Janie sat down, her heart pounding. Burke looked perfectly calm, damn him, though people had begun to stare.
“Go on, then.”
“Alright,” he said. “You gonna tell anybody about the hot springs?”
The bottom fell out of Janie’s stomach.
“Excuse me?”
“Excuse who? I know you was snoopin’. I ain’t mad. I’d just like t’ know what your aim is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Oh? So this ain’t yours?”
He fished an engraved cigarette case from his pocket, dangling it in front of her face. Janie recognized it immediately. It read Marie Renard Ross, 1924.
Her eyes widened.
“How’d you get that?”
“Seems you dropped it. And I’m the one askin’ the questions.”
Janie tried to snatch the case from him, but he held it high. “Answer me. What did you see?”
“I didn’t see nothin’,” Janie snapped. “Alright? Absolutely nothin’. Now give it here!”
“That’s right,” he said. He handed the case back to her, his eyes sharp. “You didn’t see nothin’. And it’s gonna stay that way, y’hear?”
“Or what?” Janie shot back. She held the cigarette case to her chest, trembling in rage. “I ain’t afraid of you!”
Burke looked down at her, his expression changing. The arousal had come out of nowhere. A long-buried memory stirred within him. By God, she was a spunky little thing. He could so easily draw her over his lap and nibble on those pillowy lips. Kiss her until her rage had melted into sobbing, quiet breaths, until she was wrapped in his arms, her legs around his waist…
“Or nothing,” he said softly. Janie saw his body tense. He drew away from her a fraction.
“I’d like to ask you about it,” she said.
“No one else knows. It’s my property. I’m a private man.”
“I wouldn’t be fool enough to tell what y’all was up to. Or that I’d seen you naked.”
Janie wanted to smack herself as soon as the words left her mouth. Burke’s eyebrows shot up his forehead; he broke into a sudden grin.
“Did you now?”
“Goodbye.” She got to her feet, embarrassment stamped across her face. “I’m sorry I was spying. Thank you for returnin’ this to me. It was my mama’s.”
Burke stood up too. She was tall for a woman, but he loomed over her still. He didn’t want her to leave. It would be so easy for him to pull her close, press her back against the tall oak tree and crush his lips over hers, sating his lust and drawing her own desire out of her.
“Miss Janie-”
As if sensing his thoughts, Janie stepped back. She bid him good day and walked away quickly. Just like that her moods could change. What a frustrating woman. Burke remained in place, his hooded eyes drifting over her receding figure.
Chapter 2
Unwelcome visitors
Janie found the schoolhouse teeming with visitors in the next few weeks. She’d sit inside, listening to Burke bang away at the roof, the staircase, the windows- whatever needed fixing. Some men passed by to watch the white man work. Many in Rickshaw didn’t believe a white man would lower himself to fix up a negro school. A few offered to help, and some did.
It was hard to keep away the children. Ever curious about their new teacher, they came tumbling over the hill to see her. They stayed with her until sundown, some content to just play in the schoolyard.
One evening Burke stayed behind late to fix up the latrine. Janie left him about his business. They were cordial with each other; Janie tried to keep her distance, since whenever they got to talking it turned into an argument, which usually ended with her wanting to slap him, or kiss him.
The forest was swallowing the sun, and a dim red haze covered everything. Janie began closing up from the mosquitoes. Burke was still out back.
A knocking sounded on the door. Janie opened it, ready to ask Burke if he wanted some bread and cheese before he left. .
It was not Burke. It was a white woman Janie had never seen before.
Her clothes were impeccably pressed and tailored, the fabric finer than anything Janie could hope to own. A string of pearls wept over the front of her dress. Honey blonde hair was done up in a coil at the top of her head, with strands curling down attractively to frame her luminous cheekbones.
Her lips pressed together as if Janie had already said something she didn’t approve of.
“Hello,” said the woman coldly.
“Hello, Miss,” said Janie carefully.
“Miss Bricassart to you, girl.”
“Hello Miss Bricassart,” said Janie. Don’t give her no attitude, Janie thought. Watch your mouth. As Janie, and indeed all black people, knew very well, white women could be just as dangerous as their men, and twice as sensitive.
“Don’t bother introduce yourself. I know who you are.”
“Alright,” said Janie, keeping her voice even. “Can I help you?”
The woman pushed past Janie in a cloud of perfume. She eyed the shabby interior of the schoolhouse. She examined the window frames Burke had just completed. She tested the weight of the desks and chairs. Two fingers trailed in the dust under the blackboard.
“So this is what he’s been tinkering with. His little charity case.” She turned contemptuously to Janie.
“You mean Burke?” said Janie.
“ ‘Burke’ ?” Evelyn laughed. “Getting familiar, are you? Has he made a little conquest out of you yet? His little schoolmarm concubine. He’d be the type.”
Janie braced herself on one of the desks. Anger steamed up inside her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Evelyn. Her blue eyes drilled into Janie’s. Spite infected her voice. “But don’t think we don’t know what he’s up to. It doesn’t take much from you whores to send a white man chasing your skirts. I’ve seen it myself.”
“If I can’t help you, Miss Bricassart-”
“I didn’t come for me,” said the white woman. She kept up her inspection around the little room. She flung open cupboard doors. She rattled the windows. She even examined the pitcher of peonies Janie had sitting at her desk- a gift from Burke, just this morning. Janie watched her in a helpless fury.
“I didn’t come for myself,” repeated Evelyn. “I’m from Maryland, you know. I’ve seen enough of Negro foolery to last me a lifetime. I don’t need more of yours, girl, I’m sure you aren’t so special. But if this is to be my future home-” she flashed a large and expensive-looking diamond ring at Janie- “I want to be sure my future is protected.”
“We are just a school, Miss Bricassart,” Janie said, slowly, as if talking to an idiot. “We educate little children.”
“Oh?” said the other woman. “You think it was for teaching that they strung up the other man before you? Then you’re a stupid thing indeed. No, no, my dear.” Evelyn chuckled nastily.
“Use the little brains you have. I heard you’re from New Orleans, is that true?”
Janie swallowed. The more the woman spoke, the more Janie realized that she was not just a pretty fool. It would be a grave mistake to take her as on. She clenched her fists.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Janie.
“That’s so,” said Evelyn. “I’ve been there heaps of times. A lively place. Very diverse, though I’m sure we mingled with different crowds. The laws are looser there, aren’t they? Negroes and whites and Irish and Indians. One big happy family.”
Janie wondered what side of New Orleans that woman had seen. Was it like that among the petit-bougeoirs? “I suppose so,” she told Evelyn.
“The problem, girl, is we are not a family. The human race is clearly divided. Some men are men, and some men no more than beasts. There is no equality. Scientific proof shows that negroes are weaker, dumber, and inferior to whites. It’s indisputable; the evidence is there!” She watched Janie for a reaction. But Janie, trained long to t
he ways of women like Aunt Sarah, gave her nothing.
Evelyn continued, “For the advancement of the human race, your people need to be kept separate. Stay in their natural place, be our workers, as God ordained. You don’t put the rotten apples in with the whole bunch, do you dear?”
Rotten bitch, Janie thought.
Evelyn waved her hand. “Anyway, my point is this: New Orleans, and such similar places, are offensive. Aberrations. And this town is the fastest growing town in Mississippi- I won’t see it go down that path.” She fingered the pearls at her throat. “There are some things worth preserving.”
“You have the wrong idea,” Janie said quietly. “Burke offered to help the school.”
“I just came to watch,” said Evelyn. “I don’t give a damn what Burke does in his free time. If he wants to help the niggers, then for God’s sake let him help the niggers. I just want you to know your place.”
“And where would that be, Ma’am?” Janie said through her teeth.
“With the rest of your kind. Raising dumb little pickaninnies to work for smarter men. That’s your place, Miss Janie Ruth Ross. And if I’m to live in this backwoods country, I don’t want to see the rules of God and Man flaunted by uppity colored wenches.”
Be calm, Janie thought. She could bear insults from white men easier than their women.
“I see,” said Janie.
“That’s right,” Evelyn said. “I’ve said my piece now. Consider it a warning, Janie.”
“You seem to have gone through a lot of trouble, to tell me all this. Ma’am,” Janie replied. She spat out the honorific like a curse.
Evelyn stepped close, her nose almost touching Janie’s. Her voice was serpentine.
“I’m keeping my eye on you, little bitch. We all are. If I find out you’ve so much as lifted your skirts around him, you’ll be the next one dropping from the tree. And they’ll all have a turn with you before you swing.”
“Pardon,” said Burke from the doorway.
The change over Evelyn was nightmarishly sudden. Her expression could melt butter.
“Burke. I was just dropping in to see you.”
“Why?” he said flatly. “Where is Francis?”
Evelyn fluttered. “He’s home. Are you leaving soon?”
“No,” said Burke. “But you should. The sun’s going down.”
“I- oh. Very well.” Irritation flicked across Evelyn’s face. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “But you shouldn’t be alone with a nigger woman. It’s not proper. If anyone found out-”
“Why don’t you mind your business, Evelyn?” His tone was a warning. One Evelyn ignored.
“My business?” She laughed cruelly, her eyes flicking to Janie. Burke would not humble her in front of some negro wench!
“Where the rules of right society are concerned, it is my business. I don’t need to tell you what they do to race traitors around here, Burke.”
Burke moved so fast Janie hardly saw it. He had Evelyn by the wrists, and marched her to the doorway. She gasped in shock. “Burke! What on earth-”
He dragged her down the steps, his grip strong enough to bruise. Janie raced to the doorway to watch. Burke flung Evelyn from him; she tottered for balance.
“Don’t you dare threaten me,” he hissed.
“Brute!” Evelyn panted. Her eyes sparked with furious tears. “Francis was right about you!”
“But he’s got it all wrong about you,” Burke growled. He gripped her shoulder; she winced in pain. “I know everythin’ that goes on in these woods. I know where you go. I know what you’ve been doin’. Try makin’ noise ‘round here again, and I’ll tell Francis exactly what you’ve been up to.”
Color drained from Evelyn’s face.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I sure would.”
What made Burke Giraud so frightening wasn’t his height or incredible strength. It was his eyes. Cold, empty caves. Evelyn Bricassart spun on her heels and fled.
***
“You shouldn’t be around me,” Janie said. “It’s trouble for us both.”
Burke didn’t turn around. Even from the back he cut an impressive figure for a man. But no; she couldn’t think of him that way. He was as forbidden to her as the moon.
“I’m just about tired of hearin’ what I should and shouldn’t do,” said Burke. He’d calmed down; his voice fell evenly on the warm night air. Janie’s moods could change in a fragment of a second; Burke was different. His temper, she could see now, was slow to light but long-burning.
She drew a deep breath, but he spoke again. “I can only help y’all so much, Janie.”
Somewhere along the line he’d started using her first name. And she, his. She couldn’t recall why; it had just happened.
“I don’t need a savior,” Janie said. She found her eyes filling with tears. Exhaustion, frustration? She brushed them away anyway. It did no good to cry over nothing. And that’s what it was: nothing. Such was the world. She just had to live in it, and teach the children, making a brighter day for tomorrow. That was her duty. But Burke Giraud came around and knocked it all around, trying to play the hero.
“Black folks been gettin’ by just fine. We don’t need a white man to come ‘round and- and try to fix us. We fill our own bowls. We teach our own children. Never bother nobody if we kin’ help it. All we want is for y’all to leave us the hell alone.”
Burke raised his eyebrows; Janie never swore. He turned to her. She was gripping one of the desks so hard her knuckles turned pale. Her gaze fixed somewhere above his head.
“I know,” said Burke. “I’m sorry.”
“To hell with your sorry,” Janie said. She lowered her eyes to his. They swam with unspoken torment. “You come ‘round here actin’ sweet as pie. You play with the children. Laugh with the men. But ain’t none of us trust you- I don’t trust you an inch! You mix me up inside, so I don’t know up from down, wit’ all yo’ pretty words and niceness. I can hardly act right around you, so I keep my distance. I mind my business. Then some white woman comes knockin’ on my door tellin’ me I’m gonna get strung up just like Samuel if I don’t squeak and bow and ‘yes massa’ in yo’ presence. But all I see, sunup to sundown, is you. I’m tired of it. I sacrificed a whole dream to come here, and you come along throwin’ thorns in my path.”
Burke took a step towards her. She was shaking. Her eyes were the real thorns, piercing his heart and soul. He took another.
“Janie.”
“Please,” she whispered. Nothing could stop the tears now. She wanted to back away; scream, hit him.
“Come here,” he said quietly.
“No.” Her voice choked.
He came to her instead. He was around her, he was everywhere. His arms came up over her back, pulling her to his breast. She shuddered; still he held her, smoothing the wrinkles of her dress, stroking the rough texture of her hair. Her nose found the middle of his chest. She inhaled once to calm herself, then again because he smelled so good, a familiar smell- one she couldn’t place…
“What do you want me to do, Janie?” Burke said. He’d planted his face in her neck. Her hair muffled the words. “Tell me what to do, damn you. I’ll do it.”
“Leave,” she sobbed, even as her arms tightened around him, pulling him closer. “Don’t come back.”
“No,” he said. “No, not that.”
Suddenly her face was before him, dark and beautiful and streaked with tears, which caught the vanishing light like crystals. He tasted them on her mouth, then on her throat. He was lost, and so was she. She wound against him, her face buried tight in his shoulder, as if to hide from her building desire. Burke lifted her against him. His hands clutched at her bottom. He stepped forward and trapped her against the wall, his thigh between her legs, drawing her chin up so he could ease his lips over hers. Her tongue fluttered in the soft heat of her mouth. He claimed it and deepened the kiss.
Janie could hardly think against his kisses, which
grew urgent and insistent. She should tell him to stop. But she didn’t want to stop. He was fumbling at the buttons of her dress, she was letting him, and he slid the bodice down over her shoulders and pulled her breasts free. She was thankful for the darkness as his mouth latched onto her nipple, hot and wet, suckling her until she whimpered with a forbidden need. Her breasts were larger than he’d expected; damn that modest schoolmarm dress. Janie, tall as she was, was all softness and curves. A real woman. Her breasts filled his mouth completely, his hands hiked up her skirt to grope her round behind, daring to circle lower where the wetness gathered in a sweet syrup between her thighs…
Race Traitor: BWWM Romance Novel for Adults Page 4
