by Afton Locke
Mother blinked several times before answering. “He’s the man of the house. It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“Just once I’d like to see you stand up to him, Mother,” she yelled. “Maybe then you wouldn’t have so many headaches.”
Mother jerked back as if slapped. “I’ve drawn you a bath. I suggest you get out of those wet clothes.”
After her mother left the room, Rose clutched the windowsill and looked at the clearing sky. She was a prisoner.
“Where are you?” she asked the fairies.
After turning away from the window, she picked up Leroy’s rose carving from her dresser. Squeezing the wood hard against her palm was nothing compared to the pain of losing him. Why hadn’t she eloped with him when she’d had the chance?
* * * * *
One week later, Rose sat at the dining room table, staring at the wall. The household had been quiet the past week. Mother had stayed in her room most of the time. Whether or not she had a headache was irrelevant. The tension between Rose and her father was obviously too much for her.
Father set a slice of coffee cake, her favorite, in front of her, but she ignored it.
“Rose, you have to eat something. You’re acting very childish.”
“I’m not hungry.”
It wasn’t an act. Her appetite had disappeared ever since she’d become a prisoner. She almost wished she’d caught a cold from the rain so she could have a reason to stay in bed too.
“I have some news for you. The mayor’s wife has opened an art school on Oyster Island for genteel young ladies. I’ve enrolled you for a month. Classes begin in a few days.”
Rose shrugged, the stupor that had fallen over her this week barely lifting.
“I suggest you begin packing your finest clothes. You will live at the school, so you must be on your best behavior night and day.”
“My best white behavior, you mean?”
Father frowned. “Of course. This will be the perfect opportunity to rekindle the interest of the mayor’s son.”
Live at the school? A feather of hope tickled her under her chin. Finally, a way out of this house.
Yes! Yes! But what would happen when the month ended? And how could she see Leroy there when he lived and worked in Pearl Point? He did borrow Caleb’s car to see his family once a week, but if she pretended to be white, they couldn’t appear together in public. Still, it would be better than this imprisonment. She hadn’t even dared to sneak out of the house at night to check for letters from Leroy.
As if in slow motion, she stood, pushed in her chair and faced him.
“I’ll go to this school on one condition,” she said. “At the end of the month, you’ll let me marry whom I please or not marry at all.”
Father glared at her. “I’m your father. You can’t impose stipulations on me.”
This time, Rose glared back at him. “And I’m a grown woman. You must let me live my own life.”
He smiled unexpectedly. “I’ll grant your request, Rose, but it won’t come to that, I’m sure. After a few weeks of living as the white debutante you were meant to be, you’ll forget all about your colored admirer.”
Don’t be so certain, she wanted to reply. Instead, she held her tongue. She’d pushed hard enough. It took every shred of her strength to hide the exultation from her face when she gave him a sedate hug.
“Thank you, Father.”
He squirmed out of her arms. “There’s no need to wrinkle my shirt.”
She dug her nails into her palm to prevent a smile. In just one month, she could finally be with the man of her heart.
“I would like to get some fresh air this afternoon, Father.”
“Very well. I’ll walk you to the waterfront.”
She had to put a letter to Leroy in that tree so he could find her.
* * * * *
That evening, Leroy sat on the pier, turning Rose’s short note over in his hands. He’d ridden his bike to the oak tree every night, checking for letters. When he hadn’t received anything for so long, he’d almost given up.
Dear Leroy,
I miss you so much! Father has made a prisoner in my own house. He was so angry. I could not even go outside to send any letters to you. It will be a miracle if you receive this one.
I’ll be living at the Carter Art Academy for Young Ladies on Oyster Island for the next month. I hope we will still be able to see each other, but we must be very careful.
Love,
Rose
He folded the note and enclosed it in his sweaty fist. Oyster Island! It might as well be the moon. How could he visit her at a white school when he had no car except once a week? And that was on Sunday when he was supposed to be visiting Mama.
He touched the wood he sat on, the wood he’d built with his own two hands. Until now, Rose’s father had stood between them. Now it would be this job, the thing that meant everything to him. He sent Mama money every month too. Why did he have to choose?
Even if he could see Rose every day, how would he do it with her in a white school? Look in the window at her as he’d done at the summer dance? He’d have to find a reason to be at that school and the only one he could think of was getting a job there.
Caleb, carrying a fishing pole, joined him on the pier.
“Care to do a little night fishing with me?”
Leroy shook his head.
“Well, you’ve got to stop moping around. Find another girl.”
“I only want that one,” Leroy replied, twirling the folded letter in his fingers.
He had an important decision to make, but he already knew the answer.
“Caleb, I got a letter from Rose. She’s going to attend that art school.”
The other man cast a line into the water. “Is that right?”
Leroy stood and paced. “I-I might need to leave for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“A week. Maybe two. Maybe a whole month.”
Caleb set his pole down. “A month? Whatever for? Is your mother sick or something?”
“No, it’s—”
“It’s Rose,” Caleb finished for him, hands on hips. “You can’t just walk off this job. A couple days for an emergency, okay, but not a whole month. Not for a woman.”
The weight of dread pressed down on Leroy’s shoulders, almost forcing him flat on the boards he’d nailed.
“I might need to quit this job then.”
“Don’t expect it to still be here when you finally come to your senses and want it back,” Caleb warned.
Leroy took off his cap. He wouldn’t be the man of the house anymore if he could no longer send Mama money. Forgive me, Papa. I’ll make things right.
“I’m going to see if I can get a job at that school tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”
His boss sighed, hanging his head as he picked up his fishing pole. “You’re going to be damn hard to replace, Leroy, but I will if I have to. I hope she’s worth it.”
She is, Leroy thought. I’m going to make that woman my wife if it’s the last thing I do.
* * * * *
Rose’s knees trembled under her pleated skirt as she approached the white house with green shutters the next day. The sign in the yard read Carter Art Academy for Young Ladies. Her parents had dropped her off down the street so they wouldn’t be seen. One month and she’d be free, she told herself. Then she could finally be with Leroy. In the meantime, she had to act white every minute of the day.
She climbed the front porch steps. I can do this.
Doris Carter, the mayor’s wife, met her at the door. The woman had a regal posture and a headful of elegant gray curls. She wore a navy blue suit with an expensive-looking brooch. Rose was relieved to see she had warm blue eyes and a pleasant smile. Would she be this amiable if she knew the truth?
“Miss Smith, how nice to see you again.”
Rose frowned at the strange name until she remembered it was the white name she’d given before. If she was to suc
ceed at this ruse, she’d have to do a better job of recalling her lies.
She inclined her head and spoke in her most cultured voice. “Mrs. Carter, it’s an honor to be here. I’m very excited to further my art skills.”
“The painting you submitted shows great talent,” Mrs. Carter said.
Painting? Which painting had Father submitted?
“Come. I’ll show you to your room.” The woman winked at her. “Because my son was so taken with you at the summer dance, I’m letting you share the master bedroom with my daughter, Mary.”
Rose glanced at her bag, wondering if she should carry it with her. Realizing a genteel young white lady would not carry her own luggage, she left it. The clothes in it hardly mattered, but she’d packed Leroy’s carved rose to bring her luck.
Mrs. Carter smelled of the powder older women often wore. On the way to the bedrooms, she showed her the parlor, which had a hearth and a piano, and the spacious back porch, which was fully screened and faced the Patuxent River.
She pointed to the easels standing in evenly spaced intervals. “This is where you ladies will paint.”
“It’s very nice,” Rose replied. “The lighting is good.”
Despite herself, a frisson of excitement crept through her limbs. As prisons went, this looked as if it were a nice one. It had to be better than being under the stern eye of her father all day while her mother lay ill in bed.
As they climbed the grand staircase with varnished treads, Rose wondered who had lived in such a fine house. This was what her father wanted for her, she realized. Why couldn’t he understand she didn’t need this? She just needed Leroy, and Pearl Point was fine with her, primitive shacks and all.
“Is this your house too?” Rose couldn’t resist asking.
A guarded expression dropped into place over the woman’s pleasant features.
“Oh, no. This is Caleb Rockfield’s house. We’re renting it, but if this school is as successful as I hope, we plan to purchase the property.”
Caleb Rockfield? He was Leroy’s boss. Had Pearl lived here with him too? Had they loved each other within these walls?
The master bedroom, located above the back porch she’d just seen, had a beautiful view of the water. Mary, the girl she’d met at the dance, turned to smile at her. Today, she wore a skirt and white blouse with an embroidered collar and perfectly pressed pleats.
“Hello, Rose. Isn’t this exciting?”
Rose blinked. This blonde, pale-skinned, blue-eyed girl was the epitome of whiteness.
“It is,” Rose agreed. “I’m so happy to be here.”
Her mouth was so dry she could barely talk. Of all people, why did she have to have the mayor’s daughter for a roommate? It meant she had to be on extra special behavior. She couldn’t let her guard slip, even for a moment. She almost hoped Leroy didn’t try to see her here. Since everyone thought she was white, it could be disastrous.
After Mrs. Carter left, Rose gazed around the room, taking in the green-and-white striped wallpaper and glass lamp. The scent of roses drifted in through the open window from the bushes at the side of the porch. This place was even finer than the home she’d had in Baltimore. Mr. Rockfield had good taste in antiques. It must be hard for him to live in a primitive camp after being used to this grandeur.
Just as it would be hard for her if she married Leroy. When she married Leroy, she corrected herself. But only at first. As long as they were together, it didn’t matter where they lived.
At last, Rose’s gaze landed on the big four-poster bed with a white coverlet. Had Caleb and Pearl made love in it?
Mary looked at it too. “Which side do you prefer?”
“We’re to share it?”
The other girl nodded. “That’s all right with you, isn’t it? I don’t believe I snore.”
A nervous laugh escaped Rose as the irony hit her. “Of course it’s all right. I’ll take the side near the door.”
If the mayor’s daughter found out she’d shared a bed with a colored girl, however, she’d probably scream bloody murder.
Father, what have you gotten me into this time?
Chapter Ten
The next day, all eight students sat on the back porch of Caleb’s house, painting the waterfront view before them. To Rose’s surprise, Mrs. Carter taught the class herself. Before they’d begun, she’d told them about her travels to Europe as a young lady where she’d studied painting. How exciting that must have been.
Mary pointed to the shadows on the water Rose painted. “How did you mix that color?”
Rose’s brush froze in midair before she could capture the triangle of a sailboat in the distance. Mary could just as easily have asked about her heritage. Maybe she suspected and used this innocent question to let her know. White people sometimes did subtle things like that.
But when Rose glanced at Mary’s face, it was blank. She really had asked about the color of the water. Strangely enough, Rose liked this girl and realized they were becoming friends. They’d stayed up late last night telling stories and giggling. Rose let her do more of the talking so she wouldn’t accidentally reveal her secret. It had been ages, if ever, since she’d giggled.
For the first time in her life, she was one race instead of two and could bond with others who shared it.
I’m only doing what’s best for you. Could Father have been right all along? If he was, where did her feelings for Leroy fit in?
As she painted, she went through the motions without feeling it. Did Leroy receive her letter? Had he given up on her and found a woman of his own kind? She couldn’t blame him if he had. Her life was so complicated.
Men’s voices and footsteps in the grass outside the porch distracted Rose’s fragile concentration.
“This grass must be mowed twice a week. The rosebushes are around this way.”
A chill of dread crawled over Rose’s arms. She knew that soft, slippery voice.
“Yes sir.”
Rose knew that rich, peppery voice too. Her chill of unease turned to a tingle of excitement. Before she could wonder if her mind played tricks on her, the two men came into view. Rose’s paintbrush dropped from her fingers and fell near her feet.
What in the world were Jonathan Carter and Leroy doing here together?
Leroy’s head was bent in earnest concentration while Jonathan rattled off maintenance instructions. For one brief moment, Leroy’s gaze swept across the porch and lingered on hers.
He was here!
From the men’s conversation, she gathered he’d just been hired to do a job. What about his other job at Pearl Point? She put her hand to her mouth. Had he given up the most important part of his life to be near her?
She willed her tears not to fall as she realized she loved this man. It seemed nothing would keep him away from her.
“That must be the new handyman,” Mrs. Carter said after the men disappeared from view around the corner of the house. “Nothing for you girls to be concerned about.”
It wouldn’t be easy to see Leroy here either, though. Genteel white ladies did not fraternize with colored handymen. If she knew him as well as she thought she did, though, she was sure he’d find a way.
Mary picked up her brush and handed it to her. “Are you all right, Rose? My brother has quite an effect on you, I see.”
Her brother? Rose wanted to laugh. Mary assumed she wanted Jonathan because he was white. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Maybe you’ll find an opportunity to spend some time together,” Mary said, mixing more paint.
Rose’s pulse throbbed in her neck as she wondered how long she’d have to wait before feeling Leroy’s mouth there again.
* * * * *
That evening, Leroy made a bed in the shed with burlap sacks. He’d slept on a pallet for half his childhood, so the discomfort didn’t bother him. The meager pay he earned on this job, however, was a damn sight harder to accept.
The Carters didn’t like the idea of his living in the shed,
but he needed to be close to Rose. He gazed at the big house through the small window. It might as well be a fortress. Rose was inside, but he didn’t know how to get to her. Maybe this had been a foolish idea.
Seeing her on the back porch in the midst of all those white faces had twisted his insides. She looked as if she belonged here. Had her father been right after all? If nothing else, this handyman job would let him know, once and for all, if he and Rose had any chance at a future together.
During the evening, snatches of laughter and girlish voices drifted into the shed. Some girls walked to the waterfront while others sat on the porch. When it finally grew dark, he bedded down to his pallet, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep with Rose so close.
Moments later, a tap on the door sent his pulse into high gear. Who would be out here this time of night? He opened the door a crack and blinked in disbelief at Rose standing there.
She wore the same rose-patterned dress she’d had on the day they met. He watched, mesmerized, as she slid the pink hair ribbon loose, letting her hair cascade over part of her face. Her sweet smile promised him something good but what?
“The rosebushes outside my window are too wild, Mr. Handyman. Do you think you could tame them?” she asked.
Was this a dream?
“Get in here.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside before anyone could see her.
After latching the door and leaning her against it, he cupped both sides of her face and kissed her, grinding his pelvis against her soft curves. Her fingers moved over the back of his head, igniting little flames all over his body. At this moment, he didn’t care if he had to work here for free to be with her.
“When Father confined me to the house,” she said, pressing frantic kisses to the side of his neck, “I was afraid I’d never see you again. Never be alone with you again like this.”
“Believe me, so was I.”
Smelling her rosy scent reminded him of the salty-sweet taste of her pussy. He’d meant to talk to her tonight, not satisfy his lust, but they seemed to have started a blaze in this small building.
