“She brought the lace to our quilting session and told us the story, said she wanted to make a quilt with the lace and put some pieces of other fabric around it to finish it off. After a lot of discussion, we decided that the best way to use the missus’s lace was for everyone to have a section, to spread her lace all over the county. That way her special lace would be on the beds of all the black children in these parts. And that’s what we did.” After she finished the story Momma would rub the piece of lace in the quilt, just as I was doing now. I wondered about having my own children and what stories I’d tell them.
Moving one leg, then the other, I slipped out of bed and began to tidy up. This would be the last time I made up this bed, folded and smoothed the quilt, fluffed the pillow, and tucked in the edges of the sheets. My hands began to shake ever so slightly. The corners of my eyes stung; my nose was running. Suddenly I couldn’t move. It was like a scary night when I heard sounds outside. I’d want to get up and explore, but my body would stiffen while my mind raced, telling me at least to change positions.
After several deep breaths I took a few steps around the room. The old hand-made dresser, with five drawers and a mirror just big enough for me to see my face in the clouded glass, stood two paces from the bed. The things on the dresser included my little white bible, with gold-leaf edges on the pages and a gold cross etched on the cover. This was my baptismal gift. I had been dunked in the murky river on the Sunday after I completed my bible studies. The tiny wood box Daddy had carved for me held the only piece of jewelry I’d ever owned—Momma’s earrings. She’d worn them on her wedding day—tarnished black metal with several diamond-like stones dangling from the ends. Once a day I’d screw the earrings on, flick the stones so they danced, and look at myself. Then, gingerly, I’d put them back in the box. A black comb missing several teeth, a wood-handled brush, and the hair clip Henry had given me. All my possessions were resting on the dresser. One picture, of Momma and Daddy, was tucked into the corner of the mirror. I’d take all of this with me.
Suddenly I began to feel like a ghost, as though I were floating above the room, looking down at everything, watching another soul move about the space and claim it as her own.
WE WENT TO church as a family, the way we did every Sunday, but on this day my wedding ceremony would take place before the regular service. Church was the one place where everyone throughout the county would gather to worship, socialize, and marry their daughters off to local boys. It was a tradition for weddings to take place on Sundays; that way the bride’s family could count on the neighbors being present for the ceremony.
At the church I waited downstairs with Momma, Daddy, and Bernice, who was my matron of honor. Robert was Henry’s best man. Henry hadn’t counted on a formal wedding, so when I’d asked him which friend would be his best man, he’d had a blank look. But Robert had said he’d be proud to be part of my wedding.
Miss Parker came downstairs to pay a visit. “Nell,” she said, “I have a gift for you.” Out of her purse she took a gold chain with a small cross. “My daddy gave this to me when I was your age. I want you to have it. It has always brought me comfort.” She put the necklace around my neck.
“Thank you, Miss Parker.” I rolled the cross between my fingers.
“You look lovely, Nell. Such a pretty bride. I wish you all the best.”
“Miss Parker, may I ask you something? I’ve learned so much from you, about books and all. And you’ve been kind enough to talk about your family. When I listened to you describe your momma and daddy, it sounded as if they were real happy together, like mine. What can you tell me about how to be happy with a husband? I mean, from what you grew up with in your home? Or are there some books I should read?”
“The best advice I can give is what my momma told me. She and Daddy always liked to dance around the kitchen or out on the porch. He’d take her by the waist and spin her around until she was dizzy, almost falling. Sometimes he’d reach for me and have us both spinning like plates on sticks. We’d laugh and clap until our bodies were tired and then collapse in a chair. I asked Momma once, why did they dance all the time? She told me, ‘If you want to make your man happy and content, feed him good food and let him spin you around every now and then.’ Best advice I have for you, Nell. My parents were happy right up until the time when the world wouldn’t let them be.”
“I like that advice.”
“I never got to apply it myself, but I’m sure it’ll work for you.”
“Didn’t you ever want to get married?”
“I almost did. But it wasn’t meant to be. This is your day—enjoy it. Come back and visit. I’ll want to know all about your life up North.”
As Miss Parker walked out, a group of my girlfriends from school showed up. They pranced into the waiting room like a cloud of dust, bumping into each other and running to grab hold of me for hugs. Their voices rang out like one continuous bell singing in the air. “Nell, you look beautiful!” “How do you feel?” “Are you excited?” “Are you scared?” “Nervous?” “Henry’s so cute!” “I hope to marry someone like him.” “You sure are lucky.” “Do you leave for up North right after the wedding?” “I can’t imagine what it’s like there. I hear it gets real cold.” “Will you go to school there?” “What about babies?” “Babies? What about sex?” “Shush. Her momma can hear.” “Are you ready for that?” “I’d be.” “Sure. Like you know anything.” “Do too.” “No way!” “We’d better go, get our seats.” “Congratulations, Nell. We’re so happy for you.” With one big group hug they hustled off, the same cloud of dust that had floated into the room moments earlier.
I got well wishes from my brothers and their wives, words of advice, and more hugs than I could count. I thought, “This is what a stuffed doll must feel like—tossed from one set of hands to another, with no one asking permission or waiting for a response.” I kept smiling. My lips stuck to my teeth. My cheeks hurt. I wanted to be alone, find a quiet corner, curl up and read one of my books.
“Baby Girl, where are you?” Momma said. “You look as though you’ve drifted far away.”
“I was just thinking, Momma.”
“Let me fix your hair. Your friends managed to pull my beautiful braids loose.”
I sat at the dressing table while Momma worked my hair again. She’d been doing it all day, and my scalp was beginning to hurt. I watched her in the mirror as her fingers twisted and folded my braids. The two fans in the room kept blowing strands of hair out of her reach, but she’d grab the rogue pieces and yank them back into place. At the same time, with the back of her hand, she managed to wipe sweat beads dripping from her forehead, never letting go of the braids.
“Momma, what do I need to know about being with a man?”
“You mean with a husband.”
“Momma!”
“There’s a difference.”
“Well, I’m about to have a husband. What do I need to know? Ouch! That hurts!”
“Be still. Suppose I should’ve had this conversation with you long before now. How does Henry make you feel? I mean inside your body.”
“Real good. I can’t stop thinking about him. Even before he says good night each evening, I start to miss him—I’m almost afraid I won’t see him again. He holds me, and I want to guide his hand everywhere on my skin. When he kisses me, my body begs for more.”
“Just listen to your body. It’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“But other times, Momma, it feels different.”
“How?”
“It’s as though … I’m not sure. If I’m with Henry for a while, sitting on the porch or walking, things go dark. Suddenly I can’t see faces clearly—yours, Daddy’s, the boys. Even the farm seems to disappear. I know it’s still there, but shapes become less clear; all the sharp edges of our home and this town start to waver. Rather than holding closer to Henry, I pull away, fold into myself. Breathing becomes difficult, and my chest gets tight inside. It happened last Sunday, as we finish
ed planning for the wedding and our move. He wanted to know what was wrong. I just shook my head, said I needed to get some rest. It felt good one moment. Then it was gone.”
“I remember the day I was about to go to church and marry your daddy. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about what was going to happen, the way you have, but still it was enough time to make my head swim and my stomach do somersaults. My parents were certain that Daddy was the right man for me. I wasn’t in a position to say otherwise. And frankly, I don’t think I knew one way or the other. I just did what I was told. But I do remember feeling like my world was about to change in ways I couldn’t understand. I was leaving my family’s home; moving into Daddy’s with his family; saying good-bye to my momma and everything that mattered to me. I wasn’t exactly happy, but I wasn’t sad either. I think I was just confused and excited at the same time. Momma calmed me down by telling me how she and Daddy came to be married and happy, with a house full of children.”
“Like you’re doing now, with me?”
“Yes, Baby Girl. We find our way; women always do. There, braids are beautiful again.”
“Think I’m ready, Momma?”
“Reckon you are.”
DADDY AND I stood in front of the closed doors leading to the pews. One of the church ladies was facing us, her white-gloved hand on the door handle, poised to open it. I held tight to Daddy’s arm, so firmly that he lifted my fingers to unlock my grip and then placed them back. He didn’t look at me. I was staring at the closed doors as if seeing them for the first time. As often as I’d bounded through them, walked down the aisle to join my family in our pew for Sunday service, I had never noticed them before. They looked ancient, the dark wood scratched and dented at the bottom and around the handles. The hinges, probably polished brass at one time, were caked with rust. I wanted to take out a cloth and polish the tarnish away, to get lost in doing something that was my own to do, alone with my own thoughts.
My stomach tightened. I could feel bile rising up in my throat. Suddenly air seemed to evaporate from the hallway. My breathing became short and labored. I imagined I was underwater, watching bubbles rush to the surface. A faint glimmer of light pierced the water, reassuring me that life was up there, air was available if I could just get there in time. I was pushing up, up, up, praying my lungs wouldn’t fail me, but they were burning, about to explode. Finally I broke through, tilted my head back, and hungrily drank in air while my body still flailed beneath the water.
“Baby Girl?” Daddy’s voice brought me back to the hallway.
“Daddy. It’s so far. Momma says I’m ready, but it’s so far. I’m just sixteen!”
Daddy turned me to him. He held my shoulders with worry on his face and said, “You’re my baby girl, always will be. But you’re a woman now.”
I tried to calm my breathing, swallow the bile, get my stomach to settle down. The shaking started in my kneecaps. I could almost hear them bouncing up and down. Then it traveled up my legs to my gut, like a terrible leg cramp trying to take control of my entire body. Sweat stains appeared under my armpits.
Daddy took out his handkerchief to wipe my forehead and nose. “You’re gonna miss this heat,” he said.
I took a deep breath. “Must be the heat getting to me.”
“Tell me how you’re feeling, Baby Girl.”
“Daddy, I’m so jumbled up inside—scared but excited. It’s like I’m facing my own yellow brick road. I want to step onto it, but I don’t know what’s up ahead. I’m excited about a life with Henry, but also afraid. He makes me feel like the whole world is there for us; all we have to do is be married and walk away. But what if I’m not happy away from home? What if I don’t know what to do or how to act? With no family to help me, for me to turn to for comfort, what will I do when I’m in need? What if I can’t make him happy, Daddy? What if it isn’t like it’s supposed to be when we’re alone—you know—in bed? What if he regrets choosing me?
“And yet with all these questions, a part of me feels like I’m starving—I have a desperate need. You know the way you and the boys come in from the fields for lunch—you’re so hungry. You attack the food that Momma and the women lay out on the table like it’s the last time you’ll get to eat. That’s how this other side of me feels. I have an insatiable hunger, not so much for Henry, although that’s some of it. I’m aching to know what my life could be. If I don’t get it, I’ll go mad. I know this doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what I’m feeling. Am I just crazy?”
“Not crazy, Baby Girl—just a young woman with a new man in her life and a taste for living. What would your characters tell you?”
“My characters?”
“In your books. What’d they say?”
“Well, I guess each would be different. Huck set out to explore new places and people, with a companion most thought he should not be with. Janie made her way through hot dusty towns of the South, trying to shape herself into the woman she was meant to be. Jo March, whose family had prepared her for a certain station in life, found she had to leave the safety of her family’s home and create her own. And Alice, well, she took a path down the road and found friends and adventure along the way. She was scared, but it all worked out for her and the other characters, too. So maybe what they’d tell me wouldn’t be so different.”
“Listen to them, listen to your heart. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ll always be our Baby Girl, and this will always be your home. We’ll always be here for you.” He kissed my forehead. “You ready?”
My lungs filled with air, so much so that my chest expanded, pushing my shoulders back, my chin reaching for the ceiling. “Reckon so.”
We turned towards the door. The usher nodded. Daddy looked at me and then motioned to her. She opened the doors.
Every pew was full with family, friends, and neighbors. They all stood as the doors opened and the organist began playing. Garlands made from white ribbons draped the end of each pew. In the center of each garland was a cluster of magnolias. Their fragrance filled the air with a mix of strong floral and lemon zest that was fresh and sensuous. My eyes closed as the scent wafted over me. An image of our magnolia trees in full bloom, rows and rows as far as the eye could see, brought me back to a place of comfort, a place I would miss but that I hoped would always be within reach.
The aisle from the door to the pulpit looked miles long. So far away, I thought, so far. Looking left and right, I glimpsed smiles everywhere. Even if I couldn’t make out exact faces, I was comforted by the warmth coming from them.
There in the distance was Henry. My heart jumped. The anxiety that had gripped my mind began to fade. Henry looked taller than ever. His suit and white shirt were crisp. He turned to face me. I wanted to let go of Daddy’s arm, run into Henry’s. It seemed as though my feet were no longer touching the floor. I was gliding down the aisle. We were suddenly the only people in the church. Our first night together was within sight. Henry would touch me everywhere. The scent of him would linger on my body for hours.
Then I remembered that I was in church and such thoughts weren’t appropriate. But oh, how I wanted to taste him. Suddenly my cheeks flushed hot. My body was heaving again—now for a taste of Henry and a new life. I felt scared and excited, embarrassed and ashamed of my thoughts. Daddy must have sensed my confusion. He looked at me from the corner of his eye. A knowing smile crossed his lips.
Daddy and I joined Henry, Robert, and Bernice at the altar, facing the preacher. The preacher asked, “Who gives this woman, Nell Jones, to be wed to this man, Henry Bight?” Daddy said, “I give Baby Girl.” He hugged and kissed me. Then he turned to join Momma.
But I stopped him, holding onto his arm. We both froze. His face got that worried look again as he searched my eyes. I could almost hear blood rushing to my forehead, pounding away, making me dizzy. I took a step toward Daddy, almost thinking that I’d rather join him in the pew with Momma than stay at the altar. My back was to Henry.
A sudden
silence came over the congregation, a quiet lull of anticipation for what might happen next. Daddy loosened my grip on his arm. He put his hand on my cheek. I tilted my head into his palm, closed my eyes, and whispered, “Daddy.” Neither of us moved for what seemed a long time.
At last Bernice said, “Nell, hand me your flowers.”
As I turned to her, Daddy slipped away and joined Momma. Looking over my shoulder, I could see Daddy holding Momma as she wept. I turned back toward Bernice. She smiled and mouthed, “Okay?” I nodded my head, yes, took a deep breath, and turned to face the minister with Henry on my right.
He moved close to me and gently rubbed his shoulder against my arm. That simple touch brought a smile to my face as brilliant as the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass window. My back was to Momma, Daddy, the boys, Miss Parker, my friends, and the people who had watched me grow up. But it was Henry’s essence right next to me that filled my heart with calm. At that moment I thought I might actually be able to love him.
MOMMA WAS IN the kitchen, her hands deep in sudsy sink water, cleaning dishes from the celebration feast. I could see shadows streaming in from the window, dancing across her back as she rhythmically swayed from side to side. Streams of sunlight bounced around the kitchen, highlighting the dust that lingered on surfaces and in corners. Tiny particles floated in the streams, seemingly moving in rhythm with Momma. The shadows played games with my eyes. For a moment she no longer resembled my momma but someone else, a younger version of herself, an older promise of me.
“Baby Girl, why you watching me?” She kept her back to me as she spoke.
“How’d you know I am?”
“I can feel your eyes through the back of my head.” She turned to look at me.
“I’m married now, Momma,” I sighed, looked around the room as though I were seeing everything in the kitchen for the first time. The spice canisters, older than I was, shimmered in the sunlight, the dark spots and dents in the pots resting on the stovetop disappeared in the light. Married. I repeated the word under my breath, gazing around the room that held so many smells and sounds. I wanted to imprint them all in my mind. The floor—faded, the corners of the black and white linoleum curling—almost looked smooth and even, as it must have years ago.
Child Bride Page 4