Marching to Zion

by Mary Glickman

  Well, you can imagine, or maybe you can’t, the hell I went through with those men. They kept me locked in a cabin deep in the woods and did me however they saw fit for weeks. Then, I guess, I dunno, they needed money more’n they needed me. One day, they chained me and put me in a wagon and took me here, to Memphis and L’il Red’s. She bought me for ten dollar. Can you imagine that? Ten dollar. I was terrified what was goin’ to happen to me next. She looked to change so much, I figured I did too and I didn’t think she remembered me. I was afraid, frankly, to tell her I knew her from the younger days. You never know how a person is going to react when you hold the past up to ’em. You’ll never guess what she did. She took me up to her rooms, and she washed me with her own two hands and put me to bed. She tucked me in like my own mama, and while she did, I said to her, Why you doin’ all this for me, Miss Minnie? and she froze there by the side of the bed, lookin’ at me hard. I knew then she knew who I was. She knew but all she said was, My name’s L’il Red, and then she closed the door and left me in peace. I slept sound for the first time since I was taken. I slept like the dead.

  In the mornin’, she put me to the road, on horseback, with a man of hers, and we traveled to a big old plantation, owned by her partner in the whore trade, her moneyman. They say his people lived down the street by Mr. Fishbein when they was kids. Who knows how they run into each other later on. Anyway, I was put to work in the kitchen. I did alright there a couple of years. That kitchen was the salvation of me until it became a hell.

  Bailey had never heard of Minnie’s partner. A panic stabbed at his heart like a knife. How could there be a man that important to her life somewhere around and he not know it?

  Where is this moneyman now? he asked, bracing himself for a revelation that would even the score between him and ’Rora Mae in the sharp, bitter way of fateful justice.

  Oh, he’s dead. Long dead. In the flood.

  While all these revelations and consolations occurred, Thomas DeGrace was still in the kitchen, dimly wondering if he should leave or not, when the beads of the doorway curtain rattled again. He turned toward them, more or less anxious, wondering who would dare to enter through the empty shop, but it was only Sister Pearl.

  What’s goin’ on? she asked him, her voice an intense, conspiratorial whisper. Where’s Miss Stanton? Why are you here instead of, you know, on that street with him?

  Did you know about them two? he asked her, remembering how she’d arrived in Aurora Mae’s life, the route she’d taken through her to Dr. Willie’s congregation.

  What two?

  Magnus Bailey! he said sharply, as he was irritated now by the abundant thickness of women. And L’il Red!

  Sister Pearl sat down at the kitchen table. She was still, stunned. Her jaw had dropped but not much. Then she started to laugh in a soft manner no less manic for its quietude. She rocked back and forth, hit the table with the flat of her palm, and jigged her feet against the floor. To Thomas, she appeared plain crazy, so he left her there on her own. His day had been challenging enough without throwing crazy women into it. He left for the church.

  A couple of hours later, Aurora Mae Stanton and Magnus Bailey emerged from the bedroom, both of them with tear-stained faces, both in postures weary with confession and regret. Aurora Mae carried a traveling bag of paisley cloth with oak handles. She went to the loose floorboard in the parlor, pried it up, and gathered handfuls of gold coin from her strongbox, depositing them into the bag. It looked to be a fortune she transferred, and yet the strongbox had barely a dent in its store.

  I’d tell you take what you need, Aurora Mae said while she closed up the box and replaced the floorboard. But I’m not feelin’ quite that forgivin’ just yet.

  Magnus held up his hands and waved them in a gesture of refusal.

  I told you. The one thing I’m committed to here is that the money Minnie and I use for the new start be pure. If I wanted to use your money, I could’ve stolen it long time ago. You’ve given me too much already. I can’t take no more.

  She smiled in a grim way, the way folk smile at funerals, remembering the dead.

  The funny thing is I believe you, she said. Listen, I’ll go to Cousin Mags’s for a bit to give you time to get your things out of here. But if you go in the meantime, as you hope, away with her, I ask you at least leave me a note and let me know.

  I truly doubt there’s much chance we’d leave so quick, but of course I’ll leave you a note. You can bet on that.

  They embraced, chastely, and on their cheeks the tears were now fully streaming again. When they left the house for the train station to put Aurora Mae aboard for St. Louis, they were barely aware of their surroundings. Neither of them noticed Sister Pearl hiding outside the parlor, hugging a wall, ready to leap out soon as the coast was clear and figure what floorboard it was exactly that covered up all that treasure.

  Once she found it, she took up as much coin as her pockets could hold, and then she stuffed more into her underclothes. She chinked and tinkled when she walked, which made her giggle so she took out the coin. Using kitchen rags, she wrapped it in tight, noiseless bundles then packed these into her church whites, which she’d taken to wearing every day, not just on Sundays. She left to walk directly but slowly over to the Miracle Church of God’s People. The weight of her stash kept her from hurry. By the time she got there, only the most severely wounded remained behind with Dr. Willie. He was happy to see her for the help she could give in nursing them. She signaled for him to meet her downstairs in his tiny room behind the grocer’s, the room he shared with sacks of flour and rice and tins of fruit and fish and vegetables. He would have taken his time, being alone with her had lost so much luster he often dreaded it, but she was glistening all over with sweat, and her eyes had a fire in them. His curiosity was piqued, and he made haste.

  When they were alone, she did not speak. Her eyes burning with triumph and malice, she removed the bundles of coin from her pockets and underclothes and undid them, spilling out their contents on the end table by his sleeping cot. She found the amazement on his face the most delicious experience of any they’d shared. She told him where she’d found it. The amazement in his face grew. She told him there was plenty more, more than he could think ever in his imaginings, and the amazement filled his face so much, she thought he might burst. Aurora Mae is gone, she said, with no plan to come home for a while.

  That about did it. The Rev. Dr. Willie Smalls pursed his mouth into a round hole, and from it issued a deep sound like that a cow makes when it sees the hay coming. His amazement pushed out of him in a long, steady lowing. He plunked down on the edge of his cot, ran his hands over the gold, then stared at his shiny black preacher shoes, thinking. When he was done, he did not say you must bring this back. Instead, he asked, So there’s more where this came from?

  Oh yes, she said. Much more.

  It wasn’t much of a leap from there for Dr. Willie to decide he no longer needed Aurora Mae if he could so easily get his hands on her fortune. Already, he was planning his escape from Memphis to some new part of the South where he could build his cathedral and command his destined throng of followers. He pondered whether or not he’d need to take Sister Pearl with him or if he could set her out with a share of loot without fear she’d make up some story and turn him in to the authorities out of spite. The more he thought, the more he realized there was only one thing that kept him from fleeing immediately. He had not yet had proper revenge on Magnus Bailey. Maybe he should stick around Memphis a little while longer just to torment him.

  XVIII

  It’s been gettin’ real ugly out there, Minnie told Magnus. That rat bastard Dr. Willie comes back twice a week and with him now are the temperance ladies, who got some reason to think closin’ me down’s goin’ to bring back Prohibition. And oh my lord, the labor unions too. Yesternight, I had fifty colored people on the street making such a racket my gals couldn’t sleep, and d
on’t you know there was nothing else for them to do. Who knows how long I can keep ’em. They had photographers from the newspaper, too! There’s no man white or Negro in the state of Mississippi going to try to break that line. The nights they aren’t there, cloggin’ up my street, castigatin’ folk that come within thirty yards of my door, business goes to a trickle. I fear there’s houses of far less quality taking my regulars away. I don’t know where he gets the money, but that rat bastard Dr. Willie must be paying my coppers twice as much as I can. Maybe it’s the labor unions. Can’t be those goddam wizened temperance types.

  Despite the fact that Bailey’s heart soared with hope at the reduction of her enterprise to such a pitiful condition, he also wondered how Dr. Willie financed his assault on L’il Red’s. How could the preacher come up with and pay for his scheme of ruinous demonstration since he’d only paid him the once, three lousy sawbucks, and that was to proselytize her soul not destroy her livelihood. Although he could never tell Minnie, he wanted to clap the man on the back and praise his ingenuity.

  Well, darlin’, was what he said aloud. Those unions got a pile of money.

  Why don’t they go bother the ships at the dock? Why they botherin’ poor whores?

  Magnus Bailey pondered.

  Religion, he said, they got religion.

  Vez mir.

  It was a Saturday just after noon. For once, Golde had run out of steam, told them she was tired, gone up to bed for a nap. The two sat on Fishbein’s settee holding hands. Minnie sighed.

  I don’t know, Magnus. Maybe I wrung out of that chicken all I’m gonna get. Maybe its time to pack up and leave, just as you’ve been sayin’.

  Minnie! Magnus nearly jumped off the couch to go down on one knee at her feet. Instead, he grabbed her with both arms and held her close to his heart.

  Minnie! I swear I will prove you right to put your faith in me. You need never fear for any lack in your life. I will fill it up with love and protection.

  When Fishbein returned from shul, they informed him that the corner had been turned, the book closed and a new one opened. The future lay before them bright and free. They spent the rest of the day in jubilation, telling Golde the family was on the verge of a great adventure and that she and her mother would soon never be parted again. After three stars were out, Fishbein took his ledgers and spread them on the dining table. Bailey sat with him and reported orally where he had money and how much, which amounts Fishbein duly recorded. They studied their columns together and became dejected for a brief time. Fishbein made some phone calls. He came up with a member of Baron Hirsch Synagogue, who dealt in all manner of real estate and who offered cash for the house and its furnishings. The price was far from what Fishbein had hoped. It was clear the man intended to make a handy profit out of the seller’s urgency. But it was enough, and Dayenu! Fishbein declared, and they were agreed. Minerva offered to supplement their shoestring budget with the profits from her business plus the sale of the building known as L’il Red’s. Her father frowned but was silent. Magnus said, I have been clear all along on this. None of your money from that place, none of it, will come with us. I do believe if we took it along we would be cursed.

  They argued a bit, especially after Fishbein computed the bottom line of their stake. It was ridiculous to Minnie that after all these years she should not take the profit from her labors with her. Her father told her she must give her possessions to charity for the blessing it would bring, like a sin offering of old. She raised her eyes upward and appeared to stand by her own wishes, but in the end she demurred, thinking she could always secret cash in her trunks and valises. The fiercer argument came when they discussed where they would go, Paris or Jerusalem. At first, Magnus Bailey was in the middle and said he’d abstain from the vote. He’d go wherever the other two wanted. After a back and forth between father and daughter during which neither budged, Minnie gave Bailey melting looks. He got off the fence to throw his weight behind her. It would be Paris, they decided, but all would keep their minds open. If Paris didn’t work out, they’d find a way to Jerusalem later on.

  Fishbein shrugged in a manner so elegant it might have been Gallic. He couldn’t complain too much. That Minerva would soon quit her corrupt life was the best news he could imagine.

  So, is Paree, then, he said. Who knows? Maybe they changed over there.

  He shrugged again, which made the others laugh as it looked as if the saddest man in the world had just made a joke.

  It was time for Golde to go to sleep for the night. She’d been yawning through the excitement of plans for the future, yawning and smiling ear to ear. At one point she asked her zaydee for toothpicks to keep her lids open, and they all laughed wondering where she’d got such an idea. Her mother took her upstairs to tuck her in. She was gone longer than she ought to have been, but the men didn’t notice. They were much occupied with the price of train and steamer fares, how many compartments they should purchase for the crossing, whether or not the two men should share a room, with Magnus posing as Fishbein’s valet. Minerva and Golde, they postured, could travel as lady and lady’s maid in a pinch. But maybe it would be better to have Magnus and Golde pose as father and daughter? Minerva came back downstairs. She moved slowly with halting steps. Her men failed to notice. She cleared her throat to get their attention. They quit their chatter and looked up at her who was paused in mid-descent.

  We’re not a moment too early, she said. Golde’s blood times have started.

  Fishbein made the blessing for the arrival of new seasons and then tore his sleeve and said Kaddish.

  Bailey, who knew enough of Jews to comprehend both the tearing and the prayer, asked his paramour, Why does he do that? Why pray for the dead?

  Minerva moaned, a chorus to her father’s mourning.

  For Golde it’s a kind of little death, she said. From now on, her innocence is in constant peril. She’s going to grow up!

  Bailey embraced her and offered comfort. Now, I’m pretty sure Golde her own self would like to grow up, he said in a sweet tone that made her smile in spite of herself. And since she’s a colored child, she always was in peril more’n others ’round here. Don’t worry too much. She’ll be safer in Paree.

  At the end of the evening, Bailey determined he would ride in the car with Minnie back to L’il Red’s and spend the night, which he often did now that he’d left Aurora Mae’s for Thomas DeGrace’s cot by the stove. You might need muscle, he said, if Dr. Willie’s gang is still there.

  They left the house through the front door, Bailey walking a few paces behind. He got in the front seat of Minnie’s car next to the driver, but once they were on their way, he half-turned and put his arm backward over the seat so she might lean forward to grasp his hand. He thought for a few minutes about telling her he was done with Aurora Mae, but then she’d never quite known about her. Minnie never asked questions about his life away from her anyway. And now that he had none, what would be the point of revealing past complications?

  Let us out here, Joe, Minnie said when they were close to L’il Red’s and could see that, for once, there were no crowds of reformers milling about. I’d like me some air.

  Magnus Bailey waited on the sidewalk while she stuck her head in the driver’s window to speak with the man Joe, who’d been with her a good seven years. His heart swelled in his chest, his blood ran warm as he heard her say, Joe, you’ve stuck with me through thick and thin. I want you to be the first to know. I’m giving up the business soon, and I want you to have this car. I’ll not be needin’ it anymore.

  First thing that Monday, they went to her bank together. She asked the manager to draw up a check that would clear her accounts. She discussed with him how the bank might manage the sale of her building, what the price might be if she wanted to liquidate quickly. She understood times were hard, but she’d take any amount reasonable. All the while, Magnus Bailey stood behind her with his hands joined
in front of him. His eyes stared into the space above the bank manager’s head. He looked, like every good domestic, to be neither listening to nor comprehending white people’s business.

  As soon as they were back on the street, he walked behind her only very close. He told her how proud he was of her, how he loved her that moment more than ever, that his heart was so full it hurt. He asked her what charity she was going to give the bank check to, told how there was an orphanage he knew for little mixed babies who never hurt anyone. It’s always going begging, he said, but he could not see the sly workings of her mouth as she tried to keep from smiling at the thought of giving away all that money she’d worked so hard for, given up so much for. Why wasn’t handing the car off to Joe enough? she wondered.

  The skies had turned dark. There was a storm brewing. The sensible thing would have been to hail a cab, but they wanted to walk down a certain street they knew, one that was always quiet, even in the middle of the day. It was a street without homes, only warehouses near the docks, and it was hard times, so most were abandoned. They’d taken to traveling that street when they were on foot together. They felt alone there and safe enough to hold hands for a minute or even embrace. It gave them a thrill to express their affections in the open air. Practice, Bailey called it, for Paree.

  I think we need more practice, she said that morning after checking up and down the street to make sure no one would see.

  Bailey stopped and she turned toward him and they held on to each other tight with their eyes closed, dreaming of Paris, feeling warm and cozy in each other’s arms although the air had turned damp and cold. Suddenly there was the sound of scuffling feet all ’round them. Ice shot through their veins. Their eyes opened. Five rough white men, one holding a bat, the other a knife, three more with stevedore hooks stood around them in a circle. Their clothes were torn and filthy. They looked to be on the bum or something close to it.