GM stood for a moment with his mind going to Virginia. He’d battled the very devil to stay away from her. That task had been made easier only by the fact that his son had indeed gotten her pregnant. Yes, regardless of what his wife proclaimed, he knew that the Bell of the Ball had been a success - for no reason other than Virginia.
Now, because of his son, it appeared that she was gone.
Gone where - was the question plaguing him.
By what means had his son relocated her?
He’d apparently come back from his long vacation to find her pregnant. GM had tried to block him from seeing her, of course his actions had failed. He’d only delayed things. It was obvious that he had played the shining knight and spirited her away somewhere without thinking things through - no doubt to protect her and the child. He couldn’t believe that Virginia would go off with him. But then, he thought about his wife - if she’d said something to frighten her, if she’d threatened the welfare of the child she carried - then yes, she would take her chances and depart with their son.
This was the last thing that GM needed. Walking to his mini-bar, he poured himself a drink and walked behind his desk, dropping into his chair. His mind on where Jacob would have taken her? Did he intend to stay with her? It was obvious, his son had fallen for her. He’d tried hiding his feelings for her, but there had been many times when he’d dropped his guard. GM had seen it with his own eyes. What surprised him was that she’d allowed herself to get pregnant by Jacob. He’d assumed that they had a way of protecting themselves against pregnancy. Obviously, she had other ideas. He supposed he should have expected it, that she would hook him to assure a constant source of income, just in case. He’d been so proud and relieved that his son was attracted to women - finally - that he’d blessed him to go for it. Clearly, he’d gone for it with full barrels blasting. As for the child, he hadn’t considered it the end of the world. It happened. There were mulattoes everywhere, so it was a common thing. Not at any time had he considered that she would have to give the child up, there was no reason for such nonsense. He wished he’d paid better attention to his wife and her concerns surrounding who Virginia was pregnant by. Half the time she was going on about it his face was buried in a paper giving her auto-responses of, “Em, yes dear.” He hadn’t been about to enter a deep discussion with her surrounding the activities of their son, because for the most part, Jacob was never into trouble. Besides, the things that riled and shook women up, men hardly ever gave the time of day about.
As for his son, he noted the changes in him. He was starting to come into his manhood. As long as he never stepped over the line with him or challenged him directly, he left him to get on with it - let him work his way through this phase of life. The world was filled with pregnancy and bastards. Were it not for his wife, things would have coasted along and sorted itself out. Oh but no, she had to do what women do - butt in and act hysterical like there was a catastrophe about to take place, when in truth it was her actions that sent everything over the edge. Now, after chasing them off, she wanted him to go and bring them back, to fix it. Her and that damn Bell of the Ball. Far as he was concerned, it could remain closed. She should have been kissing Virginia’s rump to keep her happy, but instead she treated her like a common slave. GM knew, there was nothing common about Virginia. She was not only a beautiful woman for the eyes, she was skilled - hard working and resourceful.
Whereas his wife was a spoiled little “Bell of the Ball” wannabe. Granted, he was the blame for some of it, doing his utmost to give her her heart’s desire - in doing so, he’d always thought her harmless, sweet and kind. This whole event showed there was something else lurking deep within, the little hints and clues of it he’d over looked because she was so lovely. This evening, he saw a part of her he hadn’t known was there, and it floated up and covered all that he once thought so lovely.
Tonight, simply speaking, what he saw was ugly. As he sat sipping his drink, pondering her true inner person - he found that he was put off by it, put off so that he felt completely turned off by her. She wasn’t so cute and adorable anymore. Fragile, delicate and classy. After all, that’s what every man wanted for his wife - not the drunken, tantrum throwing, fitting witch that exposed itself in his office moments ago. His mind immediately went to Virginia. Even while he knew that his son was having her, it did nothing to diminish what she was in his eyes. GM had observed her the entire time they’d cleaned up her home that he ended up buying. He noted her dignified presence. He watched how she scanned all surrounding her at all times, pre-empting what’s next. He noticed how she directed and kept up with her girls, teaching them to be perfect little ladies - while expecting them to work just as hard, but to have a care about their clothes. A few times he’d dropped by the shop at Lida Bell’s request to see something, provide something, or fix something, to find Virginia working her craft, while her girls sat sewing. She was teaching them how to make tops for themselves. He observed the older daughter, showing the younger one how to stitch correctly by taking out a row and starting over with their needle and thread. Despite her hard times, her money problems, she was driven - she was a survivor, like him. Looking at her, looking at her children, one would think they came from money. They were spotlessly clean, well-spoken and with good manners. Had she been white, he would have chosen her for his wife instead of the half child, half woman he married. He wagered within his mind, that if he’d spoiled her the exact same way, it wouldn’t have gone to her head. It wouldn’t have made her selfish and big headed. Instead she would have taken whatever he offered and turned into something stunning - productive and real, a money maker, he just knew it. She would have been a compliment to him - most certainly his pride and joy.
If Virginia Piercey could be such a lady, as poor as she was, he imagined the lady she would be, if she had money. She didn’t pretend to be classy, she was. He never doubted that she would be a shining example, a wife to lead other women, a true trophy to hold before others. Despite what his wife called her, he knew she wasn’t a slut. After all, there were a few others who had no children at all, and they would sleep with anyone to get what they needed and where they wanted to go. Virginia Piercey took his son to her bed, because he was - of all the men in this town, the better man of them all. Thus, she had standards - not just any man with a little to offer would do.
Now, the question was - where were they? How were they? He had to find out. This was not a good time. He had problems with competition and northern prohibition officers stirring up mess. Inciting local law officers to clean up their towns of bootleggers and gun runners. He’d lost two shipments of his top SC Moon Lightning and two of his fastest drivers. Unwilling to let that continue, he’d gone to meet up with his most trusted to trap those sitting and waiting on his next loads. Not only had they gotten them, but after a long and torturous evening, they found the source of his competition. This was a bloody business. For now, problem solved. However that meant more men on board to guard, and more guns, and yes, if necessary, more bloodshed. With that on his mind, he could care less about his wife’s shame - in not being able to control Virginia and hold her to task so that Lida Bell could go on as the reigning bell of who’s who within her circle of ladies.
Yet, he couldn’t squelch that need to know of Virginia’s whereabouts. Perhaps it was temporary. He would wait and see. He would give his son time to come to him. He would be needing something from him soon, if nothing more, certainly money, and then he would find out all he needed to know. After all, she would be delivering the child soon, that alone would put pressure on Jacob to return home with a need. Yes, he would wait it out, he was certain he wouldn’t have long to wait. In the meantime, he had other burdens in which to occupy himself.
Jacob went back to school, gathered his things and in the dean’s office requested a refund of his remaining tuition that was paid ahead of time. He was subjected to a long lecture intended to change his decision, in which he was courteous enough to endure to the end -
but it didn’t work. The lecture failed and he left two hours later with enough money to give him a head start in Greenville. It was time to work and earn more. Arriving back in the new city that would be his home, the Baptist minister set him up with a room in the loft of the church. To him, it was perfect. He was free of his parents, and he lived close enough to Virginia to see about her daily. Once he settled into the loft, his days were spent in the company of Rev. Purde - reading his bible, observing their surroundings. Reading the news, and learning how to develop his Sunday talks where current events and the bible principles could be tied together in order to spiritually feed his flock. To give them guidance and discipline that would help them to grow in their spirituality. What Jacob came to learn about Rev. Purde is that he was not a hypocrite, he was trying to be as true as he could be to the scriptures. Only problem that Jacob had, was why there was a black Baptist church and a white Baptist church? Rev. Purde’s answer was that to blend the two, would take time. It was something that could not be done overnight.
He’d also explained that they, the black - had their way of worship and that we, the white - have ours.
That was Jacob’s struggle. He didn’t agree that there should be separate places, for different races to worship one God. Especially if according to the bible, that one God, was the creator of them all and was not partial to any - did not feel favoritism towards one over another. He had to back down on his questions - back down over his feelings - back down on what he thought God really wanted from all, because the reverend was showing signs of being a tad bit irritated by his insistence. Because of Virginia, Jacob could not jeopardize his place of taking over for the reverend. He realized he would have to incorporate those ideas once he took over. For now, he needed to maintain the reverend’s good favor so that he could stay, grow there and keep close to Virginia. After his couple of hours spent in the morning with Rev. Purde, he began collecting tools and implements in order to work where work could be found.
To show his abilities, there were things needed to be done on the church, repairs to the frame, the roof, the benches and pews. He was willing to do anything to earn extra money so that he never needed to run home to ask for money from his father again. Because of the way he’d grown up, being the inquisitive spirit that he was, he’d followed their workers around the farm asking questions, watching how they did this or that. Majority of them had been black and very skillful. Also, they’d taken him under their wing, teaching him anything he was interested in learning. His favorite was Mr Hunter. Henry Hunter, an older black man, with some Cherokee and Crow thrown in - he seemed to know everything. What astonished Jacob was, he couldn’t even read, but he could fix anything brought to him. He could build anything that came to mind. If an animal was lame or sick, he knew how to treat it, what to give it. Jacob had never met anyone like him in his life. His admiration and respect for Mr. Hunter was second to his father. Now, because of the things he’d learned about his father, his admiration and respect for Mr. Hunter was first and foremost. So all that he now did, was a carry on from all that he’d learned from the older black man.
In fact, now that he was starting over and putting into effect the things he’d learned, he was missing Mr Hunter. As a young man, even though Jacob stood well over six foot, he hoped to one day fill this man’s shoes. Mr. Hunter in stature, was a small man. Just barely five foot seven, whipcord strong, thin, solid and fearless. There was nothing he could not figure out for himself. Jacob wanted to be like him, now more so than ever. If there was just one more person besides Virginia he could have taken from home to be with him, it would have most certainly been, Mr. Hunter. He would go back for him and try and bring him away if it wasn’t for the fact that he had a wife, a home and a place of his own that he was building up. Jacob knew where that was and had no problem with going to him about something if the need arose. A few times since his move, he’d had to do just that. The moment he drove into Mr Hunter’s yard, he’d see him coming and would laugh out in his very deep voice, calling out to him, ‘Aye there, Goodboy,’ Mr Hunter never called anyone by their names, he always made a name up for them, and Jacob’s was ‘Goodboy’. Then there was his other half, Mrs Hunter. She never asked him if he wanted something to drink, or eat. She saw him, she would bring him out a mason jar full of ice and wonderful lemonade. If he came dinner time, she’d set him a plate at the table. Jacob always ate what Mrs Hunter served, because she was a good cook - especially when she made peach cobbler. He swore that in all of South Carolina, no one could out do Ms Hunter’s peach cobbler. He always had double servings.
Therefore, armed with all he’d learned from Mr Hunter, Jacob made his rounds, found work and earned his way while gaining Rev. Purde’s congregation’s trust. He sat in place behind Rev. Purde during Sunday’s service getting to know the faces and names of those that attended loyally. When he was invited to dinner, he made it a point to attend. Those who had single daughters, sixteen and older were eying him with keen interest. The new, young Baptist minister to be was the talk of the town. He made his rounds, always smiling, ever helpful and quick to take jobs mentioned. However, at the end of the day when night had fallen, he was nowhere to be found. If they’d only known, he could be found on the wrong side of town, seeing to his secret taboo, his first priority.
A little over a month into their move, with him by her side far past midnight, Virginia gave birth to his son, Jacob Edward. Jacob senior gave aid to her from start to finish. To protect him, Virginia wouldn’t hear of putting his last name on her son - no matter how badly Jacob wanted his son to carry his last name, Virginia talked him out of it.
“You gonna be taking over that church one day.”
“It’s not right.” Jacob mumbled in the wee hours of the morning, watching his son breast feed. He touched the downy soft, fair hair, sandy in hue, sparse as it lay in short spikes about his fair head. For now, he looked clearly white - but Virginia explained that he would darken up some. She showed him the signs of that along the baby’s cuticles, and other areas where the skin wasn’t as fair as the rest of him. Yet, when he opened his eyes, it was already clear, that they would be his father’s hazel green.
Every chance that he got, Jacob was there at midnight. Visiting Virginia and his son. He would sit in her kitchen at the table with a low light burning, holding his son, while they spoke of this and that. He told her of the advancements he was making, the reputation he was building and the work he found. She told him about all that she was doing in her new home and how much she loved living there.
Because of Virginia and Bonita settling in, they became more involved in their little black community. Always a deep thinker, something occurred to Virginia and the more thought she gave it, the more sure she was, that her thoughts should be shared. She had an idea. Virginia’s drive and ambition compelled her to step up to the plate and motivate. She began talking to various ones, convincing them that in truth, this economic depression had nothing to do with them. That in fact, as she’d gotten to know many there, she’d come to realize they were in the midst of many talented and skilled men and women. What they in fact all needed, was right there. She went to everyone, speaking her thoughts and ideas. Inspiring those who listened and they went to the next and the next doing the same. She began explaining her idea. She began reminding them of the way things used to be before they were slaves. How their world had once been great before the entry of the Europeans, and in truth, this economic fall - was their problem - white folks! It need not be theirs. She had to remind them of what they’d been before they’d been slaves, among the tribes who’d once traded and bartered. It took some doing, some showing, but it wasn’t long before various ones caught on to the idea.
She and Bonita could sew. They could make clothing, they could make curtains, reupholster furniture, and help others decorate. She could also do hair, and knew beauty and style and fashion. There were others who were natural farmers. Others who were repairmen. Some who were carpenters. Some who were
excellent cooks. Who knew herbs and natural remedies. Some who had land, and fields and woods. She infused that community with hope and excitement and the realization that they’d never been a part of that white economic world. There was no reason for them to sit around as if they’d been affected by it. She helped them to see that right there within their midst was all that they needed to be happy, healthy and prosperous. The excitement that was built was like a living thing. It moved from one person to the next and each came with their own ideas. It wasn’t long before they organized a big meeting. There, they agreed to pool their resources. One person brought up the two abandoned homes and how they could be used to fill their needs. Next things she knew, the men began constructing their own buildings for various town needs. Putting their money together they paid the taxes on each other’s properties. No one worried about food any longer because they set up a co-op of trading food for goods. Food for skills. A job for a haircut. On and on and on the list went and grew. There were women who could and did spin thread from cotton, dying it. There were others who could weave, knit and crochet. One home was converted into their own little trading goods store. Because of her past experience and working at the Bell of the Ball, Virginia knew how and where to order other fabrics they might need. There was no limit as to what could be found there. If there was a need, someone filled the shelf. The ones who understood herbal medicines and tinctures used the back of that trading store for their own little clinic. The second home became a furniture store show place where they could go to pick out furniture and other items to bring their homes into style.
Beauty of Man and Woman - Volume 13: Bomaw Page 17
