Shadows of St. Louis (10 page)

In Hiding

Elizabeth felt her world crumbling. She had already survived the birth of two Negro children in her family. She couldn't handle another. Everyone believed that Emma Lynn was just the maid and she had been able to successfully tuck Jessie away so that no one would ever find him. What in the world would she do with Mary Anna's baby if he by some curse of God turned out be Negro as well?

No. No. No. This wasn't right. Why was everything falling apart now? It had been nearly thirty years that they had been able to live in peace. No one had a clue as to their true identity. She refused to give up her life because of her careless and disobedient children.

"Rebecca Jane!" she called up the stairs. "Rebecca Jane, get down here immediately." Elizabeth paced the living room as she waited for Rebecca Jane to make her leisurely appearance.

"How can I help you, mother?"
Rebecca Jane said when she finally made it down the stairs several moments later.

Elizabeth ignored her daughter's obviously sarcastic tone and said, "You have to marry Frank Gibson immediately." Somehow in Elizabeth's mind everything would work out if she could get her daughter legally attached to Frank Gibson. His father would be mayor soon. If anyone could help them keep their secret it would be the mayor. He would have a vested interest if his son was married to a Negro in hiding. He wouldn’t be able to let anyone find out.

Rebecca Jane took a deep breath but didn't respond.

"Did you hear what I said? You are marrying Frank Gibson.
The sooner the better."

"And if I refuse?" Rebecca Jane asked calmly.

"You don't have that option," Elizabeth replied.

They stared at each other for a moment. She waited for the inevitable argument from the strong willed Rebecca Jane, but surprisingly it didn't come.

"Well, then I guess this conversation is over," Rebecca Jane said before returning up the stairs.

Elizabeth stared after her daughter mystified. The conversation ended too quickly and without the customary confrontation. She knew Rebecca Jane was up to something.

***

Henry waited outside the Goodwin's Confectionary for Emma Lynn to leave for the weekly shopping trip. Every Friday afternoon, she was relieved of her duties in the shop in order to purchase groceries for the family. This would be Henry's only opportunity to have a private conference with her parents.

He watched as she left the store and walked down the street. Part of him wanted to chase after her and steal a kiss. But he knew what he was about to do was too important.

"I was wondering if I may have a word with you and your husband, Ma'am," Henry asked as he stood at the counter of the confectionary.

"Whatever about?"
Mrs. Goodwin asked.

"I'd rather say in front of both of you please. I won't be but a moment of your time." Henry twisted his hat in his hands as he waited for a response from Mrs. Goodwin.

She looked around the shop for a moment. "We seem to be having a slow afternoon. I'll gather George and meet you in the sitting room."

Moments later, Henry sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin. He was so nervous he found it difficult to breathe. This was proving to be more difficult than he imagined. He felt like all the blood had drained out of his body. He stood and started pacing the living room in order to get his blood flowing again.

"I would like to ... I am here to ... I, um
… "

"Henry, relax and spit it out already," Mrs. Goodwin said. She was obviously losing patience.

"Is this about the milk? What could you possibly want about the milk?" Mr. Goodwin asked.

"No, it's not about milk," Henry answered.

"Well then, what is this about?"

Henry took in a deep breath,
then
blurted, "I would like to ask for Emma Lynn's hand in marriage."

Mrs. Goodwin laughed outright. Mr. Goodwin merely stared ahead blankly.

"She's a Negro," Mrs. Goodwin stated when her laughter subsided.

"Yes, I can see that," Henry answered.

"You can't possibly think you can build a life with her. You obviously haven't thought this through."

"I've barely thought of anything else."

Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin stared at him in a stunned silence.

"I ... I love her. I don't care that she's Negro." When the
Goodwins
didn't respond he continued. "I want to go to college. I want to be a doctor. There are many schools that now accept Negros as well. I thought we could find one for Emma Lynn."

"You want Emma Lynn to go to college?" George said finally.

"Yes, sir, I do. She's very bright. She reads so much I can barely keep up with her."

"Oh my God.
You are the Henry," Mr.  Goodwin added. "I never imagined you would be white."

"Sir?"

"Nothing.
Never mind."
Mr. Goodwin crossed his arms and stared at the floor.

"Oh, Henry.
This will never work. Go find yourself a nice white girl and forget this foolishness, all right?" Mrs. Goodwin said.

"I want Emma Lynn," he said staring at his hat.

More silence.

"Is this about sex?" she asked.

"Ma'am?"
He looked up sharply.

"She's got you under some lustful spell, doesn't she? Negros
are
notoriously promiscuous."

"Elizabeth!" George said with a reprimand in his voice.

"If that is the case, then I have to call into question the sanctity of your marriage."

"Pardon me?" Mrs. Goodwin said, standing.

"You and I both know that I am the only fully white person in this room."

Mrs. Goodwin gasped. "What has she told you?" she yelled. Mr. Goodwin merely stood and went to his liquor cabinet. He pulled out a near empty bottle of gin and poured himself a glass.

"Emma Lynn has told me nothing of your family secrets. She doesn't even know the truth herself even though I think she should. She has been nothing but honorable. She's beautiful, brilliant, and caring. She deserves to be loved and appreciated, not treated like garbage by her own family." Henry's chest swelled with pride. He never imagined he'd have the courage to say something like that. He felt bold. He felt like he might be strong enough to make a life with Emma Lynn.

Silence permeated the room. Henry felt sweat gathering in his armpits. He began to doubt his decision to talk to Emma Lynn's parents. When he thought about it, they weren't really her parents at all. They hadn't treated her like a daughter for her entire life. Maybe they didn't deserve to have a say in her life. He should just take her and run away with Rebecca Jane and Clarence. That might be easier in the long run.

"Marry her," Mr. Goodwin said suddenly.

"George, no," Elizabeth said. "People will talk. They might suspect —"

"Suspect what? What could they possibly suspect from Henry marrying Emma Lynn?" Mr. Goodwin swallowed a gulp of gin then added, "For fifteen years I've watched you be more concerned over our secret than Emma Lynn's happiness. We are the same as her.
Same blood.
She deserves happiness too."

"She's a Negro," was Mrs. Goodwin's only response.

"And so are we," he said in a forced whisper as if he was afraid someone would hear. "Or did you forget?"

She looked at Henry for a moment then said. "No. No, I'm not Negro," before dashing upstairs.

"Marry her," he said again, ignoring his wife's exit. "And if you find a school that will accept her, we will pay for it."

"Thank you, Mr. Goodwin." Henry put his hat back on and started to exit the room.

"You're a brave young man," Mr. Goodwin said before Henry could leave. "I wished I'd had a modicum of the strength you have shown today when I was your age."

"Thank you, sir."

Henry exited the Goodwin home through the storefront wondering if he was truly brave or not. He hadn't stopped to think about it. He had never considered himself brave before. But there was something about Emma that made him want to do things he'd never even thought about before. Could he really marry a Negro and live forever with her? If he agreed to Rebecca Jane's suggestion, he would still be married to her even if only secretly. Could he really do it? Would he really do it? He didn't know for sure, but he knew he had to try. If he didn't, he would never feel whole.

Dinner Party

"It's a fact that the Negro is awed by the shiny metal of a brand new revolver. They just can't resist the temptation. That's why once they get a little money after taking our
jobs,
they all have to buy a gun. I'm sick of those lazy, shiftless, gun-
totin
' Negros taking our jobs." Frank banged his fist on the table for emphasis.

Rebecca Jane's incessant foot tapping rattled the table as she bit her tongue so hard she was sure she had drawn blood. She stared at the sallow skinned Frank Gibson with his disgusting greasy hair and couldn't believe this was the man her mother was forcing her to marry. He wasn't half the man Clarence was.

"Becky, stay calm," Charles said grabbing his sister's hand. She yanked it away and picked up her glass of ice water.

She took a sip, cleared her throat, then as calmly as possible said, "I'm confused, Frank. Do they get the guns before or after they take your job?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, if they need the money from your job to buy the gun, then it can't, be as you put it, 'gun-
totin
' Negros that
take
your job. The gun would have to come later."

"Fine.
But they're still lazy and shiftless when they mosey on up here from the South taking the white man's jobs."

Rebecca Jane took another sip of water from her glass. It took all of the energy in her body to keep herself from throwing the glass at Frank’s head. She took a deep calming breath then said, "Well, if a lazy, shiftless man is able to take your job, what does that make you?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that you must not be very good at your job if it's given to a lazy, shiftless man over you."

Frank Gibson stood from the table in disgust. "Before you go, Frank, just one question,” she asked with sarcastically innocent sweetness. “Do you currently have a revolver on your person?"

"Of course I do. I have to protect myself from the Negro. They're known to attack upstanding white folk without provocation."

"Well, if they attack upstanding white folk, you should be perfectly safe!" Rebecca Jane stood from the table and threw her napkin down.

"Becky, what are you doing?" Charles said as he noticed her storming toward the stage. "Becky!"

"That sister of your needs to learn her place," Frank said digging into his pocket as if his dignity resided there. He pulled out a cigar and sat back down. "Don't worry, I'll teach her all she needs to know once she's married to me."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you," Charles said staring after his sister.

***

Henry's mind barely registered the current conversation at the table. He knew Rebecca Jane and Frank were having some sort of quarrel and decided to stay out of it. In fact, he didn't want anything to do with Frank knowing what he had done to his Emma. Instead of contributing to the conversation, Henry's eyes followed Emma Lynn as she filled empty water glasses throughout the hall. Every three or four glasses, Emma would catch Henry's eye and bestow a small smile upon him.

Finally, Emma Lynn looked at the door to the alley then looked at Henry before ducking into the kitchen. It was a sign. She wanted to meet him in the alley.

"Excuse me," Henry said standing. "I … I …need to be excused." Charles and Frank didn't even notice Henry's existence as they argued over smoking at the dinner table. Henry negotiated his way through the obstacle course of dinner guests and found himself outside in a matter of seconds. He stood in the alleyway smoothing the wrinkles out of the slightly large dinner jacket he borrowed from his older brother. It was several years out of fashion and the hole his mother had sewn shut was with the wrong color thread, but if Charles or Rebecca Jane were embarrassed by his appearance, they had shown no signs of it. It had been quite a pleasant evening except for the incessant bickering of Rebecca Jane and Frank.

***

"What the hell is she doing?" Frank asked staring at Rebecca Jane.

Charles knew exactly what she was doing as he watched his sister whisper into Clarence's ear. And when he started playing his signature style of music, Charles grabbed a bottle of scotch off of a waiter walking by.

"This one is for you, Mother," Rebecca Jane said to the audience.

"What is she doing? What kind of music is that?" Frank asked, standing.

Charles took a swig straight from the bottle. "I believe it's called Jazz music."

And then Becky started belting out what sounded like an old Negro spiritual. If Charles closed his eyes, it wouldn't take much to convince him that it was a large black woman on the stage. But it wasn't. It was his dainty, beautiful little sister that the entire hall was staring at in astonishment.
Including her intended fiancé, Frank.

"She sounds like a nigger.
A goddamn nigger.
Charles, stop her. Stop
her this
instant. This is beyond embarrassing."

"Just sit back and enjoy the music," Charles said, taking another swig. He knew things he couldn't control had already been set in motion. There was no stopping his sister. There was no stopping any of it.

"I need a smoke," Frank pulled out his cigar again.

"I already told you, no smoking at the table. It's rude," Charles said with a belch.

"You can't be serious."

Frank's anger was rising quickly, but Charles didn’t care. In fact,
he
kind of wished Frank would take a swing at him so he would be justified in bashing his face in. Charles still owed Frank a good beating for what he did to Emma Lynn. That was something Charles was not going to forget for a long time to come.

"I am serious. If you want your cigar, go outside. I have a feeling you don't want to see what's about to happen."

***

Henry stood alone in the alley listening to the faint sound of music drifting toward him. It was just loud enough for him and Emma to be able to dance too, but not loud enough to drown out their conversation. It was perfect.
Just like he'd hoped.
If she would ever come out.
What on Earth was taking her so long? Henry whipped his hat off of his head. Twisting it in his hands brought him comfort. Why was he so nervous? He already knew she loved him. So he wasn't worried about that. Deep down he knew what the problem was. Deep down, he was afraid of getting caught.

"Hello," her sweet voice said from behind.

"Oh," he said, swinging around. "I thought you would be coming out of that door over there." He pointed behind himself clumsily.

"There's another exit from the kitchen."

"Oh.
All right."
He placed his hat on his head and then whipped it off again quickly remembering he hadn’t given a proper salutation. "Hello."

"Hello," she said again. At least he knew she was as nervous as he was. "The party turned out lovely, didn't it?"

"Oh, yes, yes, lovely. You did an excellent job with the planning."

"It wasn't all me. Mrs. Goodwin is quite sophisticated. She has an excellent eye for detail when it comes to these sorts of things."

Henry thought about the Goodwin family secret that Charles had shared with him. He so badly wanted to tell Emma Lynn the truth but knew it wasn't his place.

"Do you like Mrs. Goodwin? Is she good to you?" he asked.

"As good as can be expected for an employer.
In fact, she does a little more than expected. She took me in and gave me a place to live. The
Goodwins
are the only family I have."

"Well, that is certainly truer than you know," Henry blurted without thinking.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."
Henry placed his hat back on his head. "I would very much like to kiss you again, Emma."

Emma Lynn smiled. "I would like that as well."

Henry put his hands on her waist and pulled her toward him gently, remembering her injury. But just as he was about to lean in, he heard a door swing open.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Frank Gibson said, approaching them. "It's a good thing Charles made me come out here to smoke my cigar. I wouldn't want to miss this."

***

Inside the hotel, Mrs. Goodwin was in a panic. She stood at the edge of the stage and tried to discretely get Rebecca Jane’s attention. But Rebecca Jane just ignored her and kept singing. At one point, Rebecca Jane actually sat down in the lap of the nigger who was playing piano. Mrs. Goodwin almost fainted. Why was she always so obstinate? For the first time in her life, she found herself wishing Rebecca Jane was more like Emma Lynn. Emma Lynn always did what she was told.

Not able to take the embarrassing torture any longer, Mrs. Goodwin went on stage and snatched her daughter away from the piano.

"Isn't my daughter quite the comedian?" Mrs. Goodwin said to the audience. "She has aspirations to be an actress one day. Wasn't that quite a show?"

As the audience began a sparse round of applause, Mrs. Goodwin grabbed Rebecca Jane's elbow and forcefully pulled her off stage.

"Are you mad? How can you do this to me?" Elizabeth asked.

"And to me," Mary Anna added, joining them. "Mother, she ruined my party!"

“Let’s go, Becky. It’s time we take our leave.” Charles grabbed his sister and led her toward the exit. He knew it was the only way to avoid an all out fight between the Goodwin women.

***

"We weren't doing anything." Henry didn't like the sound of his own voice at that moment. He sounded weak and afraid. Unfortunately, he was.

"That's not what it looks like." Frank lit his cigar and took a long drag. Then he blew the smoke in Henry's face. Henry turned away gagging and coughing. "It looks to me, you were about to kiss her. I can't blame you. She tastes pretty good for a nigger. I've been thinking about kissing her again myself." Frank looked directly at Emma Lynn though he spoke to Henry.

Emma Lynn backed away from Frank slowly as she searched for something to strike him with.

Frank smiled as he strode toward Emma Lynn, forcing her into a corner. Then he reached out, grabbed her neck and forcefully pressed his lips to hers.

"Henry! Please!" she called. But Henry was frozen with fear. This was not how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to kiss and hug each other alone together in the alleyway. He was going to tell her how much he loved her and how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He was going to propose marriage to her. He even had a ring that he had fashioned out of piece of wire. He was going to give it to her as her birthday gift. But not like this. This was all wrong.