A Most Precious Pearl

by Piper Huguley

  “Did he say that to you?”

  “Something like. He cares a great deal for you.”

  “I would like to believe that. His leg doesn’t matter to me.”

  “It matter to him, and that matters. Your mama didn’t help none when she said what she did.”

  Her mother was such a cross to bear in more ways than one. She kept her anger down as she thought of the commandment that her father had reminded her of. “It doesn’t matter, Daddy.”

  “I’m telling you. Just be loyal and steadfast.”

  She swallowed her anger and felt chagrined. She chased Asa away when she should have stood by him. “I guess I’ll let him know I’m sorry when he gets back.”

  “Don’t say nothing to him directly about it. Be Margaret Ruth and be steadfast. I bet he’ll come around, feeling better about his leg, and himself. We take it to the revival tomorrow and lift it up to the Lord.”

  She inhaled and breathed out. Yes, the thought of the revival tomorrow made her feel much better and much stronger. She could lift it up to God.

  Help Asa in the way that he felt about the loss of his leg.

  Help me to remain steadfast.

  Please God, let the cloud lift in his heart and make room for me there.

  For the first time in a long time, she prayed with all her heart in it.

  Because she was in love with him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mags loved the music at the revival the most. She wished she could sing, really express herself to God that way, but she didn’t have the talent so all she could do was hum the country hymns inaccurately.

  Sometimes, her younger sisters would sing in harmony and her eyes would smart with tears to hear those youngsters sing. She hoped they were working on something to sing for the Carvers. Nettie, especially, had the voice of an angel. Her wide eyes gave her an ethereal appearance that, when people saw her, made them respect her just that little bit more. Paul Winslow, for instance, didn’t mess with Nettie. Still, Nettie wasn’t doing as well with her high school studies. What would become of her without an education?

  “Focus. Make sure that you focus,” Asa reprimanded her as he passed. He didn’t sound as if he cared for her more than any other worker, it was just his job. Or was it hers? She was so confused, she didn’t know what to think about it anymore. Asa Thomas or was it Asa Caldwell? Whoever he was confused her and she just wanted him to go away. His last day couldn’t come soon enough.

  “You sure are quiet, Mags,” Katie said to her as Asa drove them home in the car that afternoon. Paul Winslow always let them have off two hours early on revival nights.

  “Got my mind on the revival.”

  “I would come out with you all,” Katie said, “but Mama and Daddy’ll ride in from town, so I’ma see you all there.”

  Katie smelled of some weird perfume. Mags turned her head to look out of the window, in order to smell the outdoors and not the heavy floral scent her friend reeked of. On top of that, she knew Katie didn’t have the money to buy those kind of extras. Just like Mags, her earnings went to help her family and there wasn’t enough for pretty perfume. Did Paul Winslow give it to her?

  When Katie left the car, she had to hold herself back from asking Asa to drive faster just so that heavy, lingering smell could evaporate from the car. She didn’t really want to talk to him.

  “I want to apologize for the way things went on Saturday,” Asa said to her after clearing his throat. They were the only ones in the car.

  “That’s fine.” She looked out of the window.

  “I’m going to be here another two weeks and I really think that we should make peace so that these rides are not unbearable for us.”

  Mags turned to him. “They’re not unbearable for me. I’m fine. I don’t need to hear all of your boss talk from the mill. I can sit here and just enjoy the ride. Or, better yet, I can walk, just as I used to before you came. I don’t need you to drive me around.”

  “I know you spend a lot of energy at the mill, and it’s good to help you save strength for your legs for when you have to work hard at home.”

  The way that he said it made it sound so nice and thoughtful, just as if he really cared for her. She was taken in for a second, but only a second. He doesn’t really care, he’s just pretending.

  Then, it hit her with a blinding force.

  He had concern for her legs. He, who didn’t have two good legs, as she did, cared for her legs. How could I be so selfish? “My legs?” she asked, nearly choking with emotion as he pulled up into her parents’ front yard. “They are just fine. Thank you for your concern about me.”

  She turned to him. “How is your leg?”

  He started at her question. “I have pain from time to time. It really was something getting used to this new leg. But I have been. And now, it isn’t as bad.”

  “That’s good. It’s attached to you by…”

  “My hips. I wear the attachment around my hips and there are leather straps that go down my thigh to the leg.”

  “I see.” Her eyes were drawn to the area that he was talking about, even as she knew it was rude. How did it all work? Was it efficient for him?

  “I can’t show you, Mags. It wouldn’t be decent.” Asa smiled at her. “Unless we were mar—”

  He stopped at the word and she nodded her head. Opening the car door to leave, she said, “Married? Yes. And we know that could never happen. I better get inside to fix dinner before the revival.”

  “Yes, I guess so. Thank you.”

  What was he thanking her for? And really, she had behaved shamefully just now. She should be the one to apologize, except she remembered so clearly with the sharpness of the tip of a knife, his rejection of her.

  She would treat him as a brother in Christian love until it was time for him, and perhaps her, to go up north and they would part company forever.

  She smoothed over the pang in her heart by adjusting her dress, readying it for her work apron.

  How could it be painful by watching someone move in the world? It was. He remembered their brief kisses as if it were the most precious liqueur—fated to never have any more. All he could do was watch her from afar, aching, always aching to touch her, never being allowed to.

  He could be proud of her. Thinking of her movements in the house, he knew she would be extremely efficient about preparing the meal and making everything comfortable in the crowded Bledsoe house before the revival.

  He was going to go. Many Negroes as well as whites would be there to attend the prayer meetings. You never knew what might be there to help with the investigation.

  Maybe he could ask God to help him deal with this pain in his heart at hurting her.

  She constantly amazed him. She had never asked questions about his leg. No one had. They rather acted as if his leg pain would go away, or if as if it were just fine. But it wasn’t. Or was it? He shook his head, thinking of her concerned eyes as she looked at him and asked questions about his leg. Her concerned eyes were something that was much better to view, in his opinion, than her distant, angry ones.

  Dinner was a quick affair, but an appropriate cold plate with chicken and salads. Asa offered to take the Carvers to the revival tent in the car, and they accepted. “But only if Mags comes along,” Sister Jane said. “Ruby used to help us set up, but Mags can take it on.”

  “I usually walk with my sisters, but if you feel that you need me, and Mr. Thomas doesn’t mind, then I’ll be glad to come.”

  “Absolutely,” he said as he watched her take off her apron. She had changed into a lighter colored skirt with a shirtwaist that was a little lacy. It looked like some of the material from the mill and he asked her if that was where it came from.

  “Yes, it is. Em is a whiz with a needle. She does all of our clothes.”

  Yes, Em was the reason sisters were all
so well turned out and now he knew. He nodded to Em and he noticed that the young woman blushed under his praise. She had a darker skin, but looked a lot like Lona, and she had freckles just like Ruby.

  He went out to the car and the Carvers followed. The drive to the revival tent was not far. The tent stood proud and tall in Paul Winslow’s vast back yard that bordered the far edge of John Bledsoe’s farm. The early hours off and keeping the tent on his land were more examples of Paul Winslow’s largesse, Asa noted. How kind of him. The revival Mags had told him, was the one religious event where the entire Winslow community worshipped God together. Every Sunday, everyone went to their respective churches, isolated, races separate.

  He pulled up to the revival tent and helped the Carvers unload their table dressings from the car. Some families had already come and everyone had brought various blankets or chairs to sit on which made it rather festive.

  Mags orchestrated, in her usual efficient way, helping the Carvers set up the front part of the tent for the services, and the set of her shoulders proved she didn’t care about his very existence.

  So, he was free to speak to some of the early arrivals whom he did not know. Most of them, once Mags had given the okay, let him know that they had been witness to a tightening of the rules and regulations in their communities. He read this as some of the landowners trying to prevent more lynching, but those restrictions would just make things worse.

  He turned as he heard the first sweet notes of a harmonica sound, and saw Sister Jane was playing a lively tune. While he admired her musicianship, he saw the two law enforcement officials from the Independence Day celebration stood at the back of the tent. He could tell that, once again, their presence was a surprise because as people saw them, they stopped clapping in time to Sister Jane’s music and pointed and whispered. Sister Jane saw they were there, but she did not stop playing. Brother Carver kept an eye on them and he kept slapping his pant leg in time to the music.

  Good for them.

  They were willing to accept the presence of a snake in the tent. Still, it angered him that the Negroes in this town couldn’t worship as they pleased without the police presence there. Brother Carver stepped forward and spread his arms wide. “Welcome in the name of Jesus, brothers and sisters!”

  “Amen!” the crowd chanted back to him as if they were part of some previously rehearsed chorus.

  “We are so happy to be back, praise Jesus. However, we want to make sure that tonight, and all of the nights of the revival are dedicated in the Lord for those who have gone on before us because of that influenza last year, Amen.” Everyone lowered their heads to pray, as did Asa.

  The picture of Aline came to him again, and this time, he was slightly surprised. He could barely remember her face. He remembered her honey-colored hair. He remembered that she had dainty hands, but that they were rough-hewn on the inside because of her hard work in her parents’ bistro. She liked to wear yellow. But her face, the features of her face blurred in his memory. He wished he had a photograph of her. She deserved to be remembered, but he didn’t know how.

  He lifted his head when Sister Jane spoke.

  “We going to have lots of music tonight, and we going to start with the Bledsoe sisters. Come on girls.” Sister Jane invited and Nettie, Em and Delie all stood up in front of the crowd without the least bit of fear or trepidation. When the girls opened their mouths to sing in harmony, it created a sweet sound that touched the hearts of the audience. Several people dabbed at their eyes at the rendition of “Rock of Ages” and he himself felt a certain pride at Margaret’s tall, slim sisters singing at the front of the crowd.

  One of the lawmen cleared his throat when they sat down after their song. Why didn’t they just let the people worship? This was a basic American right.

  Still, as Sister Jane promised, the revival was a lot of music interspersed with people who stood up to give a testimony about a loss in their lives. Asa sat on a chair in the back and put his leg out to rest it. He didn’t want to always take notes, but he also didn’t want to get involved in all of the emotional aspects of the testimonial parts, even as he enjoyed the music.

  Brother Carver was looking at him, he could tell, but he didn’t look back. He was determined to keep the reporter’s prospective, and take notes in his notebook, much to the displeasure of the lawmen.

  He noticed that the lawmen were there again on Tuesday and Wednesday night. “You would think,” he said to John, “that they noticed this is a peaceful gathering of people who just want to worship. Wasn’t that all what the founding of America was about?”

  John chimed in, “That’s what they say. But there’s a mighty lot going on just now, and men like Paul Winslow are bound and determined to protect their property. That’s why them lawmen are there.”

  By Wednesday, those lawmen were so comfortable, they brought their own chairs to sit down in and they sometimes clapped along with the music. Every time they did, he balled up his fists. His hands would loosen, though, as Sister Jane nodded at them, passing by them as if they were everyone else.

  “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” Sister Jane said after she had finished playing another hymn on the harmonica. “People are being changed here tonight, friends. Hearts are being changed right before our eyes. This is what our meetings are about. Sometimes, people feel a little closer to God out here in his temple of nature, Amen.”

  “Amen,” several people echoed her.

  Brother Carver jumped up faster than Asa thought he could. “We need another testimony. We need someone who will open their hearts here amongst us. Some of us have heavy hearts, Lord. We need to talk about what we have lost. We need to share ourselves, Lord, so that you know that we are not alone, but that you are with us, Amen.”

  Asa knew that Brother Carver wanted him to speak. He had avoided his pleading so far, but he figured that he might as well get it over with. Asa put his cane forward, leaned on it and stood up. “I want to offer a testimony.”

  Brother Carver’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Amen, Brother Asa. Here we have a very wonderful special guest in our midst who will be leaving you all not long after we do. Please, Brother, come forward and speak in the name of God.”

  Asa stood up next to Brother Carver and looked around at the expectant faces. What could he possibly offer? Then, the comforting, smooth brown face of Mags came into his view. She sat there, as regal and confident as a queen, ready to hear what he had to say. Her eyes held no judgment. She gave him the strength to speak and he started. “I didn’t want to fight a war without knowing what it was about. Some terrible things were happening in Europe, but I didn’t want to kill my fellow man without knowing why. I went over there to find out, and to see how I could help.”

  Some of what he was saying made for some talk amongst the racially mixed audience. He knew that all of them believed in fighting for America, but he did not want to lie to God. “I signed up, going to help shed light on the way that the Negro troops were suffering. They were not being treated fairly by the military, and I knew that I had talents that could help them, more than the letters they wrote home to their families.”

  He didn’t say that he was a journalist. That would be the red meat that those lawmen in the back wanted, and he noticed the lawmen stood up out of their chairs to hear his testimony. “However, when I got there, I was persecuted for asking questions. I lost my leg, not because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time on the battlefield. That would be a wonderful story. I lost it because of hate. Another man hated that I asked questions and he shot me there, on purpose. Twice.” Gasps of shock rose from the crowd and Em whipped out a handkerchief. He gave her a comforting look to show the young girl he was okay. She dabbed at her eyes and put it away.

  Mags’s jewel eyes willed him on to tell his story. “I knew that I was there for God’s purpose, on God’s work, and I shouldn’t feel anger because of my lost leg. But I did.
I was angry at God for a long time because of my leg.”

  Everyone was quiet. “I turned my back on God. I doubted that he had anything in mind for me. There were times when I was healing that I wanted to take everything that God had given me and just, just, tell him to leave me alone. That I did not deserve to continue in this life.”

  Asa barely heard some of the shocked gasps. “It has taken me a long time to see that God didn’t leave me. He has been here with me all along. He’s protecting me and guiding me as I do his work. God’s work for me is to keep asking questions. I’m going to keep doing that, as long as He shows me he has a plan for me and that I have a purpose in this world. Amen.”

  No one said anything as he walked back to his chair in the back and sat down. When he did, he was surprised to notice that his face was drenched with sweat. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his face down.

  The lawmen sat back down as he did and that they did not seem to like his testimony that much. Good. He never again intended to bow down to some man’s will just because they didn’t like the color of his skin.

  Some people shouted things out and his testimony motivated others to move forward and receive blessings from Brother Carver. Seeing them be blessed made him happy, even as he didn’t yet feel the relief that he sought. What would it take for the burden to be lifted from him?

  Katie was one of the ones who made her way forward to receive Brother Carver’s blessing. The girl sobbed and wept profusely. “Clean me. Help me to be clean in Jesus’s name.” Katie wept.

  Brother Carver laid his hands on her to try to give her some peace, and Sister Jane stepped forward to help hold her, but Katie writhed around on the ground, moaning and shaking. “Receive the blessing of God, Sister,” Brother Carver said, but it seemed to do Katie no good.

  “I’ve been so bad, please Jesus,” Katie sobbed.

  “We all have, honey. Take his blessing.” Sister Jane soothed her, but Asa could tell that they wanted her to sit down so that they could move on to the next part of the meeting. Katie’s sorrow and sobs were so deep that she couldn’t let them. Would Mags get up to help her friend? No. She sat there watching.