Ms. Pearl had only read the opening line of the next chapter when, frustrating both of us, Ms. Ruby interrupted. “Pearl, we need to talk.”
We could tell she had been out of sorts throughout dinner. Something was definitely on her mind, and she needed to talk. Pearl set down the book and looked at me. “Tobias, I think we should forego our reading tonight. Ruby and I need to talk, and I do not believe you should be part of this conversation. Would you please pick up your schoolbooks and go to your room?”
Even though I was only eleven, I was seldom banished from any conversations in that house. Our family was open and loving, always careful to respect the other person’s viewpoint. I started to protest, but with a smile and nod of her head, Ms. Ruby dismissed me without any further discussion. I made my way to my room, knowing something big was up between my aunties. I heard Ms. Pearl order Ruby to stop pacing around and to take a seat. “So what is bothering you, Sister? It must be something huge for you to interrupt our story time.”
“I’m sorry, Pearl, I just can’t concentrate on make-believe stories of great adventures when we have so much trouble to deal with right here at home.”
Once I was certain they were deep in conversation, I slipped out of my bed and opened my bedroom door. I knew Ms. Ruby was upset about something, and I wanted to know what that something was.
“Pearl, doesn’t it bother you what the preacher is saying every week? Don’t you feel responsible to do something about it?”
Confused, Pearl asked, “Ruby, what was so different about yesterday’s sermon? Pastor has beaten that same drum for two years now. Nothing ever seems to change. Rev. Gates lost his son in the riots, and you and I are trying to be patient and understanding with him.”
“Pearl,” Ruby almost cried in frustration, “I understand his anger, but church is supposed to be about God’s love, not about hate.”
“Ruby, I know I have always been pushier than you. It has gotten me into more than one difficult spot. You, on the other hand, can patiently sit and wait for things to be righted, where I cannot help but boil up in anger when I see a wrong and feel compelled to step in to fight for justice.”
“Sister, we all fight against injustice in our own way. Just because I don’t react like you do doesn’t mean I’m not doing my part.”
“I know that, Ruby. I’m not calling you a coward.”
“But others do! Right, Pearl? I don’t care what others call me as long as I know I’m doing what I am supposed to be doing.”
“I think you misunderstand what is bothering me, Sister. You and I both agree that things need to change. Things have needed to change since our time above the livery.”
Now confused, Pearl asked, “What are you talking about, Sister? I thought you were saying we needed to join Rev. Gates in protesting all the wrongs we see.”
“On the contrary, Sissy, I believe you and I need to make a decision tonight. We are responsible for two young boys. God has put their care in our hands. It is up to us to rear these boys into godly young men who will love God, love their fellowman, and live honorable lives. Rev. Gates, for whatever his reasons, has turned his back on the Gospel. Instead, he is preaching a dangerous message of hate, rebellion, and civil disobedience. I’m not saying there is not a place for such talk. Somehow, this country needs to face what is happening, and change needs to come. I am saying what does it matter if all our young men have been hanged from the nearest tree and go into an eternity without God? All Tobias and Sulley are hearing each week is hate and war. Sissy, our loyalty must first be to these two boys. We need to find a church where redemption of the soul is the focus—not the redemption of our rights.”
With the sound of great relief in her voice, Aunt Pearl responded, “Oh, Sister, I have been thinking this for months. Now that Sulley is coming along with us, we need to find a place where both of our boys can grow and learn.”
One week later Ms. Ruby and Ms. Pearl invited Pastor Johnson over for pie and coffee. I was allowed to sit at the table and listen, but I had been instructed to remain quiet. As he entered our living room, I thought to myself, “So you are Ruth’s father”—a detail I kept to myself. I watched as the sisters peppered the pastor with questions from salvation to social injustice.
Pastor Johnson had obviously been grilled on the topic of social injustice many times throughout his ministry, and he was ready. “Ms. Pearl, Ms. Ruby, we all know there is a lot wrong with how things are right now. It has always been so, and it will always be so. I pray every day that God would send a strong, godly man who can lead the way to force fairer laws and that God would change the hearts of those who look at us as less than human. That being said, ladies, I do not believe that I am that man. God had given me a heart to teach His Word and win the lost. For that, I do not apologize. While everyone is looking for justice and fairness, I can boldly say, I know exactly where you need to go to find the fairest spot on earth. Jesus did not die on a white cross, nor did He die on a black one. The Bible says He died for the sins of the whole world—black, white, Jew, or Greek—Jesus died for all of us. When we stand at the foot of His cross and accept His payment for our sins—that ground at the foot of the cross is level ground. There are no second-class believers. There are no special bloodlines, except for His blood, which was shed for all of us. If I preach the cross of Christ, I am preaching the truest form of social justice.
“Ladies, what does it matter if we fight for our rights but stand wrong and condemned before our God? It is my job to win souls.”
Once satisfied that this man had not abandoned his first love, the sisters made their decision. Two weeks later, the four of us walked into the Second Methodist Church of Atlanta, where the father of Ruth Naomi Johnson pastored.
CHAPTER 26
The Whippoorwill Calls
WE SETTLED INTO a calm routine, and time passed by quickly. I turned thirteen the year I completed my six years of school. Ms. Pearl then arranged for me to take correspondence classes from Spellman College. I was much too young to attend, but the college had a wonderful program of mathematics, languages, and history.
Sulley was now sixteen and beginning to read well enough to read on his own—as long as the stories were uncomplicated and exciting. His daddy and brothers continued to take advantage of him, but Sulley was learning ways to protect himself without losing his dignity. One day he stopped by the house to ask a question. “I would like to bring by a girl to meet you. I know you will like her.”
Ms. Pearl, always so direct and to the point, asked, “Where did you meet this girl, Sulley?”
“Oh, she lives down the street from me. I’ve known her since she was eight.”
“Okay,” paused Ms. Pearl, trying to figure out where this was going. “So how old is she?”
“She’s fourteen, I think. She has had a hard life, Ms. Pearl. I want her to meet you and Ms. Ruby. I don’t think she believes there are really people as kind as you two are.”
Obviously embarrassed at questioning his motives, Ms. Pearl backpedaled, “We’d love to meet this girl, Sulley. Why don’t you bring her around this evening about seven for a piece of pie and conversation? She might not feel comfortable sitting down to dinner on her first visit.”
Sulley picked up his hat and headed for the kitchen door with a huge smile on his face. “I’ll go ask her right now,” and out the door he went.
He wasn’t ten steps from the door before Ms. Pearl was all over this situation. “Sissy, you don’t think Sulley is in love, do you?”
Always more cautious and careful not to jump to any conclusions, Aunt Ruby suggested, “Pearl, let’s just wait and see. No sense in borrowing trouble. Besides, now I have a pie to bake—thank you very much.”
We finished dinner a little early that night, and while I dried the dishes, I heard Ms. Ruby suggest, “Now Pearl, why don’t you let me take the lead? We both know that you tend to drill down to the point way too quickly, and you might scare her off.”
“Would that be s
uch a bad thing, Sissy? Our Sulley is not ready to get serious with anyone just yet.”
“Pearl, we are not going to fix, or break anything here tonight. We are just visiting with a young girl and getting to know her.”
Pearl smiled at me as she walked back into the kitchen. “I do tend to push a little hard, don’t I, Toby?”
I did not say a word.
Promptly at seven o’clock, the front doorbell jingled. Sulley pushed the girl forward and said, “Hi everyone, this is Whippoorwill Gumm. Whippoorwill, this is Ms. Pearl, Ms. Ruby, and this is my best friend, Tobias, but everyone calls him Toby.”
Ms. Ruby guided the shy girl into the living room and said, “Good evening, Whippoorwill, it’s nice to meet you.”
Aunt Ruby’s smile softened the moment, and before long Whippoorwill relaxed and began telling us all about herself. “You probably wonder about my name, right? That’s okay, everybody does. I usually get something like, ‘You gunna sing for us, Whippoorwill?’ Everybody thinks they are the first one to think of that.”
Aunt Ruby chuckled, “I’m glad I didn’t say that—although I must admit I thought of it. So child, how did you come about that name?”
“You see, I was born in North Carolina, the third daughter, born one month after my daddy was hanged for stealing chickens. I was named such because the night I was born, the whippoorwills were singing their mournful song so loud outside that my momma said she could not think of anything else. She said their song was so sad, all she could think about was how I was never going to know my daddy and that made her sad too. So I got the name Whippoorwill Gumm. About a month after I came, my momma wanted to get us away from there because she didn’t want us girls to be known as the daughters of a chicken thief, so she made her way back here to Atlanta to be close to family.”
“So you have family here?” Ruby prodded gently.
“We did. Momma’s momma was here, as was her older sister. But they are both gone now.”
“I am so sorry, child,” Ms. Ruby consoled; “it’s hard when people we love die.”
“Oh, they didn’t die, Ms. Ruby. They just did not like the man my momma married, so they up and moved to Mobile, Alabama.”
“Oh,” Ms. Ruby chuckled. “So your momma got remarried, did she?”
“Yes, ma’am. My grandma said my momma didn’t even wait until her man was cold in the grave. I don’t rightly remember a time when Mr. Bartholomew wasn’t married to my momma.”
“So he became your new daddy?”
“No, ma’am; he married my momma, but he made sure us girls never forgot we wasn’t his. I guess my momma was right to name me Whippoorwill. They say the whippoorwills’ mournful song in the wee hours of the morning is the sound of them dreading the beginning of another painful day; that about sums up my life.”
Softhearted teddy bear, Sulley, was all mush at the telling of this story. It was obvious to all of us that Sulley wanted to rescue Whippoorwill from her circumstances. Even though he had now lived in a man-sized body for three years, he was still a boy and not ready to take on the responsibilities of a family. Sulley was far from ready to strike out on his own, let alone take care of another person.
That evening, after Sulley and Whippoorwill left, we sat at the kitchen table and talked about this situation into the wee hours of the morning. We knew Sulley felt responsible for this girl. We also knew that if we did not help Whippoorwill, Sulley would do something rash and ruin his life because of trying to save her. Ms. Ruby finally said, “That Whippoorwill is a child without an anchor, and she will tether herself onto anyone she feels is steady and true. We need to get her into church where her only true hope can be found. We need to keep Sulley busy so he does not mistake concern and pity for love.”
True to his word, Sulley began bringing Whippoorwill to church with him. Ruth quickly introduced herself to the new visitor and soon they became fast friends. A week or two later, at Pearl’s suggestion, Pastor Johnson invited Sulley to go fishing and talked to him about the difference between caring and loving. He was able to talk to Sulley about things two older women could not talk about—and certainly things his daddy and brothers never bothered talking about to him. Sulley paid attention to what his pastor said. He stayed her friend, but after that talk, he stayed her distant friend, always making sure Ruth was close by whenever he needed to be rescued himself.
For four years, the four of us were inseparable. At the beginning, Ruth and I believed we were sort of chaperons for Sulley and Whippoorwill. We worked at the community pantry, delivering necessities to families in need and sharing the gospel whenever we had the chance. But somewhere along that journey, the tables turned. Ruth and I both knew our affection for each other was getting dangerously strong. As with Sulley and Whippoorwill, we were much too young to act upon these feelings. Pastor Johnson kept a close eye on Ruth, and the sisters were ever mindful of my whereabouts. We had both been reared to believe we had important work to do—not necessarily great work, but important work. I, for one, loved working alongside Ruth and did not want my devotion to her to rob me of my ability to continue our association. I knew if I did not keep my passion under control, I would lose her forever.
Ruth found Whippoorwill a job at the hospital bakery. The two of them were caked in bread flour all day long, giggling and talking as they turned out bread, rolls, pies, and cookies. Ruth would talk about how much God loved Whippoorwill, and that her name was just a name—one that did not destine her to a life of mournful sadness.
One Sunday, when Sulley had just turned twenty, he came to me and asked, “Toby, would you walk down the aisle with me this morning? You have been my best friend. I would like you with me when I walk down and ask Pastor Johnson to baptize me.”
The two of us stood in the last pew, waiting for the altar call to begin. Sulley was excited and kept moving from one foot to the other, like a racehorse’s waiting for the chute to open so he could take off.
Pastor Johnson’s invitation was especially long that morning, explaining what it meant to accept the gift of salvation. Little did Sulley and I know that while waiting for our turn, someone else was also waiting for exactly the right time. Suddenly, Whippoorwill stepped out of her pew, took hold of Ruth’s hand, and walked down to the altar. Pastor Johnson smiled as he greeted her and quietly talked with her before announcing, “Brothers and sisters, Miss Whippoorwill Gumm has come forward this morning to accept Jesus as her Savior. Ruth and I have talked with her, and we believe her confession is sincere. We extend the right hand of fellowship to this young woman.”
Sulley stood there stunned. “Toby, I don’t know what to do. Should I still go forward?”
I knew what he meant. He did not want to take away Whippoorwill’s moment, so I whispered, “Sulley, there is always room at the altar for everyone. You made your decision before you knew about her decision. Nothing has changed. Come on, let’s go.”
That morning, Ruth and I stood next to our friends, Sullivan Dunbar and Whippoorwill Gumm, listening to their statements of faith and commitment. Little did either of us realize that this would be the first of many that we, together, would bring to our Lord’s altar. I was just seventeen years old, but I had loved this girl since I was seven.
CHAPTER 27
My Faith Was Tested
EVEN THOUGH WE continued to hear terrible stories about violence happening around the country, thanks to the sisters, my life remained unaltered throughout my teens. I did not experience the daily unfair treatment that Sulley experienced at the hands of his own family. I was kept busy with correspondence lessons, church work, and chaperoned youth socials. In a word, I lived in a bubble. I was not naïve about the world around me, simply protected from it. It is funny how, at eighteen, you have an answer for everything; but by the age of twenty, you realize how much you do not yet know.
There are times, as I look back upon my youth, when I realize how much more like Ms. Pearl I was than I would care to admit. I had been schooled well. I knew t
hings, and I was quick to share what I knew. To be fair, I guess that is the toxic nature of youth. Although I had benefited from the gentle nature of Ms. Ruby for most of my life, I found myself short-tempered and frustrated with those who could not, or would not, see matters as I saw them. I was quick to point out the error of their thinking, and if that lack of knowledge or understanding shamed them, so be it; truth was truth. Oh, how even remembering my bluntness all these years later embarrasses me.
On the other hand, Ruth was much more like Ms. Ruby, and she became a huge mirror for me. When I would get frustrated, she would gently step in and smooth over the feathers that I had ruffled. She always told the truth, but somehow, Ruth’s ability to tell the same truth that I was attempting to tell with her gentle and humble spirit made it far easier for the listener to accept.
I knew my pride and arrogance were going to get me into trouble, so I began tapering them. I remember walking into meetings, determined to be humble and quiet, only to end the meeting with a frustrated declaration of exactly how wrong these people were. More than once, I would catch Ruth’s eye, and she would smile at me and shake her head in disappointment at my behavior. Those were long, long nights.
In my youthful arrogance, I could not understand, if truth was standing right in front of him, why that person couldn’t choose truth. It seemed so simple to me…until the night Truth was standing right in front of me.
Sulley had been saving every penny of his hard-earned wages for almost two years. Fearing his brothers would steal it, he kept his savings at my house. Sullivan “Sulley” Dunbar was twenty-three when he proposed to Whippoorwill. They had a quiet, intimate living room ceremony at my house because they wanted to use his savings to buy everything they would need to set-up housekeeping. Although he invited his daddy and brothers to the wedding, only his older brother, Jethro, showed up.
Treasure in a Tin Box (Wall of Silence Book 1) Page 22
