George fell back into his seat with no argument.
Benjamin
Delia warned me her daddy was uppity, and she sure enough told the truth. When he got to talking about how he studied at a fine college in Washington, D.C., I knew he was working his way ’round to asking what I done.
I said, Me and Daddy is farmers, which to my mind ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, but he curled up his nose like he was smelling sour milk. Preachers has got their own kind of uppity; it’s a holier-than-thou look that would have you believe you sinned even if you ain’t done nothing wrong. All preachers ain’t that way, but Mister Finch surely is.
I think it was ’cause I wore that uniform. I figured Delia’s daddy would be impressed with knowing I’d been a soldier, but he saw right through me. Mama always said a person shouldn’t let on like they’re more ’n what they are; I reckon she was right.
When I was on my way out the door Delia whispered she’d meet me by the movie house Tuesday evening. I’m real glad she ain’t letting her daddy’s dislike come between us. Thanks be to God.
I known Delia for three months, but she’s already part of me. I’d sooner lose a leg than lose Delia.
Like it or not, I’m gonna have to figure a way to get on Mister’s Finch’s good side…leastwise long enough for him to say I can marry his daughter.
And the Word Was…
After the disastrous dinner, Benjamin made up his mind that he’d do whatever had to be done to get into George Finch’s good graces. Whenever he and Delia had a date, he’d call for her at the house and make sure he had something of interest to say to her daddy. He tried football, politics, religion, and any number of random facts pulled from the Farmer’s Almanac. But regardless of the subject, Finch took an opposing view. If Benjamin thought Alabama State had a good team, George thought Florida was better. If Benjamin spoke of a popular Democrat, George came up with a Republican who was more intelligent. Determined as Benjamin was to find favor with Delia’s daddy, George was more determined to prove a farmer was not good enough for his daughter.
On Sunday mornings Benjamin would drag himself from bed at sunup, shave his face, put on a clean shirt and trousers, and drive all the way to Twin Pines to attend church. When George Finch stepped to the pulpit to deliver his message Benjamin sat in the first row, and when the parishioners began to file out he’d be at the back of the line where there was always a chance to shake Pastor Finch’s hand and say what a fine sermon it was.
In the afternoon he and Delia would take a basket lunch and the two blankets Benjamin now carried in his car and head for their favorite spot—that grassy knoll in the woods. They’d spend the afternoon making love, and there was little or no thought of the daddy who stood in the way of a wedding. They had already sworn their lives to one another and were so in love they felt married. On afternoons when there was a chill in the air, they’d lie on one blanket and cover themselves with the other.
It was not at all shocking when Delia said she’d missed her monthly. Twice. By then her breasts were starting to swell, and she had a craving for sour pickles.
“Like it or not,” Benjamin said, “your daddy is gonna have to agree to us getting married now.”
Delia raised an eyebrow and shook her head doubtfully. “Don’t be so sure.”
She’d spent sixteen years living under the same roof as George Finch, and not once had she seen him dish out an ounce of forgiveness. What he preached and what he practiced were two different things.
“I think we ought to tell Mama first,” Delia said. “If she talks to Daddy maybe he’ll be a bit more reasonable.”
Benjamin agreed.
That afternoon they returned to the house early. George was napping and Mary was sitting in the kitchen paring apples for a pie. Benjamin and Delia walked into the room holding hands.
“It’ll be a while before supper’s ready,” Mary said.
“Mama,” Delia said softly.
It was only a single word, but the sound in her daughter’s voice caused Mary to look up and see the tears filling Delia’s eyes. Mary stood and came to her daughter.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” Benjamin said. “Real sorry. We never meant this to happen. We was hoping to—”
Mary’s eyes went wide and her voice high-pitched. “What’s wrong?”
Delia was the one to answer. “Mama, Benjamin and me are having a baby.”
“Lord God, no.” Mary grabbed onto the table as if she was ready to faint. “Your daddy is gonna kill you.”
“I was hoping maybe you’d talk to him,” Delia said.
“This ain’t no bastard child,” Benjamin added. “Delia and me want to get married. We’re gonna be a family and raise the baby up right.”
“Your daddy is gonna kill you,” Mary repeated.
“Mama!” Delia shouted. “Is what Daddy thinks all you care about?”
“Okay now,” Benjamin said. “Let’s not start getting on one another. If we talk this through—”
Mary turned to Benjamin. “Talk what through? It’s too late for talking. You should have done your talking before you got my daughter pregnant!”
“Don’t blame Benjamin,” Delia said. “It was both of us, and far as I’m concerned we didn’t do anything so God-awful wrong.”
For a moment Mary stood there looking like she’d been slapped in the face; then tears began rolling down her face.
“How can you think it’s not wrong? The Bible says a woman should only lie down with her husband—”
“Benjamin wants to be my husband!” Delia said angrily. “We’d’ve been married months ago if Daddy wasn’t so pig-headed.”
“That’s true,” Benjamin added. “We made a mistake, but it ain’t like we don’t love one another.”
Mary put her hands to her forehead and began pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor. “Your daddy is gonna kill you,” she repeated.
“Mama, saying Daddy is gonna kill me ain’t gonna solve nothing. I thought maybe you’d try to help us out.”
“Help you out? How in God’s name am I supposed to help you out?”
“Talk to Pastor Finch,” Benjamin suggested. “Tell him to marry us and give Delia his blessing.”
“George won’t listen to me any more than he’ll—”
Mary stopped mid-sentence because George was standing in the doorway. She looked him square in the eye and said, “Benjamin has something to tell you.”
George turned away when Benjamin said he and Delia wanted to be married.
“She’s too young and you’re not the right man for her,” he replied.
It wasn’t what Benjamin wanted to do, but he finally had to explain the marriage was a necessity because Delia was expecting a baby. For a moment George stood there looking like a dead man; then he raised his fist and punched Benjamin in the jaw. Benjamin was nearly a foot taller than George and he had arms that could lift the back end of a tractor, but he didn’t move a muscle to retaliate. Benjamin stepped back, and George came at him with both fists.
“You’ll burn in hell, you piece of trash!” he screamed and kept swinging. Benjamin raised his arms to protect his face, but he never swung back.
All this while Delia and Mary cried and screamed for George to stop. When he finally did he told Benjamin to get out of his house.
“And take this whore with you,” he said, waving an angry finger at Delia.
“George, please,” Mary pleaded.
But it was no use. George stormed out of the room and said he wanted them gone before supper.
When Delia went to her room to gather her belongings, Mary followed her.
“What you did wasn’t right,” she said, “but I ain’t as unforgiving as your daddy.”
Mary slipped her mama’s gold wedding ring and twelve one-dollar bills into the palm of Delia’s hand. “It ain’t much, but it’s all I got.”
The sky was just turning dusky when they left the house. Benjamin loaded
the two pillowcases filled with Delia’s things into the backseat of the car, and she slid into the front. She rolled the window down and blew a kiss to her mama standing on the sidewalk.
“I’ll try to come visit if I can,” Mary said wearily.
“I hope you will, Mama,” Delia replied. “I really do hope you will.”
Mary stood there and watched the car pull away. “God go with you, child,” she said with a sigh. “God go with you.”
Benjamin
You might think I’m a fool standing there, letting Mister Finch beat on me as he did, but I figured if he got enough revenge he’d go easier on Delia. ’Course that ain’t what happened.
I can understand him being mad, but I sure can’t understand him saying those awful things to his own daughter. When he called her a whore, it was all I could do not to tear into him. In my head I kept thinking he’s Delia’s daddy, and when he gets over his mad he’ll forgive her. Even when he said to get out of his house and never come back, I figured Delia’s mama would step in and put a stop to it but Mister Finch wasn’t listening to anybody—not me, not Delia, and not even her mama.
When Delia was packing her belongings in those bags, she was so ’shamed she didn’t even look up. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor and grabbed up whatever was within reach. I saw when she took one red shoe and left the other sitting on the shelf, so I got hold of the one she’d left behind and dropped it in the bag.
As we was headed toward the car I started thinking about the baby me and Delia is gonna have, and I swore long as there’s breath in my body I ain’t never gonna treat our baby mean. No matter if it’s a boy or girl, and no matter what good or bad it does.
Me and Delia is gonna be a family what cares about each other, and we ain’t never gonna do wrong by our young’uns. That much I can promise you.
At Home in Grinder’s Corner
On the drive home it began to rain. At first it was just a light drizzle, but by the time Twin Pines faded into nothingness it was coming down hard. The sound of it washing across the windshield was a welcome relief. In some strange unexplainable way it made the absence of words more bearable. A few times Benjamin gave voice to his thoughts saying he wished it had never come to this, but his words seemed small and insignificant in comparison to Delia’s heartbreak.
Hoping to hide her tears, Delia sat with her face turned to the window. Although she and Benjamin would soon be married, their happiness came at a price that was almost unbearable. She could feel bits and pieces of her heart crumbling. The hard truth was that she’d most likely never see her mama or daddy again.
For the whole of her life they’d been there, Daddy picking her up when she fell, Mama bringing her warm soup when she was sick. They helped with her lessons, listened to her prayers, and tucked her in at night. All of that was no more; it was swept away in a parting that was angry beyond belief.
Memories pushed up against one another as she thought back on the days when she was called her daddy’s angel, his princess, his little sweetheart. He’d smiled as if she was the sun and he was God in heaven admiring his own work. She tried to push aside the last picture, the one where his angry eyes burned through to her soul. She also tried to deafen her ears to the echo of that bitter word: whore.
As they drove Benjamin saw how the fingers of Delia’s left hand rubbed the knuckles of her right. After a few minutes she switched to rubbing the knuckles of her left hand, then just moments later she switched back again. He reached across the seat and covered her hands with his.
“Please don’t worry, Delia,” he said. “It will be alright.” He hesitated a moment then added, “I swear it will.”
Benjamin made a silent vow that carried the weight of one sworn with his hand on the Bible. From that day forward he would be everything Delia needed. He would see that she never went hungry, always had a home, and was loved more than any woman on earth.
With the heavy rain and back roads turning muddy, the drive took almost two hours. Grinder’s Corner was the sort of place you could pass through and never know you’d been there, so when Benjamin turned into the drive it came as a surprise to Delia.
“This is it?” she asked.
Benjamin nodded. With the dark of night hanging heavy over the land, the only thing to be seen was the lamplight coming from the house. He lifted his arm and pointed across her shoulder.
“Out there’s a full field of collards, and the back field…” He motioned out the front windshield, “…that’s filled with beets and parsnips.”
“Oh my,” Delia sighed sounding impressed.
“Yep,” he said proudly, “it’s gonna be a real good spring harvest.”
When he parked the car alongside the house Benjamin leaned across the seat and kissed Delia, not with passion but with the tenderness that had settled in his heart.
“Delia, honey,” he said, “you and that baby ain’t never gonna want for nothing. I swear.”
He climbed from the car, came around to Delia’s side, and lifted her into his arms. “I know we ain’t official yet, but since this is gonna be your new home I’m figuring to carry you across the threshold.”
That night Benjamin settled Delia in his bedroom, and he slept on the sofa. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary, but he wanted Otis and everyone in Grinder’s Corner to have the respect for Delia that her daddy had taken away.
The next day they drove into Bakerstown and were married by a justice of the peace. It was a simple ceremony with just the two of them and a secretary they’d never before seen serving as witness. Delia wore her pink dress with the lace collar, and when the justice pronounced them man and wife Benjamin slid her grandma’s gold wedding band on Delia’s finger. It was a bittersweet reminder of the family she’d left behind.
On the far edge of town they stopped at a roadside inn for lunch, then returned home. Benjamin changed into his overalls and headed out to the field.
That afternoon as Delia mixed up the batter for cornbread, she gazed out the kitchen window. For as far as she could see there was nothing but flat land with rows of green coming from the ground. In the distance there were tall pines but no streets, no stores, no lampposts, no people. Being married to Benjamin was something she’d wanted since the first time he’d held her in his arms, but now it seemed that all the happiness she’d envisioned had been replaced by a strange sense of loneliness. She’d imagined a honeymoon, maybe to a city where they’d spend the night in a hotel and dine in a fancy restaurant. She’d never dreamed that on the day of her wedding she’d be left alone in a strange house with chores to do.
Tears swelled in Delia’s eyes, and she brushed them back. The words of her father still echoed in her ear: “You’ve made your bed, now lie in it!”
Otis, who’d been over at Tommy Muller’s for the past two days, arrived home just as Delia was pulling a second pan of cornbread from the oven. The first cornbread, blackened to a crisp, had already disappeared into the garbage can.
“Well, now,” Otis said with a smile. “Looky what we got here.”
Delia wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing and crossed the room. “I’m Delia. Benjamin and me was married this morning.”
Otis grinned. “I ain’t the least surprised. That boy’s crazy in love with you.” He reached out and pulled Delia into his arms. “I’m real pleased to have you as part of our family.”
Delia smiled. “Thank you, sir, I’m pleased to be here.”
“Sir?” Otis let out a rolling belly laugh. “There ain’t no ‘sir’ here, jest call me Daddy Church.”
“Daddy Church sounds real good,” Delia said.
That evening when they sat down to supper the chicken was fried hard as a rock and the collard greens were swimming in vinegar, but no one complained. Benjamin said it was a fine meal and a real good effort, seeing as this was Delia’s first time cooking. There was no mention of a baby and there wouldn’t be for several months, not until after Delia’s stomach began to swell.
Time i
s a strange companion. Sometimes it steals from you the things you treasure and other times it acts as your staunchest ally, dulling memories of events and dates. So it was with Delia’s pregnancy. When the news that she was expecting a baby finally got out, the townspeople of Grinder’s Corner had already lost track of when she and Benjamin were married.
Although Grinder’s Corner was little more than a cluster of farms where poor whites and colored sharecroppers scratched a living from the land, it had a general store where people could buy candy bars and a few necessities. It had neither baby clothes nor bolts of fabric.
When Delia was ready to start making baby clothes, Benjamin took the entire seventeen dollars from his savings jar and suggested they go into Bakerstown.
“We’ll get you a sewing machine and material enough for a pretty dress,” he said.
“I don’t need no dresses,” Delia laughed, “just material for baby clothes.”
“Every woman needs pretty dresses,” Benjamin replied with a wide grin.
The department store in Bakerstown was half again as big as the one in Twin Pines, and Benjamin felt a husbandly pride as he took Delia by the arm and ushered her through the door. Their first stop was the fabric department where she selected a bolt of pale yellow flannel and two spools of thread the same color. The next aisle over featured a large display of electric sewing machines. They stood for several minutes looking at the various machines until a sales clerk eventually walked over.
“You need something?” he asked.
“Yes,” Delia replied. “We’re looking for a foot pedal sewing machine.”
“A treadle machine?” he sneered. “We haven’t had one of those for more ’n five years. I doubt they make them anymore.”
Passing Through Perfect Page 4
