That mortician could never love Kitty like he could, Ash thought. Russell didn’t have enough life in him! But Ash could make her happy—despite the sacrifices she’d have to make to be with him. Ash toyed with the idea of legally marrying her up North.
However, with ambitions of being governor, could he have Kitty, too? If Ash did marry her, how could he keep that a secret? Would she be satisfied with only his word, and his honor as a gentleman, that he’d always love her, and never leave her? Love makes a way, Ash decided, so he wouldn’t give up.
“Ash,” Miss Joan called from her parlor.
“I’m coming. I’m just gonna--finish my water.” Ash drained his glass, but didn’t leave right away. Instead he stood glaring at Kitty. She sat at the side of the kitchen table, while Russell sat next to her at the end. The two were engaged in a pleasant conversation.
****
“Miss Joan let me make us some iced tea. Will you have some?” Kitty asked Russell.
“Oh, yes please,” he replied.
As Kitty turned toward the icebox, she found Ash propped against the counter next to it. She hesitated, caught off guard by the way he looked at her. His eyes said she was his and he felt betrayed seeing her with another man.
And the truth was she wanted to be his. She loved Ash, but she wasn’t a fool. What kind of future would she have with him? At least with Russell, she knew stability and security were guaranteed. And she was sure she’d grow to love him. She liked Russell, and enjoyed his company, but Ash moved her in a way she’d never been moved. Although she’d never been with a man physically, she wanted Ash that way.
Shocked by her own thoughts, Kitty took her eyes from Ash’s and quickly walked to the icebox. She pulled out the tea and took it to the table. Avoiding Ash’s eyes, Kitty again turned in his direction to retrieve two glasses from the cabinet next to him. Once seated, she poured iced tea for Russell, and then for herself. Ash still stood behind her. She could almost feel his eyes boring into her back. She wished he’d leave. But to her dismay, he boldly yanked out the chair next to hers and sat down.
“I suppose ya’ll don’t mind if I join you for a little while.” His tone implied that they had no choice.
Ash sat closer to Kitty than necessary. His thigh touched hers and she pulled away. Feeling awkward, Kitty said, “It’s your house.”
“I didn’t know you were leaving work early today,” Ash said to her.
“Your mama’s letting us, even though she needed us to stay until 3:30. She suggested we bring our nice clothes with us, so our dates could pick us up here. Now, sir, do you uh—care for tea?”
“No thanks. So where are y’all going?”
“There’s a young people’s dinner at the church tonight,” Kitty said.
“And afterwards,” Russell added, “there’s going to be a speaker.”
“Hmm--sounds like a big evening for you and--Russell,” Ash said. “So, Betty Jean’s going, too?”
“Yes, Mr. Ash.” Kitty took a sip of tea. “And her beau should be here any minute.”
They heard someone stumble in the small hall off the kitchen near Izolla’s room. “Betty Jean must be ready.” Kitty stood up, relieved to escape. “I told her not to wear those thick glasses, so I better go help her before she falls and kills herself.” Kitty almost tripped as she fled from the kitchen.
She found her sister feeling her way down the hall. “Wait a minute, Betty Jean. You could have called for help, you know.”
“I can find my way.”
“No, you can’t!” Kitty snapped. “You’re blind as a bat! No use crackin’ your head open before we leave.”
“Is something wrong?” Betty Jean whispered as they walked into the kitchen.
Kitty ignored her, then said, “Why, Betty Jean, just look who’s out here, Russell and Mr. Ash.”
“Oh…” Betty Jean said quietly.
Upon seeing the ladies, both men stood. “Afternoon, Miss Betty Jean,” Russell said. “You look absolutely divine in that key lime silk chiffon.” Since Russell assisted in the mortuary during the summers, he’d become familiar with the different fabrics and colors used in women’s fashion while preparing female corpses.
“Why, thank you, Russell.” Betty Jean smiled.
“I’ll set you right here, by Mr. Ash.” Kitty helped her sister to the seat she’d vacated moments earlier. “And Russell’s on your other side.” Seeking refuge, Kitty walked to the chair at the opposite end of the table, pulling it about two feet away so she wouldn’t be too close to Ash.
“You do look mighty pretty,” Ash said to Betty Jean. After she’d thanked him, he glanced over at Kitty, then turned back to Betty Jean. “So, Kitty says your beau is going to this church affair, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I didn’t know you were talking to someone. Is he from around here?”
“No. I met him at Maretta U. But he’s Russell’s cousin from Oklahoma. He drove up a few days ago to visit and he’s staying with Russell’s family.”
“Where is he now?” Ash asked.
“He wanted to visit some kinfolk south of here, and this was the only day he could,” Russell said. “He’ll pick us up on his way back, then drive us to church.”
“He’s got his own car, does he?” Ash drummed his fingers on the table, then looked Russell coldly in the eye. “So—he must be doing well for himself.”
“His family has oil--” Kitty started, but Russell interrupted her.
“That’s right, sir, he’s doing all right for himself.”
“And what about you?” Ash’s tone was sharp.
“I reckon I’m doing alright, too, sir.”
“Oh, Russell!” Kitty laughed. “Don’t be so modest. Why, his family owns the biggest and the best Colored mortuary—”
“Catherine.” Russell wore a serious expression as he addressed her. “Why don’t we talk about something else, like Mr. Ash, here.”
“Why can’t we talk about you?” Ash said, with an edge of intimidation. He slung an arm over the back of his chair, then raised his head. “Gonna be a mortician, are you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, you’ll be taking them out the world, while my brother’s bring them into it. He’s an obstetrician.” Ash hesitated. “I could never be a doctor. I can’t stomach the blood. And I know I couldn’t work around a bunch of dead people.”
Russell laughed a little, but to Kitty it sounded like he was clearing dust from his throat. “You’d get used to it.”
“Mr. Ash is gonna be a lawyer,” Kitty said.
“So’s Thomas. That’s my beau.” Betty Jean said, smiling at Ash. “He’ll be graduating from Maretta’s law school next year.”
A knock sounded at the back door and Kitty left the table to answer it. It was Thomas. After greeting him, she showed him inside. Ash stood as they approached and Kitty introduced them.
Thomas wore an expensive gray nails head suit. He was about Russell’s height, but broader through the shoulders with a thicker build. His features were handsome, and his hair, wavy and brown. His light complexion was similar to Betty Jean’s.
Kitty offered iced tea, but Thomas declined. “I think we ought to be leaving,” he said. “It’s getting late.”
Russell stood up. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Why do we need to leave right now?” Betty Jean asked. “We have plenty of time.”
“I insist,” Thomas prodded. “We want to get a good table.”
“But—”
“Betty Jean,” Thomas said firmly, “this is no time to argue.”
“If you say so,” Betty Jean relented.
“I’ll need to get our things from Aunt Izolla’s room.” Kitty disappeared down the small hallway and moments later returned with their handbags, hats, shawls, and gloves, plus a shopping bag containing their day clothes.
The sisters attired themselves as they prepared to leave.
As Thomas and Russell moved toward the door, A
sh said, “It was nice meeting y’all.” They nodded in his direction and grumbled their good-byes.
Escorted by their gentlemen callers, Kitty and Betty Jean wished Mr. Ash a good evening as they departed through the back door.
“Have fun,” Ash said half-heartedly.
The door was partially closed for only a few moments before Kitty ran back inside to retrieve two fans. Ash’s back faced her and he didn’t realize she was there. But Kitty was just in time to see him slam his fist into the plaster wall. Quickly grabbing the fans, she slipped out. Ash had never seen her. He was too preoccupied with the pain.
****
Kitty fanned away, sitting in the back seat of Thomas’s large blue Chevrolet. Betty Jean sat next to her, while Russell and Thomas sat up front. All remained silent until Thomas said, “Working in a white man’s kitchen--that’s something I’ll never allow a daughter of mine to do.” Driving to the church, he took his eyes from the road and glanced briefly at the girls in the rear view mirror.
“The Kroth’s are decent people.” Kitty defended them.
“Well, I wanted to get out of that cracker’s house fast,” Thomas said. “Just what was that white boy doin’ in the kitchen with a bunch of nigguhs, anyway, spyin’ on y’all?”
Betty Jean crossed her legs. “Mr. Ash is a gentleman.”
“That’s right,” Kitty said. “Mr. Ash, Mr. Heath, and their daddy, Mr. Louis—all three of them are gentlemen.”
“And just as sweet as pie.” Betty Jean smiled. “Not a week goes by that Mr. Louis doesn’t give us flowers.”
Kitty nodded. “And they’re as respectful as can be. They always say please and thank you. They don’t treat us like we’re nothing,”
Russell glanced out the window. “We’re nothing to all white folks.”
“But not to them!” Kitty said. “Our daddy didn’t want us working in a white man’s kitchen either, but Mama’s aunt’s been working there for years. She’s the one that told us Mrs. Kroth would pay good money if we worked for her this summer. And Aunt Izolla speaks highly of the whole family. She’s the one who convinced Daddy that it would be alright for us to work there, and—”
“And,” Betty Jean interrupted, “Mrs. Kroth wants us to do well in school.”
“So does Mr. Kroth,” Kitty said. “He says that the more Negroes get educated, the better off we’ll all be.”
“Who knows if that cracker really means what he says?” Thomas was skeptical.
“The best way the white man can keep us down and control us is to keep us ignorant,” Russell said. “So you don’t need to go telling that white boy, Ash, what we’re studying and what we have.”
“Yeah.” Thomas smirked. “He and his Klan buddies might just come around and lynch us.”
Angered, Kitty said, “The Kroths don’t approve of the Klan!”
“What about Old Man Kroth’s political views and all those hate speeches?” Russell asked. “You do know that he was Governor ‘Torch’ Bedford’s political advisor and speech writer, don’t you?”
“Mr. Louis didn’t really believe all that nasty talk back then,” Betty Jean said quietly.
Kitty clicked her tongue. “It was all just politics. They had to say what the people wanted to hear.”
“Don’t be naïve about a white man.” Thomas scowled. “When you’re working in his kitchen, there’s only one thing on his mind.”
Russell looked at his cousin and agreed.
“You might talk about that Mr. Ash being a gentleman,” Thomas said, “but all he wants to really do is get into your drawers.” Kitty and Betty Jean gasped. “Maybe he’ll talk sweet, but most likely, he’ll use force.”
“Someone like him just wants to take advantage of you,” Russell said. “He’s strong—and rich. He doesn’t think you’ll be brave enough to fight him off.”
“And if you try to put the law on him, no one will believe you, your word against his.”
“All those crackers do is degrade our women.”
Betty Jean fanned rapidly as she gazed out the window. “Well, you don’t know the Kroths like we do. They’re decent people.”
Thomas took a deep breath. “No white folks are decent.”
Russell looked back at Kitty and Betty Jean, draping his arm over the seat. “If Old Man Kroth, or any of his boys try something, you kick, you scream, you fight! Don’t let them think they can get away with touching you!”
“Don’t be silly, Russell,” Betty Jean said. “They’re gentlemen.”
Kitty remained silent.
Russell gazed at Kitty. His eyes bore deeply into hers and she looked away. She felt as if he could read her mind. “I’m not being silly,” he said, “I’m being realistic.”
Chapter 5
Aunt Izolla made the world’s best mashed potatoes, Kitty thought, while she stood at the kitchen sink peeling spuds. This was her assigned task while her aunt and sister had gone to market, and Ash’s mother was at her Tuesday bridge luncheon.
Miss Joan had given Kitty and Betty Jean permission to come in late because of last night’s affair. So by the time they’d arrived, Ash wasn’t home. Aunt Izolla mentioned that he’d gone into town to buy something. That was just as well. Kitty hoped he wouldn’t return until after Aunt Izolla and Betty Jean had come back.
Kitty finished peeling one potato, then picked up another. Her aunt’s mashed potatoes were rich and creamy and tonight she’d fry up pork chops and make a peppery onion gravy. When those potatoes were swimming in that gravy, they’d be so good they’d make you want to slap your mama! Kitty smiled, but only for a moment.
She couldn’t really concentrate on how good the potatoes would be, or the pork chops, or the delectable chocolate cream pie that Aunt Izolla had made for this evening’s dessert. Too many conflicting emotions shot through her mind and her heart.
“Okay,” Kitty said to herself, so she’d started it. She’d reached to kiss Ash first, but then only teased him by pulling away. Then she’d allowed him to kiss her. And he’d kissed her a lot since she’d let him. She liked kissing him and even dreamed about it. Though she’d wanted longer, deeper kisses, she wouldn’t permit that. But Friday night, she had.
Ash said he loved her. She wanted to believe him. There was no doubt that she loved him. But did he really love her, or was he just trying to take advantage of her? He’d always been a gentlemen, never going further than she’d allowed. But did he really care for her?
After last night’s dinner, Kitty and Betty Jean had visited with Russell’s family. The main topic of conversation was the peril of the Negro woman at the hands of the depraved white man.
“A white man could never love a colored woman,” Thomas had said. “But they’re curious to find out what it’s like to sleep with one.”
“Besides,” Russell said, “they think they’re entitled. It wasn’t that long ago when their grandfathers owned and raped our women.”
“White folks are always complaining about what a menace to society the Negro is because of his supposed weakness for white female flesh,” Thomas said. “But those crackers refuse to even look at a colored woman being violated by a white man as rape. They think all our women are promiscuous and there for the taking.”
Words Thomas said about Ash in yesterday’s car ride reverberated through Kitty’s mind. “He just wants to get into your drawers. He might talk sweet, but most likely he’ll use force.”
Mama and Daddy had always warned that a white man was nothing but trouble. Even though Ash wasn’t one of those white men, Kitty wondered if she could trust him. After all, he was white. And besides, Ash loving her—really loving her—was a fantasy. And even if he did—they’d never have a real future together.
Kitty tried to convince herself that her fears were irrational. But what if they weren’t? She hadn’t really known Ash that long. Yet he’d said he wanted to make love to her. Would he have been bold enough to say that if she’d been white? Or was it because she was Negro, he felt no sha
me in expressing himself so blatantly? Did she not deserve the same respect as a white girl?
Would he resort to force if he didn’t get what he wanted by sweet-talking? Fear gripped Kitty and she almost sliced her hand with the potato peeler. Putting the peeler and the potato down for a moment, Kitty took a deep breath. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t trust Ash. And for the first time, she feared being alone with him.
The knob turned at the back door. Kitty froze. Her heart began beating rapidly. She knew it was Ash. When he walked inside, she didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she picked up the potato and began working industriously to skin it clean.
Slowly, Ash walked to the kitchen table behind her and set down his bag. For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Kitty felt her chest tighten.
“I missed you this morning,” he said.
Kitty exhaled, relieved that he’d finally spoken. She let out a a small nervous laugh, but still didn’t look at him. “Your mother let us come in late—because of the affair last night. Betty Jean and I—we uh--stayed up late—talking and visiting at Russell’s house.”
Ash walked up behind her. He reached around her with his arms, pressing his chest into her back, then removed the potato peeler from her hands, and the potato stump she’d almost peeled away to nothing. He set them on the cutting board, then firmly grasped her shoulders and turned her around.
“Kitty, after everything I said to you Friday night, now you act like it doesn’t even matter.” Kitty squirmed, trying to release herself from his hold, but it only tightened. “I love you,” he said softly, “And seeing you with another ma—that boy--just ‘bout drove me nuts.”
Thomas’s words played through Kitty’s mind again. They’ll talk sweet, but most likely use force. She didn’t like the force Ash was using now; he clutched her shoulders too hard. Looking him coolly in the eye, she said, “What’s it to you, Ash?”
“What’s it to me? How can you say that? You know what it is to me—you know what you mean to me.”
The Governor’s Sons Page 5
