Glory Over Everything (6 page)

“Uh-huh,” she say.

“When was you a chil'?”

“If I ever was, I forgot,” she said.

O
NE
S
UNDAY
S
HEILA
comes over when my daddy's there and she gets to scoldin' him. “What you gonna do?” she asks. “This woman's not gonna make it through the winter. You can't leave the boy alone to take care a her like this!”

“What I gon' do here?” Daddy says. “I leaves the tavern, I don' have no money to help out. She gon' be all right, and the boy's doin' jus' fine!”

“You bes' get a job closer in,” says Sheila.

“And where's that? You got somethin' lined up for me?”

Sheila don't have an answer, and she goes out slamming the door behind her.

U
NTIL MY MAMA
got sick, we went to church to get religion. The singin' and the callin' out to God lifts us up, but I always got my eye on the cake and milk they give you after.

After she can't walk that far no more, at night we sit together and ask God to help us out, but I don't like it when Mama starts tellin' me that she gon' have to leave me and go on to see the Maker. Every time I say, “Don't go, I don't want you to go,” she tells me, “Baby boy, when I get the call, I got to go. You always 'member that even when you don' see me, I still right there, watchin' out for you. Come now, you tell your mama that you never gon' forget that.”

I promise her over and over, but I forget all of that the night she passes. I don't care that I'm already eight years old, and I stay put on Sheila's lap, cryin'. When Daddy gets there, he stands at the door like he don't know if he's in the right house. “What goin' on here?” he says.

“She pass on,” Sheila says, but there's no fight in her words.

Real slow, Daddy goes over to Mama, then starts shaking her and calling out to her like he can bring her back. I bust off a Sheila's lap and run over to push him away. “Don't fuss with her, can't you see she restin'!”

Daddy looks at me, then back at Mama, and he says real quiet, “I never think this gonna happen.” Then he looks at me and grabs hold a my arms. “What we gonna do? What we gonna do?” he asks me, like I got the answer.

Sheila takes over then, and in the morning Daddy takes me back with him, but it don't work out, and the next Sunday he takes me to see Mr. Burton.

T
HE THING
I like best about Mr. Burton is that he don't mind when I ask questions. That's just the way I is, full of questions. Quiet just isn't for me. I'm like my mama in that, where I like the sound of talk. I like the sound of singing, too, even if it's Robert when he don't think nobody's around. Then he lets loose. One day the slick man is working in the dining room, singing to the Lord like he's in church, when Mr. Burton and me come through to the study. Robert don't know we's there, and Mr. Burton just winks down at me, then heads on past like he don't see nothing.

About a year ago, this Miss Caroline shows up at Mr. Burton's art class that he gives on Saturdays. Mr. Burton was always a quiet man, but after a few weeks of Miss Caroline taking his classes, on the days she's comin' he goes around the house whistling, something Robert says I'm not allowed to do.

R
OBERT TELLS ME
that I got to learn to be discreet, a word that he says means not to talk so much. One Saturday afternoon I go runnin' for him. “Somethin's goin' on in the library,” I say. “Mr. Burton is in there with Miss Caroline, and it seems to me like they need some help.”

“Why are you bothering Mr. Burton?” Robert asks.

“Molly sent me to ask him if he wants some tea, like always. I know he and Miss Caroline went to the library 'cause I saw them go.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Well, the door is locked, and when I knock, they don't answer. Could be both of 'em is sick,” I say.

Robert tells me to stay back and goes to listen at the door. It don't take him long before he comes back and gets us both into the dining room to do some polishing.

“They gon' be all right?” I ask.

“They are having a private meeting,” he said. “You must never interrupt them during a private meeting.”

“Never?” I ask.

“Never!”

“What if there is a house fire?” I ask.

“Then you come for me,” Robert says.

“And what if you is burned up?” I ask.

He gives me a sigh. “I suppose at that point, you may knock on the door and shout, ‘Fire!' ”

“I don't think that's what I'd say. I think that I'd say, ‘Mr Burton! Mr. Burton, you best stop your private meeting, because Robert is burnt up and the house is on fire.' ”

“You could talk like this all day, couldn't you?” he asks.

“You mean about a fire?” I ask, but he don't answer me no more.

T
HEN COMES A DAY
I walk into Malcolm's room and Mr. Burton and Miss Caroline is caught up in kissing. I'm so surprised that I just stand there until Mr. Burton sees me.

“Pan!” Mr. Burton says, like I do something wrong.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Burton, I come in here to clean Malcolm's cage,” I say, but it's something to watch Miss Caroline's white face turnin' red.

“Will he tell Robert and your housekeeper?” she asks Mr. Burton, like I don't hear her.

“You know this is a private matter, Pan, that you must not speak to anyone of this?” Mr. Burton says.

“I don't say nothing,” I say.

“Are you certain he . . .” she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

“Pan is most reliable, aren't you, Pan?” Mr. Burton says.

“I know how to be discreet!” I say.

Mr. Burton's eyebrows go up and then he gives me a smile. “Discreet, eh? We shall count on that, Pan,” he says.

F
OR MONTHS AFTER,
Mr. Burton is whistling like never before, and I know why but I keep my mouth shut even when I hear Robert and Molly talkin' almost every night at supper, both thinkin' that I don't know what's goin' on.

Then, all of a sudden, everything stops. Mr. Burton stops teaching his art classes and Miss Caroline don't come to the house no more. There's no more whistling and Mr. Burton spends most of his time closed up in his study.

One day I go to Malcolm's room with an apple that Molly gives me from the cold storage room.

“Hey, Malcolm,” I say, “look what I got for you!” and when I toss the apple in the air and go to catch it, I bump into Mr. Burton, who is sitting quiet in a chair and looking down at his feet.

Malcolm flies over to me and I make him talk before he gets the apple, but this is the first time the bird's yapping don't get Mr. Burton to smile. I study the man for a while, then I say what he always says to me when I got trouble. “Mr. Burton,” I say, “is there anything that you got on your mind?” I know he's goin' on a trip down into North Carolina to paint some birds, and I'm wonderin' if it would make him feel better if I was to go along to help him out. I'm about to say so when he looks up at me. “How old are you now, Pan?” he asks.

“I'm twelve,” I say.

“You have always been wise beyond your years,” he says. Mr. Burton is the kind of man who needs to think before he talks, so I stay quiet and wait on him. “I was thirteen when I first met your father,” he says. “Has Henry ever told you about our first meeting? He saved my life, you know.”

My eyes open wide. In all these years he's never talked to me about this, and my daddy won't say nothing about it, either, even when I ask. “How did he do that?” I say.

Mr. Burton puts his hands through his hair, making it go curly—not like mine, where it stands straight out if Robert don't keep it cut. “I'll tell you about my early years another time. For now I have too many things to sort out. It seems I've made a mess of things.”

“Did you make a mess with Miss Caroline?” I ask.

He nods. “I'm afraid so,” he says.

I try hard to think of something to say. “My mama always said, ‘As long as you tell the truth, you got that to stand on.' ”

Mr. Burton gives me a quick glance, then looks out the window. “Well, you've certainly hit on the problem.”

I can see he's done talking, so I go back and finish cleaning up after Malcolm, then I hear Molly calling and I set out to find her.

F
OR A COUPLE
of weeks I keep waitin' for Mr. Burton to perk up, because I don't like to see him so quiet. He was never like this before. I keep tryin' to think of what to do, until one morning I remember how, before Miss Caroline was comin' around, he was always talkin' to me about gettin' a parrot with green feathers.

“Where you gonna find one like that?” I asked.

“They bring them in on the ships,” he said.

I never been down to the docks. Robert and my daddy said for me to stay away because of slave catchers down there. But I'm old enough now to watch out for myself. Besides, my daddy's been talking all these years about gettin' caught by slave catchers and nothin's happened to him.

I got the money that Mr. Burton gives me, but I don't know how much a new bird is. I'm hopin' I got enough with what Molly gives me.

I
LEFT THE EVENING'S
celebration before supper was served; if I had stayed longer with Caroline, we would have given ourselves away. As it was, eyebrows were raised when she forgot herself and clung to my arm with both hands. When Mrs. Cardon was called away, I quickly walked us toward the supper room, hoping for a lesser audience there.

However, here, too, in this great blue room, there was a flurry of activity as waiters and chefs rushed about. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the abundant displays of red roses and tall strawberry topiaries massed together on the mantels, tables, and sideboards.

A confused waiter stood with a large covered dish in hand while two of the chefs squabbled.

“The sauce goes in front of the salmon!”

“Never! It must be presented from a side table,” the other argued.

I led us to a corner and a large group of potted shrubs, tall as myself. Inadvertently, I stepped into the path of one of the servants, and we collided so firmly that the casserole dish he was carrying went flying. As the gold-rimmed china fell, splashing lobster Newburg across the carpet, Caroline reached for my hand and pulled me into a long dark corridor. No sooner were we alone than she was in my arms. I felt weak from wanting her, but I held her back. “Not here! Not here!”

“Why, James?” she begged. “Why haven't you seen me? Is it because of the child?”

“No, Caroline,” I said. “No!”

“But why, James?” she asked. “Why haven't you sent for me? I disturb you, is that it? The sight of me with child disturbs you?”

“No, dearest, no!”

Her blue eyes shone with tears. “Then tell me! Why have you abandoned me?”

I pulled her close and spoke into her ear. “I have not abandoned you,” I whispered. “I have been a coward, but I promise that I have not abandoned you!”

A servant startled us unexpectedly, and though he cast his eyes down as he hurried by, I was reminded again of the danger. I tried to put distance between us, but she would not release me.

“I must see you! When can we meet? Father is furious that I came here tonight, but I had to see you! I had to see you! Mother is insisting I go to the country. She said there are rumors and that I must go!”

“Your mother is right. It will be safer for you out there. But she has invited me out to Stonehill, and I will come,” I said.

“You will? Truly, you will? Give me your word, James,” she pleaded, clinging to my arms while dropping her forehead onto my chest.

My hand covered the nape of her soft neck. “You have my word. I give you my word. As soon as the invitation arrives, I will come,” I promised. How terrible I felt at her obvious distress. What had I done to this poor girl? Why had I not given her more support?

Another waiter averted his eyes as he passed by.

“Come now, before we are discovered,” I said, and drew her hand to my arm. Just in time, for no sooner did we appear in the doorway than a male cousin sent by Mr. Cardon swooped in and, with a haughty nod, swept Caroline away. She turned back and looked at me with such appeal that I took a step forward, then stopped myself. If I went for her, I didn't doubt she would come with me, but what then? I had no plan in place.

I stood back beside the potted shrubs, oblivious to the scurrying waiters. Why had I kept us apart for so long? If only I had told her the truth about myself from the beginning! But I loved her as I had never loved before, and always there was the fear of her rejection. Yet in not seeing her, I had missed her need for me. To learn that she saw my absence as abandonment filled me with shame.

And to think that there was the chance that our child could have color. How could I not have told her? Not only would she be horrified, she would be unprepared for potential danger. There were many stories of such situations that ended with rumors of murdered babies and mothers mysteriously disappearing. There was no way around it. The time had come. I must prepare her.

I would go to Stonehill, as promised, and there confess everything. I would plead her forgiveness and promise to provide the child a home, if that were necessary. Nothing would be more difficult than to lay this at her feet, yet tonight I had seen the suffering that my deceit had caused her.

A party of older women who had come early to assess the banquet were now staring at me. When I noted their attention with a nod, their fans flew open and they began to whisper. I needed no further encouragement to quietly depart.