Shadows of St. Louis (17 page)

Escape

"Charles will not be able to move very quickly with his injury," Clarence said out of the blue. It was the first time he had spoken since he’d found his sister dead. Emma Lynn noticed how controlled he tried to make his voice sound. He forced himself to be strong, but he couldn't completely hide the pain in his eyes. "Henry, you get the women and Jesse to safety. I'll follow behind with Charles."

"No!" Rebecca Jane yelled. "I'm not leaving you!" She threw her arms around Clarence and buried her face in his neck.

Emma Lynn felt her fingers tighten around Henry's hand. The thought of being separated from Henry on this night made her stomach revolt in protest. She covered her mouth to hold in the bile that had risen. She couldn't imagine the pain Rebecca Jane was going through at this moment at the thought of leaving Clarence behind.

"Maybe I should stay with Charles instead," Henry suggested. "It will be safer for the two of us."

"No, please." Emma begged. "Please don't leave me, Henry." Logically, it
did
make sense for Henry to help Charles. They were both white, at least in appearance. They would be protected against the white mobs that were currently attacking them. But what about retaliation from the Negros trying to protect
themselves
? Charles had already been shot within the shantytown. No, none of them were safe. On this night, it didn't matter what shade of color their skin was. They were all in danger.

"No," Clarence said firmly. "Henry, I need you to protect Rebecca Jane, Emma Lynn, and Jesse. My skin would be no help to them." There was
a sadness
in his voice. He sounded as if he knew this might be the last time he saw any of them.

"What about you?" Rebecca Jane asked. "Who is going to protect you?"

"I can take care of myself." He tried to reassure her. "Charles can't make it
on his own
. I will help him to safety. I'll be right behind you."

Rebecca Jane knelt on the floor next to Charles. "Charles," she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"It's all right, Becky. Please take care of my son."

Rebecca Jane's body shook with sobs. Emma Lynn was too stunned to cry anymore. It was as if her entire body was numb from the events of the day, especially the last hour.

"I won't let him out of my sight, Charles. I swear it," Emma Lynn said.

Charles started pushing Rebecca Jane away.

"No. Charles, Clarence, please no."

Just then, a lit torch was thrown into the room, instantly setting everything ablaze.

"Henry, go, now!" Clarence yelled.

Emma Lynn picked up Jesse and headed for the door. Rebecca Jane hugged Clarence again and clung to him, refusing to let go.

Clarence tried to push her away with one arm as he picked up her brother with his other. Clarence looked back at Cecilia's body on the floor in a pile of blood. Emma Lynn was sure he wanted to bring her along as well and give her a proper burial, but he couldn't. He couldn't help Charles and carry Cecilia at the same time.

"Rebecca Jane, Please. It's for the best." He kissed her deeply. "I promise I'll see you again. I swear it."

As the flames grew around them in the small apartment, Emma Lynn knew they wouldn't be able to wait any longer. She shot a pleading glance at Henry. It was as if he understood her with just one look. He wrapped an arm around Rebecca Jane's waist and pulled her toward the door.

Clarence practically dragged Charles up and out of the house.

Emma Lynn looked back at Charles and Clarence and instantly regretted having to see the image. Blood poured out of the wound in Charles’ leg. He winced with every step but forced himself to keep up with Clarence's quick pace.

The flames grew as Emma Lynn, Rebecca Jane, Henry and Jesse maneuvered through the darkness toward the back door. By the time they reached it, Charles and Clarence were out of sight.

Rejection

"Where the hell are you going?" Elizabeth Goodwin asked her husband.

George paused at the door. "A riot has started. Our children are out there. I'm going to be fine."

"Our children are white. As long as they stay out of the way of the mob, they'll be fine."

George stared at his wife in disbelief. "What about Emma Lynn? Will she be fine?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. How could she put this delicately so that her husband would understand? She didn't want him out there seeking after Negros. He was liable to get himself killed. Honestly, she was thankful Emma Lynn was nowhere near. The mob might burn down their house just because of her presence. It was better that she was with her own kind. Of course, she did hope Rebecca Jane and Charles were safe. She hoped they'd had the good sense to get to safety. "Emma Lynn is getting married. She's her husband's responsibility now."

Turning back toward the door George said, "I'm going to find my children. Don't wait up for me." Then he was gone.

Moments after her husband left, Elizabeth heard a banging at the back door. Looking out of the kitchen window, she saw Emma Lynn at the bottom of the stairs holding Charles' bastard Negro baby. Where were Charles and Rebecca Jane?

***

"No one is home," Emma Lynn said as she came back down the stairs. Her voice seemed oddly detached and mechanical. Henry had no idea how the events of this night were effecting her. He hoped they didn't leave any permanent emotional scars. He planned on spending the rest of his life trying to make her life as perfect as possible.

Henry looked up at the kitchen window and saw the curtain move. He knew someone was there. It was most likely Elizabeth Goodwin. How could she reject her own daughter like this? He wondered if she would open the door if he knocked on it with Rebecca Jane.

His knees weakened. Carrying Rebecca Jane for the last three blocks suddenly weighed on him. She was completely hysterical when they left Clarence's house. When she finally fainted, Henry was forced to carry her or leave her behind. It was pure adrenalin that gave him the strength to carry her in the first place.

After setting Rebecca Jane down, he collapsed to the ground dejected. They had nowhere else to go and nowhere to hide. The city was burning and the mob was heading toward this side of town. They were sure to find Emma and Jesse and do unspeakable things to them. It didn't matter that they were a woman and child. He had seen the crazed look in the eyes of men and women driven by a mob. He had seen that look in his own brothers and father. Anything was possible and nothing was out of the question. He had failed his Emma.

As the sound of the mob grew closer, Henry noticed a large vehicle barreling down the alleyway.

"Henry, it's your truck," Emma Lynn said, grabbing his arm.

How she could tell it was his truck from such a distance and in complete darkness was a mystery to him. But as the vehicle got closer, he saw that it was indeed the
Wideman's
Milk Truck. He stood up as the vehicle stopped in front of him.

"Get in!" a voice yelled from inside.

"Mother?
What are you —
"

"Get in the truck. I'll explain later," she said.

Henry opened the back latch and set Rebecca Jane inside before helping Jesse and Emma Lynn. Then he ran around to the front and hopped in next to his mother.

"How do I get to a bridge from here?" she asked as she slammed on the gas pedal.

"Make a left at the end of the alley. Mother, what is going on?"

"John told your father and your brothers about you and the Negro girl. They're with the mob. They're on their way to find you."

"Turn right on Clayton St." Henry interjected.

"You left your keys on the table," she continued. "I had to come find you."

"Why?"

She looked at him strangely.
"Because you're my son.
All I want is for you to be safe and happy. That's all any mother wants for her children."

Henry thought about the curtain he saw move in the window a few minutes ago and realized how that wasn't exactly true. Not in the case of Elizabeth Goodwin anyway.

"And I read your poems."

"My poems?"

"Yes, John had them. I didn't know you could write like that, Henry. I didn't know how you felt for the Negro girl. I can't say I approve. But if you love her that much, then you shouldn't let anything stop you."

Henry reached over and hugged her. "Thank you, Mother."

The car jerked to a stop. Henry looked out of the window and noticed the hundreds of Negros fleeing across the river to St. Louis, Illinois. Some were being stopped and sent back. Some were being dragged out of their cars and beaten. Others jumped into the river and tried to swim across. He knew he wouldn't have a problem getting across. He was white.

"This is as far as I go," his mother said after hugging him back. "Take this. It's the four hundred dollars Mrs. Goodwin gave me when she thought I was blackmailing her."

"What? Why?" Suddenly, he didn't want to let his mother go. He hadn't thought it through, but part of him just assumed she'd be coming with him. "You're not coming?"

Mrs. Miller shook her head. "I can't leave my husband. My life is here in East St. Louis. You go on and start your own life with the Ne ... with Emma. Okay?"

"What if I can't? What if I'm not strong enough? What if I'm not a good husband?"

Mrs. Miller stared into her son’s eyes and said, "You'll be fine. Just think of what your father would do and do the opposite."

Goodbye

Their progress was slow and painful. Even if Charles could ignore the pain in his leg, he couldn't ignore the lightheaded feeling that had taken over him. He barely recognized the trash cluttered streets that he had traveled so often to visit his son. He had lost a lot of blood and he had trouble focusing on what was real and what wasn't. Sometimes, he saw images of his curly haired son right in front of him, reaching out his short arms and running to him with his stubby legs. In the recesses of his mind, he knew this image was false. He slightly remembered that he should be running, running away from something. He couldn't quite remember what.

His son, yes.
He was running to his son. Jesse needed him. Did that matter though? Jesse had needed him all of his life, but Charles had chose to leave him to live in the slums of East St. Louis simply so that he could protect his identity. Charles had failed his son. He was a bad father. Maybe Jesse would be better off without him.

Charles stumbled once, then twice. His legs felt like an odd mixture of lead and molasses. It was nearly impossible to walk. He knew he couldn't go on.

"Clarence, Clarence stop.  I can't do this. You have to go on without me."

"We can make it. As long as we stay off the main road, we can make it to your home."

Charles knew Clarence didn't really believe that. He could tell by the resigned tone of his voice. But Charles was still comforted by the lie.

"Leave me here to die. Please. Take care of Jesse. Take care of Becky and
Emmie
. Please." Clarence would have made a good brother-in-law to him. He would be good to Rebecca Jane. His only regret would be that he wouldn't be able to see both of his sisters happily married.

The world started spinning and growing dark. Charles heard voices.
Lots of voices.
Voices that were drowning out the voice of Clarence begging him to get up.

“Look there! That nigger is killing a white man.” Someone yelled.

"They're coming. Run!" were Charles' last words.

***

Clarence knew his life was ending when the first blow hit his head. Once he fell to the ground, he noticed the bloody two-by-four that had been the offender. The mob closed in around him. He barely felt the kicks, jabs, and punches all over his body.

A certain
calm took over him. He pictured Jane the first time they made love. She had tried to make Clarence think she was more experienced than she really was. She started shaking from nerves and Clarence sang her a song to calm her. Lately, Jane was all he ever thought of. Every lyric he wrote was about her. Every chord he played represented her soul. He was going to miss her.

Clarence hadn't had much hope the evening would turn out well. Not after watching Cecilia die. He also knew Charles wouldn't make it. Yes, people recovered from shots to the leg all the time, but not this one. The bullet must have hit an important artery. He could tell by how much blood Charles had lost. Honestly, he was surprised he was still conscious when they left the apartment.

But he also couldn't leave Charles behind. He would never be able to look at Jane again if he didn't do everything in his power to help him. Jane.
His Jane.
He hoped she would be able to get over his death.