience, then you extend God’s patience to her. If she needs wisdom, it is God’s wisdom—not yours—that she needs. You surrender your heart to God and let Him direct the conversation.” I repeated this admonition several times that morning.

  Shortly before the lunch whistle blew, we looked over and saw Gladys standing at the freight yard gate. Karl gave me a wink as he loaded the last box on the dolly and made sure the dolly’s brake was set and safe. By the time the lunch whistle finished blowing; Karl was half way to the gate to escort Gladys in.

  I went inside the bailing door, grabbed my lunch and headed out to our table. We had been doing this for five weeks with nary a peep from any of our crewmen. They knew we were talking religion at our table, and they wanted nothing to do with it. As I walked out onto the deck and began walking down the wooden stairs that lead to the lunch area, I noticed two of our crewmen sitting at our table. They never did that. I immediately got irritated and grumbled to myself, “Didn’t they know how important today was for Gladys? Why, today of all days, did these men decide to join us at our table?” My mind began to race, and I asked myself, “How can I get rid of these men?” I no sooner asked myself this question when Ruth’s words repeated in my mind, “This is not your battle to win, Tobias. You let God direct things. He will always do a better job than we can.”

  This plan made no sense to me, but then I remembered that I am but a grasshopper, and I must trust that God is in control. I reached the table just as Karl and Gladys arrived, and I heard myself calmly saying, “Good day, Gladys, hope you had a restful night.”

  As I took my seat, I thought about what I had just said and thought, “Where did that come from? Why did I ask that?” I had no more than questioned it before I heard Gladys say, “Actually, I didn’t get any sleep last night and almost did not come today because of it. After our conversation yesterday, I got home last night and found it was all I could think about.” Gladys glanced over at the new men at the table before continuing, “You see, I can’t really talk to my parents about it. Talking about Charlie in our house is a lightning-rod topic. I don’t think my parents even talk to each other about Charlie anymore.”

  Luther suddenly sat up straight, “That’s where I know you from. You are Charlie Thomas’ sister, right? Charlie used to bring you around during our senior year of high school. You were just a kid back then.”

  Gladys’ eyes filled with tears at the mention of her brother’s name. “Yes I was, but I had to grow up fast. Charlie died when I was a senior in high school and my younger bro
ther, Bill, was only eight. So you knew my brother, Charlie?”

  Luther smiled, “I sure did!” Then as if weighing his words more carefully, Luther added, “What happened to Charlie was horrible, and I am glad they caught the guy. I couldn’t imagine going through life wondering if every person you talk to might be the one who did it. At least now you know who he is and that he will never walk the streets ever again. At least that’s something to be thankful for.”

  Gladys gave Luther a polite smile. “I guess you have a point there, although I hardly think there’s anything about my brother’s murder I can be thankful for.”

  Luther quickly corrected himself, “Oh, I didn’t mean that, Gladys. I just meant that knowing who did it and that he is locked up means you can begin to move forward.”

  “You’d think so,” Gladys responded with a rather acid tone, “but not really. I live with this all the time. Every single day I relive the night we found out my brother had been tortured and killed.” Gladys then turned toward Karl and defiantly declared, “I not only hate the black man who tortured my brother, but now I hate all black men. You can’t trust any of them.”

  Karl glanced over at me for help, but somehow I knew I was to remain silent. I thought it strange that I wasn’t struggling to control myself. I was so focused on praying for Gladys’ wounded heart that I could not take what she was saying personally.

  Karl said nothing, just reached over and took Gladys’ hand as she pleaded, “I’m so sorry, Karl. I tried; I really did. It is funny actually because I kind of like Tobias. I have enjoyed listening to him talk about God. I just cannot get past the fact that he is black. Everyone tells me blacks are all the same. They blame us for everything bad that has ever happened to them.”

  Before Karl could respond, we heard Luther ask, “Isn’t that what you are doing, Gladys? Tobias did not murder your brother, yet you seem to be holding him responsible simply because he is black, and the man who murdered your brother is black. Personally, I have never had much use for blacks, but I’ve come to realize after working with Toby for almost a year now that they aren’t all thieves nor are they all shiftless and lazy. My own brother has been in and out of jail for years. He hasn’t done an honest day of work in his whole life, but that is the way he is. He’s white, and he’s my brother. We grew up in the same house, but who he is does not make me guilty of any of his crimes. Why is that true for whites and not for blacks?”