Too Black for Heaven

by Keene, Day

  This she liked. The night and the storm matched her mood. The wind picked the pins from her hair and floated it behind her. Rain beat against her body like so many little wet fingers. Her bare toes squished in water and her negligee streamed out as she stepped down one stair and stopped.

  A battered blue sedan had been drawn up between the stairs and her convertible. As she watched, the door of the sedan opened and Beau got out, with agonizing slowness. He’d lost his hat and his white shirt hung in tatters from his massive black shoulders. There was a great tear in his trousers and a smear of blood on his chest. Dona thought at first that he’d been badly hurt. Then she realized that he was drunk.

  He stood clinging to the car door, studying her in the frequent flashes of lightning. While she stood, too terrified to move, he limped toward the stairs, weaving slightly as he came. At the foot of the stairs, he stepped so close that the fumes of the whiskey he’d consumed enveloped her.

  “Go away,” Dona said. “Please, Beau.”

  “No.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You know what I want.”

  “They’ll hang you.”

  Beau’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “Then I’ll hang. But not unless you tell. A two-legged white man had you for one hundred dollars.” He fumbled a thick roll of bills from his pocket. “How much for a one-legged black man? Two hundred dollars? Three hundred dollars? Five hundred?”

  Chapter Nine

  DONA BACKED slowly across the porch. Beau limped after her, doggedly determined. In the doorway of the cottage, Dona said, “No. You mustn’t come in.”

  Rain glistened on his face. “Why not? You live by selling your body. First Jack Ames, now Sterling.”

  “That isn’t so. I wouldn’t let Sterling touch me.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Some of Beau’s urgency seemed to leave him. He leaned against the jamb of the door. “You’re different. I mean, different from most of your kind. And I’ve seen them all over the world. From Memphis to Manila.”

  Dona tried to keep him talking. “What do you mean, I’m different?”

  “I don’t know. When I saw you in your room last night I almost went crazy. I didn’t sleep all night. I haven’t slept since. I thought getting drunk and bashing in a few faces and getting my own bashed might help but it hasn’t. So let’s get back to business.” He was still holding his wallet, from which he extracted a thick sheaf of limp bills and let them flutter to the wet floor. His voice was incredibly sad. “Why should a biggety Blairville County nigger dream of being a lawyer?”

  Dona thought she’d known sorrow. She hadn’t. Beau epitomized all the sorrow in the world. Whatever he might think, this desire for her wasn’t a sudden thing, a purely physical matter. It had been built up through the years, by little men spitting at him because of his color, by carrying countless pitchers of ice, by saying “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir,” to men his mental and physical inferiors. She wasn’t merely a woman he desired. She was a symbol, a symbol by which he hoped to prove that he was a man.

  She wiped sudden hot tears from her face.

  Some of the fierceness left Beau’s eyes. “I’ve made you cry.”

  Dona chose her words carefully. “I wish I could help you, Beau. I can’t. Last night was the first time I ever did that sort of thing. I had reason for doing what I did. It isn’t ever going to happen again.”

  Beau studied her face. “I believe you. I don’t know why but I do.”

  The strength seemed to go out of his body. He leaned so heavily against the wet jamb that Dona thought he was going to fall. She was afraid that headlights would show through the rain at any moment and that either Jack Ames or Blair Sterling would drive up in front of the cottage to see how she was weathering the storm. She wrapped her sodden negligee around her and tied the belt securely. “Now come in and sit down, while I pick up your money. Then I want you to go. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

  Beau straightened with a tremendous effort of will, stepped far enough inside the house for her to fight the door shut and collapsed in an overstuffed chair nearby, mumbling, “Trouble?”

  Dona picked up the bills which were scattered all over the cottage and stuffed them into Beau’s wallet.

  She handed it to him and said, “Why don’t you go north, Beau?”

  He sat, dwarfing the chair, his massive hands dangling between his equally massive thighs. “Why should I? This is as much my country as it is Blair Sterling’s and that red-necked skunk in the square. The one who called me a biggety nigger.” His voice was thick and slurred.

  “Please, Beau,” Dona begged him. “Don’t go to sleep. You’ve got to get out of here.”

  He raised his head with an effort. “I’m sorry,” he said and passed out.

  Dona slapped his face. “Beau.”

  His chin dug deeper into his chest.

  Dona looked out the glass louver door. The storm had increased in violence. The wind-whipped trees were bent almost parallel with the ground. She knew the storm would offer too good an excuse for either Ames or Sterling to pass by. She could refuse to answer their knocks but that would only make matters worse. Beau’s car was standing in plain sight.

  She fought the wind again and managed to open and close the door. The feeling of elation the storm had first given her was gone. She felt only a great urgency, a need to protect Beau. If Blair Sterling, feeling as he did, found Beau drunk and passed out in the cottage, no matter what she said, he would make a big issue of it.

  Beau’s keys were in the ignition. Dona pressed the starter button and, because Beau had left the old car in gear, it jerked and died and her wet feet slipped off the clutch pedal. She started the car again, put it in low and drove past the cottage to a clump of trees she remembered. When she reached the trees she drove the car off the road out of sight. She sat a moment until she had breath enough to walk back to the house. The distance was greater than she’d thought. The wind fought her every step of the way. Hard hands of driven rain slapped her face. Sharp, unseen objects tore the soles of her feet. When she mounted the stairs again her feet were bleeding and she was crying with pain.

  Beau was sleeping where she’d left him. She took off her wet negligee and underthings in the bathroom and toweled her hair and body vigorously, then slipped into the dress she’d taken off. It was impossible to do much with her hair except comb it. It was torture to put on her shoes but at least she no longer left bloody footprints on the floor. She wiped up what drops of blood she could, turned off the light near the door, lighted one beside one of the beds and sat down near the door to wait.

  The car that came was the same Lincoln Capri in which Sterling had driven her to town. He was wearing a jaunty trench coat with its collar raised and the brim of his hat turned down to shed the rain. Dona snatched up the local paper she’d bought in town and retreated to the wet bed farthest from the door.

  There was an imperative note to his rapping. “Miss Santos.”

  Dona considered letting him rap until he went away but decided to talk to him. She walked to the door. “Yes?”

  “It’s Blair Sterling.”

  Dona unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “What do you want?”

  Sterling pretended concern. “I just wondered how you were making out in the storm.”

  “I got my hair wet closing the windows.”

  Sterling studied her through the cracked door. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me in?”

  “Not at this time of night, but thanks for worrying about me. I’ve never seen such a storm.”

  “You’re certain you’re all right?”

  “Perfectly all right. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime. Thank you again. And good night.”

  She tried to close the door and he thrust his foot into the narrow opening. “Oh, yes. You left your bag at the house.”

  Dona opened the door wide enough to take the shoulder-bag. “Th
ank you for being so thoughtful. I didn’t miss it until I got back here.”

  “You didn’t enjoy the party.”

  “I told you I was tired.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. “But you would enjoy a nightcap.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Sterling laughed. “Don’t be such a little prude. This is no way to treat a neighbor on a night like this. We’re going to be great friends.” He took a pint thermos bottle from the pocket of his trench coat. “So I had Jepson mix up a few martinis to cement our acquaintance.” He started to push the door open and stopped as she took the revolver from the bag.

  Her smile was without guile. “I missed this, especially with the cottage as isolated as it is. But as for the nightcap, no, thank you. Really. I’m going to read for a few minutes, then go to bed. In fact, I was considering undressing when you knocked.”

  Sterling gave up, reluctantly. “Just as you say, Miss Santos.” He turned toward the stairs, turned back. “Another thing. To save you from driving into town, I’ll send over one of the servants in the morning with coffee and a tray of breakfast.”

  “All this for one hundred dollars a month?”

  Sterling’s smile was forced. “Just tomorrow morning. Until you have time to stock your pantry.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind. Good night.”

  Dona closed the door and watched him leave. The encounter hadn’t gone at all as he had expected. He was a big frog in a muddy little pond. He wasn’t accustomed to being denied. The wheels of the Lincoln spun on the wet marl. He turned the car too sharply and barely missed a tree. Then the twin red tail lights merged with the storm and the rain.

  Chapter Ten

  DONA TRIED slapping Beau out of his stupor. “Beau! Wake up! Beau!”

  It was like hitting a brick wall padded with flesh, and about as effective. She soaked a towel in cold water and applied it to his face and neck, then threw a glassful of water in his face. He mumbled something in his sleep and slumped still lower in the chair.

  She slapped him again. “Beau. You have to get out of here.”

  Beau didn’t even mumble. His lips were slack. His chin rested on his chest. It was surprising that he’d come as far as he had. He’d been on the verge of passing out when he’d stepped from the sedan. Only his fierce desire to prove that he was a man had kept him on his feet.

  Dona carried her bag to one of the rain-sodden beds, found her cigarettes and lit one. She’d seen drunken men sleep the clock around. Beau might sleep for hours. He might still be asleep in the morning when the servant brought her breakfast.

  She had to get him out of there before he was seen. And she couldn’t manage it alone. After a few minutes of deliberation, she shrugged. There was only one course open to her.

  There was a thin directory on the telephone stand. Dona got it and returned to the lamp over the bed.

  There were five Ameses in the book. Jack had two phones listed for his office and one residential phone. She crossed the room and lifted the receiver. The line crackled with static. A pleasant voice asked:

  “Number please?”

  “4111.”

  Ames answered his phone almost immediately. “Jack Ames speaking.”

  Dona forced the words past the constriction in her throat. “This is Dona.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have to see you.”

  “At one o’clock in the morning?”

  “Now. Immediately.”

  Ames’ voice was distorted by the static on the line. “What’s the matter, sugar? The big cotton man poop out on you?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here,” Dona said. “But I didn’t leave the party for the reason that you’re assuming. Believe me, Jack.”

  He said, “We’ll talk about it when I get there.”

  Dona replaced the receiver, then walked into the bathroom and studied her face in the medicine cabinet mirror. Rain and tears had streaked her make-up. Her hair was still too wet to put up. She recombed it and tied it in a pony tail, then removed her make-up with cold cream. Nothing showed in her face. Small as she was, with her hair combed as it was, without make-up she didn’t look any different than she had the night she’d graduated from St. Patrick’s. She used lipstick sparingly and went back into the living room.

  Ames was fifteen minutes in arriving. Dona walked out on the porch to meet him.

  “What’s the idea?” he asked. “You walk out on me like I was so much dirt. You don’t even stop when I call after you. Then you invite me over at one o’clock in the mornin’.”

  Dona said evenly, “I didn’t walk out because I was afraid Blair Sterling would be jealous, because you were spoiling a good thing.” She smiled. “That’s what you assumed, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Ames admitted.

  “It was just that I didn’t like the party. And I didn’t want to be reminded of last night.”

  Ames stood at the foot of the stairs, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. “I see. It was a fool thing for me to go to Blair’s place. Then when you walked out, well, I guess I thought the wrong thing.” He studied her face in the faint light from the doorway. “Now I’m back where I was last night. You’re as sweet an’ nice as I figured you to be. An’ in a heap o’ trouble of some kind. Got me out here to tell me, sugar?”

  Dona shook her head. “I can’t, but there is something you can do for me.”

  “What?”

  “Do you know a local man by the name of Beau Jackson?”

  “Of course. Former infantry captain. He’s readin’ law with Jedge Harris an’ hoppin’ bells at the Yazoo. What about him?”

  “He’s inside the cottage, passed-out drunk.”

  “You kiddin’ me?”

  “No. And I was afraid someone might find him here and there would be serious trouble.”

  “Why did he come here?”

  “To see me.

  “About what?”

  “I think you can guess that. After you left last night, I sent down for a pitcher of ice and he thought he heard me say come in and he did.”

  “Why, that — ” Ames caught himself. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

  He started up the stairs past Dona. She backed across the porch and blocked the doorway of the cottage. “Why? For being a man.”

  “He harmed you?”

  “No.” Dona tried to make Ames understand. “It wasn’t his fault. He had every right to the same false impression of me that you have. A man in the square spat tobacco juice at him and called him an uppity nigger because he wants to be a lawyer. Judge Harris had him drive me out here and I accidentally fell against him, then called him a nigger because he saved me from falling. Then Blair Sterling made him walk back to town. After years of taking that kind of thing today was just too much for him.”

  “You sound like the N.A.A.C.P.”

  “I’m stating facts. He got drunk but it didn’t help. Instead, I became sort of a twisted symbol in his mind. So he drove out here to prove to himself that in spite of his color he was a man. And drunk as he was, he was very gentle and logical about it. He didn’t attempt to use force.” Dona realized she was crying again. “He offered me all the money he’d saved for this Fall.”

  Ames was no longer angry. “The poor bastard. What happened then?”

  “He passed out and I had to drive his car up the road before Mr. Sterling got here.”

  “You were expectin’ Blair?”

  “Not by pre-arrangement, but from the way he looked at me all afternoon and evening I reasoned he’d use the storm as an excuse to make a midnight call. I knew if he saw Beau he’d make a big thing out of nothing, perhaps even try to have Beau lynched.”

  “The boys would’ve done it, too. A lot of men in town don’t like Beau.”

  “And I was right about Sterling. I’d barely got back to the cottage and into a dry dress when he came. He had a thermos bottle of cocktails with him and wanted me to have a nightcap with him to ‘c
ement’ our acquaintance.”

  “Then — ”

  “I showed him the gun I carry in my purse and thanked him for his courtesy. Then I closed the door in his face.”

  Ames’ fingers bit into her shoulder. “How come you carry a gun?”

  “Perhaps for men like Blair Sterling.”

  Ames shook his head and rain cascaded from the brim of his hat. “I sure wish I could figure you, Dona, figure why you came here in the first place.”

  “I can’t tell you that. But you will help Beau?”

  Ames was silent a moment. “You’re puttin’ me in a spot. Propositionin’ you like Beau did is a serious offence down here. On the other hand, I can sympathize with Beau.”

  “We’ve got to get him out of here.”

  “Well, let’s go look at him.” He followed Dona into the cottage. “He’s stinkin’, all right, purely potted. What was your idea?”

  “To get him into his car and leave him in front of wherever he lives. He’s going to feel terrible about this in the morning.”

  “That I’ll buy,” Ames said. “Where’d you say you put his car?”

  “In a clump of trees down the road.”

  Ames saw the revolver on the telephone table and picked it up. “A deadly little toy. Have you a permit to carry it in this state?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll get you one in the mornin’. An’ if you ever have cause to use it on Blair Sterling’, I’ll get you clear of that, too.”

  Dona’s eyes opened wide. Here, in Jack Ames’ innocent words, was the answer to her problem. If she shot Blair Sterling, she could say she had done it in self-defense — to protect her honor. Knowing Sterling’s reputation as a woman-chaser, the people here would be on her side. She could kill Blair Sterling and get off scot-free, without revealing the secret behind her act, without ever involving Estrella.

  Jack Ames’ voice interrupted her triumphant reverie. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he was saying. “I’ll get his car an’ bring him into town. You follow along behind in my car. Then I’ll bring you back here and be on my way so you can get some rest. You look like you’re most out on your feet.”