Breaking Matthew

by Jennifer H. Westall

  “He only just started coming around now that me and James are talking of getting our own place to run.” I was only half listening. “After the baby’s born, of course. But I reckon Daddy and Chester will patch things up. Say, do you know what Chester and that boy were fighting over?”

  I stared at her for what seemed like a length of time that would be considered rude by most people. I had learned a long time ago that lying was not for me. Not only was I bad at it, but I was determined to raise my character to a level that was deserving of the precious gift God had given me.

  I couldn’t lie. But I couldn’t tell her the truth either. “Listen, Emma Rae. It isn’t my place to talk about what happened in your family. If you want those answers, you need to talk to them.”

  But God help you if you ever get those answers.

  As I was coming out of church on Sunday, I stopped to take in the glorious autumn breeze. It lifted the fallen leaves and carried them away to their resting places along the dusty roads that crossed paths in our small town. People trickled out of the churches onto the sidewalks and meandered toward their homes on foot or by car. Many stood around laughing and talking with one another.

  I missed going to church as a family with my parents and brothers. After the service, Daddy would talk forever. Mother didn’t mind so much, but I could tell when it was time to get him moving. Initially she’d gently rub her hand across his back while he just kept on talking, his booming laugh carrying across the lawn. But eventually she’d start patting him on the back, and he’d get the message. Then we’d head for home, and Mother and I’d finish preparing our big Sunday dinner.

  Nowadays, I was on my own most Sundays. Dr. Fisher and his wife went to a different church. James and Emma Rae rarely made it into town ’cause it was such a hassle. They’d head over to the big house with the Calhouns and have their own service, with a big family dinner following. They’d invited me a few times, but I avoided the Calhoun place whenever possible. Too much poison in those memories.

  Mother and Uncle Asa kept to themselves too. The year following the storm, he sold Grandma Graves’s place in Good Hope and bought a small farmhouse just outside of town. Wasn’t long till he and Mother married, which made many of my relatives uncomfortable to say the least. I guess some people just can’t let go of the past. But I thought it was wonderful. I couldn’t think of anything better than falling in love with someone a second time, after so much heartache. Theirs was a story of redemption, and it saddened me that so many of my good Christian neighbors and family couldn’t see it that way.

  I let out a deep sigh as I thought of them, wondering if I could catch a ride out to see Mother and Uncle Asa in time for dinner. I’d never get there in time if I walked. But just at that moment, I caught sight of Matthew Doyle approaching from across the street, and my skin went all tingly. He was coming right for me, and it was too late to pretend I hadn’t seen him. My mind went in all different directions, but one thought was clear. He was the last person I wanted to speak to on such a beautiful day.

  So I turned on my heels and headed for home with a deliberate pace I hoped communicated my intentions. I made certain not to look over my shoulder, but everything within me wanted to. Was he following after me? Had he really seen me? Had I really seen him? I thought I might have heard my name, but I wasn’t about to turn around to find out.

  When I reached the next intersection, I had to cross over to the side of the street I’d seen him on, and I couldn’t stop myself from taking a quick glance down the sidewalk to see if he was coming. He was there all right; I hadn’t imagined it. But he wasn’t walking toward me any longer. He was just standing there on the sidewalk, looking at me with his hands in his pockets.

  My feet seemed to stop of their own accord. Some little part of me wanted to go to him, to fix everything that had gone wrong. But I just stood there looking at him, and he just looked back at me. We might have stood there like that for hours, maybe only seconds. I wasn’t sure. Sometimes, single moments have eternity wrapped up inside them. It was long enough for me to relive the heaviness in my chest from back when he’d looked at me like I was some kind of witch. It was long enough for me to remember my resolve to forget about Matthew Doyle. Then, just as he raised a hand to wave at me, I turned and persuaded my feet to start moving down the sidewalk again.

  I made it back to Ms. Harmon’s house, where I’d been renting a room for nearly a year. I hurried up the steps to the large wrap-around porch and glanced back to see if Matthew had come after me. He hadn’t, and I think that might have been the first full breath I took since I started walking. I pushed open the front door as quiet as possible, preferring to take a few solitary moments in my room to settle my nerves.

  But before I reached the stairs, Ms. Harmon pushed through the kitchen door and into the dining area to my right. She caught sight of me just as I reached out for the banister. “Miss Ruby, will you be joining us for dinner?”

  I paused with my foot on the first step. “No, ma’am. I just came by to freshen up. I think I’ll head over to Dr. Fisher’s.”

  She stopped beside me with her eyebrows raised like she was expecting trouble. “Now, Miss Ruby, I hope you plan on being back here at a respectable time this evening.”

  I put both my feet on the floor and faced her, pulling my shoulders back like she expected from all the girls who rented rooms from her. I was in no mood for another lecture about how my appearance reflected onto her. “Yes, ma’am. I don’t expect to be gone long.”

  She narrowed her green eyes. “Why, you’re shaking. What’s going on?”

  I clenched my hands behind my back. “Oh nothing. Just a brisk walk home from church is all.”

  I didn’t think she believed me, but at least she didn’t press me any further. I excused myself as politely as I could and darted up the stairs to my room, closing the door firmly behind me. Only then could I concentrate on slowing my heart rate. But from behind closed lids, I kept seeing Matthew standing in front of me, his arm outstretched, my name on his lips.

  I opened my eyes and crossed the small room to my bed. Sitting on its edge, I thought of those months after Daddy died—the harsh adjustment to life as a sharecropper, my shame when Matthew and Mary first saw the shack we’d moved into, my feeble faith as I’d floundered along the path of serving others. And then I thought of Hannah and the terrible state of her home when we’d met.

  Maybe a visit with Hannah was what I needed. It had been several weeks since I’d been out to see her. Our talks always seemed to help right my perspective. And right then, putting some miles between Hanceville and me seemed like a wonderful idea.

  As I drove west out of town toward the Colony, each passing mile relieved my tension a little more. Dr. Fisher had seemed reluctant to allow me to drive two days in a row, but my promise it would only be a short trip to visit friends had loosened him a bit. ’Course, had he known where I was going, he would’ve said no for sure. Despite his affection for Hannah, and his care for her after the tornado struck, he adamantly opposed our continued friendship. Some kind of malarkey about my safety. So I didn’t often tell him exactly where I was going, and he’d learned not to ask too many questions.

  “Why she coming out here all the time?”

  “You got to wait on her in your own home?”

  “Ain’t you scared?”

  I laughed to myself as I pulled up into Hannah’s yard. We’d decided long ago that we preferred a world where a colored girl and white girl could be friends no matter what others thought about it, and that was the world we were building for ourselves. One day at a time. One visit at a time.

  I supposed she heard me drive up, ’cause she met me on the front porch with a big smile and a little shadow peeking out from behind her skirt. Before I’d taken two steps, Isaac darted out from behind her and came running to me. “It’s Miss Ruby, Mama!” He leapt up and threw his little tan arms around my neck, and I carried him back to the porch. When he pulled his face back,
I looked into his sweet gray eyes and felt my spirits take flight again.

  I set him down and hugged Hannah while she fussed at me and loved on me at the same time. “Now, Miss Ruby, you done surprised me! I ain’t got nothin’ but a bit a cornbread and milk today, and you gone show up on my doorstep!”

  I tried to reassure her that I’d already eaten and didn’t want anything but her company, but she wouldn’t hear of it. They didn’t have much in the way of food, but she’d try to feed me whatever she did have. I followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table, as she went to filling a bowl with cornbread. When she took a pitcher of milk out of the icebox, and I saw how little was left, I insisted she put it back.

  “I don’t care for milk with my cornbread, Hannah. I’ll just take some water.”

  She raised a finger at me and shook it. “Now don’t be telling me no stories. I seen you eat plenty a cornbread with milk.”

  “Not today though. I’m just too full.”

  She put the pitcher back and came over to the table, finally dropping into the chair across from me. I always liked it when she let her guard down and relaxed. Over the years, it had taken less and less time for her to reach that point during our visits. I even noticed that at some point while we talked, she’d drop the “Miss” in front of my name.

  “Where’s Samuel?” I asked.

  “No telling. That boy’s aiming to put me in the grave before my time.” She shook her head. “He said he was walking Millie Hatch home after church, but he should a been home by now. He probably found some other boys and went off to cause a ruckus.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “My brothers were the same way when they were fifteen. He’ll grow out of it.”

  She shook her head and looked more serious. “I wish that was all it was. I’m afraid he’s heading down a dangerous path lately. Been talking—”

  The door swung open, and Samuel stepped inside. He made eye contact with me, and I saw the hint of distrust he’d never been able to completely erase. But it was gone in a flash, and he gave me a smile instead.

  “Hey there, Miss Ruby.”

  Hannah jumped up and went over to him, swatting at the dirt on his pants. “Mercy! Can’t you even keep your Sunday clothes clean for half a day?”

  She brushed the back of his shirt, and he slunk out from under her hand. “Mama, stop fussin’. It ain’t no big deal. ’Sides, I’m just going right back out.”

  Hannah stepped back and put her fists on her hips. “Oh no, you’s staying right here and visiting with Miss Ruby! Them boys down the road can wait.”

  “Mama,” Samuel groaned. “I ain’t got time—” But he didn’t get any further ’cause she pinched the back of his neck. “Ow! All right!” He slapped her hand away and moved over to the empty chair at the table, which he dropped into with a loud sigh.

  Hannah came over and took her seat as well, shaking her finger in his direction. “You see? This is what I’m putting up with every day.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I don’t think you have too much to worry over. Seems like I remember my brothers causing a much bigger fuss than Samuel does.” I smiled at him, but he slumped even lower in his chair. “Boys can be a handful when they’re anxious to prove they’re men.”

  Hannah huffed and crossed her arms. “Well maybe you can talk some sense into this one. Lord knows he ain’t gone listen to me!” She dropped her chin, glaring at her eldest son. “You want to tell her what you were up to last month?”

  “Mama!” he said. “Miss Ruby don’t want to know about our business.” He darted a glance at me from under dark, angry eyebrows.

  “Well, somebody needs to knock some sense into that head of yours. Go on! Tell her what ya done. I just found out myself a week ago.”

  He stared at the table, picking at a flake of wood. Hannah turned her glare at me. “He went off picking cotton at the Calhoun farm. Not once, but three times! After all the trials we been through with that place, he wants to go and kick a hornet’s nest!”

  “Samuel?” I leaned toward him, hoping he’d make eye contact. “Is that true?”

  He shrugged.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why would you do that?”

  “I just wanted to see for myself.”

  “See what?”

  He shrugged again. I glanced at Hannah, wondering what was eating away at him. “See what?” I tried again.

  “The life my other half is supposed to have.”

  It was dead silent in the room for a good minute. I sat back in my chair and wondered what I was supposed to say to that. Samuel continued picking at splinters from the table, glaring at them like they were the source of his anger.

  “Just ain’t right,” he said. “Half of me should be walking around that farm like any other white person, able to say hidey to who I want to, look any man in the eye I want to, or just walk across any piece of land I so desire. Half of me is free.” He looked at me sideways. “Should be, anyhow. I got just as much Percy Calhoun’s blood in my veins as Chester.”

  I couldn’t help but see the caramel-skinned little boy I’d first met years before sitting at the table with me, scarred from years of beatings dealt out by Chester Calhoun. The first time I’d met Samuel, he was stealing a chicken to feed himself and Hannah. I’d covered for him, but I’d seen the way Chester tormented him. So much of Samuel’s anger and suspicion of me made sense once I’d learned about the abuse Chester was doling out on both him and Hannah. I’d felt his wrath myself, and I’d never forget it. I still suffered occasional headaches from the concussion Chester had given me.

  “Samuel,” Hannah said, covering his hand. “God made you in His own image, so you ain’t half of anything. You’re all His. Can’t nobody take that from you. And you’re going to grow up to be the man He wants you to be. Maybe He never meant you to be colored or white. Maybe He meant you to be the glue that’s gone hold things together. So you don’t let nobody tell you who you are. You ain’t half Calhoun. You ain’t half colored, or half white either. You’s all Samuel.”

  I wasn’t sure her words sank in, but I sure hoped they did. Underneath all that anger and mistrust, was a boy who loved his mother something fierce. I prayed God would give him peace and keep him from stirring up trouble with the Calhouns. I wanted to reassure Hannah, but I shared her apprehension. I’d have to keep my eye out for Samuel whenever I went to visit James and Emma Rae. Maybe he’d listen to me, if not his mother.

  I was certain no good could possibly come from his being anywhere near that farm.

  And I was right.

  Monday morning, long before sunup, Dr. Fisher woke me from a deep sleep. We’d learned pretty quick that early morning calls put Ms. Harmon in a bad temper for the rest of the day, so I’d installed a little bell attached to a string that ran out of my window and down the side of the house. He’d only had to use it a few times. Most early morning calls he just handled without me, but he knew I’d never let him hear the end of it if he didn’t bring me along when it was time for Emma Rae to deliver. So when I heard the bell’s light jingle, I jumped out of bed and dressed quick as lightning.

  Dr. Fisher met me on the porch with a lamp. “Got a call from the Calhoun farm,” he said. “Sounds like we best hurry. James says Emma Rae’s progressing pretty fast.”

  That was all well and good, but Dr. Fisher didn’t have a hurry-up bone in his body. He still drove the same ambling pace down the road, no matter what the emergency was. Sometimes I fussed at him, but it didn’t do a lick of good. So I bottled up my frustration as he made his way down the dark roads.

  By the time we reached the Calhoun place, I could make out the dim edge of dawn outlining the horizon. I’d hoped we were heading to James and Emma Rae’s house, but Dr. Fisher parked the car in front of the big house. Putting aside my discomfort, I followed him up the front steps, across the front porch, and through the open door.

  Mr. Calhoun stood just inside holding the door open for us. Our eyes met
, and like always, I felt a shiver go down my spine as I saw an older version of Chester looking back at me. It never once failed. In one instant, I’d see his face contort into Chester’s snarl, hear his gravelly voice swearing and threatening, feel the splitting pain in my head. But as quick as I’d see it, I’d close my eyes and turn away from Mr. Calhoun. That had been our greeting for the past four years.

  James appeared, and ushered us up the stairs to the bedroom where Emma Rae was being tended to by her mother. Mrs. Calhoun jumped up from her chair beside the bed and pushed a tangled mess of auburn hair away from her face. “Oh, thank the good Lord you’re all here now. Ruby, why don’t you take little Abner and keep him outta the middle of things. Dr. Fisher, I have a fresh pitcher of water and clean rags ready.”

  Emma Rae pinched her face up and tried to talk between her labored breaths. “No, Mother…I want…Ruby with me.”

  I went to her side with one of the clean rags, dipped it in the pitcher on the bedside table, and gently wiped the sweat from her brow. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

  Dr. Fisher’s deep voice carried authority with it. “I’ll be needing Miss Ruby. Why don’t you take the child down to his father?”

  I could practically feel Mrs. Calhoun’s icy stare on my back. She called to Abner, and I heard the door close behind me. I smiled down at Emma Rae while Dr. Fisher did a quick exam. She gripped my left hand, while I continued to dab at her forehead with my right. “Just take deep breaths. You can do this.”

  She pushed out a string of hard breaths. Then during a short break in the pain, she said, “Will you pray?”

  So I called down blessings on her and that little baby. I asked for their protection, for a quick and uneventful delivery. And then I held onto her as she pushed with all her might.

  By the time Emma Rae lay sleeping with another baby boy in her arms, the sun was well above the horizon and streaming into the bedroom like it couldn’t wait to greet such a precious creature. I washed up and told Dr. Fisher I’d be sticking around the rest of the day to help Emma Rae and her mother. So he packed away all his supplies and headed back into town.