Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise

by Lisa Gregory

  Julia shook her head, smiling. She knew that her small size and pale coloring often deceived people into thinking she was fragile. "Don't worry. I may not be big, but I'm strong as an ox. Just let me worry about the heavy things."

  Before the day was out, Sarah had to admit that Julia was right—she might look as though a hard wind would blow her away; but she was strong and loaded with stamina.

  Sarah was glad for the help. She had forgotten how much more quickly the chores went when there were two women to do them, especially with Vance and Bonnie to take care of small chores and keep Emily occupied. They were done each day with time to spare, so Sarah suggested that they use their free time to make the children some new clothes, pointing out tactfully that Julia must have had to leave most of their clothes when they moved.

  Julia supposed that she ought to be too proud to accept Sarah's charity, no matter how kindly Sarah phrased it. But she couldn't bring herself to refuse the offer. She longed to see her children in something new and pretty, just once.

  Sarah brought down several lengths of material from a trunk in the attic, and throughout the next few days, they worked on the children's clothes every moment their hands were idle. With two of them sewing, the work went quickly and by Saturday they had finished a simple outfit for each of the children. Then Sarah brought out two of her own dresses and insisted on altering them to fit Julia's smaller frame.

  Julia protested, but when she tried them on, she couldn't bear to refuse them. One dress was blue and the other, a dusky rose, and they did magical things for her coloring. The sleeves of the rose-colored one were tight, with long, buttoned cuffs, and puffed out at the shoulders. A narrow row of ivory lace decorated its cuffs and collar,

  Julia looked at herself in the mirror, wanting the rose dress so much she could taste it. "It's awfully fancy."

  "Fancy! What do you mean? It'll be perfect for church or company."

  "Well, yes, you're right." Julia turned before the minor, craning her neck to see the back. No doubt it didn't seem fancy to Sarah, but Julia had never had a dress with lace on it, even the one she had worn on her wedding day. "I just meant, it's maybe too fancy for me. I don't know if I look right in it."

  Sarah gave an inelegant snort. "Don't be silly. Luke!"

  He came up the stairs and smiled at the sight of his sister in the dress.

  "Tell her that she looks right in that dress," Sarah ordered.

  "You look beautiful."

  "See?" Sarah said around the pins in her mouth and continued pinning up the hem. "If I hurry, we can get this ready for you to wear to church tomorrow." She glanced up. "That is, I mean, if you want to go."

  Julia thought of going to church in Sarah's pretty dress, with her children in brand new clothes and Sarah there to smooth her way. It was vanity and pride, of course, not good reasons to go to church, but still... she wanted to go. "Yes, I'd like that."

  The next morning after chores, Julia was surprised to see Luke come down dressed in a black suit and white shirt with stiff celluloid cuffs and collar. Julia realized that he was going to church with them. Julia had never known Luke to step foot inside a church before. She sneaked a glance at Sarah, but Sarah, struggling to get Emily's feet encased in her little black boots, seemed to find nothing unusual in Luke's going to church.

  And when they arrived at the New Hope Methodist Church, no one there seemed surprised to see Luke, either. People did turn to look at them when they walked in, but then they just smiled and nodded to Luke and Sarah. No one looked surprised. No one turned away and began to whisper furiously to his neighbor No one seemed offended.

  Julia felt self-conscious. She often did. She had learned as a child that she didn't fit in most places—not at church or school or the other places where "good" people belonged. Because she had been quiet and well behaved, Julia had been tolerated (as Luke and her older brother had not been), but she had always been aware that she was there on sufferance. She knew that people looked at her and waited for her to do something that would reveal her as a true Turner.

  She knew that they were looking at her here, wondering who she was and what she was doing here. She was very aware of Sarah's borrowed straw hat on her head and Sarah's pink dress on her body and Sarah's white gloves on her hands. Did everyone realize that none of these things were her own? Did they think she was like a pig dressed up in finery? Julia raised her eyes timidly from her hands and met the interested gaze of a bearded man sitting in the next pew beside three stair-step children.

  Sarah leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I think you've caught Bill Langley's attention." Sarah's voice was light and amused. "Tread carefully; I've heard his boy is a tenor."

  Julia felt a flush spreading over her cheeks, and she glanced at Sarah. "You can't mean that he's—"

  "Interested in you? Oh, can't I?"

  Julia turned her attention back to her primly folded hands. Sarah must be mistaken. No man would be interested in her. She'd lost whatever looks she'd had long ago. Why, she was twenty-eight years old and had two children! The years and the work showed on her. She had seen the fine lines around her mouth and eyes and the dulling of her burnished hair and blue eyes. It wasn't possible that a man might still desire her. Certainly not in church!

  She looked up again, but the man was no longer looking at her. Relief spread through her Sarah had to be wrong.

  The sermon was long, Julia glanced over now and then at Luke and more than once caught a glazed look in his eyes. She knew he was bored, but he sat patiently. They sang a few hymns, but Julia didn't know many of them. Will hadn't liked for her to go to church; he had never wanted her to socialize. And, of course, when she had lived at home with her father and brothers, she had never gone to church. But she followed along in the hymnal, enjoying the sound of the music. This was a peaceful, simple church, and she liked sitting here, listening to the preacher's mellow voice and the solemn songs.

  After the service, the congregation moved down the center aisle and out onto the steps of the church, gathering in little groups on the steps and in the yard. A middle-aged man and woman with several children of all ages came over to greet Luke and Sarah, and it was obvious from their smiles and enthusiastic greetings that they were special friends. Sarah introduced them to Julia as Jake and Mary Etta Crowley. The Crowleys seemed genuinely happy to meet her.

  Julia liked Mary Etta Crowley on sight. She was a large woman with traces of her youthful good looks still on her face. There were laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, and her brown eyes were sharp and alight with interest. "So you're Luke's sister, are you? I've heard him talk about you often. Such a pretty little thing you are, too. And such nice children. I'm sorry to hear about your husband. It must be quite a loss to you. "

  "Thank you."

  "But it's an ill wind, I always say, 'cause here you are to help Sarah when she needs it, I know she's grateful."

  "Oh, no, I'm the one who's grateful."

  "Hush," Sarah interjected pleasantly. "I don't want to hear any more talk like that from you. I need you. You've already been a tremendous help."

  "How have you been feeling?" Mary Etta asked Sarah, and they launched on a long, thoroughly engrossing discussion of pregnancy and its problems,

  Julia glanced over at Luke. He stood talking to Jake and the Crowleys' oldest boy, Burt, both of whom listened to Luke with great interest. Julia could see the respect in Burt's eyes.

  Other people joined them, some pausing only to say hello, others to chat, Sarah introduced Julia to everyone, and they returned her greetings politely. She was accepted, Julia thought, because of Sarah—and Luke, Nearly all the men stopped by to say hello, and some of them lingered to talk. There were no askance glances, no hesitations in greeting Luke, Some clapped him on the back or shook his hand with affection. Others simply nodded or said a word or two. But no one treated him as an outsider. And Luke— Julia was amazed to see his expression so open, sometimes smiling, sometimes serious, but never hard and bi
tter. He didn't stand with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed and suspicious, as if he were waiting for someone to say the wrong thing, as he once would have. Over the past few days Julia had become accustomed to the changes in her brother, but now, seeing him with other people, she noticed them all anew. Luke Turner no longer looked for trouble.

  The Crowleys joined the Turners for Sunday dinner and wound up staying most of the afternoon. Hearing Luke talk to Jake, Julia sensed the strong bond between them, and she realized that the older man was almost a father to Luke, the kind of father he had never found in his own flesh and blood. A lump of pain crystallized in Julia's chest, but she wasn't sure if it was sadness for what Luke had missed all his life or happiness for what he had now.

  Later, when the Crowleys had gone and Luke was outside doing the evening chores, Julia and Sarah sat alone in the parlor, their hands busy with the mending.

  "Luke's changed a lot," Julia commented, glancing at her sister-in-law, "He's happy, and I never thought he would be. It's because of you."

  Sarah smiled. "He hasn't changed. He just let out all the good stuff inside him that he never allowed people to see before. It's not me that's done anything. It's Luke."

  "Then you saw in him what no one else did, except me."

  "That's because I loved him," Sarah responded simply. "He's given me every bit as much as I've given him." She turned to Julia, her sewing dropping unnoticed into her lap. "He made me happier than I'd ever been in my life. I was never loved as Luke loves me, heart and soul. I love him the same way. Sometimes I lie awake at night, scared to death, thinking what if something happened to him? I don't know what I'd do without Luke. I wouldn't want to live."

  Julia's heart squeezed inside her chest, and she thought, suddenly, of Jimmy. She had felt that way about him, long ago, when they had been in love. She had thought that she couldn't live without him. But she had. "That kind of love is precious. I'm very happy for Luke."

  Sarah thought she caught the glimmer of tears in Julia's eyes. She reached out and took Julia's hand and squeezed it. Julia returned the pressure. Then they smiled a little shyly and moved back and the moment slid away.

  ❧

  As the days passed, Julia's looks changed, though she was unaware of it. Part of the reason was the new dresses she wore, some made over from Sarah's clothes and one a brand new dress from a piece of sky blue cotton that Sarah had insisted on making. Part of it was the fact that she was eating three good meals a day, and she had lost her earlier gauntness. But the change was more than either of those. The lines of stress and care had melted from her face. No longer was there a narrow groove perpetually between her eyes. Her mouth wasn't grim anymore, the lips held tight and straight.

  She felt safe now. She didn't have to fear her husband's volatile temper nor endure his invasion of her body at night. There was no need to worry about the lack of food or whether the crops would be enough to pay back Mr. Harrington or how she would get together the money to clothe and shoe her children.

  She looked younger, her hair shinier, her eyes bluer. The delicate color was back in her face, and her mouth was once again soft and full. She had lost the beaten-down look, and she was pretty, even beautiful when the sweet smile touched her face.

  Luke and Sarah saw the change, and it pleased them. Sarah began to think happily of matchmaking, turning over in her mind the eligible bachelors available and wondering which of them would be right for Julia. She deserved somebody special.

  The next Saturday they went into Willow Springs to get the mail and buy supplies. It was a treat to go to town, and the whole family was excited. Julia wore her new blue dress and proudly put her children in their new clothes. They climbed into the wagon and drove off, Micah and the children in the back and Julia sitting up on the high scat next to Luke and Sarah.

  They went first to the seed store, where Luke made his purchases. Micah helped Luke load the heavy sacks into the wagon, then went his own way.

  Micah had the rest of the weekend tree, and had two weeks' pay in his pocket. He was feeling good. He'd worn his best shirt and trousers, as well as his father's Mexican-tooled leather belt. He pushed his hat back at a jauntier angle. He planned to enjoy himself today. First he would look around the town a little, find out what was what. He would learn where moonshine could be bought, and he'd buy a jug. There would be dancing someplace, and he'd find that, too. And at the dance, he would find a willing woman.

  Micah smiled to himself at the thought. Women, that was what he liked best back here, maybe the only thing. There weren't many women out farther west, particularly not his own kind—if there was such a thing. He had discovered a long time ago that he wasn't like anyone else. He had his feet half in one world, half in the other, and though he could survive in either, he really didn't belong anywhere. His father, a freed slave from Georgia, had been a "buffalo soldier," one of the famed black cavalry. His mother had been a Navajo Indian. When he was little, he hadn't known he was odd, hadn't realized that he was neither fish nor fowl. Around the fort he had fit in. The other men had been like his father: tough, proud, independent black men. There had been several women like his mother, Indians who lived with soldiers. Later, when his father had left the army, they had moved to a small town in the New Mexico Territory, and there his father had plied the trade of blacksmith, to which he'd been trained long ago when he was still a boy and a slave. There had been no one else like Micah's family in that town, no other squaw, no other black man, and Micah had begun to realize how different he was.

  He had known that he had no place with the Navajos, but, listening to his father talk about Georgia and his family there, he had decided that his people lay back east. He hadn't been able to understand why his father never wanted to return. When he had asked, all his father said was that here in the West he was free and a man, which made little sense to Micah. He hadn't understood until his father's death when Micah was fifteen and had packed his bag and ridden to Georgia. He hadn't understood until he'd been thrown in jail in Texas because he carried no bill of sale for his horse—and though he was released, he never saw the horse again—and been beaten up in Louisiana for being uppity because he carried his head too high and looked people in the face when he talked to them.

  When he had reached Georgia, his relatives had welcomed him. They had listened to his tales of his father with great interest, but they had chuckled and shaken their heads over the stories, and Micah had realized that they thought his father had been touched in the head to go so far from home and live so odd a life. He had seen the doubt in their eyes when they looked at him, taking in the different sheen of his skin, the different texture of his hair, the different molding of his bones. He looked like Sam, too, only not quite. He was their race, and he was family, but he wasn't quite that, either. He talked differently and walked differently. He could ride a horse better than any of the whites in the county, whereas his family had walked all their lives and held themselves lucky to own a mule for their plow. His ma had been a wild Indian, and there was something a link wild about him, too.

  Micah had felt the pull of kinship, the comfort and companionship of being with others whose skin was like his but he hadn't been able to stay there. He had gone back west and worked on a ranch in New Mexico. Ever since then, he'd been a drifter, going from one place to another, never staying long, never fitting in wherever he went. Sometimes the pull of his own kind was too much, the loneliness too great, and then he would go to East Texas or Louisiana. Eventually, the lure of freedom would bring him back west. He had traveled all over the West, and he had traveled throughout the South, rolling back and forth. He was a drifter, out of place wherever he lived; but he was thirty-five years old now, and he'd been doing it for twenty years. He'd gotten used to it.

  Micah walked unerringly to the black section of town and strolled around it, looking over the people and watching them look him over He'd gone through that process a lot of times, too. There was always one particular st
reet owner where the young men gathered to talk. Micah soon discovered it and paused to chat with them. He could see them sizing him up, but they answered his questions without hesitation. The best liquor to be had was purchased a mile out of town at Two-toe Jim's (so known because all his other toes had been blown off when his still exploded ten years ago). There was dancing every Saturday at Opal's, where certain types of women also were to be found.

  Micah wasn't much for talking, another product, perhaps, of the way he'd been raised, and he soon left the young men. He ate lunch at a rooming house on Ninth Street, and afterward he sat on a low rock wall in front of the house and watched the occasional passersby. That was where he saw the woman.

  She was dressed in a prim black skirt with a high-necked white cotton blouse, pinned at the collar with a small cameo brooch. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun, and on top of her head she wore a flat straw boater hat. She walked in a tight, no-nonsense sort of way. In fact, everything about her was tight and no-nonsense. But Micah could tell that beneath that skirt her legs must be wickedly long, and her waist was so small he could circle it with his hands. The idea of doing just that appealed to him. He liked tall women, and this one's face beneath the hat was classically lovely, her brown skin smooth and soft. She was a contradiction, feminine loveliness reined in tight. A challenge.

  He pushed himself up off the wall and followed her, catching up with her in front of the next house. She turned and glanced at him when she heard his footsteps. No expression touched her face, and she turned her head right back, stepping all the way to the side so that he could pass her. Micah smiled and pulled even with her. The sight of her face up close did nothing to discourage his interest. Her skin was as lovely as it had looked from a distance; her eyes were large and luminous under thin, arched brows; and her mouth was full and sensual.

  "Afternoon," he remarked pleasantly.

  Dovie Mitchell kept her face turned straight ahead and said nothing. She wasn't about to let that man start a conversation with her. She had seen him as soon as she turned the comer, sitting on the low stone fence, a tall man with wide shoulders and well-developed arms. She had guessed immediately that this was the stranger in town, about whom she'd heard everyone talking at her aunt's earlier this afternoon. Not much went on that wasn't all over the black community in a matter of hours.