Authors: Bernice McFadden
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 her 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.
They approached the back of the house, where there were at least twenty men and women sitting on wooden chairs, stretched out on blankets or huddled in groups up on the porch. Joe nodded to a few people as he and Bertie passed. Some nodded back and a few men called out to him:
“Hey, Joe!”
“Joe, Joe, the man Joe.”
“Nigger Joe, my man!”
Bertie dropped her head a bit; she didn’t want anybody to recognize her.
Joe came to an abrupt stop and Bertie crashed into his massive back and fell backward onto the ground. She sat there for a while, stunned. Her dress flew up, revealing white bloomers and thick pecan-colored legs.
“Hey, Joe, gimme some ‘o what she got, so’s I could give some to Daisy here. It take her forever to get her dress up for me!”
There was a roar of laughter and Bertie felt her face turn scarlet. She snatched her dress down and dropped her eyes in shame.
“Lemme help ya,” Joe said as he bent down and extended his hand.
“I gotta go,” Bertie said in a shaky voice as she ignored Joe’s open palm and pushed herself up and off the ground.
“Oh, Bertie Mae, don’t pay them boys no never mind. They just funnin’ is all.” Joe’s face was heavy with disappointment.
“I got to,” Bertie blurted out. Her eyes were filled with tears as she turned away from him.
“Let her go if’n she want to, Joe. She oughta not be here no way. Her mama would lick her good if she got wind of her havin’ been here.”
Bertie froze and her heart jumped in her throat.
The woman’s voice continued. “You Ciel’s daughter, ain’t you?” Bertie didn’t move. “Girl, don’t you hear me talking to you?” A finger poked Bertie on the shoulder. Bertie remained stock-still.
“So, Joe, she’s clumsy and dumb?” the woman said with a laugh.
Those words propelled Bertie and she swung around to meet the face of the voice that tormented her. “I ain’t clumsy or dumb!” Bertie Mae shouted into the woman’s face.
That woman was Sara. Back in 1924 she was young, firm and beautiful. Bertie was struck by her caramel-colored skin and perfect heart-shaped lips, the deep red lipstick and the even deeper red dress that hugged every inch of her.
“Well, well, she speaks.” Sara laughed. “So am I right? You Ciel’s daughter, ain’t you?”
Bertie nodded her head yes and Sara shot Joe a sly look. “What they call you?” Sara asked, as she looked Bertie up and down.
“They call me Bertie Mae.” Bertie’s response was meek. Before Sara could say another word, another woman, who looked remarkably like Sara but older and broader, interrupted her.
“Lift them eyes up, gal, you ain’t speaking to the white man and ain’t no royalty here. Lift up your head, let me get a good look at you.”
Bertie Mae slowly raised her eyes.
“Uh-huh, look just like your mama, don’t you?” the woman said. Her voice was filled with affection. “My name is May,” May said and stepped in closer. “You know, me and your mama is kin.”
Bertie Mae took a step backward. “Kin?” Bertie asked in astonishment.
“Yep, cousins on my mama’s side.”
Bertie’s mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. Ciel had never once mentioned that they were related to the Lacey women.
Another woman approached. She was wearing a blue dress that was much more modest than May’s and Sara’s dresses, her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and her face was free of makeup. She considered Bertie Mae for a moment and then smiled. It wasn’t hard to see that this was yet another of the Lacey sisters.
She whispered something in May’s ear and May responded by digging deep down into her massive bosom and pulling out a roll of money, which she handed to the woman.
“This here is Bertie Mae Brown. Bertie Mae, this my sister Ruby.”
“Oh, Ciel’s girl,” Ruby said. “How you doing?” she added before turning and hurrying away.
“C‘mon sweetie, let me get you a plate and a drink. Joe here could fend for himself while we all get to know one another.” May grabbed Bertie’s wrist and began pulling her across the lawn and toward the house.
She led Bertie to a shaded area where a long table had been set up with platters of fried catfish, potato salad, fried corn, barbecue chicken, dirty rice and cubes of cornbread.
“Take whatever you want. You look like you need it, you’re a bit on the scrawny side if you ask me,” May said, pinching one of Bertie’s thin arms.
Bertie had never seen so much food at one time and in one place in her entire life. Her mind told her to turn and leave, but her stomach insisted, and Bertie had not been following her mind at all that day so she grabbed a plate and began piling it high with food.
In between bites, Bertie snatched glances at May. She realized after some time that this woman wasn’t much older than she was. She couldn’t believe she was having a meal with a whore. It struck her as funny and she filled her mouth with food to keep the laughter down in her throat.
Ruby and Sara approached May a few times, handing her rolls of money or whispering things in her ear to which May would nod yes or shake her head no.
“So your mama know you here, girl?” May folded her arms and gave Bertie a sly look. Bertie’s mouth was filled with potato salad, so she just shook her head no.
“I figured that. Ciel act all high and mighty like she don’t know us, humph!” May swatted at a fly. “But there was a time when all she knew was us.” May screwed her face up and shot Bertie an odd look. “She talk about those times?”