by Jay, Karla M
While there, I peeked behind the white two-story church. The cemetery was a sad affair. No headstones, some random cement markers, dinner plates, and household items left on mounds or sunken graves. The pastor explained leaving belongings for a loved one was customary, and no, the graveyard hadn’t been abandoned. Hard to believe since it was laid out randomly, not in tidy rows. As if everyone flung their loved one from a slingshot, and where they landed was where they were buried. I walk around a grouping of five mounds with one hand-carved cross in the center with the initials GJ. No grass, and only a few trees shading the unfenced area.
It’s mighty good Josephine didn’t see her son’s final resting place. All willy-nilly, like junk thrown onto a brown carpet.
“I’m happy we could do that for Josephine,” I said to William on the way home. Wearing a solemn face all that morning, he only nodded after I spoke. Losing Josephine as our maid and nanny bothers him. The hate she threw our way puzzles him. He never can take it when people unjustly accuse him of anything.
Of course, he doesn’t understand the whole picture.
He ran the advertisement in the paper for a new childcare worker. We have a week to find a new one.
Or so I thought.
My water broke this morning at breakfast, dripping on our new linoleum floor.
“Call Dr. Grange,” I said to William. “Tell him we’re on our way to the hospital.” The doctor said he wouldn’t deliver my baby, but if he knows what’s good for his son, he’ll be there.
William jumps up and hurries to the telephone in his office. A dull ache moves through my abdomen. But I won’t be afraid of giving birth this time around. The doctor assured me they’d give me Twilight Sleep the moment I’m in my hospital bed, and it should start working right away.
I pull my packed overnight case from the closet and a small one for Oliver’s stay at the Withingtons’. Nancy once confided she prays she and York will have half-a-dozen children. She just loves a house full of noise and bother. Nancy says noise and laughter—bother is my word.
Another pain grips me, this one stronger. What is taking William so long? And he’s still talking to someone. His voice rumbles from the other room.
“Oliver,” I say, although it comes out like I’m angry. He’s pulled a chair close to the kitchen window and is tracing raindrops down the glass with his fingers. “Would you get your raincoat, please? You’re going to play with Clara and Paul today.”
“Look, Mommy, the drops are racing, but I don’t know which one will win.”
“That’s like life, Oliver.” I inhale, trying to ward off a squeezing sensation in my back. “Grab your coat before Daddy has to get cross with you.”
He slides off the chair like a boneless snake and slowly walks to the peg by the door where his yellow rubber coat hangs.
William is back with his coat on and helps me into mine.
“Can you walk?” He’s flushed, but his eyes are bright with anticipation.
“Yes.” I’m excited too. It’ll be wonderful to bend over again, to not feel so full. And a baby girl. All her new clothes are packed away in my bureau. I can’t wait to see her in ribbons, satin, and lace. “But I think we need to hurry.” Another pain grips me. They seem to be quite close together since losing my water.
He grabs our cases and ushers us into the car. There’s light rain today, a Scotch mist, and the street is steamy. The day is dreary and dark enough to confuse the streetlights that glow eerily behind the drizzle.
Oliver stands between us on the front seat, one hand lightly on each of our shoulders.
“We’ll have to play hide-and-seek inside at Clara’s today,” Oliver says.
“That’ll be fun.” William smiles and gives Oliver’s leg a squeeze.
“You’ll get to sleep there too,” I say. He likes going to Nancy’s house. No furniture is off-limits, and it’s fine and dandy to hide behind the curtains or pretend brooms are horses to be ridden inside. “And when we pick you up, we’ll have our new baby to show you.”
“Tell the doctor to bring the right baby this time,” he says, leaning forward to study the stoplight.
My heart thuds louder. Is he going to divulge what I told him about Josephine’s baby being a mix-up?
William chuckles. “What do you—”
“Sweet Oliver.” I interrupt to keep William’s questions at bay. “Whatever baby we bring home will be the right baby. Do you want a brother or a sister?”
“Both! Tell the doctor, okay?” He’s hopping up and down as William pulls the car into the Withingtons’ drive. “Then we can have a fun house like Clara and Paul.”
William raises his eyebrows and looks my way. “I think that’s a fine idea, son. We’ll see what the doctor says.”
The rain is heavy now, so he picks up Oliver along with his pack and runs to the front step. The boy squeals with delight.
William charges back and slips into the driver’s seat. “Here we go, dear.” Then gently pats my leg. “Next stop, the hospital.”
The rainstorm has almost emptied the streets, and it intensifies as we take the corners faster than usual. No complaints from me. The wipers can’t keep the heavy rain cleared, and the hospital is indistinct through the windshield.
William parks under the awning. His call to the doctor alerted them, and thankfully a nurse waits with a wheelchair. The cramping sharpens and shoots into my legs. I’m drawing in long breaths, and the next moments blur. William leans down and kisses my cheek.
“You’ll do great. I can’t wait for our little one to arrive.” He accepts the paperwork from the admissions desk. “I’ll be right here until the all-clear.”
I try for a smile but it’s more like a grimace.
“Hello, Mrs. Dobbs.” The freckle-faced young nurse is cheery as she pushes me through open doors. “My name is Eve. We have your room ready.”
I nod and let out a growly, “Thank you.”
My ears latch on to the whir of the rubber wheels on the hallway’s floor. We turn into a room with a bed, two chairs, and a small table laid out with familiar medical instruments.
“Dr. Grange here yet?” She helps me undress and pulls a maternity gown around my front. I lumber onto the bed and fall against the soft mattress and pillows. The head of the bed is upright. But the wide footholds at the bottom of the bed will be something I won’t remember. “I’ll be needing medication soon.”
“Dr. McCorbin is delivering today. Dr. Grange is away. Took his family on a trip to Tennessee to visit relatives.”
“That weasel,” I mutter between clenched teeth.
“What did you say?” She stops folding and setting my clothes onto one of the chairs.
“Um…where did the weeks go? I saw him recently, and he never mentioned a vacation.”
“It surprised us too. He came by yesterday late and said he’d be taking some time off.”
Another pain squeezes inside. It feels like someone’s twisting my parts with barbed wire.
“Is this other doctor good with the sleep medications?” Right now, I don’t care who’s in charge as long as it gets started.
Eve’s mouth opens and closes like a dying fish.
“We have you going through the birth without sedation.”
What? I don’t believe this! Someone has snuck me in the side door of hell.
“That was never the plan! I cannot go through this awake.” The next contraction lasts more than a few seconds, and I can’t breathe as the pain rips through my back. “Go get my husband. He knows what we scheduled.”
She hurries out of the room, and I clutch the sheets in my fists. Incompetence! I’m not prepared for this. It was to be peaceful. Then it suddenly occurs to me why this is happening. Everyone knows it’s bad luck to walk on a grave. At the Negro cemetery yesterday, I walked on top of those haphazardly buried dead folks.
A scream escapes as a spike slices through me. Also, it must be why the baby’s coming a week early. I should’ve brought a knife. Tucked under the mattress, it reduces labor pains. Every mountain woman attests to that.
The door opens, and Eve is back with a tall, redheaded doctor.
“Mrs. Dobbs, I’m Albert McCorbin.” He nods and flashes a grin like he was given first place for his prize hog. “It sounds like this is not going to take much longer.”
“Start the Twilight Sleep,” I say through a gasp.
“Your husband doesn’t want that for you. He said your nanny just lost her child because of it.”
“Damnation!” The tears are uncontrollable, cold, streaming down the sides of my face. “That’s not what killed her baby.”
He’s clearly startled but presses on.
“When a woman is heavily sedated, the baby may quit breathing.” He moves to the foot of the bed. “Scoot down here and put your feet in the stirrups. I need to check on things.”
“No! I can’t do this!”
“Your husband said you’re a strong woman. You’ve overcome terrible family tragedy.” He shakes his head and turns to the nurse. “Her parents and close family died on the Titanic.”
“No! I’m not strong at all. You have to give me something!”
“I want you to take in long, cooling breaths. Hum a favorite song. Or think of a place that’s calming, peaceful, and picture yourself there.”
Eve moves beside the bed and places a wet cloth on my forehead. No peaceful images come to mind. But I do picture Dr. Grange telling William the sleep drugs are too dangerous. This must be his revenge for what I asked the doctor to do to Josephine. The Klan will soon learn about his son and the Catholic woman.
Burning pain sears through me. I silently practice saying the secret Klan names for the months of the year. Appalling. Frightful. Sorrowful. Mournful. Horrible. The name for May is proving to be true. This is just horrible. I hear myself screaming for all the world like a damn banshee but can’t control it. I’m so embarrassed!
Breathe. Breathe.
Okay, June. June is Terrible, then comes Alarming, Furious, Fearful, Hideous, Gloomy, and finally Bloody.
Far off, I hear a man telling me to push.
Ohhhhhh. I bear down but there’s no relief.
My mind drifts backward in time. I’m climbing the ragged peaks of Hickory Nut Hollow.
Up and down. My legs burn. Now there! It’s Gator Tyre, the preacher boy who got me pregnant, saying he was saving me from my rotten brother, Clem, and his dirty ways. Daddy scared the preacher away. A shotgun will do that. I thought Gator would be my ticket out of there, so I let him have his way. Now he claims he wants to live here forever, never see the outside world. This is not the plan for my future. Now I want nothing to do with his graspy cold hands.
“Push.”
Who is that?
It’s Clem, who has a side that’s ornery as a rattlesnake on fire, especially since he learned Gator and I have been together. I let Clem know I’m ’bout to tell what he’s been doing to me for years. When Gator comes toward me this time, pleading for me to stay, Clem busts his way from the trees and pokes the man to the edge of Old Baldy Ridge with a sharp stick. He’s gonna push him off and that ain’t the right answer.
“Push, Ardith! Push.” It’s a man giving me an order. I’m so tired of men in my life. Pa, my brother. All owning me. Telling me what to do. Well, I don’t need them.
I rush toward my brother and Gator. Clem grabs my arm, and I’m about to teeter over the edge with him. I don’t want to die. I peel his hand away myself and push with all my might. Together, Clem and the preacher boy somersault down the rocky face of the cliff, disappearing into the churning river below.
“Almost there, Mrs. Dobbs. Push again.”
“No! He’s dead,” I yell. “I didn’t mean to.”
And suddenly, a huge relief flows through me. The pain subsides, and through my tears, the room clears.
“Mrs. Dobbs. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s not dead.” The doctor stands up and points to the nurse who’s busy at a sink. “You have a healthy baby boy.”
Willow Stewart
Miss Lily’s Threads & Things has us making bedspreads most of the day, but it’s not hard work. Tufting out the material to make it into soft chenille is tiring, but we get a ten-minute break every few hours. The only rules are that we can’t talk to each other—which is an easy one for me—and we can never leave the building without Miss Lily or another worker.
“You’re serving out a sentence,” Miss Lily reminds us. “You do what the state of Georgia says.”
But I’ve been here a week already, and my earlier thoughts of meeting up with Briar have dwindled. Miss Lily locks us into our tiny sleeping quarters at night. The bed is comfortable, and there’s a chair and one tiny table with a lamp. We have to knock to be let out to use the toilet, and we’re allowed one time after lockdown or she gets out a switch and whips the backs of our legs. I learned my lesson the second night. Don’t drink too much water with supper, or your legs will sting into the next day.
I ask to write a letter home, but I’m told no. As a criminal, as Miss Lily likes to call us, we have no outside rights. I worry what Poppy and my family is thinking. Has he come looking for me? Would the police in our county be in touch with the police in this county? Something tells me loads of people might be missing everywhere. With the way the judges deem everyone a lawbreaker, it’s a wonder more people aren’t lost in the shuffle of the you-go-here and you-go-there process.
Something new must be happening today because she hurries us through our baths and hands us frilly dresses to wear.
When a sweaty man arrives, Miss Lily’s mood changes. She tugs down her dress, even though it hasn’t gotten any shorter since she stood up to answer the door.
“I come to see that my order is filled this time.” His voice is cow-manure brown.
“I apologize for last time. The girls weren’t what you expected.”
His face reddens. “With hundreds of girls running loose, should be easy to get what I’m wanting.”
Why is this man here? He acts like he has something to do with us.
“Well”—Miss Lily tugs her dress again—“we have a special one for you this time.” She turns to point to me. “You have a Briar Stewart working for you?”
“Got him with me outside.”
My brain stutters for a moment, and every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts catch up. Briar is here? I was worried I would have no way to reach him. Now I’m doing my best to keep from smiling, but my eyes are betraying me. I bite my lip to not give away my mood.
“She’s doing time to reduce her brother’s sentence,” Miss Lily says. “By two months.”
“Well, I’ll be,” the man says. “This is one big fat surprise all around.” He’s shaking his head in disbelief but doesn’t look happy.
Miss Lily hands him some papers. “She don’t work out for you, she’s to go to a home in Marietta.” She clears her throat. “I mean after she’s done working for you.”
Oh no! That’s the bad place the Colored gal was yelling about in jail. And what does Miss Lily mean by “done working for you”? I have two months of sewing work, and then Briar and I are free to go.
The man chuckles. “This is gonna be fun.” He motions for the other girl named Lacy and me. “Grab your things.”
Miss Lily hands us pretty hats to match our fancy dresses. I’m confused. Why are we going with this man? This doesn’t set right. I hold back, and Miss Lily gives me a little push.
“Move along, gal.”
Next thing I know we’re on the street, and I hear our family name called and a hoot of laughter. I lift my eyes and there he is! Briar! He’s thinner but looks strong.
By the color of their vo
ices, he and the man don’t like each other. Red bumping up against deep blue.
“Seems you do have family that cares,” the man says to him. “Someone’s working off two months of your time.”
Briar should look surprised but happy, right? Instead, when I lift my face, his shoulders hunch together like he’s trying to disappear inside himself. His face fills with massive confusion. Crumples.
He raises his hands and signs, “Why are you here?”
Oh, how I’ve missed him talking to me in our secret language. “We need you at home.”
“Why?”
“Mama had a baby that died.” I don’t dare tell him about losing Mama. “Poppy has forgiven you. He’s proud of you for your travels, thankful for the money.”
“Can’t be too proud of me now.”
“What the hell you two doing?” The man slaps my hands down. The sting of his slap travels up my arms.
Briar lunges closer. Fierce and threatening, like a trapped mountain lion. I’ve never seen him like this. “Don’t touch her!”
The man must be Briar’s boss. My brain is trying with all its might to make sense of it all, and if I could talk, I’d be empty of words.
“My sister won’t make you happy. You can’t take her!”
“Says you?” The man’s smile makes me think of how a barn cat must feel just batting around a mouse, teasing it.
“I’ll serve out my four months. She only come here to bring bad news about my kin.”
“The kin you say you have no connection to?”
“I did leave like I said. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of ’em in over a year.”
Why won’t Briar let me help him? I sign again. “Why are you sending me away?”
He swallows hard, and I see ungodly fear in his eyes. “This man means to take you into the woods and have his way with you and the other girl. For days and days.”
I cringe as if watching someone empty their innards. It’s Mr. Coburn all over again. And the judge? Did he know what he was sending me to do for two months?