“Well, I guess that’s understandable, but perhaps next time you could leave a sign.” She shoved the used tissue into her purse. “I’ve brought my granddaughters’ applications for the Miss Black Pearl Preteen pageant.”
“The deadline for the Miss Black Pearl National Achievement Program has already—”
Keira looked up with alarm.
Another woman entered the area behind the counter.
“Dr. Hogg-Graff,” Grandmother Johnson said, reaching to shake the president’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Dr. Hogg-Graff didn’t look anything like a pig—or a goat, for that matter. She was tall and beautiful, with mahogany-brown skin and shiny black hair that flipped and curled down to her shoulders and lay across her forehead in solid bangs. She wore a red pantsuit with a black pearl stickpin in the lapel. “Have we met?”
“Why, yes, at the Black and Silver Tea last month. I made a contribution—a significant contribution.” Grandmother Johnson gripped her gloves.
“Well, we certainly appreciate your support.”
“And I spoke to you on the phone last week about my granddaughters coming from Washington State to participate in the pageant.”
“Program,” the first woman said. “A pageant is focused on externals. We, on the other hand, seek to inspire our girls to become young women of character.” She sounded as if she were reading from a Black Pearls of America brochure.
Grandmother Johnson muttered, “Of course, of course,” then focused again on the president. “You said they could have an extension on the applications, as long as I brought them in no later than today.” She held out the folder.
Dr. Hogg-Graff took it and looked through their paperwork.
Grandmother Johnson gestured around the room. “What a lovely old home you’ve acquired for your offices. On the state historic registry, I assume. I’m working to get mine on as well. But what a lot of red tape. They don’t make it easy.”
“Grandmother Johnson’s house a historic monument?” Keira whispered. “Maybe if they want to preserve old smells.”
Minni giggled.
“I suppose they don’t want just anyone getting the designation,” Grandmother Johnson said.
“No. I suppose not.”
An awkward pause filled the space between them.
Dr. Hogg-Graff smiled at Keira. “So, is this Keira or…” She looked at the papers again. “Minerva?”
Minni winced.
“I’m Keira, ma’am.” Keira rose and walked to the counter. She shook the woman’s hand.
“And where is your other granddaughter?”
Minni wanted to shrink to the size of a snail and crawl into one of these shells. The woman could see her sitting right there.
Keira turned and gestured. “This is Minni, ma’am.”
Dr. Hogg-Graff stared blankly. “This is…?”
“Minerva,” Grandmother Johnson corrected. “My namesake.” Her lips curled into a proud smile.
Minni sat on her hands, afraid to move or speak.
Grandmother Johnson’s lips flattened and her eyes bugged a little. “What do you say to Dr. Hogg-Graff?”
“How do you do?”
Grandmother Johnson’s eyes bugged more. She held her hand below the level of the counter and waved her over.
“Ma’am,” Minni added. She walked lightly across the room and stood beside Keira.
Dr. Hogg-Graff’s eyes darted back and forth between them. “Are they…sisters?”
Minni found the shell in her pocket and traced its circular form with her finger.
Grandmother Johnson cocked her head at the woman. “Most certainly.”
“Biological?”
“As opposed to zoological?” Grandmother Johnson said curtly.
Dr. Hogg-Graff glanced up, then looked back at the applications, as if searching for some clue to explain what she saw standing before her.
“We’re twins,” Keira said proudly.
“Twins?” the other woman exclaimed. “I’ve seen everything now.”
Keira locked arms with Minni. They stood like links in a chain.
Grandmother Johnson puffed out her large chest and crossed her arms. “In fact, they are fourth cousins to the venerable Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., himself.”
Keira made a sound like a whale coming up for air. “Phuh!”
Minni stared at their grandmother. Was it possible? Why hadn’t she ever told them this before?
Wait a second. The King name came from Daddy’s side of the family. Grandmother Johnson was at it again, doing anything she could to impress.
“Is that so?” Dr. Hogg-Graff didn’t sound too convinced. “Amazing! That means we’ve got descendants of Frederick Douglass, Thurgood Marshall, Madam C. J. Walker, and now Dr. King in this year’s competition.” She looked at the other woman and rolled her eyes.
“As well as sharing my name, this one”—Grandmother Johnson pulled Minni to her side—“was given Dr. King’s initials to honor his memory. She’s a very bright girl.”
“I can see that,” Dr. Hogg-Graff said, studying Minni’s face. “Very bright.”
“If you look on her application, you’ll see she has an A-plus average. You’re looking at a future Dr. King right here.”
Dr. Hogg-Graff’s lips scrunched as if she was trying to decide what to say next. “So, I take it their mother is white?”
“Their mother is just as black as you,” Grandmother Johnson said sharply. “Furthermore, she is an alumna of the Black Pearls. I mentioned that at the Black and Silver Tea.”
“Oh, yes. I must have forgotten.”
“Our father is white,” Keira said, lifting her chin.
“Is that a fact? I didn’t know Martin Luther King had white cousins.” Dr. Hogg-Graff’s eyes slid over to Grandmother Johnson.
Minni pulled in her lips to keep from smiling. So much for what their grandmother would likely say was only a “little white lie” about their relation to Minni’s hero. Clearly Dr. Hogg-Graff hadn’t believed her anyway.
“Of course he does. Most of us do,” Grandmother Johnson snapped. She pulled her checkbook out of her purse. “Now, as for the sponsorship fee, shall I make the check to Black Pearls of America, Inc.?”
“Yes.” Dr. Hogg-Graff continued to scan the applications. “Based on what I’m reading here, I see no reason why your granddaughters wouldn’t be allowed to participate. Deirdre will get the girls their opening-number outfits before you leave. The sponsorship fee covers those as well.”
Dr. Hogg-Graff looked up again. She gave them a tight smile. “I apologize if I’ve offended with my inquiries into the girls’ relatedness and background, but with all the blended families these days, I had to ask. This is a program for black girls, after all, and we feel very strongly about our mission in that regard.”
Keira put her fist on her hip. “My sister is black.”
Grandmother Johnson cut Keira a look, then turned to Dr. Hogg-Graff. “Of course. I understand fully.” She smiled ingratiatingly. “But surely you know our people run the gamut when it comes to skin color and other features.”
Minni’s blood rushed to her head, leaving the rest of her body shaky and weak. From the heat in her cheeks, she could tell she had turned as pink as one of Grandmother Johnson’s roses. Mama had promised that people would be able to see her blackness down here in North Carolina.
The woman’s gaze roamed over Minni’s face, but she never looked directly into Minni’s eyes—eyes that had never felt so blue.
Chapter Thirteen
Grandmother Johnson took them for lunch at a fifties-type diner. “In celebration of being officially entered into the Miss Black Pearl Preteen of America pageant. Excuse me, program.” Their grandmother obviously hadn’t appreciated the woman at the office correcting her.
Minni ordered a cheeseburger, onion rings and a chocolate malt with whipped cream. They hadn’t even been there twenty-four hours and already Grandmother Johnson’s culinary
abilities had her starving. Had the woman’s mother taught her nothing about cooking?
Grandmother Johnson butted in. “You may have the burger without cheese, and the malt—but hold the whipped cream. Scratch the onion rings. Too much artery-clogging fat.”
Minni clenched her teeth.
“I’ll have the Healthy Heart Special,” Grandmother Johnson said, pointing to the menu. “But substitute tuna for the cottage cheese, and no tomatoes. They give me indigestion.”
The waitress pinched her lips together. She kept her eyes on her pencil as she wrote on her pad.
Keira was allowed to order her French dip sandwich, but the fries became a side salad. The waitress picked up their menus and walked away without a word.
Minni excused herself to go to the bathroom. She wanted to call Mama in privacy, plus as soon as they had scooted into their seats, Grandmother Johnson had commented on a man talking loudly on his cell phone two booths away. “And people call all this gadgetry progress. Those things should be outlawed in public places.”
Grandmother Johnson wasn’t big on technology or electronics. That was clear. They hadn’t yet found a single television in her house, and they knew she didn’t have a computer. She took pride in the fact that “her children” (as she called her students) never used calculators. Minni had once heard her tell Mama, “Children need to know how to use their brains, not just punch buttons. We must always remain smarter than our technology.”
Minni stepped into a stall and pushed the button she’d programmed to speed-dial home. Someone came into the bathroom. “Skinny?”
The phone on the other end of the line started to ring. “I’m in here,” Minni replied.
“Are you okay?”
Minni thought for a moment. “Yeah.”
The answering machine kicked in.
Keira turned on the water in the sink. “Why did you leave me alone with Payne-in-the-Butt? She started harping on the grades thing again.”
“Mama? It’s me.” Minni glanced at her watch. Nine a.m. Mama was definitely up. She was a morning person, like Minni. They often shared the sunrise over a hot cup of cinnamon spice tea. “I’m just calling to let you know we’re entered. We took in the applications.” She fingered the shell in her pocket.
Pick up, Mama. Please. I need to hear your voice.
“Okay. Guess you’re not there. Talk to you later.” Her voice faltered, as if tripping on a crack in the sidewalk. “Say hi to Bessie Coleman for me.”
She came out of the stall. Keira took Minni’s hand and peered at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Minni nodded. She washed her hands quickly, trying not to see her red hair or pale skin in the mirror.
At the table, the waitress was setting down their food. Keira slid into the booth behind her French dip sandwich. When the waitress left, Grandmother Johnson turned to Minni. “Never mind that ignorant Hogg-Graff woman. She’s obviously blind if she couldn’t see the black in you.”
Minni studied the pickles on her plate. “Yes, ma’am.”
“My grandmother was as fair-skinned as any white person, and she was black all her life.”
Minni looked up at the mention of her great-great-grandmother, who had also been a Minerva—another reason Grandmother Johnson had insisted that her eldest granddaughter receive The Name. Minni didn’t remember ever hearing about the woman’s skin color. “Your grandma looked white?”
Grandmother Johnson pursed her lips and nodded. “But as the saying goes, ‘One drop of black blood…’”
“Could we see a picture of her?” Minni asked.
Grandmother Johnson glanced at her food, then rubbed at a spot on her blouse just below the hollow in her neck. She pulled out her rectangular gold locket and released the tiny latch. It popped open.
Minni and Keira leaned across the table to get a better look.
Maybe the black-and-white photo accentuated it, but this lady definitely looked more white than black—possibly part American Indian, with her squared-off jaw and high cheekbones. Thick black bangs swept across her prominent forehead, and a perfectly round mole nuzzled the front edge of one of her dark eyebrows. There wasn’t a hint of a smile anywhere on her face.
Minni sat again, wondering about this great-great grandmother she had never met but who apparently had been of enough importance to Grandmother Johnson that she wore her around her neck.
Their grandmother returned the locket to its place beneath her blouse. “She was a strict woman, and proud. Oh, was she proud. Made most of her clothes, and she was always dressed to the nines.” She rested her hands on either side of her plate. “She raised me in church, taught me about saving money, wouldn’t even buy a thimble on credit. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today had it not been for this lady.” She touched the spot on her chest again.
Minni and Keira glanced at each other. Minni knew what her sister was thinking. She was thinking the same thing. Am I glad I never had to meet her!
“She was a domestic worker all her life—spent thirty years cleaning the very home I live in now.”
“She used to clean your house?” Keira asked.
“It wasn’t mine then, of course. Or hers. It belonged to a white man—Old Man Buchanan. Buck, she came to call him. She took the bus twenty miles from Durham to Raleigh and was his live-in housekeeper five days a week. They had a rather unconventional arrangement. He was a widower without any children. When he died, he willed her the house. When she died, it became mine.” She sipped her iced tea. “I went to live with her in Durham when I was seven.”
Minni felt her forehead bunch. “Where were your parents?”
Grandmother Johnson’s lips pursed, and for a moment Minni didn’t think she would answer. “My father disappeared mysteriously when I was only two. My mother was sure there was foul play—whites angered by my father’s unwillingness to submit to the laws of the day. I’ve been told he was quite the rebel. Then my mother died suddenly, and my grandmother took me in. My grandfather had already passed on.”
“Oh,” Minni said, because she didn’t know what else to say. She hadn’t known any of this family history.
Grandmother Johnson laughed suddenly, loud and harsh, almost like a bark. “Seemed like no matter how tall I got, my grandmother was always taller. I finally realized she was buying higher heels to stay ahead of me. I don’t think she gave up until she was seventy-one. I was eighteen and starting college at North Carolina State.” She gazed out the window next to their booth. “I loved her as if she were my mother. That is what she was, after all.”
Thank goodness nothing had ever happened to Mama and Daddy. The thought of having to live with Grandmother Johnson for good made Minni feel fidgety inside, as if a colony of red ants were swimming in her bloodstream.
“When she got sick, I wanted to quit school and care for her full-time, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She was always pushing me to excel academically because that, she said, would be my ticket to independence. I can hear her voice as if she were sitting right here. ‘Minerva, you’re not a natural beauty, but you’re smart, and you’re going to use that brain of yours to get ahead. You’ll be a domestic worker over my dead body.’”
“How did your mom die?” Keira asked.
“Oh, now, we don’t want to get into all of that.” Grandmother Johnson opened an orange plastic vial from her purse, shook out a small pill and swallowed it with a sip of iced tea. She lifted a forkful of tuna salad. “Now eat up. We have some serious work to do before this pageant begins.”
Minni took a bite of hamburger. They had learned more about Grandmother Johnson in the last five minutes than in the last five years. She thought of the whirling sprockets in Gigi’s clock. Was it possible that being in North Carolina might actually help her understand better the complicated inner workings of Grandmother Johnson?
Chapter Fourteen
Back at the house, the chair was still toppled in the yard after the run-in with the dog and their hasty departure. Minni off
ered to get it.
She stopped next to the chair and glanced over her shoulder. Grandmother Johnson shooed Keira inside. Minni tiptoed across Miss Oliphant’s dry grass to her front walk.
The bag was gone. The porch had been swept. The food dishes sat full and ready to welcome more strays.
The nail still poked from the door—a sharp reminder of the awful thing they had done.
Something nudged her leg and she jumped. A gray cat rubbed its head against her calf. “Oh! Hello there.” Minni bent over and stroked the cat’s side. Its left eye appeared to be sewn shut, but the other shone a brilliant green, the color of algae.
The big purple door creaked open.
Minni froze, barely breathing. Someone stepped onto the porch. “I see you’ve met Billie Holiday.”
Minni looked up into the powdery, pale face of an old woman. Laverna Oliphant? Two gray braids sat pinned atop her head like a bird’s nest. She wore a knee-length purple and white tunic made of swirly African-looking fabric. Intricate woven white appliqué bordered the neckline.
“She’s had some hard knocks, but she’s a fighter. And a sweetie. That one there’s as sweet as sweet tea.”
Billie Holiday…She was a singer Mama listened to when she painted.
“I’ve taken a special liking to her, I suppose partly because of her bad eye.” The woman pointed to her own right eye. It was cloudy and near-white, as if covered with a thin layer of opal. “Together, though, we’ve got a perfectly good set.”
The cat climbed the steps and snaked around the woman’s skinny ankles and sandaled feet. She lifted the cat in her arms. Did she know who had put that nail in her door? Had she seen them?
“I…I have to go,” Minni stammered, backing away.
“You’re Minerva’s, aren’t you?” The woman beckoned with her hand. “Come on in and have some homemade gingerbread. We’re neighbors now and neighbors should get to know each other.” Her thin lips stretched into a smile.
Minni recalled the gingerbread scent she’d smelled the previous evening. Hadn’t the old woman in “Hansel and Gretel” made gingerbread? Out of little boys and girls?
The Other Half of My Heart Page 9