Race Traitor: BWWM Romance Novel for Adults

by Jamila Jasper

  “I told you my Ma had the french in her,” he said. “I used to go down to New Orleans a couple summers. Then deep into Cajun country. It warn’t so bad. But I missed it here.”

  “Mmm,” said Janie. “I was the opposite. When I came to live with my aunt, all I wanted was to be back in the city. ”

  “Well, what do you want now?” he asked.

  “With my life? Aw, I don’t know. I wanted to be a singer, when I was younger. Like Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith. Gettin’ it good in New Orleans. Tourin’ everywhere...”

  “Really?” Burke pulled back a little to look down at her.

  “Don’t look so surprised!” laughed Janie. “I only look shy. I used to do some singin’, now and then, when I stayed with Mama. And then at Xavier, on weekends-” She stopped, blushing.

  “On weekends what?” Burke laughed.

  “On weekends I’d go to the blues houses and sing outside for pennies.”

  He stared at her, fighting back more laughter. He couldn’t imagine Janie, so prim and proper, doing anything of the sort. “Well. You sure are a passel of surprises.”

  She shrugged, grinning. “Hey Burke, there’s a lot you don’t know ‘bout me.”

  The rain eased up. Janie turned around suddenly in his arms and kissed his lips. Burke grinned against her mouth and seized her suddenly, squatting down and throwing her over his shoulder.

  “Hey!” Janie squeaked.

  He patted her on the rump. “Let’s go outside.”

  “You crazy?!” She thumped his back. “Put me down!”

  The rain had lessened only slightly, but it soaked the both of them in seconds. Burke dumped Janie in the grass; she was on him like a vengeful cat. He danced away from her, roaring with laughter. Janie hiked up her nightdress and chased after him.

  “You- child!” She sputtered. She had started laughing too, somehow, and it made her chest hurt. She caught up with him and jumped on his back, grabbing handfuls of his hair. They tumbled down together, two balls of mud and grass and water.

  Someone might see you! That irritatingly-rational voice screamed. Janie pushed it away. Just let me be happy. I’m happy!

  Burke pinned Janie under him. There was grass in her hair and her mouth. Water soaked through her nightdress, fresh warm rainwater. Her nipples thrust up through the cheap cotton. He could see the outline of her areolas, dark as blackberries and, he knew, twice as delicious.

  Rivulets of water ran over her round nose and full lips. They gathered on her eyelashes like dewdrops.

  “Miss prim and proper,” Burke murmured, kissing her lips. “Getting tumbled in the grass. What would Emmett Freeman think?”

  Janie snorted with laughter and tried to playfully slap him; he caught her wrist.

  “Let’s go inside,” he said against the soft skin of her palm.

  “We better. We’ll probably be sick.”

  He lifted her under her hips and carried her back indoors.

  “Jesus it's freezing,” said Janie. Her hair fell in black slick ringlets, and the dress made a puddle on the floor. She hugged herself.

  “We can’t light the stove in August,” laughed Burke. The coals from Janie’s pot of coffee still glowed; he moved her to stand in front of it.

  “Ain’t you cold?” she chattered. “That’s twice now you been soaked.”

  He began to strip off his clothes. Janie jumped. “Burke!”

  “Can’t pick and choose when to flaunt the rules of polite society,” he retorted. “Besides, it’s faster to warm up this way. Nothin’ you ain’t seen already.”

  Defiantly, she peeled off the nightdress and stacked her soaking wet shoes near the coals. She left only her drawers on.

  “I want to bathe in them springs one day,” she sighed, rubbing her arms.

  “You can,” said Burke. “You know I’d let you.”

  He would, too. He could think of several ways they’d be entertained in the steaming baths- and in his bed, afterwards.

  “So you really just let the bricklayers come through the springs like that? And you ain’t catch hell for it?”

  “Aw, I keep it real private.”

  He put his hands on his waist and threw his head back. Water raced down his naked body. She fought an urge to giggle.

  “Only been doin’ it a few months, anyway. And no one comes through my land without my knowledge. I’d shoot ‘em.”

  Janie blinked. He looked very serious.

  “Er- really?”

  “Yep.”

  They dried off that way, laying out their clothes in front of the fire that Janie brought to life again. Then they sat and talked. She learned more about his childhood- following the footsteps of Renoir Giraud, his bull of a father. He learned more about her early days in New Orleans. Burke left an hour later, when the rain abated.

  “Janie,” he said, before he did. “I want to see you again. Like this. I know it’s dangerous. But I don’t care.”

  “Burke-”

  “Just say yes.”

  His eyes shone with currents of silver and blue. They were gentle. She rarely saw him express anything, unless in laughter.

  “Yes. Yes.”

  He took her face in both his hands and kissed her. Her lips were soft and willing; her almost naked body pliant against his.

  “Be careful.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  She watched him leave, his head ducked against the rain. Janie found herself smiling. She already missed him. Her skin burned where his hands had touched her. She’d been naked but it hadn’t been like before; it was innocent. He touched her as if she might dissolve to nothing in his hands, as if he wanted to hold her there- but not too tightly.

  Janie felt the stirrings of something deep in her breast. Resolve crept into her heart. She wasn’t hurting anybody by seeing Burke. Emmett Freeman be hanged. Love was love, wasn’t it? No one could know. No one would find out- and if they did, Burke wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

  “Be smart, Janie,” she muttered to herself.

  She’d never been with a man. She’d never been in love. Truthfully she’d never thought it possible. But now Janie knew maybe, just maybe, she could. Something great was entering her life. She didn’t want to let it go. Not yet. Not yet.

  The KKK poster was still crumpled on the floor. She stamped over to it and pushed it in the heart of the coals. It yellowed and crumpled and burned.

  Good, she thought viciously. I live by my own rules.

  ***

  The meeting was called to order. A fire burned at the center of the circle, sending sparks whizzing into the warm air. A quaint touch, thought Francis Croup. Certainly showy. The older members made a lot of noise about the symbolism of fire, and its cleansing power. These men were invested in the mystical aspect of the Klan, and liked to spout platitudes about their Orders from God and their Sacred Duty. Francis found this talk entertaining, but he preferred to think along scientific lines.

  Most of the men in the Rickshaw Klan were his intellectual inferiors, but that didn’t bother Francis. A wise man knew that stupidity in others was not a thing to be feared. Stupidity was pliable.

  This was precisely why he’d grown to dislike his cousin so much, Francis reflected. Burke couldn’t read, of course. But he had a brain like a thirsty sponge, and a sharp tongue to match it. If not for his maddening attachment to negroes, he might have proved useful to Francis in other ways. It really was a shame.

  “All rise,” said Ernest Masters, Grand Dragon of their order. The flame made his red hood glow like a coal.

  They rose in the circle. Masters said a prayer- the usual ritual. Then they sat down to discuss.

  “Our mission was successful,” Masters began. He was originally from Maryland, his accent with a touch of the Yankee.

  “But the fight is far from over, gentlemen. I’ve received three letters already in the post box, reporting suspicious activity. They help us with our next steps.”

  “Hear, hear,” som
eone grunted.

  “The chapter in Jackson is also pleased with our progress, Grand Dragon Stephenson tells me, and look forward to seeing the results. ”

  He looked around. “Rickshaw is but a drop in the bucket, you understand. But our mission is ever important. We’ve seen a fearsome increase in the Negro population- in Rickshaw alone they outnumber us. And with that communist Emmett Freeman in town, I expect another insurgence. Getting rid of the teacher wasn’t enough. We need to nip this in the bud.”

  Masters gestured to Cooper, his right-hand man. Joel began handing out small packages to each member. They contained a pamphlet, and a small description of each individual’s assignment.

  “We won’t get rid of those creatures by sittin’ on our laurels,” Masters declared. He thumped his thighs in emphasis. “Each one of you men has a part to play. Direct enforcement. Direct action. Violence. It’s the only way.”

  The company, and Francis, agreed.

  ***

  Janie sank into the hot springs, her muscles easing as the warmth enveloped her whole body. Up this close she found the old-eggs smell didn’t bother her at all. And the heat soothed her chest, which had been hurting ever since she and Burke’s little dalliance in the rain. It was for that reason precisely that Burke had recommended the springs; they had healing properties, he said.

  Sunlight shimmered over the color-struck surface, running in bright rivulets down Janie’s limbs when she raised them up for inspection. Her hair hung in a loose cloud around the nape of her neck. She longed to put it up, with all the heat.

  Night was gathering in the tops of the trees. As Janie could tell, night didn’t fall, it rose; the blue and mauve shadows creeping ever-upward to the roof of the sky. She’d be staying with Burke tonight. The path between Burke’s house and the schoolhouse where Janie stayed was private and quiet. But Janie didn’t feel like walking back. She’d rather stay in the forest, in the privacy of Burke’s cabin, where they forgot the world and only had each other.

  The fear never truly left Janie, because as long as she kept seeing Burke she was at risk.

  But Janie soon realized that, with the school out for the summer, and outside of her weekly lessons with whatever children did show up, she had plenty free time to do what she wanted. The summer proceeded undisturbed.

  They hadn’t slept together, though Janie had spent more than one night wrapped in his arms. He kissed her, he made love to her generous breasts; sometimes he even reached a hand up her nightdress and plied her warm softness until she was wet and begging for release. But Burke always seemed to want to stop before they could commit the final act. He’d kiss her and love on her all night if she let him, but her virginity remained stubbornly intact.

  More than once Janie had been tempted to put both hands on his trousers, to take his hard length out and guide it to the place she knew he very desperately wanted but was unwilling-yet- to claim. He worked her up to such levels that she thought she might die if she couldn’t feel him inside her, to consummate their relationship with the most intimate act in the world.

  But she hadn’t. Around Burke, and especially in his wide four-poster bed she felt shy and bold in turns.

  Right now the man in question was somewhere on the property. His dog Kojack reclined by a fountain of water coming from the rock face. Janie was surprised to learn Burke had a dog. She generally was not fond of them. But Kojack, a grizzled little mutt, was so calm she’d grown to like him.

  Dusky shadows veiled the forest. Kojack began to bark. Janie looked up and around the property. It would be dark soon; she wondered what Burke was up to.

  A sudden chill crawled up the back of her neck. The dog eyed the forest line, a low growl churning in his throat. Janie didn’t need another sign. Following her intuition, she raised herself quietly out of the spring and reached for Burke’s towel.

  They were white men. She recognized only one: Francis Croup.

  Get to your clothes, Janie thought. She cursed her stupidity. That’s what happens when you get careless!

  She’d really thought that no one would come through Burke’s property unwelcomed or unannounced. And until now, no one had! After all, apart from his steady friendships with bricklayers like Jeremiah, and his association with Emmett Freeman, Burke hardly spoke to anyone in Rickshaw but her. She never saw him with any of the white men in the town.

  Janie shrugged into a basic shift dress- one Burke had actually bought for her- and crept round the side of the house. She was barefoot. Kojack followed her quietly. She prayed he wouldn’t bark or growl.

  Janie wasn’t fast enough. One man turned his head and saw her. He looked her right in the eyes. Then slowly, deliberately, he looked away. Her heart slamming, Janie fled into the shadows.

  The four men rapped smartly on Burke’s door. Burke opened it. He’d been inside cleaning his guns; he still held his father’s rifle.

  At the sight of his cousin and the three companions, Burke started. His eyes flung swiftly around the property, looking for Janie. Had they seen her?

  “Burke,” said his cousin, misinterpreting his expression. “We’re just payin’ a visit.”

  “Huh,” grunted Burke. Janie, tell me they didn’t see.

  “Who are you?” He asked the three other men. They looked like just the type Francis liked to keep around: dumb, simian-like. Thugs.

  They introduced themselves as Jeb, Tuck and Joseph; by the time they got to “Joseph” Burke had already forgotten who was who.

  “What d’you want, Francis?”

  “Just to see my cousin.” Francis’s smile was oily. “You saw our work the other day?”

  “Those posters? The curfew? Yeah. I saw it.” In the past Burke’s icy gray glare would have made his cousin balk. But Francis had gotten bolder.

  “I suppose it didn’t fit with your ideas about the world,” he said.

  Burke saw the bait. “You can think what you want, Francis. If you came here to set and talk about that, you better save your breath and leave.”

  “Oh, we warn’t staying long,” said Jeb, or maybe Tuck, with a toothy grin. He spat a knot of tobacco over the side of Burke’s porch. “We’re on patrol.”

  “Patrol?”

  “Yes,” Francis said. “We got a report of some things happenin’ in here. Negroes runnin’ through, treatin’ the forest like their highway. Extramarital affairs. Black men takin’ white women here to fornicate. And even,” He said, his bright eyes boring into Burke’s, “The other way around.”

  Burke drew himself up to his full height. He fingered the barrel of the old rifle. “I don’t know nothin’ but what goes down on my own property, Francis Croup.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  “Careful, cousin,” said Francis softly.

  “Leave. Now.”

  “Tell your nigger gal to watch herself,” spat Joseph.

  “I’m gonna give you all two minutes to get the hell off my land before I start shootin’,” Burke said. “Startin’ now.”

  “I’m tryin’ to protect you, Burke,” Francis hissed.

  “Why don’t you mind what your wife is up to before you come pokin’ that nose into what don’t concern you. Got a snout like a damn fuckin’ raccoon, you delinquent bastard.”

  “Evelyn? What the hell d’you mean?” Francis moved threateningly toward the bigger man; one of the thugs put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

  “One,” said Burke.

  “You’re a marked man.”

  “Two,” said Burke. He lifted his rifle.

  The men departed. Burke watched them scurry away. Only one had been armed, but it would be different next time. He felt it.

  Like it or not, Rickshaw was changing. The strained peace that had existed between the white and black citizens- if you could ever call it peace, really- had finally shattered. It began with the rise of that cult, the Ku Klux Klan. Nutcases, every one of them. Dangerous nutcases.

&nb
sp; Burke had seen his cousin get sucked into the white-power mania. It hadn’t taken much. White folks in this town already hated black people, Francis no exception, and now they had a perfect channel for it. What really got Burke was that many of the members were ministers and preachers. In addition to their racist propaganda they demanded a return to “traditional” family values. A corrupt version of Christianity used to justify the lynchings, rapes and floggings.