A Sky Full of Stars

by Linda Williams Jackson

  But even without Santa, Christmas was magical. Not only was there all the cake and pie we wanted, at any time we wanted, even at breakfast, but we also had apples, oranges, nuts, and candy for Christmas—​treats we didn’t have the rest of the year. Even better, Ma Pearl set those Christmas goodies in large bowls in the living room and the parlor. And we could help ourselves, without one word of chastisement.

  And just where did we get all those Christmas goodies? Mrs. Robinson. But after my Thanksgiving fiasco, I decided to be grateful that day rather than resentful. I chose, for once, to be like Papa and allow contentment to unlock the door to happiness.

  And happy I was. Since we had already attended church that morning, we didn’t have to quote scriptures before we ate our Christmas meal. But I had one in my heart anyway: For every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving.

  Every creature—​colored or white—​is good. I knew from the lessons Reverend Jenkins had taught us that the scripture was talking about animals, and the eating of clean and unclean meats. But we, too, were creatures of God—​every one of us. And he created all of us equally, just like that constitution said.

  Sure, Shorty might have taunted Miss Hill that day in class saying colored folks didn’t have those inalienable rights that our history text talked about, but that didn’t mean we were any less than white people, or any other people. I had seen for myself what colored people were capable of doing—​colored people who had once been slaves. And if colored men who had been born under the oppression of slavery could rise up and recognize their potential, then surely I, Rosa Lee Carter, though born under dire circumstances, could rise up from my situation and accomplish great things.

  I didn’t need Mama. I didn’t need to keep pining for her and wishing she would love me and Fred Lee the way she seemed to love Sugar and Lil’ Man. I had Aunt Ruthie and Miss Bertha, two women who loved me and would show me the way. Miss Bertha showed me what it meant to get an education and use it to help others. And Aunt Ruthie showed me what sacrificial love meant by the way she cared for her children. She loved them enough to find the strength to walk away from Slow John. And she loved them enough to work hard at starting a business so that she could provide for them.

  Papa was right about gratitude being the key to happiness. Christmas Day was so much better than Thanksgiving had been for me. I decided not to worry about whether Johnny Lee would show up or not. Perhaps he would have to take his wife to visit her family again and not get back in time—​whatever that was supposed to mean. Regardless, I would simply enjoy the people that I already had in my life and not worry about the ones that I didn’t—​like Mama and Johnny Lee.

  As I sat with my family in our humble home, I was grateful to be alive. Grateful to have a grandfather like Papa who loved me dearly. Grateful to have a brother like Fred Lee, who was growing up faster than I thought he would. Grateful to have an aunt like Aunt Ruthie, who smiled even when she should have been crying. And like Shorty admonished me, I was most certainly grateful to have people like the Jenkinses involved in my life.

  I was grateful even to have a cousin like Queen who showed me what I didn’t want to be. And Ma Pearl—​yes, she was very hard on me, but as Papa said, “What don’t kill you just make you stronger.” Sure, she wielded her black strap of terror when she thought I needed it, but if she didn’t kill Mama, Aunt Clara Jean, and Queen when they brought “shame” to her house, then surely she wouldn’t kill me. And just like I wouldn’t allow the Jim Crow attitude of Mississippi to chase me away from a place where my heart truly felt at home, neither would I allow her to chase me away.

  The coconut cake didn’t get replaced with a new one. But Aunt Ruthie stayed up late and fixed pound cake and jelly cake because those were the only two she had ingredients for. They weren’t the most delicious cakes in the world, but they would do.

  But the magic of Christmas didn’t end with cakes that appeared overnight, or with a Santa Claus who didn’t. The magic of Christmas for me that year, 1955, happened around two in the afternoon with a knock at the door.

  Aunt Ruthie and I had just finished cleaning the kitchen and were settled down in the front room, watching her girls play with the dolls that Reverend Jenkins and Miss Bertha had given them (due to a tiny hint from me). The boys were with Fred Lee in the front yard, where they had drawn a bunch of lines in the dirt in order to shoot marbles.

  Papa and Ma Pearl sat in the parlor and listened to some Christmas program on the radio. And Queen had already left to spend time with Aunt Clara Jean and her family for the rest of the day.

  When the knock came, Aunt Ruthie stiffened as she always did, still fearing that any day Slow John would show up and try to stake his claim on her again. Even though fear shone in her eyes, she had promised me that she would not return to him, regardless of how much he begged and promised to change.

  Since Papa was in the parlor, and since it was daytime, I answered the door.

  When I did, I nearly fainted.

  The man standing before me was tall, as black as midnight without a moon, and a reflection of what I saw each time I peered into Ma Pearl’s faded dresser mirror.

  He was my daddy—​Johnny Lee Banks.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sunday, December 25

  MY HEAD SPUN LIKE A WHIRLWIND.

  I stumbled backwards.

  Johnny Lee stepped inside the door just in time. He caught me before I fell.

  The world went black for a minute. When it brightened again, I was lying on the couch with my head resting on Aunt Ruthie’s lap.

  Papa and Ma Pearl had entered the front room, and Johnny Lee now sat in a chair. Two little girls stood next to the chair. They were not Mary Lee and Alice, Aunt Ruthie’s girls. They were my sisters—​Willow Mae and Betty Jean. Two little chocolate girls who looked a lot like me. Or, in the words of Joe Ann when she mentioned me to her mama, two cute little girls. They both wore their hair in two braids like I used to wear. And their cheeks were slightly chubby, like mine used to be, before I grew tall and skinny.

  Ma Pearl barely let me raise my head before she began her chastisement. She stood over me, her arms folded over her chest, and barked, “Gal, what in the devil is wrong wit’choo?”

  I shook my head and spoke weakly. “I fainted.”

  With a huff, she pointed at Johnny Lee. “You tell this nigga he could come to my house?”

  “Mama!” Aunt Ruthie yelled.

  I was shocked at Aunt Ruthie’s boldness.

  When Ma Pearl glared at her, Papa sternly said, “Go on back to the parlor, Pearl.”

  She did, but not before she scoffed at Johnny Lee and his daughters. All three of us.

  “Ruthie Mae,” Papa said gently. “Let’s go to the kitchen and fix some coffee. This young man look like he could use a cup.”

  Johnny Lee nodded and said, “Much obliged, sir.”

  Aunt Ruthie and her girls followed Papa to the kitchen. And there I was, left in the front room with my daddy, whom I had never met, and my two little sisters, one who cuddled a little white baby doll in her arms.

  The four of us sat in that front room for what felt like an eternity. Plus a day.

  Finally, Johnny Lee cleared his throat and spoke. “Forgot y’all wadn’t babies no mo’,” he said. “I brung y’all some presents. But look like you too big for ’em now.” He nudged the shorter of the two girls, whom I assumed was Betty Jean, since Shorty had said she was seven, and Willow, nine.

  Betty Jean stepped forward and extended her little white baby doll toward me. “He’ah,” she said. “Dis for you.”

  My forehead creased.

  Johnny Lee chuckled at my puzzled expression. “I’on know what I was thanking. I forgot how long it been. Forgot y’all kept up with time jest like I did.”

  “You brought me a baby doll?”

  The little girl—​with two missing front teeth—​grinned at me and said, “I got one jest
lack it.”

  I took the doll and quietly said, “Thank you. I always wanted a baby doll.”

  Johnny Lee chuckled again and said, “I brung yo’ brother a truck. You shoulda see’d his face when I give it to him.”

  I smiled a little as I imagined Fred Lee outside playing in the dirt with a toy truck. Like me, he had never actually expressed what toy he wished he would get for Christmas. We both knew it was pointless. But I bet a truck was probably on his mind, just like a doll had always been on mine.

  I could have been angry. I could have yelled at Johnny Lee and asked him where he’d been all those years. Why did he allow Ma Pearl to keep him from visiting us? Why did I have to send a message by a cousin that I barely knew just to get him to finally come by on a holiday? Didn’t he care about more than just whether Fred Lee looked like him? Didn’t he care whether I looked like him, too? Didn’t he care whether we were healthy? Or even happy?

  But Papa’s voice rang through my head. Gratitude is the key to happiness, daughter. Not people. So instead of frowning, I smiled at my daddy and thanked him again for the gifts, both mine and Fred Lee’s.

  Betty Jean stood there, staring at me, studying me as if I were a textbook. After a few seconds she turned to Johnny Lee and said, “She our susta f’real?”

  With a wide grin, Johnny Lee said, “She sho’ is. She yo’ big susta.”

  “And her name is Rose,” Willow offered, smiling too.

  Betty Jean turned and stared at me a bit longer. Then she turned to Johnny Lee and asked, “She comin’ to stay with us?”

  Johnny Lee beckoned her to him. He shook his head and said, “Nah. Yo’ susta ain’t comin’ with us. We jest came to see her and yo’ brother.” He glanced at me and, with a smile, added, “For Christmas.”

  Betty Jean stared at me again. Her gaze strolled from the top of my head, down my body, all the way to the tips of my socked feet. “How come she cain’t come?” she asked Johnny Lee. “She ain’t too big. She can sleep in my bed.”

  “She live here,” Johnny Lee answered. “With her granmama and her papa.”

  Betty Jean stared curiously at Johnny Lee. “Ain’t you her papa?”

  With her question, I felt a bit of anger bubbling up.

  Be grateful, I told myself. When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.

  I extended my hand toward Betty Jean. She came to me. I wrapped my arm around her and hugged her to my side. “Yes, I’m your big sister,” I told her. I nodded toward Johnny Lee. “That’s my daddy. But I live here with my grandparents because they have been my mama and daddy since I was a baby. They take care of me just like your mama and daddy take care of you.”

  “Can we come see her some mo’?” she asked Johnny Lee.

  “We’a try,” he answered.

  Obviously, Ma Pearl, who could hear everything we said from the parlor, felt differently.

  She stormed into the front room. “You won’t be comin’ nowhere, Johnny Lee Banks. ’Cause I didn’t invite you here.”

  My two little sisters jumped. Betty Jean scurried back to Johnny Lee’s side.

  Ma Pearl glared at him. “You and Anna Mae ain’t done nothin’ but hurt these chi’ren all they lives. Y’all don’t thank ’bout nobody but yo’selves.” She stared down her nose at Johnny Lee, Willow Mae, and Betty Jean. “Look at ya. You jest lack Anna Mae. Run off and left this gal and that boy and started new. Jest left them for somebody else to raise like they cows and not chi’rens.”

  Johnny Lee held up his hands. “Ma’am, I woulda been by to see my chi’ren long time ago, but you wouldn’t ’low me to. You said you’d shoot me if I ever set foot on this place. My nephew told me that the girl been astin’ to see me, so I took my chances and come.” He shook his head. “But I won’t come no mo’ if that what you want.”

  Ma Pearl’s nostrils flared. “You dirn right it’s what I want. And I want you to leave right now. And don’t let yo’ foots cross my do’step ever again.”

  Just as Johnny Lee stood to leave, Papa entered the front room. He gingerly balanced a cup of coffee atop a saucer. “Pearl?” he asked. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “I’m showin’ this fool to the do’,” Ma Pearl said, pointing at Johnny Lee.

  Papa sighed. “Sit down, son,” he told Johnny Lee.

  After Johnny Lee sat, Papa handed him the coffee. The cup rattled against the saucer as he held it.

  Papa turned to Ma Pearl and said, “You ain’t go’n ruin these chi’ren’s time with their daddy. They done waited long enough. Now git on back to the parlor and see what that radio of yours is rattlin’ about.”

  “Humph,” Ma Pearl said with a grunt. Yet she turned and left the room.

  Papa turned to me. “You enjoy this time with yo’ daddy, Rose. It’s precious.” To Johnny Lee he said, “Come see these chi’ren anytime you want.”

  After he left for the kitchen, I said to Johnny Lee, “When you see Shorty, tell him I said thank you.”

  “I’on know when I’a see Shawty again,” said Johnny Lee. “When peoples leave Miss’sippi, they ack like they’on never wanna come back.”

  My forehead creased in confusion. “Leave?” I asked. “Who? Shorty?”

  “Yeah. Him and Papa Ray ’n’em left last night. He made sho’ he stopped by first to remind me to come see you today though.” He smiled and added, “But I wadn’t go’n forgit.”

  “Shorty left?”

  “For California. Charlotte came got ’em.”

  “His mama?”

  Johnny Lee shook his head. “Nah. His aunt. Alberta his mama. Charlotte is Ray and Vee’s baby girl.”

  “Shorty’s gone to California?”

  Johnny Lee nodded. “Charlotte came got him ’cause she didn’t want them NAACP peoples to git holt o’ him and try to make him talk at that trial o’ that white man in Glendora. They started astin’ ’round Glendora that next week, lookin’ for folks who see’d what happened. Ray ’n’em made Shawty stay in hidin’. Couldn’t even go t’ school.”

  “That’s why he stopped coming to school?” I asked.

  “Um-hmm,” Johnny Lee said. “They say that boy Willie Reed had a nervous breakdown after he talked ’gainst them two white mens that kil’t Emmett Till. Ray ’n’em didn’t want that to happen to Shawty. But Shawty wouldn’t leave without him and Vee. So all of ’em left last night.”

  Johnny Lee sighed deeply and said, “Shawty near ’bout had a breakdown hisself after seein’ that man git gunned down lack he did. He was so to’e up that he wouldn’t eat.”

  “Shorty’s gone to California?” I asked again.

  “Um-hmm,” Johnny Lee said.

  “I can’t believe it,” I said. “Just like Dr. Howard in Mound Bayou.” This time I spoke so quietly that I barely heard my own voice.

  “What’s that?” asked Johnny Lee.

  “Dr. Howard in Mound Bayou. Folks say he sold all his land and left for California.”

  Johnny Lee shook his head. “I heard it was Chicago.”

  “You know about him?”

  “I heard o’ him. Peoples been talkin’ ’bout him. Talkin’ ’bout how disappointed they is in him. I ain’t never put too much trust in no man myself.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “Gotta put yo’ trust in God.” He patted his chest and said, “Gotta find yo’ own strength from him and from yo’ own heart.”

  Silence filled our space for a moment until Willow Mae asked if she could go outside and play.

  Johnny Lee smiled and said, “She lack to play with trucks mo’ than her brother.”

  With a smile in return, I said, “I was like that. I liked to play with slingshots. Do you like to climb trees, too?” I asked Willow Mae.

  Grinning widely, she nodded.

  “Both o’ y’all go on outside,” Johnny Lee said. “I’m go’n stay here and visit with Rose for a minute.”

  “Rosa,” I said when Willow Mae and Betty Jean went outside. “My name is Rosa.”

 
“You changed yo’ name?”

  I shook my head. “No. That’s what Mama named me. But most folks call me Rose.”

  “Which one you lack best?”

  “Call me Rosa,” I said.

  Johnny Lee visited with me until his coffee cup was empty. We talked about everything from why he couldn’t marry Mama to what my plans were for the future. Finishing high school, going to college, and taking care of my family is what I told him.

  “I’m go’n talk to yo’ brother for a minute, then I needs to git on back to the house,” he said. “Gotta take my wife over to Kilmichael to visit her fam’ly. Thought I’d come on over here and see y’all first though.”

  “Shorty told me about Thanksgiving,” I offered.

  “I sho’ felt bad ’bout that,” Johnny Lee said. “Hated that I couldn’t git over here ’fo the sun set. Didn’t wanna upset yo’ granmama mo’ than she already woulda been,” he said, nodding toward the parlor. He scanned the front room. “Y’all got a telephone?”

  “No, sir,” I said.

  He shrugged. “I was go’n say you could call me when you need me, since Shawty ain’t here no mo’.”

  “If I need you,” I said, “I’ll find a way to get a message to you.” I wasn’t too sure how that would happen, but when the time came, I was sure God would make a way.

  “Don’t worry. I’a come by to see y’all from time to time. I ain’t go’n let nobody keep me away no mo’.”

  When he stood to leave, he smiled at me and said, “I’a see you again soon, Rosa.”

  My chest tightened. I wanted to leap up, grab my daddy by the arm, and say, “Don’t leave,” because I was afraid he would never come back. But the look on his face told me that he would. It wasn’t a look of guilt as Mama had had that day she said goodbye to me and Fred Lee. It was a look of sincere remorse for having done wrong. A look that said, “I want to make things right.”

  So instead of leaping up and grabbing him by the arm, I stood and extended my hand toward him for a shake. “Thank you for coming by and for bringing us presents,” I said.

  Johnny Lee ignored my hand and hugged me. His hug felt awkward, but I welcomed it just the same. And when it was time for him to leave, I didn’t collapse in a chair by the window and stare out, longing to join him and his family, like I had done that day back in July when Mama left. Instead, I walked out to his car with him and hugged my two little sisters.