This Bitter Earth Page 4

  “Shonuff was an unruly child, stealing apples off fruit carts and chasing the chickens that pecked and scratched in the square. He pulled off the pink bows that knotted the long braids of the dark girls and slapped the close-cut heads of the boys.

  64 People scolded Shonuff, shaking their fingers in his face and speaking to him between clenched teeth. No one, not even his mother, had ever taken a switch to his behind. If they had he might have turned out to be good for something, instead of good for nothing.“

  Sara shook her head and scratched at her chin. Sugar was sitting up now, leaning forward, her feet resting on the floor.

  “Anyway, he grew up and remained much the same. Went from stealing apples to stealing women—most of whom didn’t mind being stolen. He sure was a good-looking man. Tall and as clear as water. He may have looked white but that kinky hair and the way he swaggered instead of walked belonged to every black man that lived in Short Junction.

  “Lots of women, black and white, gave themselves to him, me included,” Sara said as a girlish smile pranced across her lips. “Any woman that hadn’t had Shonuff, dreamed about having him. Every woman except your mama, Bertie Mae.” The name sounded dry in Sara’s mouth and reminded her of the dead garden at the back of #10 Grove Street.

  “Well, even if your mama did want Shonuff, which she didn‘t, Ciel would never have allowed it. If the son of the preacher man came calling on Bertie Mae, Ciel would have chased him off with a butcher knife.

  “Ciel was crazy. There was no getting around it. She only dressed in black and hardly ever combed or brushed her hair. She wandered through the streets talking to herself and yelling obscenities at people. Then there were days when you couldn’t even recognize her. She’d be neat as a pin, hair pulled back, cuss words replaced with ‘hello’ and ’good-day.‘ A smile as sweet as sugar on her lips.

  “She usta tell Bertie Mae that giving birth to her was like pulling a porcupine out from between her legs. Not like her boys, she said. They slid out of her like lard in August. Then she’d spit on Bertie Mae, knock her upside her head or smack her across her face. She hated that child.”

  Sugar blinked back tears. She didn’t want to hear any more. She wanted to shut out what Sara was saying, tell her to stop talking and leave, but something inside of her told her that she needed to know.

  “Bertie Mae told us ‘bout the times when Ciel would storm into the bedroom and snatch her from her bed and just start punching and slapping her for no good reason at all. Them boys finally pulled Ciel off of her. Thank God for those brothers of hers ’cause Ciel would have killed Bertie Mae long before she run off.

  “Even without her telling us what went on in that house, we knew. Everybody knew. Lord, if the wind was blowing right you could hear Ciel swearing and cussing, Bertie Mae screaming and crying, clear across town.” Sara’s voice dropped off and Sugar could tell she was listening to those long-ago sounds the wind carried.

  “Nope, don’t know who her daddy was,” Sara suddenly said as if Sugar had asked. “Don’t know who the daddy of any of Ciel’s children is. Never really thought about it much, but some people had their ideas, ‘specially since Ciel was crazy. You had to ask yourself if a man in his right mind would really lie down with a woman as crazy as Ciel. Some people say it had to have been the Devil, he the only one that would or even could.”

  Sara coughed up a laugh before going on.

  “Well, that’s what people said until Clemon Wilks showed up. That man Clemon just appeared outta nowhere one day. I ain’t never seen a man more wiry looking, short, bald and black. Drank plenty of moonshine, from what I heard. Guess he had to, living with Ciel. He was the talk of the town for a minute. People just couldn’t get over the fact that Ciel had hooked herself a man.”

  “ ‘Ciel got a man shacking up with her!’

  “ ‘I believe I saw a man sweeping up in front of the Brown house today.’

  “ ‘My eyes must be lying, ’cause I swear that was a man sitting out on Ciel’s porch today.‘

  “ ‘Them groceries I delivered to the Brown house on Wednesday? You know, never in all my years have I had to deliver groceries to Crazy Ciel Brown! Well, a man the one came in, picked out all kinds of stuff and even bought a bottle of that ”Oh toilet water“ and slammed a twenty-dollar bill, good and hard, right down in front of my face!’

  “People wondered if the Devil had indeed found a new face and a new name—Clemon Wilks. Ciel had him, but there were a might many people that wanted him. Talk was that he’d swindled some money from some lowlifes in Alabama. Clemon was running for his life and ran right smack into Ciel Brown!”

  Sara laughed and smacked her knee in glee just as the grandfather clock struck three.

  “It was after he arrived that people began to really find out just how crazy Crazy Ciel Brown really was.” Sara looked over her shoulder and dropped her voice down a notch. “Clemon was drunk one day and told some menfolk that the hair that grew between Ciel Brown’s legs was just as long as what was on top of her head!”

  Sugar’s eyes went wide and then narrowed. She cocked her head in disbelief and smirked.

  “Uh-huh, and he also said that she fancied tying up that hair down there,” Sara said, pointing between her own legs. “Fancied tying it up in ribbons!”

  Sugar shook her head and wanted to tell Sara to stop her lying.

  “True story,” Sara said, raising her hand up. “I’d swear it on my mama’s grave,” she said, placing her free hand over her heart.

  “Her boys weren’t used to menfolk living in their house. Had never seen a man less than forty feet off their porch and now there was one sleeping in the next room with their mother. They ain’t know how to deal with him so they kept their distance and treated Clemon as if he was one of the flowerpots Ciel had placed everywhere there wasn’t furniture; they just stepped around him.

  “Not Bertie, though. She was glad for Clemon being there, because he softened Ciel up like butter and almost made her forget how much she hated Bertie Mae.

  “Bertie Mae was careful not to say too much to Clemon when Ciel was around and Clemon was careful of the same, but when it was just them two, they talked and talked and Bertie Mae even laughed.”

  Sugar’s mouth was dry. She wanted some water, but she didn’t dare interrupt Sara.

  “Ciel kept a close eye on Clemon and Bertie Mae. She made sure to keep Bertie busy running errands, cleaning where she had already cleaned. Anything to keep her out of her sight. Out of Clemon’s sight. That’s about the time Bertie Mae started spending time beneath that birch tree that sit over yonder, just a few feet off our property. That’s where she met ...”

  Sugar knew without ever hearing the story. She knew but she needed to hear it said and so she fixed her eyes on Sara and waited.

  “... your daddy,” Sara whispered.

  “What’s his name, Sara.”

  “I don‘t—”

  “What’s his name,” Sugar insisted.

  “I-I—”

  “Sara, say his name,” Sugar said and stood up.

  “My God, you look just like him.” Sara looked at Sugar as if seeing her for the first time.

  “Say it,” Sugar said and took a step forward.

  Sara shrank back and gulped. “Joe Taylor.”

  Sugar felt her body go limp, her shoulders slumped as she sat back down on the bed. Hearing it said out loud made it real.

  “You knew?” Sara asked, regaining her composure and straightening her back.

  Sugar just nodded her head, thought about the picture of Joe and Bertie Mae with those sad, sad eyes.

  “Joe Taylor passed that birch tree twice a day,” Sara began again, Sugar’s father’s name comfortable in her mouth now. “Once at six a.m. and again at eight p.m. He was working on the new railroad that was being built right outside of Short Junction. He was lucky to have gotten the work; there were only seven colored men working on the railroad and four of them were water boys.

  �
�Joe knew that the Klan would eventually show up and claim that it wasn’t right for a black man to be working ‘longside white men, even if the black man wasn’t even earning a quarter of what the white man was. That was life then and now too, I guess.” Sara ended her sentence with a yawn and for a long time there was just the sound of Sara’s wheezing intake of air and Sugar’s heartbeat.

  “How did you meet him, my father?” Sugar asked after the chiming of the four o‘clock bells ended.

  Even in the moonlight, Sugar could see that Sara’s eyelids were heavy, the skin beneath her eyes puffed and red. Sara would tell the entire middle part of the story with her eyes closed.

  “Well,” Sara started with a tired breath. “He usta come ‘round here on Friday nights, ’long with the rest of the menfolks that worked and lived here. He was different from the rest of them other boys, though. Quiet. Polite.” Sara stopped and wiped at her nose. “Ain’t never spent a dime on anything other than food or whiskey.... Well, he lost some in cards and craps, but that’s about it.”

  Was Sara stating that her father had never laid down with her or her sisters, never?

  “Nope, he ain’t never even looked up the stairs toward the bedrooms, and ain’t never referred to none of us any other way except ma‘am,” Sara said, answering Sugar’s unspoken question.

  “I think he just like being ‘round people, you know? He liked being in social situations. Yeah, he would play cards and shoot craps, but never, not once, did he come upstairs to the bedrooms.

  “Oh, but the women loved him, fussed over him, made up excuses to touch him. ‘Oh, Joe, you got some dressing on your lip.’ ‘Joe, you got a piece of lint in your hair.’ ‘Oh, Joe, your arms, they so big and strong!’ ”

  Sara was smiling as she spoke; her eyes were squeezed so tight Sugar could see water seeping out from the corners.

  “Yeah, he sure was fine,” Sara said, and then opened her eyes and looked at Sugar. “But I suppose you know that,” she said before turning her head and closing her eyes again.

  “Your mama had noticed him too, I mean it was hard not to. Well, he had noticed her the same way and had asked May and me about her on more than one occasion. I guess he finally got up the nerve to speak to her.”

  “Nice evening,” Joe said, looking not quite directly at Bertie but snatching glances at her and the horizon behind her.

  Bertie nodded her head in agreement and forced herself to smile. She had seen this stranger in town. Had seen him passing in the evenings as she sat quietly beneath the birch tree and had appreciated the fact that his eyes just peeked and dropped away. Not like the other men that leered at her.

  She had felt ashamed at the heat that traveled through her whenever she laid eyes on him and hated the flush that stayed in her cheeks long after he’d walked away.

  Now here he was talking to her.

  “Yes,” was her simple, concise response.

  Joe nodded and kicked at the dirt, but said nothing else. Bertie Mae dropped her eyes and looked off to her left.

  “Well, I’m on my way ‘cross to the Lacey home, I was wondering if you would like to uhm, come along. They fried fish is the best I ever had. ’Course, I’m sure you probably been living here all your life so you must be acquainted with it so I ain’t said nothing but a word.”

  Bertie Mae liked the sound of his voice and the low unhurried way he spoke. She blushed and smiled before catching herself and reminding herself whose child she was and what place this man was inviting her to.

  “No, sir, I ain’t never had anything them Lacey women cooked up. Fact, I don’t know ‘em. Not personally anyway. Just know what folks say ’bout them.”

  Joe smiled and breathed in the sweet night air. He looked directly at her and caught the smile Bertie Mae had tried to tuck quickly away.

  “Is that right? So what is it folks say ‘bout them?”

  Bertie wasn’t sure if he was mocking her by asking that question. Surely if he was keeping company with the Lacey women, he was fully aware of what was said about them.

  “They ain’t the kinda women I oughta be associating with, if you know what I mean,” Bertie replied, looking quickly at Joe and then to the field that lay behind him. Bertie Mae had never had this many words with a man that wasn’t one of her brothers, the minister, or Clemon. Her behind was going numb on the hard ground and she wanted to stand up, but she didn’t want to stand up in front of him.

  Joe considered her words before responding.

  “Well, I ‘pose some people might not think of them as upstanding citizens, but I make it a point not to judge nobody, ’cause I don’t want nobody to judge me, ‘cept the Almighty.

  But no matter what kinda women they may be, that fish sure is something. Maybe some other time then.“ And with that Joe smiled, nodded his head and walked away.

  For the next few weeks Joe passed Bertie, just as he had before, with a nod of his head and an almost inaudible greeting. It upset her that he didn’t make any further attempts to speak with her and she became annoyed with herself for caring that he didn’t.

  Bertie was eager to have another encounter with him. She needed a name to place with the face and warm demeanor. She found herself thinking about him all the time, replaying the words they’d exchanged. She tried to shake him from her thoughts, but all it did was give her a headache.

  She decided that she had to speak with him again, had to! So she got herself all gussied up best she could with the one good dress she had. Parted her thick hair down the middle and braided two large plats, tying the ends with yellow ribbons that bounced on her shoulders when she walked.

  When she arrived, the sun was already dropping from the sky and the crickets were out and loud. She settled herself beneath the tree and waited.

  “Hey, gal, you sure do look nice.”

  Bertie’s head jerked up and the smile that covered her face quickly disappeared when she saw who had spoken.

  “Most people say thank you when they’re paid a compliment,” Shonuff Clayton said. Bertie Mae looked up at him. He stood about five feet from her, his hands folded across his chest, a piece of straw hanging from the side of his grinning mouth.

  “Thank you,” she said in a meek voice and looked back down at the book she had in her lap.

  “Who you all pretty for, huh?” His voice was laced with sarcasm. He knew who she was hoping to see. Shonuff Clayton knew everything that had to do with Bertie Mae.

  Bertie didn’t respond, she just flipped through the pages of her book.

  “That Taylor boy? Hell, he ain’t worth an ounce of your time.”

  Shonuff allowed his hands to drop down to his sides as he took a step closer.

  Bertie still said nothing.

  “He ain’t even from around here. Now look, here I am, free, single and wanting you, but you rather wait on a man that don’t want you half as bad as I do.”

  Shonuff looked around before taking another step toward Bertie Mae.

  “He got a woman, you know.”

  Bertie Mae snapped her head up. Shonuff smiled.

  “Yeah, got a few women.” His voice was confident now. “Here and where he hail from.”

  “How he different from you, then?” Bertie Mae shot at him before dropping her head again. She hated Shonuff Clayton; just looking at him made her skin crawl.

  Shonuff folded his hands across his chest again and cocked his head. A wry smile spread across his face and then a laugh rumbled through him.

  “You something else, something else indeed. I’m gonna have you, Bertie Mae, come hell or high water, I’m gonna have you.”

  He walked away, repeating his creed over and over again until he disappeared down the road.

  Not more than twenty minutes passed before Joe came along. Bertie Mae’s heart began to pound.

  “Evening” trailed behind Joe as he moved slowly past her. Bertie snatched a peek at him and almost lost her nerve, but when she saw the dust kick up beneath his steady-moving feet she found he
r courage again and jumped up.

  “ ‘Scuse me.” Her words came out so faint, she barely heard it. She cleared her throat and tried again. “ ’Scuse me,” she said, a bit louder this time, loud enough for Joe’s feet to stop moving.

  He slowly turned around and smiled when he saw Bertie standing there, dressed in the one good dress she owned.

  “Hi,” Bertie Mae said as she wrung her hands and wondered what in the world she was going to say next.

  Joe took her in slowly; his eyes moved from her head down to her feet and then up again. At that moment he thought that he had never seen a more beautiful woman in all his life. His heart stopped short and his breath escaped him for a moment, and when it returned he remembered that he belonged to another.

  Bertie walked toward him, the book forgotten on the ground, her steps unsure at first and then more confident as she got closer. She extended her hand to him and announced, “My name is Bertie, Bertie Mae Brown.”

  Joe took her hand in his and thought he had never felt skin so soft. Bertie shivered at his touch. “Glad to meet your acquaintance, Miss Brown. My name is Joe, Joe Taylor.” He smiled at the yellow ribbons.

  They stood that way for a long time, hand-in-hand, Bertie lost in his eyes, Joe weakened by her touch.

  “Would you like to—”

  “Yes, I would,” Bertie Mae said before Joe could get the question out of his mouth.

  They started out across the field and through the woods that would take them to the Lacey home.

  Bertie was breathless and followed him like a puppy. She felt giddy and wanted to laugh out loud with delight, but she did not want Joe to think she was silly.

  If he thought something odd about Bertie, he didn’t let on, but continued to guide her toward the Lacey home, stopping to point out the thick roots of the sycamore trees that bulged out from beneath the earth. “Careful now,” he said as he gripped her elbow and steered her clear.