by Lynne Bryant
Every now and then, Ray Tanner's ugly face is over me, close enough for me to smell the whiskey on his breath, close enough to see his yellow teeth when he spits in my face. I feel the rope scratching the skin around my neck as they yank it over my head. I hear Ray's voice.
"You sorry nigger. I'll teach you to come looking for me like you had business with me."
I hear the river running fast and steady below me. I think of fishing there, catching catfish and taking them home for Mama to fry.
"Just so you know, nigger, I had me a fine piece of ass a couple of nights ago."
The sky on the other side of the river is turning that washed-out gray that comes right before sunrise. I wonder if Adelle is awake. I wonder if she'll finish nursing school.
"Yessirree, I had me a nigger nurse. She fixed me right up." Laughter from some of the other men drifts past me.
I try one more time to break free of the ropes that are binding my wrists behind me. If only I could see her just one more time. Tell her I meant to do things her papa's way. I meant to leave this thing alone, let time pass. Find another way to fight back. I'm off the ground now, standing on top of a tree stump. The ground and the sky are turning crazy circles. A single sliver of orange breaks through the fog over the river. I wish I could have gone fishing one more time.
"Pete, call old Purvis. We need to get a picture of this one."
I close my eyes and see all of them: Adelle, Gracie, Dr. Jackson. Grandma, Mama. I'll be joining you soon, Mama....
The noose tightens around my neck and I can't breathe. I clench my jaw against the pain. The tree and the river and the brightening sky swim away from me as I open my good eye for one last look. Then it all goes black.
Chapter 22
Grace
"And did you know that Ray Tanner did it?" Roxanne whispers.
Clarence and I look at each other again. I think we both know more of the truth now than we ever have, but still we have no proof, no certainty. "We had our suspicions, but none of us ever knew for sure," I reply. "There were no black folks who witnessed what happened. Dr. Jackson tried to get the sheriff to investigate, but after he asked a few questions, it was all dropped, swept under the rug, same as always. The Tanners ended up running the sawmill and lumberyard. As a matter of fact, Ray Tanner was highly thought of among the white folks."
Roxanne's crying again now, holding her face in her hands. "I just don't know how you do it," she says. "How can you deal with all this pain? How do you keep from turning hard with hate?"
"I've done my share of hating," I say. "We all have." Clarence nods at this; so does Rita. "I was so eaten up with it those first few weeks after Zero died that I couldn't leave my house. Finally, Dr. Prosser herself came down here from Tougaloo and packed my suitcase and told me I was going back to college. She said to me, 'Grace Clark, you have got no business letting these ignorant crackers take away your life like they did your brother's. The best thing you can do for Zero is get yourself in my car and get back to school.' I couldn't believe she talked that way, but she was right. I finished college and got my teaching certificate."
"What about Adelle?" Rita asks.
"Addie was as torn up over it as the rest of us," I say. "Maybe more. She told her mama and daddy her life was over, that there was no reason for her to go to nursing school now. Dr. Jackson even came out to my house and pleaded with me to talk to her. But what was I going to say? I was feeling the same way. In the end, it was Adelle's mama who convinced her to finish her nurse's training."
"How did she do that?" Roxanne asks.
"Mrs. Jackson got real sick not long after Zero passed," I say. "She came close to dying from pneumonia, and it was Adelle who nursed her through it. From her letters I could tell Adelle realized that nursing someone else helped heal her own pain."
Clarence shakes his head. "It was never the same around here after it happened. Junior was gone. Zero was gone. Looked like life in this town wasn't worth living. I even considered leaving here myself for a while."
"But you didn't?" Rita asks.
"No, I put my head down and did my work, ended up making a pretty good living for myself. And there was Ernestine, and then our babies. My boys left here, though. Moved all the way to Detroit," Clarence says. I can hear the pride in his voice. He's always been glad his boys made a different life for themselves.
"So why did you and Adelle come back here?" Roxanne asks me.
"I came back for the same reason Adelle did, I reckon. This is our home, Roxanne. This is where our people are and where our lives are. We've been contented here. Adelle had her nursing career and I might never have had children of my own, but I had hundreds of children in my life over the years."
"They were lucky to have you," Roxanne says, drying her tears with a tissue.
"I hope so. I think I finally figured out that hate wasn't going to help me. The best thing I could do for the black people around here was show all those children I taught, black or white, that a black woman can get an education and have a good career. I wanted to see those children grow up and make Clarksville a different place."
"But there are still people like Del Tanner," Roxanne says, shrugging her shoulders.
"There will always be people like Del," Rita says. She hasn't said much through this whole conversation, and I've been wondering what she's thinking. "Del Tanner's generation grew up in what was still a Jim Crow South. Even after the civil rights movement, some of them never adjusted to desegregation. All they can see is difference...." Rita looks at Clarence and me. "I admire your courage for staying. I'm not sure I could have done it. But maybe, since you did, mine and Roxanne's generation will be different."
I watch Roxanne as Rita says this. What's that look on her face? She seems softer somehow, less guarded than I've ever seen her. She seems to admire Rita. I remember how hesitant I was to let Roxanne into my life just a few weeks ago. And now, it looks like she's been good for all of us.
We sit quietly for a few minutes. Clarence pours us more coffee, and to ease the sadness we chat about the places Roxanne and I have gathered for the tour. Then I remember Roxanne said earlier that Del Tanner wanted her to bring me by the lumberyard. "Do you have any idea why he wants to see us Friday?" I ask.
"No, ma'am, I don't," she answers. "And if you don't want to go through with seeing him, I certainly understand...."
"No, I think we need to hear him out." I'm wondering what a Tanner could possibly have to say to a Clark, when Clarence's phone rings.
He leaves the kitchen to answer the phone in the next room. He's gone for several minutes, and when he comes back his expression is mighty worried.
"What's wrong?" I ask, feeling something in my heart crack like an egg.
"It's Adelle," he says. "She's in the hospital. She's had a heart attack."
Roxanne
Rita and I are sitting in the hospital waiting room. Clarence and Grace have gone in to see Adelle first, since the nurses only allow two visitors at a time. I have so many emotions washing over me right now that I can hardly speak. Rita must understand, because she doesn't press me for conversation. I can't bear the thought of losing Adelle Jackson or Grace Clark. Without the two of them I might have gone on with my superficial life, oblivious to a whole other world around me ... I might never have met Clarence Jones, or Daniel Mason, or Billy Webster, or Mattie Webster, or Rita. I look over at Rita. She seems as lost in thought as I've been.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
She turns to me and smiles. "For what?"
"For being willing to put up with me for one thing," I say, and we both laugh. "Seriously," I say, "thank you for pushing me to listen, for helping me understand. But, mostly ..." Here I go tearing up again. I've cried more in the past day than I've cried in years. "Thanks for helping me realize what's important."
Rita puts her arm around me and gives me a squeeze. "You've done that all on your own," she says. "I just gave you a little nudge. Besides, I knew there was an inter
esting person underneath that superficial, white-pilgrimage-director facade."
It's a relief to laugh, but we both stop abruptly as Clarence emerges from the double doors to the cardiac intensive care unit. We stand as he approaches us. I'm trying to read his expression. "How is she?" we ask at the same time.
"Doctor says she's going to make it," he says, breaking into a wide smile and chuckling. "She had a close call, but she's a strong woman. That doctor said she's one of the feistiest patients he's ever seen."
We all laugh and hug each other in relief. Just then Rita's husband appears, and Rita pulls him aside to fill him in on what has happened. I walk back over to the chairs where Rita and I were sitting. Clarence follows me.
"You can go in and visit Addie now if you want to," he says, sitting down beside me. "I'm going to rest here for a little while."
"Thank you," I say. "I'll go in a minute. I think I'll just sit here with you for a bit and get my breath."
"All right then," he says.
As I sit beside Clarence and I look over at Rita, talking intently to Jack, I'm filled with a sense of contentment. I know that I'm right where I need to be, surrounded by people who matter to me and who I believe care about me as well. I'm experiencing a new anticipation — about what the next half of my own life might be like, and about what my newfound friendships might bring. Although it's still painful, I know that Dudley and I will figure out what to do about our marriage. And I have a chance to allow my daughter to know me differently. I have a second chance to be me without that facade that Rita described.
Adelle
When I open my eyes, I'm so happy to see my dear old friend Grace's sweet face smiling down at me that I start to cry. She wipes my tears and clucks to me like an old mother hen. I'm surprised when I see that Clarence is with her. I haven't seen Clarence in such a long time.
Clarence winks at me and says, "That doctor said you gave him a run for his money. Sounds like you're too ornery to die yet." '
"Clarence!" Grace says. "You ought to be ashamed."
Even though I feel weak as a kitten, those two can still make me smile. They tell me that Roxanne Reeves and Rita Baldwin are out in the waiting room. They're worried about me, too. Roxanne is a dear, and she's coming along, for a white woman. I hope she and Rita will get to be good friends. I think Roxanne needs a friend.
Grace and Clarence hover on either side of my bed, talking about the weather and whatnot. Although I'm happy to see them, I remember that when the chest pain started last night I told myself that I had to talk to Grace. I have to tell her before I die. There have never been secrets between us, and I don't want to carry this one to my grave. I wait patiently, and pretty soon Clarence gets restless and says he'll leave so Roxanne or Rita can come in before visiting time is over. He stoops down and kisses my cheek and heads for the door. When Grace starts to leave, too, I hold on to her hand.
"I want you to stay for a minute," I say. "Come closer, will you?" Grace leans in toward me. I smile at her and reach up to touch her cheek. "Grade, you and me need to talk," I whisper. My voice is weak.
"Sugar, we don't need to talk now. You just rest and save your breath."
"No," I say, and I must sound stronger than I think because Grade's eyebrows shoot up like they always do when she's surprised. "I need to tell you something before I pass."
Grace is crying now. "You aren't going anywhere, Adelle Jackson! You can't leave me behind. We've always done everything together...."
I don't have time for Gracie's foolishness, so I put my hand over her mouth. "Hush up and listen to me. You always did talk too much."
She obeys me and stands there waiting and listening. The pain seizes my heart again and I have to close my eyes and catch my breath.
"Addie?" she says.
"Don't worry. I'm not dead yet," I say as the pain eases a little. "Do you remember me telling you how I had to nurse Ray Tanner when he was dying?"
"Yes, I remember. I still don't know how you did it, Addie. The good Lord will smile on you for that."
"I'm not so sure about that, Gracie. Not after what I'm fixing to tell you."
There go Gracie's eyebrows again.
"I didn't kill him. Not really. I just didn't stop him from dying. Believe you me, I know an eye for an eye is Old Testament thinking. Lord knows, I have done plenty of turning the other cheek in my time." Gracie's listening real close now.
"His big bony white hands twitched. He was tied down, you see. Those soft ties they use on folks in the hospital to keep them from pulling out tubes and such. I thought about those hands twisting the noose, slipping it over Zero's head.
"The connection between the machine and his windpipe slipped loose somehow. I reckon I didn't have it taped up very well. That breathing machine kept right on making its noise — in and out, in and out. There was that little alarm button. Just one little push, Gracie, and the alarm stops right away."
I feel the pain in my heart again. This might be the one that gets me. I'd better hurry. I keep going. Grace is leaning even closer to me now. "It's a shame, isn't it, Gracie? I heard it's a right frightening way to die. Kind of slow-like. Like hanging when the neck doesn't break right away. When he started to lose his air, his eyes flew open. I think I was the last thing he saw before he passed. He probably thought he was in hell."
Epilogue
March 2003
Roxanne
We're all gathered at Sandfield Cemetery, the next-to-last stop of the day. The spring rains have kept the ground soft and it's challenging to walk on. The sun is just coming out from behind the low clouds that have been hovering and threatening rain. Rita and Jack are helping Adelle, who is still a little fragile since her heart attack, and I'm helping Grace as we make our way across to the grave sites.
A surprising number of people have arrived at the cemetery, walking carefully among the graves. Some, like our group, are visiting specific graves of loved ones or family, while others — the visitors — have their brochures in hand, searching for the names of key figures from the tour. We've brought pots of roses to decorate the graves, but there are flowers blooming under all of the pine trees shading this plain little cemetery today, yellow jonquils, pink azaleas, red tulips.
We stop first at the graves of Adelle's mother, father, and grandmother. "I sure do miss them," Adelle says softly. I feel a stab of pain noticing the two additional empty plots, knowing they are for Adelle and Junior.
Adelle and Grace stand quietly with their arms around each other as Rita, Jack, and I remove the old flowers near the headstones and replace them with the new roses. As I watch the two women, I realize that even with all of their strength, their bodies are as fragile as tissue paper. I wonder how long it will be before we lose them. That thought is intolerable to me right now. I've especially grown to love Grace Clark like my own mother. Without her, my life would have just gone on from one social event to another. I probably would never have had my eyes opened to any other perspective on life in Clarksville, Mississippi. I certainly wouldn't have been proudly cutting a ribbon for the Thomas Clark Memorial African-American Tour today.
The tour started at the Union School. Del Tanner himself oversaw the restoration of the old warehouse. He even searched all over Mississippi to find old school desks and a blackboard. Although Del kept his distance as people moved into his lumberyard and through to the old school, he stood there cap in hand, and watched us file by, with a look of respect in his eyes. Respect and something else ... I'm still not sure what. Funny, when I first met Del he said that if he allowed this school to be on the tour, he'd be out of business in a week. But from what I've heard lately, his business is doing just fine. Actually, it's picking up a bit.
From the school we went on to the other places: the Jacksons' house, Catfish Alley, the Missionary Union Church, and other sites we added over the past several months. This cemetery is the next-to-last stop on what I'm proudly telling myself has been a successful first tour.
The f
inal stop and the highlight of the tour is the dedication of the Queen City Hotel Community Restoration Project. Thanks to Jack Baldwin's financial wizardry, Daniel Mason's dedication and ability to garner community support, and mine and Rita's combined restoration expertise, plans have been drawn up and materials purchased to restore the old hotel. The Queen City will be an African-American community center dedicated to black history, and particularly to the preservation of the jazz culture. Mattie Webster herself has agreed to speak at the dedication. I'm still a little nervous about that since Mattie's such a wild card. But Grace and Adelle have assured me that she will behave herself. We'll see.
It does occur to me that none of my people are here. No husband. A daughter who, of course, couldn't get out of the cruise she had scheduled with her college girlfriends. But I've also noticed that the lonely feeling I've carried around for so long seems to be dissipating. As I look into the wizened old faces of Grace and Adelle and the proud, open faces of Rita and Jack, I think I know why. For the most part these days, my consciousness about being one of the only white people in a group has dissolved along with the loneliness.
Billy Webster is flying in from Chicago for the dedication ceremony. Daniel Mason has gone to the airport to pick her up and they'll join us at the Queen City. She told Rita and me the story of how she and her friend found Junior Jackson living in that old house in Chicago. Another heartbreaking story, without a good ending. There have been so many. She visited him a few times after their first conversation, but she says he still won't budge about coming here. Rita, Billy, and I decided not to tell the ladies about Junior. Why add to their old hurts? Of course, Billy's been coming to visit quite regularly over the past several months. I'm still hoping Daniel Mason will talk her into moving back. I think they make a great couple. I was just telling Rita the other day over lunch, "I think Billy ought to marry Daniel Mason and move back to Clarksville."
