The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries)

by Tracey Bateman

  She gave the mare a gentle nudge forward and continued on to Madame Flora’s cabin.

  The woman stood regally on her front step as Cat approached. Cat had always been fascinated with the former slave. Of French and African descent, she had always been an exotic, mysterious flower that drew Cat from the moment they met, despite Shaw’s insistence they not sharecrop the land to her. Her amber-colored eyes bore through Cat, seeking, probing. “So, you’ve come.”

  Unease and a touch of embarrassment crept through Cat. The woman was obviously expecting someone else. “I’m sorry. I hope this isn’t a bad time. My name is Catherina. I knew you twelve years ago, before I left Penbrook.”

  “I remember you.” Her lips turned up in a smile--the sort that held a hundred secrets. “I’ve been expecting you today. Madame Flora always knows when a young woman needs her help.”

  Cat fought her amusement. “Really?” The sarcasm was hard to veil.

  The woman arched one eyebrow as her gaze darkened. “You don’t believe?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not a believer in much, and certainly not something I can’t see. Besides, I didn’t come here for a fortune. I am well aware of my future. I’m more interested in your power to help a woman out of a fix.”

  “I have the potions cooking. Come back tonight by the light of the moon and I will remove your burden.”

  “But you don’t even know why I’ve come.”

  “I know.” Her snake-like eyes commanded Cat’s attention, and she felt drawn into the hypnotic gaze. Shaw’s words came back to her. Witch. Wicked. Works of the devil. Evil.

  “H–how long will it take?”

  “If you are not too far along, you will drink the potion and expel the blood and tissue within a few hours. If the child has had enough time to form and grow larger than the size of my palm, I will have to help your body deliver.”

  Cat pushed back the image of a hand-sized baby with tiny fingers and toes. “How much is this going to cost me?”

  “Can you put a price on your happiness?”

  A short, bitter laugh emanated from Cat’s throat. “I’m sure you’ve figured out a way.”

  Madame Flora gave a toothless grin and named her price. Cat balked at the ridiculous amount. “No one around here can pay that much. What do you charge the sharecroppers’ daughters?”

  “My price is my price. Some can afford the full amount, others cannot. For those who cannot, we find a way for them to make up the difference. You, my dear, can afford the full price.”

  “Fine,” Cat grumbled. “It’s highway robbery, but I suppose I have no other choice.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a few bills. “Here’s half. You’ll get the rest when I’m satisfied that I am free of my little. . .problem.”

  1948

  Rafe’s old truck rolled to a stop in front of Buck’s rooming house. Andy frowned at the large gathering on Buck and Lottie’s porch and yard. “I guess they’re having a party. I hope I’m not imposing.”

  Rafe laughed and killed the motor. “Lottie always has room for one more. You oughtta know that by now. Come on.”

  Andy turned to his newfound ally. “You’re staying?”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, always room for one more. Even someone like me.”

  Andy and Rafe made their way toward the porch. A path formed and people stared. “You’d think they’d never seen a white man before,” Andy said, irritation sliding through him at the rudeness of these guests.

  A chuckle rumbled in Rafe’s chest. “These people are used to me. You’re the one they’re staring at.”

  Heat warmed Andy’s neck. “Oh.”

  Buck greeted them. He slapped Andy on the back. “Good to see you back in one piece.” He gave Rafe a pointed look. “Again.”

  “No sense in bringing up bad memories. Andy and I have made our peace and all that’s forgotten.”

  “Glad to hear it. Family is family and there ain’t no room for fightin’.”

  Andy frowned at the statement. Was Buck getting confused? Rafe laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to find Ruthie.”

  Andy turned back to Buck. “How are Lottie and the children doing?”

  “As fine as can be. Let’s go find Lottie. She been wantin’ to speak with ya.”

  “I’d love to catch up with her, too.”

  Laughter from the kitchen reached them before the men were even close to the room. Buck rolled his eyes. “Women.”

  Rafe winked. “Happy women, Buck. I love the sound of happy women.”

  Andy thought of Lexie. How long had it been since he’d heard the melodious ringing of her laughter? Months? Years?

  As they entered the kitchen, which was filled with a dozen women of various ages and sizes, Andy felt utterly alone.

  Lottie emerged from the middle of the group and rushed to him. Taking him by surprise she flung her arms about him and held on. Bewildered, Andy looked over her shoulder at a grinning Buck.

  “It’s okay. You can hug her back.”

  Andy’s arms encircled her loosely and gave her a cursory pat. She let him go and held him at arm’s length, beaming. Andy was glad she’d missed him, but he felt a little unworthy of the happiness shining from her eyes.

  “Tell him, Buck,” she said, “or I’m going to burst with the news.”

  “I thought the family was wantin’ to wait until we was all together.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not waiting another second.”

  Buck released a sigh. “Woman, you as impatient as a chile.” He draped his arm around her and drew her close to his side.

  “Tell me what?” Andy asked. “What’s going on here?”

  “Well, the reason for this gatherin’ an’ all is ’cause Lottie here. . .well, she be your little sister.”

  Andy’s mind refused to take in the information. “Can you repeat that, please?”

  Lottie threw herself into his arms again. “I’m your sister, Andy. After you showed up at Jerome’s place last night, we figured it was time to tell you the truth.”

  “I didn’t have a sister named Lottie.”

  “Andy, I’m Charlotte. When I was little everyone called me Char. Buck’s the one that started calling me Lottie.” She smiled at her husband, then turned back to Andy. “Remember how we used to run up to Miss Penbrook’s house and pick mulberries from her trees and then bring them back to Mama? She baked the best pies.”

  Stripped of words, Andy stared at the woman, two years his junior, that he’d been closer to than anyone in the world for the first eight years of her life. But how could this woman, this mother of six children, be his little Char? Then it gripped him. The reason she brought on memories of his mother. He reached out and touched her face. The action brought quick tears to her already shining eyes.

  “You look like Mama,” he whispered.

  An older woman stepped forward. “I’m Tawny. Does you remember me?”

  Andy embraced his older sister. “Of course I do.” He pulled back and grinned. “You sure were bossy.”

  “Still is,” a man called from the other side of the room.

  Tawny scowled. “That’s my man, Charley. And don’t you pay him no mind.”

  “I’m Bessie.” The woman didn’t smile, didn’t seem glad to know him. “You was at my cabin last night. I’m married to yo’ brother Jerome.”

  “Sorry about scaring you, ma’am.”

  She gave a solemn nod. “These is scary times.”

  “Ya already met my Ruthie.” She motioned toward the other side of the room. Her eyes challenged him.

  “You’s already met my Ruthie.”

  Andy turned his gaze at the familiar name. Now the woman’s animosity made sense. Andy had apologized to Rafe, but he knew he wasn’t finished eating crow. Ruthie stood nestled in Rafe’s protective embrace. Gathering a deep breath, Andy closed the distance between them. “I hope you’ll forgive my behavior at the club that night. Rafe is a good man. And it’s obvious you two
love each other. I was out of line.” He still couldn’t help but believe it would have been better if the two had found love with their own kind, but just as Rafe had proven himself to the family and the entire community, he’d proven himself to Andy.

  Ruthie’s expression softened to a beautiful smile. She gave him a quick hug. “Sure, I forgive you.” Her smile broadened to a grin. “Uncle Andy.” The room erupted in laughter.

  Andy spent the next four hours getting reacquainted with his brothers and sisters, meeting spouses, nieces, and nephews. Even cousins. By the time he was finally beginning to get names and family associations straight, Bessie had softened toward him. He looked around. His family, like all families, comprised a mix of successful and unsuccessful.

  One brother owned a barbeque restaurant that was frequented by blacks and whites alike. “I gots a reputation for the finest barbeque in four counties.”

  “Yes,” his wife said, backhanding him lightly on the chest. “And a bigger reputation for braggin’ about it.”

  Jerome seemed to be the poorest among them. He still sharecropped the land owned by Miss Penbrook. He shrugged. “I’s saved me about half o’ what it’s gonna take to buy Mama and Daddy’s land. But I don’t know what’s gonna happen when the old lady passes on.” He turned to Andy. “She look like she might hang on awhile?”

  Andy’s heart went out to him, but he knew the old lady was fading fast. No way would she live long enough for Jerome to save up half the money it would take to buy the land their parents had sharecropped.

  “The doctor isn’t giving her much time, I’m afraid.”

  Jerome’s expression sank. “I figgered it was gettin’ close.”

  Bessie sniffed. “Maybe she’s plannin’ to leave it to ya. That’d be the decent thing to do.”

  Ephraim, the oldest of the five children, shifted on the porch. “The only decent thing that old woman ever did for the likes of us was sendin’ Andy here away so Pappy didn’t kill him for being half white.”

  The animosity in Ephraim’s tone sent a tremor through Andy.

  “Ephraim, you’ve been drinking again.” Lottie scowled and planted her hands on her hips. “I thought you promised no more of that. You know you can’t stop before you get dog-faced drunk. For shame.”

  Ephraim patted her shoulder. “Shame, shame, shame. I’m a shame to the family.” He staggered toward Andy. “I’m not the only one in the family to shame us. Our mother laid down with a white man and birthed a bastard. That be a lot more shameful than drinkin’ a little bit ever’ now and agin.” He spun around toward Ruthie and Rafe. “And our own little Ruthie is followin’ in her grandmammy’s steps, ain’t she? Layin’ down with a white man. How long before she births a half-white child, too?”

  “Careful, Mr. Carmichael.” Rafe’s warning tone spoke of control and under-the-surface anger. “I can’t have anyone insulting Ruthie. Not even her uncle.” Andy could tell his brother from experience it that tussling with Rafe and Ruthie wasn’t too smart.

  Buck stepped in and took Ephraim’s arm. “Come inside with me.” His gentle tone seemed to mollify Ephraim. “I’ll pour you a cup of Lottie’s strong, hot coffee.”

  “What’re we gonna do, Buck?” Ephraim leaned heavily on the other man. “They’re breedin’ the color right out of us. Before long, we ain’t gonna be black no more. We’s gonna be as white as the old lady.”

  “Shh. No, we ain’t. We’s who God made us. Black, white. It don’ matter what’s on the outside. Only what’s on the inside.”

  Andy watched Buck successfully remove Ephraim from the porch.

  “I’m sorry, Andy,” Lottie whispered.

  Tawny took his arm. “I was old enough to know somethin’ was goin’ on when Mama was seein’ your pappy. It was the only time in my childhood that I remember Mama being truly happy. She was in love. Later, after Pappy died, she’d tell me things about how they met and that he woulda married her iffen she wasn’t already married to Pappy. She swore he loved her, too, but she never gave his name.”

  Andy stared at his sister. “You don’t know who my father is?”

  A frown creased her brow. “No. Mama took it to her grave.”

  But she didn’t. Andy knew the name of the man who had sired him. He knew his white half brother, too. Even Sam’s friends seemed to know.

  The choices warred within him. On one hand, he wanted to share the name, give some sort of proof that he did in fact have a father. But on the other hand, he knew that his mother and Miss Penbrook must have had a reason for keeping it hidden.

  Family members began leaving soon after. Amid “nice to meet yas” and “Don’t be a strangers,” Andy felt accepted by this large and loving family of his. Still, when Rafe gave him the nod that it was time to go, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. Fifty family members and new revelations were too overwhelming to take in such a large dose.

  Lottie came forward to say good-bye. Now that he knew she was Char, he felt a surge of genuine brotherly love. They embraced.

  “The family never felt whole without you, Andy.” She held him by each shoulder and smiled. “I never want to lose you again.”

  As Rafe’s truck rumbled along the road leading to Penbrook, Andy tuned out Rafe and Ruthie’s recap of the evening. The amazing events of the day were beginning to catch up with him and his breathing was coming faster. He’d hated this part of his heritage for so long. He hadn’t understood why they’d sent him away. As a member of the Riley household, he’d learned to strive for success, not because they emphasized it, but because they lived it in front of him. He’d grown up in a wealthy home and never lacked for anything. Living in Georgia for the first ten years of his life, he’d never had decent clothes and food was scarce. He’d come to believe that being white was better than being black. Again, not because the Rileys emphasized it, but because he observed the differences.

  Even though he couldn’t change his skin color, he could control his behavior. And that’s what he’d done. Tried to blend in as much as possible. He finally understood why his skin was so much lighter than his brothers and sisters.

  Rafe dropped him off at Miss Penbrook’s. “I’ll be back to pick you up for church on Sunday.”

  “No, thanks. That’s not necessary. I don’t go to church.”

  “You have to go this week. Clara’s youngest boy is getting baptized. Besides, your family wants to introduce the prodigal son.”

  His grin stayed with Andy as he walked up the steps, somehow knowing he was going to be in church come Sunday morning.

  *****

  Ruthie saw them first. She didn’t scream; she couldn’t. The roadblock of vehicles forced Rafe to stop the truck. Headlights illuminated the white robes and hoods. Ruthie slipped her fingers into Rafe’s hand, but for the first time since they’d fallen in love, she didn’t feel safe. Rafe would not be able to protect her this time. Tears filled her eyes as he turned to her, heedless of the approach of men on either side of the truck. He took her face in his hands and thumbed away the tears from her cheeks. Then his lips met hers in one last kiss.

  *****

  Samuel Dane answered the knock at the door.

  Rafe and Gabe’s father, Sheriff John, stood on his porch, wielding his shotgun. “Where is he?”

  “What’s the problem, John?”

  The sheriff pushed his way into the house, weeping. “They got my boy.”

  “Who?”

  “The Klan. And don’t pretend you don’t know Sam’s the ringleader. Sure as he whipped that Yankee colored, he killed my son tonight.”

  Bile rose to Samuel’s throat as horror swept through him. “What are you talking about?”

  “The bastards tossed a brick through the jail window with a note telling me where to find them.”

  Samuel’s legs weakened. “Where to find who?”

  John ignored Samuel’s question. “I found the two of them.” He groaned with grief. “In Penbrook’s north field. Both of them hanging.” He retreated to
the porch just in time, and vomited all over the steps.

  Samuel’s mouth went dry. “Two of them? Who else?” Dear Lord, please, not Andy.

  “Rafe…and his little colored gal.”

  Relief mingled with grief over his friend’s loss. “John, if my son had anything to do with this, I’ll find out.”

  “Just tell me where he is and I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “You can’t do that. Vigilante justice is lowering yourself to their level. Let the legal system run its course.”

  A low sound tore from John’s throat. One that could have been hysterical laughter or perhaps a sob. “You know what kind of justice the courts of Georgia will have for a colored gal and the white man who loved her so blindly that he refused to carry on with her discreetly? I understand you want to protect your son. But I couldn’t protect mine, and I won’t let you protect yours from what he’s got coming to him.” He pointed the barrel of the shotgun at Samuel’s chest. “Where is he?”

  “If I knew, I’d tell you. But I haven’t seen him all evening.”

  John’s grief-stricken gaze locked with his. “I believe you, Samuel. I don’t hold you responsible for the animal Sam’s become. And I’m sorry that I’m going to have to kill your son. But I have no choice.”

  The sheriff made a half turn and Samuel grabbed the shotgun. “Sorry, John. I can’t let you go off half cocked to find my son and kill him in cold blood.” He struggled to wrench the gun free from Samuel’s arms.

  “That’s what he did to my boy!” He gripped the weapon for all he was worth. “Killed him in cold blood. An eye for an eye.”

  “No. Not an eye for an eye. You have to let a jury decide.” Sweat beaded on Samuel’s brow as he fought for his son’s life. He understood a father’s desire for revenge. But what if Sam were innocent?

  The sound of gunfire exploded in the room and the sheriff dropped to the ground. Samuel stood in disoriented silence, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his friend was lying on the ground with a bullet through his head. It couldn’t have come from the shotgun.