Without another word, they left.
PART TWO
Earl Manning
THIRTY-TWO
“Good Morning Mr. Manning.”
It was six-thirty, well before the girls usually began to stir, and her whispery, singsong voice startled Earl, lost as he was in trimming the eight-foot shrubs that kept the backyard free from prying eyes.
“Good Morning Miss Chandra.” Such outdated formality seemed silly for 1960. It was a remnant from a time long ago, when oversight of Howland Maternity Sanitarium was still in the caring and capable hands of Dr. Rexroat Howland himself.
Earl laid aside the hedge clippers and gave her his undivided attention. He had never asked, but suspected she was one of the youngest. She was easily the most innocent of the sixty or so girls currently in residence, and that made her a bit of an outcast. Alone and desperately homesick, Chandra sought out someone with whom to build a connection. Earl became that someone.
“You look very pretty today, Miss Chandra.”
“I’m as big as an old sow.” Chandra laughed, a blush spreading across her face. “I got a letter from Mama and Daddy. They butchered two hogs last week. Said the scrapple was the best they’ve had. Watermelons is planted and starting to shoot out vines. Daddy said they’ll be picking by Independence Day.”
Soon after Chandra’s arrival, they had discovered a shared background in farming. It had been twenty-two years since Earl and his mama left Grebey Island, and Chandra’s stories made him miss it.
She was giving him the details of her letter from home when a familiar car pulled onto the tree-lined drive and parked under an awning near the rear entrance. Declan Howland, the founder’s grandson got out.
“Morning Miss Chandra, Mr. Manning.”
“Good Morning, Dr. Howland,” both replied.
“About time for breakfast isn’t it, Miss Chandra?”
“Yessir,” she said, turning toward the house. “Have a good day, Mr. Manning. If I get my chores done, I’ll come out and help you.”
Howland watched her scamper up the steps, then crossed the lawn to where Earl had returned to work on the hedge.
“Thank you for your kindness toward Chandra, Mr. Manning. She’s struggled to find her place here.”
“Glad to help, sir.” Earl had grown to like and respect Dr. Howland, a man close to his own age. He seemed to care very much for the young women who, for several months, called this place home.
“Did you know she’s just thirteen? One of the youngest we’ve seen here, but certainly not the youngest.”
Earl said nothing.
“Tragic story,” Dr. Howland continued. “Only twelve at the time. Got friendly with an older boy who was part of a traveling carnival. Probably no idea what she was doing until...”
Earl recoiled at the thought of what Chandra had experienced. Howland noticed.
“Forgive me, Mr. Manning. I said too much.”
“Her daddy has to be... just...”
“Chandra’s mother says he beats himself up over it every day. It’s crushed him.”
Dr. Howland patted Earl’s shoulder. “She’s a strong little girl, Mr. Manning, but she can use your prayers.”
THIRTY-THREE
The shiny, two-tone Dodge Royal stuck out like a sore thumb among the tired sedans and old trucks parked along Haskell Avenue. Earl laughed at the haphazard way it was parked. Mama could flawlessly navigate from Washington D.C. to Kansas City, Kansas, but couldn’t park to save her life.
He hadn’t known she was coming, but that was okay. There was always a place in their home for her.
He pulled the white Howland Sanitarium pickup into the driveway and made his way through the duplex’s back door. The smell and haze of Parliament cigarettes pleasantly assaulted his senses. He kicked off his muddy work shoes and proceeded into the kitchen. The two most important people in his life were seated across from one another, smiling broadly, pleased with themselves for keeping Cora’s arrival a secret. For a moment Earl could do little more than look at them, a goofy grin covering his slender face.
They were a study in contrasts. Mama, once the object of his father’s wrath and abuse, was an immense woman. Standing an inch over six feet, with a wide build, Cora Manning had transformed herself from the ungainly farm woman of Earl’s childhood into a smart, well-dressed professional who had somehow found her way among Washington’s elite. Some said she reminded them of Eleanor Roosevelt in build, determination, and politics. As a shy, awkward teenager growing up in Washington, Earl hadn’t liked the comparison. His mother considered it a compliment.
Then there was Vestal, his wife of four years. Slender and petite, Vestal’s caramel skin, black hair, and brown eyes gave her an exotic beauty that turned heads. Shy, stammering Earl never understood how he was lucky enough to catch such a prize. Vestal’s parents never understood either. Lansing and Lucille Goodman had cut off all communications with their daughter when she announced her plans to marry a white boy. The decision had disturbed Earl greatly, but caused little angst for his bride-to-be. Today, even though they lived a half-mile apart, their paths never crossed.
“Mama, I had no idea!” Earl rushed to hug her. Cora, a good five inches taller, embraced him firmly.
“Margaret called last week and said she was coming back to Independence to stay with her parents for a few days. I’ve wanted to see her two little ones so much.” Cora winked at her daughter-in-law. “Getting to see the two of you sweetened the deal all the more.”
“We’re glad you’re here, Miss Cora,” Vestal said, “but you came a long way to see someone who lives right there in Washington.”
“Margaret spends her time in New York these days, and besides, the President’s been pestering me to come see his new library.”
“How’s he doing?” Earl asked.
“Fit as a fiddle, from what he and Mrs. Truman write in their letters. Still walking every day at his same breakneck pace. Miss Bess always asks about you, Earl.”
Earl spent two weeks at the Truman home following his Army discharge. The stay had been at their invitation, after hearing Earl was hopeful of settling in Kansas City. They were unaware of his interest in the beautiful girl he’d met while serving as a mechanic at nearby Fort Leavenworth. Earl often wondered if they would have let him stay if they’d known Vestal was colored. From the stories Cora told about the Trumans, he suspected they would have been concerned, but never judgmental.
“I haven’t given a thought to what’s for supper,” Vestal said, quickly getting up from her chair. “What sounds good, Earl?”
“You didn’t ask me,” Cora interjected, “but some good Kansas City ribs would hit the spot for this tired old woman.”
Vestal opened the refrigerator door and scanned the contents. “I’m afraid we don’t have any ribs, Miss Cora. This tiny Frigidaire barely has room for the things we need.”
“You’re not cooking anything tonight, Vessie,” Cora said. “We’re going downtown to visit my friend, Arthur. He’ll cook for us. Just let me make a quick phone call.”
An hour later, Earl parked his mother’s car along Brooklyn Avenue. A block south, the Kansas City Athletics were preparing to play the Baltimore Orioles. The meager number of people attending the woeful A’s game was rivaled by the block-long line snaking out the door of Arthur Bryant’s Barbeque. Earl, Vestal, and Cora joined the queue.
“Do you know how hard it is to find good barbeque back east?” Earl could see the pleasure on his mother’s face as she breathed in the smoky aroma filling the air. “People in Washington think they’re too good to slather barbeque sauce on anything.”
As always when they were out in public, Earl’s radar was on full alert. While Kansas City was becoming more accepting of whites and coloreds dining in the same restaurants and shopping in the same stores, the sight of an interracial couple was rare. Earl had never been much of a fighter, but Vestal could get angry enough for both of them. To avoid conflicts, they usually st
ayed home. Earl thought that Arthur Bryant’s, a long-established barbeque joint owned by a colored man and known for serving people without regard to skin color, would be a safe choice. Within moments he was proven wrong.
“Look Horace, that boy’s got himself a jigaboo woman.” His voice was loud and bolstered by alcohol. Earl glanced over his shoulder. Further back in line, a thirty-something cracker wearing a Baltimore Orioles baseball cap was staring at him.
“I see you looking at me, boy,” the Orioles fan said loudly. “My buddy and me was admiring your woman, wasn’t we Horace?”
“Tone it down, Vic,” the man’s friend said quietly.
“Listen to your buddy, Vic,” a burly guy in an A’s cap interjected. “Tone it down before somebody does it for you.”
“Who do you think you are, fat boy—” Vic’s retort was cut off in midsentence by the approach of a policeman, accompanied by a bespectacled man in his sixties.
“Miss Manning?” The officer called out, scanning the line.
“There she is!” The man’s eyes lit up when he spotted Cora. Rushing to her, he held out his hand. “Good to see you again, Miss Cora!”
“And you too, Mr. Bryant.” Cora gushed, shaking his hand vigorously. “Did he call?”
“He sure did. We saved some of our best for you, and one of my boys ran four slabs out to the house. The President, Miss Bess, and the rest of ‘em’ll be eating ribs for a week.”
“Perfect!” Cora beamed. “Mr. Bryant, you haven’t met my son, Earl and his wife, Vestal.”
Bryant welcomed them warmly, escorting them past the waiting line into the restaurant. Others in line pointed and whispered as they passed. Bryant’s was known to attract celebrities, and the sight of Arthur personally welcoming guests caused tongues to wag. The police officer who had accompanied Bryant was now engaged in a quiet but pointed conversation with Vic, the suddenly contrite Orioles Fan.
Inside, Bryant led them through a packed dining area into an empty banquet room, where a table was set for three. Cora protested the preferential treatment, but Bryant would have none of it. A female employee took their orders, then left the Mannings alone.
“Do you experience problems like that very often?” Cora asked, referring to the encounter outside.
Earl said nothing, so Vestal took the lead. “We don’t go out all that much, what with trying to save money and all. Still, we get our share of looks.”
“It’s still that way back in Washington, too,” Cora said angrily. “It has to change sooner or later. Hopefully Senator Kennedy gets elected and can make some advances for civil rights.”
Vestal looked hopeful. “We can only pray, Miss Cora. Marriages like ours still aren’t legal in a lot of states.”
“Including the very one you’re sitting in,” Cora said pointedly. “Governor Blair’s a good man, but he isn’t going to be able to get anything done, not with some of the opposition he faces in the rural areas.”
“That’s why we live on the Kansas side of the state line,” Earl said. “It’s not much better, but still...”
The conversation paused when Bryant and two waitresses entered with heaping plates of beef, turkey, ribs, and side items.
“Mr. Bryant, we didn’t order this much food!” Cora’s voice was tinged with indignation that her smile betrayed.
“The President said to feed you ‘til you’re full and send him the bill,” Bryant grinned. “If this doesn’t do it, we’ve got more in back.”
The Mannings needed no encouragement to begin tearing into the spread. Bryant’s tangy, gritty sauce was the perfect accompaniment for ribs and sandwiches piled high with tender strips of beef and succulent turkey. When Bryant returned forty minutes later, two dozen ribs were picked clean and the trays were empty.
“I may have underestimated you folks,” Bryant laughed.
“Please open a restaurant in Washington, Mr. Bryant,” Cora said. “You’re guaranteed to become a very wealthy man.”
“Miss Cora,” Bryant chuckled, “I already am.”
###
They returned home just before nine. Earl said good-night and headed off to bed.
“He gets up at four-thirty,” Vestal said as she and Cora settled onto the couch dominating the duplex’s living room. “They seem to really like him at the home, and I know he likes them.”
“Has he been doing okay, as far as... you know?”
Vestal nodded. “He hasn’t had a spell since he started at Howland. I’m thinking maybe the job helped. He never gets too high or too low anymore.”
“That’s a relief,” Cora smiled. “You’re so good for him, Vessie.”
“I love him. I always will.”
“Do the two of you still have your eyes on buying some farmland?” Cora kicked off her clunky oxfords, sighing with pleasure as they dropped heavily to the floor.
“Oh yes, ma’am. Earl wants nothing more than to have his own land. There’s a farm out near Bonner Springs, sixty acres with an old house. Earl got to know the owner through some people at Fort Leavenworth. He plans to sell out in another couple years and has promised Earl first chance.”
Cora nodded. “He’s never been comfortable in the city, Vessie. You know that as well as anybody. As bad as his daddy was, Earl never wanted to be anywhere but Grebey Island.”
“He still talks about it now and then,” Vestal said, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear. “I feel like I know some of those folks. Harry Davis, the Dobson and Cornish families. I’ve offered to drive across the state with him, maybe visit the area—”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Cora warned. “Levi Manning has a vengeful streak a mile long. It would be just like him to take his issues with me out on poor Earl. Besides, I’m not sure what meeting his father face-to-face would do to him.”
“But seriously, Miss Cora, it’s been such a long time. Maybe things have changed. How do you even know Levi’s still living?”
“I’ve got my ways, Vessie. Being in Washington allows me to keep tabs on him, at least indirectly. Levi’s still alive, working just hard enough to make ends meet. He pays his taxes every year, which surprises me to no end.”
“But still, Miss Cora, how bad could it be?”
Cora slowly got to her feet.
“Oh I reckon you’ve heard pretty much everything Earl knows, but you’ve probably not heard about the money. Let me get a glass of water and I’ll tell you.”
It took Cora a half-hour to share the story of their escape from Grebey Island. A few bits and pieces were familiar to Vestal; much she was hearing for the first time. She almost forgot to breathe when Cora told her how much money she had stashed away.
“How did you accumulate so much?”
“It wasn’t hard. A few dollars here and there add up. That farm was a goldmine if someone was willing to put in the work.” Cora took a sip of water. “The smartest thing I did was put the money in that Cape Girardeau bank. Finley Hatcher would never have kept his mouth shut. Everybody in Saxon County would have known.”
“I can’t believe you took off cross-country with that much cash. Weren’t you scared?”
Cora nodded. “I hid most of it under the spare tire, just in case Levi came after us. Earl had no idea. It turned out to be enough for us to settle in Washington, buy that little house on Princeton Place, and get me into a good secretarial school.”
“Do you think Levi ever found out about the money?”
“I know he did. The bank sent the tax forms to Grebey Island by mistake. When Levi saw how much I had squirreled away, he came looking for us.”
“Earl never mentioned that.”
“He didn’t know. Adapting to city life was hard enough for him without the worry of his daddy coming after us. We’d been in Washington a year by then. I was working in Senator Truman’s office, starting to find my way. Some of the people in our office had connections. They told the Capital police that Levi was a ex-convict with a history of violence. He was tossed out of
town before he knew what was happening.”
“You never saw him again?”
Cora sighed. “I wish that were the case. It was ten years later. I assumed he’d accepted things as they were, but I was wrong. I was on President Truman’s team that went on the Whistle Stop Tour, and some newspaper photos got back to Levi.” Cora smiled at the recollection. “Somebody had to show them to him. The only thing the man ever used a newspaper for was to finish his business in the outhouse.
“Anyway, Levi made his way to a little town in Iowa called Chariton. He was waiting for us when we got there.”
“Did Earl see him this time?”
“Earl stayed back in Washington. School had just started. Our neighbors, the Paxsons, watched him. Good people, Mitchell and Molly. Older couple whose kids were already grown. Earl had been in a bad way in recent weeks, and was just starting to come out of it. I figured it was best that he stay home.
“Anyway, Levi waited until after Harry’s – the President’s – speech was over, then he boarded the train.”
Vestal shifted on the sofa, moving closer to Cora and grabbing her hand.
“For the first time in ten years, Levi Manning and I were face-to-face.”
“Were you scared?”
Cora paused to think.
“I expected to be, if I ever saw him again; but it turned out I wasn’t at all.”
“Did he... try to hurt you?”
Cora laughed. “You never saw Levi, sweetie.” Then, appearing to grow uncomfortable, added, “I guess I never really saw him either. All those years I let him hit me and have his way with me. But on that train, I saw Levi Manning for the first time. He was a little man, really, in stature and mind. We stared at each other for a minute, then he snarled, ‘I want my money.’
“He was trying to intimidate me, but I wasn’t having it. A couple of men on the train asked if I needed help. I told ‘em I could handle this one just fine.”
Harvest of Thorns Page 15
