Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise

by Lisa Gregory

  Luke emerged from the barn. He shrugged as he hurried across the yard to them. His face was tight with worry. "He's not in there."

  "But where is he?"

  "I'm afraid he's run away."

  Sarah stared. "Why? I thought he was better last night."

  "I did too. Maybe he was pretending, trying to lull us into thinking everything was fine."

  "Why?"

  "God knows. But I'm going to start looking for him."

  "I will, too."

  "All right. I'll take the road. You start toward the fields."

  Luke loped off in the direction of the road. Sarah took Emily by the hand and headed for the fields, calling Cal's name. They trudged along the corn rows, sighting down each row as they went. Sarah's shoes and the hem of her skirt got dusty, and after Emily had stopped to investigate a few worms, puddles, and rocks, she was splotched with mud. Sarah soon had to peel off her gloves and the short jacket that matched her skirt. The high lace collar of her shirtwaist was damp and itchy in the heat.

  They reached the stream, and Sarah hesitated. Should she go across the stream or start up it to the north pasture? There was so much area to search! Just as she was about to start toward the pasture, Emily let out a shriek. "Cal! Cal!" She jumped up and down, pointing to a clump of bushes by the water. "Me find."

  She darted over to the bushes, and Sarah hurried after her. She peered into the clump of greenery, and, sure enough, Cal was squatting in the middle of it. She would never have spotted him, but Emily, close as she was to the ground, had seen his feet beneath the bushes.

  "Me hide." Emily suggested cheerfully, thinking it was a game.

  "You will not. We are all going home. Cal, come out from there."

  Cal crawled out on his stomach. He was barefoot and thoroughly dirty. Sarah stared at him in exasperation. "What do you think you're doing?"

  Cal shrugged. "Hiding."

  "That's obvious. Why? Are you running away from home?"

  "No."

  "Then what?"

  "I don't wanna go to church."

  "What?"

  "I don't wanna go to church."

  "You mean you hid out here and worried us all to death just so you wouldn't have to attend church?"

  He bit his lip and turned his eyes downward. "I didn't think you'd look for me this hard."

  "You think that if you disappeared, we wouldn't be anxious and concerned? That we wouldn't try to find you?"

  "I figured you'd go on to church."

  "How could we go anywhere not knowing what had happened to you?"

  He squirmed. "Grandpa would. He'd just paddle me afterwards."

  Sarah sighed. "Cal.. . why do you want to miss church so badly?"

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and raised his face to her. His eyes were remote, and his mouth was set stubbornly. "I won't get up and say them things."

  "What things?"

  "You know. 'Bout what I did yesterday."

  "I don't understand. To whom are you going to say them and why?"

  "You know. Confess to everybody about the sins I done yesterday. Hittin' Vance and all. Ruinin' you all's day."

  "Confess? You mean to the congregation?" Sarah stared, nonplussed. "Why would you gel up in front of everybody and tell them that you got into a fight yesterday?"

  Cal looked at her oddly. " 'Cause it's church. 'Cause I sinned. Grandpa always made me stand up during the 'invitation' an' confess all the things I'd done wrong during the week. He'd lead a prayer for me, you know, for special help, on account of my bad blood. I figured with what I done yesterday, you'd make me, too."

  The blood drained from Sarah's face, and the exasperation she had felt fled. "He what?" Her eyes flashed so fierily that Cal took a step backward. Sarah squatted down on his level, heedless of her skirts trailing the dirt. "Now, you listen to me. Luke and I won't make you do that, ever. That's not the way we are, and not the way our church is. We go to church out of love, not fear and hate. You understand me?"

  "Yes'm."

  "Good. Then let's go back to the house." She took Emily by the hand and laid her other arm around Cal's shoulders. He was stiff beneath her touch, but he didn't shrug off her arm, and as they walked, he inched closer to her side. Sarah suspected that beneath the spiky exterior, Cal was desperately hungry for a loving touch. The problem was, she had to practically fight him to let her give it to him.

  They walked back to the house, where they met Luke returning from his search. Sarah took Luke aside and explained to him what had happened. The anger and worry drained from his face, and he said nothing to Cal about the worry he'd caused them, only asked him if he'd like to help unhitch the buggy.

  Because it was now too late to go to church, Sarah put on her apron and set to work on dinner. The Crowleys were coming over to eat with them.

  When the Crowleys arrived, Sarah, Luke, and Emily rushed out to meet them, exchanging happy greetings and hugs. Cal hung back, eyeing the Crowley children suspiciously. Sarah sighed inwardly, hoping that Cal's reactions to these children wouldn't be a repeat of what he had done the day before. She introduced Cal to the Crowleys and sent the children out to play while she and Mary Etta finished dinner. She watched the children anxiously out of the kitchen window while she worked, her mind only partially on Mary Etta's chatter.

  Cal stood a little to one side of the others, watching. They were setting up the rules for a game of tag, and it was obvious that Cal wasn't sure what to do. Mary Etta's youngest daughter leaned close to him, whispering, and he nodded. He smiled at her, a rare, sweet smile, and joined the rest of them as they ran away from home base.

  Sarah wanted to laugh and cry, all at once.

  "Who's that boy?" Mary Etta asked, joining her at the window. "Luke's nephew? A cousin?"

  Sarah shook her head. "No. That's our son."

  ❧

  Dovie swayed a little to the music as she sang. She loved to sing, though her voice wasn't as good as her mother's, who stood on the other side of her. When the hymn was over, the choir sat down, and the preacher took his place at the lectern. He spoke in a melodious, compelling voice, and Dovie drifted along on the rhythm of his words. Reverend Bascomb was always filled with the spirit, so that it was a pleasure just to listen to him, though Dovie would have liked now and then to have taken hold of his grammar.

  She glanced over the congregation of the Mt. Zion Baptist Church. All of them were decked out in their Sunday best, flowery straw hats on the women and most of the men in suits. Her eyes touched a man sitting near the rear of the church and moved on. She looked back. Her Bible slipped out of her hands and she had to grab it to keep it from falling to the floor. Micah Harrison was in her church!

  Dovie couldn't concentrate for the rest of the service. She kept sneaking glances at him, and every time she did, she found him looking at her. His gaze was steady; he didn't pretend to be paying attention to the sermon. He didn't even have enough shame to look embarrassed when she caught him staring. He just kept on looking. It rattled Dovie. She lost the thread of the sermon, and one time when the choir stood up to sing, she stayed in her chair, and Lurleen had to poke her arm to get her attention. She jumped to her feet, trying to remember what they were supposed to be singing.

  The others started, and she stumbled along with them. She glanced surreptitiously at Micah in the audience. He had the gal to grin at her! Dovie felt like sinking through the floor.

  She was relieved when the service was over and she was able to escape into the back of the church, where the choir took off their robes. She told her mother that she would meet her at Aunt Martha's, and she slipped out the side door. She knew that Micah intended to talk to her—he'd never come to Mt. Zion before—and she was determined to avoid him.

  When she stepped out the door, she found Micah standing in the side yard, his arms crossed, waiting. Dovie stopped. "What are you doing here?"

  "I knowed you'd come this way. I seen you goin' to the back."

  Dovie's l
ips twitched in irritation. She turned and strode through the yard to the street. He fell into step beside her.

  "Thought I'd walk you home from church this mornin'."

  "I don't want you to." He continued to walk beside her. "And I'm not going home."

  "I take you where you goin'."

  They walked. Dovie tried hard not to look at Micah, but found it hard to resist. She glanced over at him. He was watching her, his black eyes warm and amused. He was laughing at her. She stiffened her spine even more.

  "You get much straighter, girl, you gonna break in two."

  "Why do you keep bothering me?"

  He smiled. "Maybe 'cause you bother me."

  "What do you mean?" she began, then caught the sexual undermeaning of his words. Her lips tightened.

  He chuckled a little. It was a warm, rich sound, and her body softened unconsciously in response to it.

  "You sure pretty when you singin'."

  "Thank you."

  "You lose that prickly pear look. I like watchin' you."

  "Well, I didn't like you watching me." That was a lie, she knew, at least partly. Disturbing as it had been, there had been some sort of perverse enjoyment in it, too.

  He knew that as well. She could see it in the dark amusement in his eyes. Dovie glanced away, unable to meet his gaze, even though she knew how much that gesture gave her away.

  "What I don't understand," she said, "is why you persist in pursuing me. I've made my feelings plain, I think."

  "You done that."

  "I'm sure there must be lots of other women who would be happy to spend time with you. Why do you keep following me?"

  He looked at her for a moment. His eyes were dark and intense, and Dovie found that she couldn't look away. Her heart began to beat faster.

  "I like you," Micah replied simply. "I don't want 'other women'. You the one I want."

  Dovie didn't notice that they had stopped walking and were standing still on the side of the street, facing each other. "But why?" she persisted.

  A slow smile lit up his face. "Why? You want the truth?"

  "Yes."

  "'Cause I like that long body you got, 'cause watchin' you move makes me itch. I wanna take your hair down; I wanna feel it 'gainst my skin. I like hearin' you talk, an' I like watchin' your face while you doin' it. I think you one hell of a woman, an' I wanna be the man you want."

  His words melted Dovie. Her face went hot, and her knees suddenly had the consistency of putty. "Micah." For once she couldn't think of anything to say.

  He laid his hand against her face. His hand was big; it covered her cheek. His fingertips and palm were rough with calluses. Dovie knew he must feel the heat of her skin, and he would know how his words affected her. She ought to step away from him. But she didn't move. She only waited and watched him as he bent toward her, his features growing larger until she closed her eyes. His lips touched hers, and a little tremor ran through her.

  "Dovie." He slanted his head in the other direction, and his lips met hers again. His kisses were light and brief, teasing, and she knew an urge to make him stop and stay, to feel the fullness of his kiss. Her hands came up between them and curled into his shirt.

  His kiss deepened, and his tongue teased at her lips. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue filled her. She had never let another man kiss her like this, and it went like a shock wave though her. She wanted to moan. She wanted to press herself into him and feel the line of his body all up and down hers.

  Slowly, reluctantly, Micah ended the kiss. He drew back from her. For a moment their eyes held. Then, abruptly, as if released from a spell, Dovie realized where they were and how brazenly she had behaved. She jerked her hands back from his shirt as if they had been burned and whirled away. What in the world had she been doing! Standing on the street comer kissing a drifter like she was trash! If anyone had seen her, she would never hear the end of it. Lots of people thought she gave herself airs and would enjoy seeing her humiliated.

  She glanced around anxiously. There was no one on the street, but there was no telling who might have been watching from their windows. She hurried away from him, almost running. She should have slapped him. She should have pushed him away. She shouldn't have let him kiss her! But at the time she hadn't been able to move; it was as if he had mesmerized her.

  Micah caught up with her. She shot him a seething glance. "Why are you following me? Haven't you done enough already?"

  He smiled, unrepentant. "No. Not near enough."

  Don't grin at me like that, like a... like a crocodile!"

  "Can't help it. Lookin' at you makes me happy."

  Dovie made an exasperated noise. "Why can't you get it through your thick skull? I don't want you around!"

  "I couldn't tell it back there. Kissin' a man like that ain't no way to tell him to move on. It jus' makes him want to stay."

  "All right, I kissed you," Her voice was agitated and rapid, slipping more and more into the accent she had carefully stripped from her voice. "That don't—doesn't mean I want you around. It was a—a slip, that's all."

  "It come from in here." He tapped his chest lightly. " 'Stead of your head. That makes it truer."

  "No."

  He frowned. "Why you so set against me? You 'gainst me—or any black man? You thinkin' that some white fellow gonna come along for you? Your doctor maybe?"

  Dovie gasped and came to a stop. Anger flooded her. "What! You think I—" She pressed her lips together and paused, pulling herself back under control. "You think I'm in love with Dr. Banks!"

  He shrugged. "You real partial to the man."

  "I grew up with him! We played together when we were little. Of course I'm fond of him! And his family has done lots for me. Old Dr. Will paid for me to go to school. If it wasn't for him, I'd be scrubbin' some white woman's floors instead of teachin' school." Dovie drew a deep breath, struggling for calm. She was not going to let this man make her create a scene on the street.

  "You so fond of him you clean that house of Mrs. Dobson's."

  "I was helping my mother! There was no school that day, so I helped her. That's not a crime, is it?"

  "No."

  "Nor does it mean I'm in love with James Banks. I'm not! Nor am I hankering after any other white man!"

  "Why not? You sure try to be white yourself."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Look at you. Your hair, your clothes, the way you talk, the way you act. You done everything 'cept take bleach to your skin."

  "That's not true! Just because I try to better myself doesn't mean I'm trying to—to—deny my heritage! I don't want to be poor or ignorant or looked down upon by everybody else. That doesn't mean I'm trying to change the color of my skin. You think we're ever going to get anywhere by not being educated? You think it would raise me higher in life to talk like I've never been off a farm? Knowledge is there to be used, and a person'd be a fool not to! The only way to get respect or money or any of the better things in life is to work at it. You have to make people respect you, and that means acting uprightly, talking correctly, and working hard."

  "Oh? I thought it mean playin' up to the rich white folks.

  "Is that what you think I do with the Bankses? I told you, I like them! They're good people, kind people,"

  "You can't trust a white man," Micah stated flatly.

  "Don't be silly."

  "You the one that's silly. You think any of your precious Bankses would help you out if you got in trouble?"

  "Of course they would."

  He snorted. "You has lots of college, girl, but you don't know much 'bout real life. They kind to you, like they kind to one of their dogs, but they drop you like a hot potato if you get outta line."

  "That's not true."

  He shrugged. They started walking again, both of them moving with the quick strides of anger.

  "If you disapprove so much of me and what I think," Dovie snapped, "then why in the world do you keep pursuing me?"


  He grinned at her in that irritating way. "Maybe I like a good fight."

  Dovie grimaced. "I might have known you'd have an answer like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Annoying."

  "Ever wonder why I annoy you so much?"

  Dovie gave him a speaking glance. "Because you're fresh and rude and—"

  "And you don't scare me. That's why I get under your skin. 'Cause you know this man can handle you."

  Her eyes flashed. "You're crazy."

  He smiled. "An' maybe I like you for the same reason."

  Dovie glanced at him, surprised. They continued to her aunt's home in silence, Dovie stopped at the path leading up to the house. Micah glanced at her questioningly.

  "This is where I'm going."

  He nodded toward the porch. "I walk you to the door."

  "No. There's no need." She moved away from him.

  At that moment Lurleen stepped out onto the front porch, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Dovie? What you doin' hangin' 'round out here, girl?"

  "Sorry, Mama." Dovie started toward the house.

  "Aren't you gonna invite your friend in?"

  "He's not my friend."

  Lurleen turned to Micah. "You the one I met at Dr. Jim's rent house?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Micah Harrison."

  "Well, come in, come in. You welcome to stay for Sunday dinner."

  "I 'predate that, ma'am. I'd like to stay and eat with your family."

  Dovie shot Micah a fulminating glance, but he smiled blandly back at her and moved past her to the porch. Her mother bustled him inside the house, talking a mile a minute. Dovie felt like screaming. She stomped after them into the house.

  ❧

  Julia hurried into the First Baptist Church, holding her children's hands. They were almost late. The service was about to start, and the only seats left were near the front. She walked down the center aisle to the vacant place in the second pew, feeling as if every eye in the place were on her. She thought people were wondering what a woman like her was doing here in church. She was sure that they resented her presence. She and her family had come to this church almost every Sunday since they moved into town, but usually she had made sure to sit near the back where they weren't noticeable.