Seems they’re getting on okay, like they’re going to stay together.
‘Sure we are. We’re used to one another now. He’s a man with his own ways.’ She shrugs. ‘Once he started gettin’ on at work, things got a whole lot better, things good. Quince likes a bit of money in his pocket, he got used to that, and he wants Rochelle to get on. I mean, he don’t earn a whole lot without overtime, but he does as much of that as he can get since they pay it there nowadays, and we gettin’ by okay. I’m sure as hell he had a fancy bit someplace, a woman knows that sorta thing, but to be honest, Arletta, long as it wasn’t that phoney voodoo bitch out Pawnee way, I ain’t care nothing about it. He ain’t messin’ now, I’s sure of that, so, long as he brings home the bacon and don’t get on with arguing and all that, we’re fine.’
‘As long as you’re okay, Mambo.’
‘Shoo Arletta. I’m more worried about my daughter than I am about Quince. We sticking together now, me and Quince, but I sure wish ya’d go get somebody to care for ya.’
‘I look after myself. That suits me fine.’
‘Well, ya sure ain’t handling Mr McIntyre and Mr Seymour by y’self.’ She half empties her tall glass in one long mouthful.
‘What I didn’t say before, Mambo, I’ve got so much to be saying, is that I have money. The day I lashed out at Mr Seymour there was blood all over your room. On the dresser, the floor, and I needed to get rid of it before you got home. I was real scared about what I’d just done and the last thing I needed right then was you getting on about it. I don’t really know what I thought, other than what I did was wrong and there was blood everywhere to prove it. He had a wad of money inside his jacket pocket and it must have fallen out, because when I was clearing up all that bleeding before you saw it, the money was right there underneath the dresser. I mean, it wasn’t like I was able to go looking for him and be giving it back, so I just kept it. I hid it away. I didn’t know what else to do with it. Nobody ever came looking for it either. Never did.’
‘How much?’
‘Over four hundred dollars.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah. I hid it in that old green tin Pappy gave me, the one I used to hide his pipe in as well.’ I look at her sideways.
‘Ya took that pipe. Knew it. What tin? I ain’t never seen no green tin with Pappy.’
‘Probably because he kept it hidden from you and Grandma, because of what he hid in it.’
‘And what the hell he ever have to be keeping hid from me and ya grandma? He ain’t never have nothing. Ain’t never …’
‘Mambo, stop that.’
First time Mambo ever listened to me.
‘The trouble with Pappy was he give me too much rope. Ain’t ever raised a hand to me and, boy, I sure needed it, as I recall. I started dealing with Pappy the same way I seen Grandma deal with him ’fore I was even past his kneecaps. And I tell ya, that lay heavy on my mind, too.’
She looks sad and I believe her. I let her be and say nothing for a while. That’s between her and Pappy in his grave. I guess it’s time she started talking to his spirit; reckon she will.
‘So what he got in that tin?’
‘The deeds belonging to this land.’
‘Ya kiddin’ me Arletta.’ Her head cocks sideways.
‘No Mambo. Pappy owned this land, from the edge out front, over there to the tree line and back up to the pipe. That pipe is on Pappy’s land.’
‘How the hell?’
‘I just opened the letter he left for me a couple of days ago. I never knew what he put in there, thought it wasn’t anything much, really, like you said, he never had much, never had anything. I thought it was just old newspaper he wanted me to read someday, probably something about Jesus, I always reckoned. I never read it right away anyway, because he said old Jeremiah ought to be there with me when I read it.’
‘Jeremiah ain’t ever able to read.’
‘I guess he just wanted somebody with me.’
‘And then Jeremiah died too. Ain’t long after Pappy ’fore we put him in the ground.’
‘And I was just a kid. I kept Seymour’s money in the tin and I never liked opening it because of that. Last time I opened it was when I handed fifty dollars to Safi’s ma when she came to pick up Martha from Marksville.’
‘Hell, they ain’t never believed that was her savings. They figured that come from Mrs Archer-Laing. She’s a good woman and everybody figured she’d told ya to say that was Safi’s savings. I figure the same thing.’
‘No. I took the money from the tin. Only time I ever took.’
Mambo shakes her head.
‘Ya ain’t thinking Safi was … oh Lord. Ya think this happened to her too, how she get herself with Martha?’
‘I’ve thought about it.’
Except Martha ain’t got a look of no white man’s child.
‘I can’t figure Safi, Mambo. Me and Errol thought about that, too. There’s no telling about Safi at all, but we sure have been thinking about it.’
‘Oh boy. How the hell did Pappy get his hands on this land?’
‘Pappy saved the life of his old master’s son just before they were all freed, and he got this land to give him a start because of that. I brought the letter. He never wanted anybody knowing he owned this land when everybody else hereabouts had nothing. Must have made him feel bad – I don’t know, I guess he felt he had when others hadn’t.’
‘I tell ya what I know. When he was able to work this land, like he did before ya were born, he was always handing out to folks, corn, sweet potatoes, just a little bit of something. Grandma used to say he was doin’ that ’cause he thought a mambo was gettin’ something for nothing, on account that he got no faith in the old ways and medicine. He was a kind man …’
I hand Mambo the letter. She doesn’t look too sure at first, but then she opens it up and reads her Pa’s nice flowing script. He taught her that too, the same way he taught me. Afterwards she folds it slowly and holds it in her lap like it’s some kind of holy thing. She says nothing for a long time, just sits in Pappy’s rocking chair watching the rain drip down from the porch he built, and holding on to his letter.
‘I ain’t never think him good for much but, looking back, he just got on like everybody else, gettin’ whatever work there was till he ain’t able to go get no more. He’d come on home, work this land, ain’t bother nobody and, my Lord, could that man keep a secret.’ She looks down at that letter. ‘Me and Grandma rib him all the time and he ain’t never said a single word about it. And this, I tell ya Arletta,’ she waves the letter at me, ‘this was gonna shut us up good. Ain’t nobody round here ever own nothing. Huh!’
She smiles, a great big beam of a smile that makes me grin too.
‘Lord, except my Pappy. Ain’t that something. Ain’t that really something else. Old Pappy. He own this here land we sitting on and ain’t never say a word about it.’
‘Yup. He sure could keep a secret. I must be like him.’
‘That’s for sure.’
‘Mambo, I’ve got stuff. I’ve got all that money, I’ve got this land, and when I need to be going, I want to take some of the money, then leave the rest for making sure Rochelle gets a good start at her education. She’s going to have the life you and me were never going to have. And I want to pass this land over to you.’
‘Pass it to Rochelle, she’s ya sister, Arletta.’
‘It changes everything though, doesn’t it? I don’t know where I’m going to go. I’ve got to work that out after …’
‘Ya just stop with all that jumpin’ ahead, will ya? Ya hear Arletta? We gonna work out what we gonna do before ya start thinking about what we gonna be doin’ after that. And I ain’t wanting ya going no place, no how.’
‘So you’re going to help me?’
‘No Arletta. I ain’t.’
‘What?’
‘No Arletta, y’all gonna be helpin’ me. That’s the way this gonna be.’
‘Oh Mambo, I thought for a
minute you weren’t going to …’
‘Shush, Arletta. I’m thinkin’.’
‘The other thing is …’
‘Oh Lord, Arletta I ain’t able to take no more. What else?’
‘Well, Jackson, that’s the other policeman, he knew where to get that pup for Eveline when she asked for it. He happened to know where there was pups. It was one of Madame Bonnet’s fancy poodle pups. Foufi got pups.’
Mambo turns slowly.
‘Madame knows about ya?’
‘I chose the pup. I went with them. I didn’t know where I was going but, well, of course she wanted to know what I was doing turning up with the law.’
‘I’m bettin’ she gone and get herself the shock of her life.’
‘She knew about Eveline, everybody down that way heard about it. I said I knew Eveline’s family from church, but I could see she didn’t believe me. Well, she’s never known any of us going to no church. Anyway I could see she didn’t believe that was the whole story, or even the truth. She’s thinking there’s more, that’s for sure.’
‘Well, well, well.’
‘She’s going to ask, Mambo. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already told Tout de suite to drive her out here first chance she gets.’
‘Well, well.’
Mambo is thinking.
I say no more because I’m about as washed out as that sky, going over all I had to tell Mambo. I let her do her thinking and wait till she feels it’s time for her to do her talking.
‘So, Mr McIntyre’s gone to Baton Rouge. They know where Mr Seymour is?’
‘No. They reckon Moreauville way, Mansura maybe, in striking distance of Eveline they called it, but they never heard of anybody with the name Seymour. He’s got money, enough to be carrying wads of it in his pocket.’
‘And ain’t bothering to come and get it back, like it’s nothing to him.’
‘And he looks like a fat, rich, spoilt-brat sort. I’m thinking, now I know he isn’t dead, maybe he’s not going to be too hard to find.’
‘No, he ain’t.’
Mambo drains her glass of sugared moonshine.
‘I’m gonna get me a nice suit.’
Thirteen
I take Nellie’s advice and ask Mrs Archer-Laing for help. I ask her how I might go about being a missionary overseas. Mambo gets the idea eventually, though she still can’t figure the Church.
‘Got be good for something – all that dammit shit they’s feedin’ folks.’
Many mambos have taken to the Church one way or another, mixing one way of thinking and believing with the other. Not mine; my Mambo doesn’t go for any mixing at all and says they’re doing it just to keep hold of folks coming to them.
‘Ain’t mean nothin’ but dollars to them. Church and all them phoney mambos. Ain’t wanting nothin’ but dollars.’ She laughs. ‘Spirit ain’t know nothin’ about no dollars and it sure ain’t gonna get them into that heaven they’s always squeaking on about neither. I’m bettin’ ya can’t buy ya way in there.’ Mambo finds that real funny.
I want to be sure Mrs Archer-Laing sees that I have taken to being a serious Christian. I start that right away next time I pay my rent.
‘Come in Arletta, dear, I was just thinking about you and how well you’re doing teaching Bible class. Everyone is very impressed. I’m proud of you. Tea?’
‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Archer-Laing. I always felt teaching children was going to be for me and now I know that it’s my vocation, thank the Lord. Teaching His word made me see it plain.’
Her eyebrows rise up and a little smile twitches on her lips. I think she’s taking a pride that I’m her convert.
Mrs Archer-Laing is about as shocked as I am when she finds out African Americans are not eligible for missionary work in Africa.
‘Good heavens above, wouldn’t you think African Americans would be the very first Christians they’d send back to Africa?’
‘Yes ma’am,’ Errol mumbles.
Can’t say he’s looking right sure about me being a missionary at all.
The NAACP get up in arms of course, and before I know it they’re fighting the cause of a good Christian girl – myself – going to do God’s work back in the old country.
Monsieur Desnoyers goes marching off to see what he can do about it too, courtesy of Mrs Archer-Laing’s outrage, but I start thinking where else I might go. Right off I make out more disappointment than I really feel about Africa, but later on I find my thoughts drifting and dreaming about what I had heard all my life was ‘the old country’. I dream about some far-off village with a small school and a simple life. Someplace everybody knows everybody else but nobody is going to know anything about me, about my past. I dream of some place I can teach children and make sure they’re kept safe. Someplace where folks look just like me and I don’t stand out different.
I get resigned to the fact that it’s not going to be Africa, though, and think back on the yearning I once had for travelling to China when I was reading Mrs Lee Hem’s journal and listening to her talking about her home country. There’s no great call for missionaries in China these days though, so I agree to think about India and South America. I reckon I need to get taken with India, seeing that’s about as far away as I’m able to get.
I set about getting a passport and papers for my ‘calling’ abroad. Of course, none of that is easy, since black folks get turned down all the time. Like they don’t want us here but they don’t want us going no place else neither.
‘Them’s startin’ to worry who gonna do cleanin’ and polishing if all us black folks take on off back to Africa,’ mumbles Errol with a giggle in his chest. ‘Them’s got no clue on cooking, neither. And we been doin’ they washing for hundreds a years.’
Monsieur Desnoyers sure is up on his high horse about my papers, and I’ve never seen papers like I’ve got to sign and swear on before I’m free for travelling. I leave Mambo considering the fine details of dealing with vermin like Mr Seymour and Mr McIntyre, because I’m right up to my neck with everything else. Especially since I’m not able to honestly say I got the Lord at all.
‘Ya gotta be strong, Arletta. Nellie told ya that. And ya the daughter of a mambo, think hard on it, girl. Think of nothing else but what ya gotta do. Ain’t room for nothin’ else now. Ya been round this stuff long enough. Get them papers for travelling, get them tickets, and the day before ya put it all to good use, we gonna take care of business. And when it all dies down, ya gonna get y’self right on back here to ya own folks.’
She tells me it’s best I don’t see Albert or Jackson, except if they call of their own free will. I want to see Eveline, but I know it’s best I listen to Mambo. If they get minded on calling round to Mrs Archer-Laing’s, I’ve got to be careful to tell them just what I want them to know.
‘Don’t be lettin’ no friendly white lawman coax ya business outta ya. Like ya says Arletta, ya’s a woman able to keep secrets. Keep them till we do what we gonna do and ya well gone. They sure as hell ain’t ever gonna get nothing outta me. I ever get asked? Well, I gonna bawl and cry and get on about what happen to my daughter and ain’t nobody do nothin’. Way I figure it though, ain’t nobody gonna know nothin’ about me at all.’
Mambo gets herself that nice black suit, a string of false pearls and takes off for Baton Rouge. I give her fifty dollars.
‘Girl, if ya seen them folks when I says I has fifty dollars to deposit. That clerk, he inspect every note I has, and all them white folks lookin’ at me like I ain’t got no business in no bank.’
She creases up laughing.
‘And then,’ she can scarcely speak with how funny she thinks it is, ‘ya should have seen them snooty faces when I says I need to see the manager. “The bank manager is not in today,” that clerk says, all uppity-like, so I says, “Yes he truly is, ’cause I just seen Mr McIntyre walk on in here before me. He’s a dear old friend of mine and I needs to be seein’ him right away. We done business before. So just go on now, please tell h
im I’m here. Go on now.”’
I gasp.
‘Mambo! I have no idea how you even got past that doorman without landing a clip round the ear.’
‘Him? He ain’t nothin’. Arletta, if ya’d seen nasty old McIntyre’s face when he finds me out front in his own bank in Baton Rouge, all dressed up and all! I shake his hand, polite-like, and I get on so gracious he just ain’t able to think what the hell is goin’ on!’
‘The clerk would have told him you were there to bank fifty dollars.’
‘And he knows I sure ain’t earning it cleanin’ that poky little shed of an office in Brouillette. Lord, it was funny. If I wasn’t so set on ruinin’ him, I’d be gettin’ myself feeling right sorry for him.’
I don’t feel sorry for him at all.
‘I tells him I’m gonna see him next week ’cause I’m doing real well and gonna be coming to Baton Rouge doing more banking. His eyes near pop right out of his head Arletta. Then I says, real low so ain’t nobody else gonna hear, “We need to be gettin’ together sometime, Mr McIntyre. I get myself a nice little business on the side, parties, that sort of thing.” I give him one of my best smiles, and I winks. Then I says, “Ya kinda thing, if ya know what I mean, Mr McIntyre.” Then I parades myself right out that front door like it’s my very own, and wiggling my rear end like it’s everybody’s business.’
‘Mambo, you’re going to scare him off!’
‘Fellas like that? No way. Arletta, ya don’t know nothin’ about men. Leave men to me: I been leading them on all my life, honey.’
No arguing with that. But I ain’t saying nothing.
‘Right now that respectable Mr McIntyre, manager of that right stylish bank in Baton Rouge where he’s gone got himself fixed up, he’s havin’ himself a bit of relief in a dark room just thinking about his kinda thing. Men’s fools, Arletta. Fools.’
Monsieur Desnoyers reports back on a mission in Nigeria that thinks any African Christian from America is going to be what they call ‘a worthy addition to their small school’. I’m not able to go as a missionary, I’d have to go as assistant for the school, but the Church is going to pay my passage and present me with a new Bible. The Lord gets his thanks next Sunday and the NAACP get themselves a winning they’re able to print on a pamphlet.
What the River Washed Away Page 25