It Happened in Silence

by Jay, Karla M

  “What the hell you two blabbing on about?” Taggert parts bushes on our right, nigh to twelve feet ahead on the trail. He got two dead rabbits by the ears in one hand.

  “Just talking about Briar’s sister, sir.”

  I act like I’m shuffling my feet as I kick him and whisper, “Don’t.”

  We trustees have a rule. Don’t trust anyone, specially the boss. Sure don’t want him knowing anything ’bout my kin.

  “Yeah?” He steps closer, and I shiver as he licks his bottom lip. “What about her?”

  “She’s ten years old yesterday,” I lie.

  “Oh. Good for her”—he holds up the rabbits—“Cook’s gonna put a little extra something in the stew tonight.”

  “Didn’t hear your gun, sir,” I say. He ain’t exactly a fat man, but I don’t see him snaring a rabbit barehanded.

  “Set two traps.” He points to the cutting area.

  “Where the men are working?” Tuck says with a frown.

  “Thereabouts.” He chuffs. “Set in plain sight. Gotta be dumber than a box of hair to not notice.” He shrugs. “You know my thoughts on stupid. One dies…”

  “…get another,” Tuck and I say in unison.

  “Right. Finish up out here and head in.”

  We walk in silence a bit. Tuck clears his throat.

  “Sorry I almost told ’bout your sister.”

  “Close. S’okay. Taggert don’t need to know nothing ’bout us ’cept our crime and our time.”

  We pass the workers. They’re plumb droopy with tired. I know that feeling. Can’t do one more lick or lift one more thing. Just kill me dead right here.

  “Almost quitting time,” I call out. “Supper holds a surprise.”

  We move on, each with our own thoughts.

  Ever since I took Ilya and Cy to the cave, I can’t stop thinking ’bout my brother.

  I was hungover that morning. Once he smelt my breath, Luther Junior went back into the mine after working the night shift to cover my shift. Told me to sleep it off. Alcohol was legal, and even though the mine owners didn’t want it on the property, the tavern down the road a piece served it up aplenty.

  The explosion an hour later bucked me out of bed. Thirteen men died, sixteen bad-off hurt.

  Poppy taught us a weak person lies, while a strong man can afford to tell the truth. I confessed the truth to him—that one time I should’ve lied. And I never let out a sound when he hit me. The slap echoed in my head for minutes. Can still hear Mama crying and praying, the whole family a mess of tears. The mine owner said it was no one’s fault, but Pa blamed me in the end.

  Luther Junior died at twenty, my age right now. What also vexes my soul is he had his eye on a girl a holler over. Dotty something or other. He talked ’bout her but never got the chance to bring her round.

  Been punishing myself ever since. When Lead Whipper split my back open after a day in Ladds Quarry, I refused to cry out. Felt like I deserved beatings, maybe even death with what I done—or not done—for my brother. I owned those thoughts for a long while. Dared the devil many a day and night while traveling. But that fiend must not’ve wanted me.

  The whistle blows for quitting time.

  I only got whipped once, and boy howdy, that was plenty for all a soul’s natural life. But it worked out in my favor. Taking the beating without making a sound seemed to raise me in the guards’ eyes.

  Soon after, I became a trustee.

  Four months to go.

  The skies might be clouding up, but the sun’s shining down on me.

  Ardith Dobbs

  “I still don’t understand how it all went so wrong.” William is upset. He came back empty-handed from fishing and then learned about Josephine. “We hired Dr. Grange because he’s one of the best.”

  We’re in the den. Sitting. He’s in an easy chair holding Oliver, stroking his hair. The boy is out like a light. I may have overdone the soothing syrup, but I blame Oliver’s grogginess on playing too much catch with no afternoon nap. As for me, reclining on our loveseat with my swollen feet propped up on the opposite arm is about as comfortable as I can get. My insides are shaking now that William is questioning me with his oh-so-righteous attitude.

  The night turned chilly, rare for May. But it’s not just the outside temperature. William is furious, and his words bite like frost. “You let Dr. Grange sterilize her? Josephine needed to be sedated when she found out.”

  “He said she would die if she tried childbirth again.” The practiced lie runs off my tongue. “Everything was a mess inside of her.”

  He packs his pipe with Royal Albert, then tamps down the tobacco and lights it. His eyes never leave my face.

  Why is he so suspicious? The doctor wouldn’t have said anything about our secret, not if he wanted to protect his son. He might’ve acted nervous under William’s questioning though. Inside my head, I scream, this all went wrong because you decided to screw our nanny.

  “We’ll buy a burial plot. I told Josephine that and she seemed relieved,” I say.

  I hadn’t thought through what she would do with a dead baby. She cried throughout my whole talk with her, but I think she heard me explain how we were helping her.

  I add, “Fourteen miles from here, in Buckhead. It sounds like a nice Colored cemetery behind the Piney Grove Missionary Baptist Church.”

  William smokes and rocks his head from side to side, still not saying much.

  “She may not be able to go,” I say. “Dr. Grange has had to sedate her again tonight. She tore out stitches earlier, dropping to the floor and throwing herself around.”

  “The poor girl.” He shakes his head.

  He feels sorry for her. Hmmpf. How many times did he have sex with her? May be why he hasn’t been as amorous toward me in the past year. She must’ve left an extra soft spot in his heart.

  “She may be temporarily insane.” William truly looks upset.

  “The medication can do that,” I say. “She just needs some time.”

  “She was yelling to Dr. Grange that the baby is not hers. That this was all unfair.” He knocks the ashes out of his pipe into a glass ashtray. “Doesn’t seem like something a mother would say.”

  Josephine couldn’t have known what her baby would look like. No one does before the infant is born.

  “She can’t understand how a dead baby could be hers. It kicked and moved around inside her. Then she wakes up to discover the babe never took a breath. It’s unfair. Heartbreaking.” I caress my large belly.

  Josephine’s mother went mad when they arrested her Colored husband. If Josephine loses her mind, she’ll be locked away in the closest Colored asylum, way up in Virginia. My plans to use her as a wet nurse would dry up. But maybe breastfeeding wouldn’t be as awful as it was with Oliver. A girl may not try to suck my nipples off. And if we have to hire a new nanny, I’ll make sure she’s homely. Like she’s been beat with an ugly stick.

  “What’s going through that head of yours, Ardith?” William studies me. “You have that I’m-planning-something look on your face.”

  “I’d hate to lose Josephine. She’s such a dear to have around”—as you would know—“and Oliver adores her. Maybe she could have some time to heal at the Leonard Street Orphan’s Home in Atlanta. She could feed the poor abandoned babies.” And keep her milk going for Baby Katherine. “You know. Feel like she’s saving many children.”

  “We can talk to her. Seems a bit cruel.”

  “Lying out in her room crying all day, delirious with crazy thoughts, might be crueler.” I heave myself to a sitting position. “We can ask Dr. Grange when he gets back in the morning. We have to drive near Leonard Street on the way to the cemetery. After, we could take Josephine to the home.”

  Still holding Oliver, William wiggles forward on the chair and stands. “This little guy can skip bath time tonig
ht. I’ve never seen him so tired.”

  “He had a big day.” You have no idea how big. I’m relieved William doesn’t hand him to me. Boy’s getting to be too heavy to lug around.

  Before he heads up the stairs, he stops. “Did you take the car out today?”

  How to answer? Is it parked differently than he left it? I’ve lied so much to the man, I decide to go with a part truth.

  “I did take it. To the bank. I had a deposit from the women’s Klan dues.”

  “Huh. It looks like you drove forty-five miles.”

  How in the dickens would he know that? “What do you mean ‘it looks like’?” I make my voice playful. “Do you tell that by looking at the tires or something?”

  “The speedometer has a device called an odometer built in. It tracks the miles.”

  Well, swat my hind with a melon rind. He never pointed out that part of the speeding gadget.

  “I drove out in the country. The wildflowers are so pretty this time of year. Didn’t realize I’d gone that far.”

  “I’d rather you use it only when it’s absolutely necessary. Leave the pleasure rides for the weekend.” He offers a tired smile. “We’ll have a picnic. A country drive sounds nice.”

  I nod and smile. “Be up in a minute.”

  He climbs the stairs.

  My head aches and I rub my temples. I worked hard today to save our family from disgrace. If there ever was an “absolutely necessary” trip, today’s journey to hide his evil deeds was it.

  Maybe one day I can scold him right back. Until then, I shove my anger deep down, like Ma taught me to do growing up in Hickory Nut Hollow.

  The next morning, I go out early to check on Josephine. Her face is swollen. She’s curled on her side, her eyes open, holding an empty gaze.

  “How are you feeling?” I set the breakfast tray on a small table. “Here’s some eggs, toast, and tea.”

  “It hurts,” she mumbles. “I need to talk to Dr. Grange.”

  She looks as limp as an empty sack. Back home, women drank tea from boiled willow bark for birthing pain. ’Course those women never got their baby-making parts cut out. No need for that, since there were herbs eaten at the onset to stop pregnancy. But I wasn’t about to peel a willow tree in our backwoods to help her with pain.

  “Be right back. I have something that’ll help.” In the medicine cabinet of my bathroom, I push aside the Bayer Aspirin Powder, looking for the heroin tablets. Rumor says they are unhealthy for the mind, but the times I resorted to a tablet, I was filled with jubilation. Like the Rapture had come. Besides, not long ago the American Medical Association ruled heroin was a much healthier alternative to morphine and opium, two pain medications that hooked people into needing more. I think about taking a pill now but decide to wait until later. The focus needs to be on Josephine and giving her a good send-off for her son.

  Back in her room, I fill a glass of water and hand her one pill. “This will help until Dr. Grange arrives.”

  Her look is wary. Like a trapped rabbit deciding if the offered carrot is safe to accept. She swallows the pill and settles back onto the pillows, keeping her head elevated.

  I take a chair near the single bed. “I’m so sorry about your baby.” And those words are true. Her real son will one day learn he was left at an orphanage. He’ll wonder what happened that made him undesirable.

  Before she woke up and first saw her baby, I spread some of her blood on the dead baby, then wiped it off. But not all of it. He needed to look freshly born.

  She glances at the basket where the dead boy lies and scowls. “The doctor butchered me.” Tears pour.

  “You were going to die, Josephine. The birth took so long. I didn’t know about Twilight Sleep. The drugs sedated the baby, and he stopped breathing. Dr. Grange said it’s rare. William and I are heartbroken this happened to you.”

  “It doesn’t answer why he cut me so’s I never have another child.” Her voice breaks into a sob. She drops her head into her hands and wails.

  “If you got pregnant again and tried to deliver with a less experienced doctor or a midwife, you would bleed out and die. Dr. Grange saved your life.”

  “He ruined me for good.”

  “I heard my name.” The doctor steps through the door and looks from me to Josephine. “How is our patient today?”

  “She’s upset of course,” I say. “It’s all so unexpected.” I slowly shake my head.

  “Are you in pain?” He sets his black bag on the floor and takes a few steps closer to her.

  She recoils and tucks against the boards on the wall.

  “Don’t come near me! You had no right to do the things you did!”

  He turns away from her and faces me. His eyebrows bunch together, and his face reddens.

  See what you made me do? must be running through his mind.

  He offers a pasted smile and turns back to her. “I had to make a difficult decision, Josephine. I’m never happy when childbirth goes wrong.”

  She spits at him.

  I’m shocked. I hardly recognize this rabid being. Josephine is always reserved, mannerly, respectful. I tap the doctor’s arm.

  “She should calm soon. I gave her a heroin tablet a moment ago.”

  “I’m not gonna calm!” She throws a metal cup across the tiny room. Water splashes the walls. “I hate you both. You know what you did and soon everyone will know!”

  My heart’s racing, even though she has no proof of anything. The baby’s skin tone is barely darker than hers, and he reasonably could be her dead child. She knows nothing. But for now, I need her to settle down before William hears her yelling.

  “What is it you think we did, Jojo?” I hope using Oliver’s pet name for her will quiet her.

  She spits again, this time getting some power behind the spittle, and it lands on my dress. How dare she? It takes all of my effort not to cross the room and smack the living daylights out of her.

  “I don’t knows everything you did, but I do know that baby ain’t none of mine.”

  “Having a baby die is upsetting,” Dr. Grange says. “The situation can feel unreal. Plus, those sleep drugs can change the mind for days after. Feeling quite disconnected is not unheard of.”

  If he’s shooting from the hip, he’d be a great cowboy. His words make sense to me. Now if she can accept them, life can go back to normal.

  She carefully sits up. A knowing smile appears on her face, but it’s not a happy look.

  “I may be a dumb Colored girl to you, but I understand what gets passed down to a child.” She wipes her nose on her arm, leaving a snail’s trail of clear snot. “My baby would be white.”

  Hell’s bells! She’s going to admit bedding William. Is she trying to shock the doctor? He will have to act surprised when the truth leaves her lips.

  “Why ever would you think that, Jojo?”

  “Never call me that again. You the worst mother I ever met.” She tightens the head rag that I loathe so much around her head.

  Her words sting. She wouldn’t know a good mother because she never had one. Taking her mama’s craziness out on me is pitiful! And she just got herself fired. I can’t abide having her here if she’s gone crazier than an outhouse fly.

  “Quinn raped me”—her words each have a space of their own—“several times when he stayed here last fall.”

  What? Quinn is William’s younger brother from Dallas. He visited in August for a week. He and William look very much alike.

  She’s worked up and yells again. “My mama is white, and my daddy was half white. I’s three-quarters white. That don’t add up to me having a half-brown baby!” She throws a book this time.

  Dr. Grange lets out a long breath. “Don’t that beat all, Ardith? William’s brother fathered her child. Sure makes these circumstances extra awful, doesn’t it?”

 
; She could’ve kept the baby and made Quinn pay to raise it. He’s a smartass accountant. How was I to know?

  “You should’ve told me about Quinn. I’m sorry he did that to you.” We need to stick with our story. There’s no going back now. “But be that as it may, this poor baby is yours.”

  She freezes for just a second, then springs off the bed and rushes toward me. “You lying!”

  Dr. Grange grabs her around the midsection, and she lets out a painful scream and crumbles to the floor. While he holds her down with his leg, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a syringe filled with liquid and plunges it into her backside.

  She thrashes and yells cuss words for twenty seconds, then goes unconscious.

  He sits back and turns an angry eye my way. “Thanks, Ardith. I’m most likely going to lose my medical license if she talks.” His jaws work hard. His face is tight. “How do you propose we solve this?”

  What a mess. She seems bent on telling the world about what happened in our house. Raped by a family member. There’s only one way to keep her quiet. Well, two ways, but I don’t want to see her dead.

  “You have to take her to that Colored Asylum outside of town. Check her in as insane. Then no one will believe what she says.”

  “To an asylum?” He rubs his neck, shaking his head. “This just sinks me deeper into the lies.”

  “She’s going to keep talking, and someone might decide to check the orphanages around here for a newly dropped-off white baby.”

  “You should get her baby back. Tell her the truth. You thought it was William’s.”

  “Then why did you have to sterilize her, Doctor Grange?” I draw out the word doctor, making a mockery of it. “Try explaining your medical reasons to her again.”

  His shoulders straighten. His face turns wooden. “Help me get her into my car.”

  “I was hoping you’d come around to reason.”

  “I’m not doing it for you. William is a Klan brother and I took a vow to protect him.” He lifts her under the arms, and we each wrap one around our shoulder and drag her to the door. “And when you get ready to deliver in the next week or so, I’m not sure I’ll be available.”