They approached the back of the house, where there were at least twenty men and women sitting on wooden chairs, stretched out on blankets or huddled in groups up on the porch. Joe nodded to a few people as he and Bertie passed. Some nodded back and a few men called out to him:
“Hey, Joe!”
“Joe, Joe, the man Joe.”
“Nigger Joe, my man!”
Bertie dropped her head a bit; she didn’t want anybody to recognize her.
Joe came to an abrupt stop and Bertie crashed into his massive back and fell backward onto the ground. She sat there for a while, stunned. Her dress flew up, revealing white bloomers and thick pecan-colored legs.
“Hey, Joe, gimme some ‘o what she got, so’s I could give some to Daisy here. It take her forever to get her dress up for me!”
There was a roar of laughter and Bertie felt her face turn scarlet. She snatched her dress down and dropped her eyes in shame.
“Lemme help ya,” Joe said as he bent down and extended his hand.
“I gotta go,” Bertie said in a shaky voice as she ignored Joe’s open palm and pushed herself up and off the ground.
“Oh, Bertie Mae, don’t pay them boys no never mind. They just funnin’ is all.” Joe’s face was heavy with disappointment.
“I got to,” Bertie blurted out. Her eyes were filled with tears as she turned away from him.
“Let her go if’n she want to, Joe. She oughta not be here no way. Her mama would lick her good if she got wind of her havin’ been here.”
Bertie froze and her heart jumped in her throat.
The woman’s voice continued. “You Ciel’s daughter, ain’t you?” Bertie didn’t move. “Girl, don’t you hear me talking to you?” A finger poked Bertie on the shoulder. Bertie remained stock-still.
“So, Joe, she’s clumsy and dumb?” the woman said with a laugh.
Those words propelled Bertie and she swung around to meet the face of the voice that tormented her. “I ain’t clumsy or dumb!” Bertie Mae shouted into the woman’s face.
That woman was Sara. Back in 1924 she was young, firm and beautiful. Bertie was struck by her caramel-colored skin and perfect heart-shaped lips, the deep red lipstick and the even deeper red dress that hugged every inch of her.
“Well, well, she speaks.” Sara laughed. “So am I right? You Ciel’s daughter, ain’t you?”
Bertie nodded her head yes and Sara shot Joe a sly look. “What they call you?” Sara asked, as she looked Bertie up and down.
“They call me Bertie Mae.” Bertie’s response was meek. Before Sara could say another word, another woman, who looked remarkably like Sara but older and broader, interrupted her.
“Lift them eyes up, gal, you ain’t speaking to the white man and ain’t no royalty here. Lift up your head, let me get a good look at you.”
Bertie Mae slowly raised her eyes.
“Uh-huh, look just like your mama, don’t you?” the woman said. Her voice was filled with affection. “My name is May,” May said and stepped in closer. “You know, me and your mama is kin.”
Bertie Mae took a step backward. “Kin?” Bertie asked in astonishment.
“Yep, cousins on my mama’s side.”
Bertie’s mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. Ciel had never once mentioned that they were related to the Lacey women.
Another woman approached. She was wearing a blue dress that was much more modest than May’s and Sara’s dresses, her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and her face was free of makeup. She considered Bertie Mae for a moment and then smiled. It wasn’t hard to see that this was yet another of the Lacey sisters.
She whispered something in May’s ear and May responded by digging deep down into her massive bosom and pulling out a roll of money, which she handed to the woman.
“This here is Bertie Mae Brown. Bertie Mae, this my sister Ruby.”
“Oh, Ciel’s girl,” Ruby said. “How you doing?” she added before turning and hurrying away.
“C‘mon sweetie, let me get you a plate and a drink. Joe here could fend for himself while we all get to know one another.” May grabbed Bertie’s wrist and began pulling her across the lawn and toward the house.
She led Bertie to a shaded area where a long table had been set up with platters of fried catfish, potato salad, fried corn, barbecue chicken, dirty rice and cubes of cornbread.
“Take whatever you want. You look like you need it, you’re a bit on the scrawny side if you ask me,” May said, pinching one of Bertie’s thin arms.
Bertie had never seen so much food at one time and in one place in her entire life. Her mind told her to turn and leave, but her stomach insisted, and Bertie had not been following her mind at all that day so she grabbed a plate and began piling it high with food.
In between bites, Bertie snatched glances at May. She realized after some time that this woman wasn’t much older than she was. She couldn’t believe she was having a meal with a whore. It struck her as funny and she filled her mouth with food to keep the laughter down in her throat.
Ruby and Sara approached May a few times, handing her rolls of money or whispering things in her ear to which May would nod yes or shake her head no.
“So your mama know you here, girl?” May folded her arms and gave Bertie a sly look. Bertie’s mouth was filled with potato salad, so she just shook her head no.
“I figured that. Ciel act all high and mighty like she don’t know us, humph!” May swatted at a fly. “But there was a time when all she knew was us.” May screwed her face up and shot Bertie an odd look. “She talk about those times?”
Bertie wanted to tell May that Ciel didn’t talk to her. She cussed, screamed and spit at her, but talking was the one thing she didn’t do.
“No,” Bertie said and began attacking her chicken leg.
“Here.” Ruby giggled as she placed a jug and three glasses down beside Bertie. “So what you be sitting under that tree thinking about every day?”
Had they been watching her all this time?
Bertie just shrugged her shoulders and bowed her head.
“So where you gonna go when it get cold?” Ruby asked her, sincerity etched in her face. Again Bertie shrugged. “Well, you could always come here if’n you need a place to think or just to go, okay?” Ruby added.
Bertie looked up into her face and saw the warmth that rested in her eyes.
“Okay,” Bertie responded politely.
Ruby filled the two glasses and handed Bertie one. “To family,” she said, lifting her glass in the air.
Bertie Mae sipped, made a face and then sipped again. “What’s in this?” she asked, holding the glass up to the sun.
“Lemonade,” May said before draining her glass with one swallow.
“And a little something else,” Ruby added and laughed.
The drink warmed Bertie’s belly and made her head swim a bit. She finished the first glass and May filled it a second time.
Bertie gulped the second and was giggling through a third by the time Joe approached.
“Hi,” she yelped as she offered Joe a smile that seemed a bit off-kilter.
Joe gave her an odd look before responding. “Hi.”
Bertie could barely keep her eyes open and she giggled in between the hiccups that had suddenly overtaken her. When she tried to stand up she tilted and then fell flat on the ground.
Joe rushed to pick her up.
“Oooh, she drunk as a skunk!” Sara laughed as she walked toward them.
“Can I place her inside to sleep it off, May?” Joe said, already walking toward the house, Bertie cradled in his arms like a baby.
“Joe?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t take me home, Joe. Is that where you’re taking me, Joe?” Bertie slurred and turned her eyes on him.
“Nope.”
“Joe?”
“Yep.”
“What kinda lemonade was that?”
“That was May’s Pike Lemonade.”
; “Pike?”
“Yep, it’s mixed with shine.”
“Shine?”
“Moonshine.”
“Ohh ... Ohhh. I ain’t never had no shine before. Am I drunk?”
“Yes, Bertie, I believes you are a bit drunk.”
Joe carried her up the wooden stairs past Handy Green, the owner of the general store; Bernie Miles, the preacher’s son; and Mayfield and Jenny Nettles, domestics at the Chelsea home. The news would carry fast that Bertie Mae had gone into the Lacey home with Joe Taylor.
The men looked at each other, saluted and hollered: “Bertie Mae Brown!”
Bertie had never been in a house so fine. The parlor walls were a soft pink and the windows were hidden by heavy cream-colored drapes. There was a chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling that reminded Bertie of the icicles that formed along the roof edges during winter.
Joe placed her down gently on the deep purple chaise lounge. The fabric was silk and felt cool against Bertie’s body. She ran her hand up and down the sides of it, enjoying the slippery feel of the material and the raised gold threads of the paisley design.
There were two chairs directly across from the chaise lounge, with the same deep purple silk. A tall chest of drawers sat against the far left wall near the doorway and a mahogany table rested at the foot of the chaise, its marble top graced with numerous silver-framed photographs.
“How you feeling?” Joe asked, his voice deep with concern.
“Well, it feels like everything is swirling all around me.” Bertie’s speech was thick.
Sara walked into the room and coughed loudly, before coming to stand next to Joe.
“How ya feelin‘, baby?” she asked Bertie as she snaked her arm around Joe’s waist. Bertie felt jealousy creep through her and could have sworn she saw Sara sneer at her.
“I’m just fine, thank you,” Bertie replied as she tried to pull herself upright.
“Really?” Sara said smiling as she pulled Joe closer to her. Joe grinned stupidly while he tried to free himself from Sara’s grip.
She released Joe and smiled sweetly at Bertie. “You ought to not get so upset over me touching Joe here, we just friends is all. Anyway, men ain’t worth a shit!” She laughed out loud and slapped Joe on his behind before walking out of the parlor.
“They’re something else, ain’t they?” Joe said with an air of embarrassment.
Bertie nodded in agreement. “Look, I better be getting home, my mama will be looking for me soon.” She sat up and placed her feet firmly on the floor.
“I best be going myself,” Joe said, and helped Bertie off the couch.
May saw them leaving and walked over to them. “Y‘all going so early? Why, it’s barely twilight, and you know it’s just ’bout to start swinging.” She stuck out her hip and twirled her finger in the air.
“I know, May, but I gotta be getting on down the road, and Bertie here gotta get on home.”
May eyed her warily. “Uh-huh, yeah, you better be going. I don’t want Ciel to get her panties in a bunch. It was nice meeting you, though, and you family, so don’t be a stranger. You welcome here anytime.” And with that she embraced Bertie. Bertie couldn’t remember the last time she was held, not by her mama or anyone else. Then she remembered being wrapped in Joe’s arms just moments ago and her face flushed red.
She hugged May back and did not understand the tears that began to form in her eyes. “Okay,” she said as the rush of emotion overtook her, and she broke away from May’s embrace and shot off across the lawn.
Joe was surprised and started after her, but May gently held him back. “Leave her be, she’ll be back. She done found a place where she can be at peace. She’ll be back.”
Clemon was seated at the kitchen table when Bertie Mae arrived, his bald head gleaming beneath the soft light of the oil lamp. There was a pot of pink beans simmering on the stove and the muffled sound of Bertie’s brothers’ voices floated in from the back of the house.
Clemon greeted her. He had been in a solemn mood, but Bertie’s presence instantly lifted his spirits and his face lit up.
“How ya doing, Bertie.”
“All right, I guess.” Bertie’s response was low. She wasn’t sure if Ciel was home.
“Your mama went into town for something,” Clemon said, realizing the need to put Bertie at ease. “I’m just here cooking up some beans. Thinking about cooking some grits too.” He paused for a moment and looked down at his hands before continuing. “Uhm, where you been?”
He let his question come off soft. He’d begun to realize how much he enjoyed her company. He longed to touch her hair and hold her in his arms. He fantasized about pressing his lips to hers and inhaling the sweet scent of her neck.
He supposed he was falling in love with Bertie Mae Brown, but falling in love with his woman’s daughter could get him killed, so he tried to push those thoughts away.
Bertie pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Her head was still swimming. “Oh, just out walking.”
Clemon moved to the stove and dipped a spoon into the pot of beans.
“Uh-huh,” he said as he scooped a spoonful of beans into his mouth.
Neither of them said anything for a long time. They just sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Ciel’s arrival moments later ended the quiet happiness as she banged through the door, pushing past Clemon so hard he went flying against the stove, toppling over the pot of pink beans.
Ciel was airborne when she threw her body against Bertie Mae. The sudden impact and the screams that followed were so deafening that it sent the chickens scattering.
“You no good bitch! You don’t have no respect for me, do you? Going up there to that whorehouse, embarrassing me in front of the whole town. I know it all, Bertie! How could you! Answer me, how could you drag my good name through the mud like some kind of hog!”
Ciel hauled off and smacked Bertie so hard she flew across the room and landed on Clemon, who was just pulling himself upright. They both went crashing back down to the ground.
“Stop, Ciel! Stop!” Clemon screamed, trying to protect Bertie and thwart off Ciel’s blows at the same time.
His pleading did no good; Ciel kept coming after her. “Birds of a feather flock together, ain’t that right, Bertie!” Ciel screamed. “You must be a whore if you keep company with them!”
She grabbed Bertie by the hair and dragged her across the floor toward the back door.
“You are sleeping in the shed tonight. I don’t allow whores to sleep in my house!”
And with that she took her foot and began kicking Bertie in the ribs over and over again until she crawled, weeping and gagging, out the back door and onto the porch.
Bertie sat in the shed with rusted tools and rotten planks of wood and thought that it would be better if she were dead. She heard the front door slam open and then Clemon’s feet stomp down the porch stairs. The pot of steaming beans came flying after him, missing him by an inch.
Days later, after Bertie Mae could walk upright again and it didn’t hurt so much to breathe, she returned to her place beneath the birch tree, and tried to forget Joe and the Lacey women. But Joe Taylor wouldn’t make it easy for her.
He stopped to speak to her every day, sitting down beside her, telling her he missed her and sharing his day with her and asking about hers.
Sometimes their conversations were as wide and as rolling as the meadows around them; other times they just sat in silence, content to watch the clouds float above their heads.
Bertie was happy to have him near her, speaking or not, and without him she daydreamed about his dark skin, deep voice, gentle ways and what it could be like if he became hers.
A month later the railroad let Joe go.
“Joe, I don’t want no trouble,” the white man said to him one afternoon. “Just want to finish laying these tracks, so’s I got to let you and them other coloreds go.... Ya understand, don’t ya, boy?” Joe understood perfectly. He
shook his head, collected his final pay and headed on home.
“Well, Bertie, this here was my last day,” he said as he stood over her. His words were strained. “I believes I won’t be passing through here no more.”
Bertie felt her heart drop. Her lip twitched as she struggled to control the tears that threatened to explode behind her eyes.
“Don’t say that, Joe, please don‘t,” she said quietly.
Joe let out a heavy breath as his mind ran on his girlfriend, Pearl.
“Joe, up until now my life ain’t been nothing special. Then you came along and made it special. I don’t know why or how, and now I’m scared to death of losing you.” He looked away from her; but she caught the guilt that sat on his face like an open sore.
“If you don’t feel the same you tell me right here and now.” Bertie was standing up now, her face tilted up toward his, daring him to mention the woman or women that Shonuff had accused him of having. There were tears forming in her eyes but all Joe could think of was kissing her.
Joe felt ashamed. What could he tell her? He couldn’t tell her the truth about Pearl, the woman he’d promised himself to. He couldn’t hurt her that way.
“Joe?”
Her hands were on his arms, around his waist; her head on his chest, her small sobs rocking both of their bodies.
He pulled himself from her embrace, ran his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears, and still all he could think of were her lips.
“Joe?” Bertie was pleading, pulling him back into her. “Joe,” she said again, breathless this time, her lips parted, beckoning.
When Joe took Bertie Mae in his arms, Pearl’s name and face began to fade. When he went to kiss Bertie Mae’s lips, all that he had promised Pearl vanished and Joe, he succumbed.
Chapter 5
BERTIE flinched as the fabric of her corset brushed against her nipples. They’d become sensitive over the last few months. She moved her hands lovingly across the swell of her stomach and smiled sadly.
She was growing quickly and she knew Ciel would notice soon. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to band her stomach down. The restriction added to her nausea, and she worried that she was harming the child inside of her.
This Bitter Earth Page 5
