Rapture's Rendezvous

by Cassie Edwards

  A wide porch stretched across the front of the house with many white wicker chairs positioned on it. At the far end, a porch swing hung from the porch roof, swaying gently in the breeze, emitting a slow, creaking sound.

  Now completely ignoring the dogs still following along beside her on the other side of the fence, Maria eyed the stately black carriage and two matching chestnut mares that were tied to a hitching post outside the fence, next to a gate that opened into the yard, where a path of white gravel led to the steps of the porch.

  One of the horses whinnied as Maria moved closer. She reached a hand upward and touched the softness of its mane, but still looking around her, seeing the many leafless trees that surrounded the house, and how their limbs hung low over it, seeming to embrace it.

  Her gaze moved lower, seeing the squared-off flower beds on each side of the walk. They showed signs of once having been filled with an assortment of flowers, but had turned into brown, wilting stalks, bent now, like an ageing man might do.

  A stronger gust of wind sent Maria's dress hem whipping upward, causing a chill to creep up her legs and between her thighs. In haste, she pushed the skirt of her dress down and snuggled more into her shawl, stopping, gaping, when the front door of this house opened slowly, revealing a figure standing in the shadow of the alcove.

  Maria swallowed hard and began to inch her way backwards, now realizing what an awkward circumstance she had found herself in.

  A dark-skinned lady stepped out into full view and began to move down the steps toward Maria.

  Maria stood wide-eyed, stunned. She hadn't been around any Negroes before. She had read of how they had been used as slaves, and how they still didn't have the same privileges as most white people. But this Negress didn't appear to have been affected in any way by such prejudices. As was Maria, this Negress was tall and stately and held her head high. She was attired in a long, flowing satin gown of a rose coloring that clung sensuously to her figure that was well-represented by its plunging neckline. Her pompadoured hair was of a reddish tint, but displayed roots of shining black. Her eyes were as dark as any dark Maria had ever seen and her thick lips had been painted red. Her wide nostrils flared as she reached the gate and began to talk. . . .

  “What brings you here?” she asked in a deep throaty, slow drawl that matched the sultriness of her costume. Her long, lean fingers displayed many rings of ruby-colored settings that matched the small circles of red earrings on each earlobe.

  “I was just taking a leisurely . . . walk . . .” Maria said, clearing her throat nervously. Somehow she felt inferior to this beautiful creature standing before her. The lady's dark skin was sleek -and shining, and an aroma of expensive perfume traveled from her body upward into Maria's nose.

  Maria eyed the lady's dress once again, feeling envy eating away at her insides. In Italy, this was what Maria had dreamed of wearing, when America flooded her thoughts both day and night. She had hoped that her Papa had purchased such a grand house and that she would be able to go and purchase closets of gorgeous clothes.

  Her gaze moved upward, seeing the confidence in the strong set of this lady's jaw. How had this person succeeded at getting so much in the world? How had a Negro … a female Negro .. . managed to have more than even the Italians? Maria had always thought the Italian race to be superior. Had she been wrong?

  Maria's face colored when she felt this lady's eyes travel over her, feeling very self-conscious about the drab way in which she was dressed. She pulled her shawl even closer, clutching it in front of her.

  “Are you of the Italian community?” the lady asked, patting one of the dog's head, as the dog moved to her side, panting.

  “Yes . .. I.. . am,” Maria stammered.

  “You're the first female of that community to cross the iron bridge that leads away from their houses,” the lady said, curving her lips in a soft smile.

  “1 . .. am .. . ?” Maria said, eyes wide.

  “What's your name?” the lady asked, eyeing Maria's attire once again with a fleeting glance.

  “Maria. Maria Lazzaro.”

  “Mine is Ruby. Just Ruby,” Ruby purred. “Come on in out of the chill of the air.” She lifted the latch on the gate and opened it.

  Maria eyed the dogs cautiously. “But the dogs,” she said. “They appear to be so … so .. . vicious. . . .”

  Ruby's throaty laughter fdled the air. “Only if I want them to be,'.’ she said, clapping her hands sharply, then shooing the dogs away from her.

  Maria reached down and lifted the skirt of her dress, walking alongside Ruby, anxiety rippling through her. Had she found a friend? The color of Ruby's skin made no difference to her, for wasn't her own of a different coloring from all other Americans'? In a sense, Maria knew that this alone could make for a special bond between her and Ruby. But she was puzzled by something that Ruby had said.

  “Why would I be the only female Italian to cross the iron bridge?” she asked, moving up the front steps. “Surely there had to have been others with the same need to get away from such terrible surroundings.”

  “Nathan Hawkins has etched a fear inside most of their heads, almost as though they've been branded by dangerous hot irons,” Ruby said. “If not the females, their husbands, brothers, or fathers. Most females are warned against wandering too far .. . Most believe that Nathan would put them in bondage if he found them wandering on his private estate.”

  Maria paled, remembering her earlier plans of going to stand in front of Nathan Hawkins's house. “And is it true? Would he do such a thing?” she asked softly, stepping onto the porch.

  Another laugh bounced through the air as Ruby reached for the screen door. “Hell, no, honey,” she said. “He might have something else on his mind, but never anything like bondage. It's just a tale that got started by some fool of a husband who feared that his lovely Italian wife might wander off after becoming bored with washing a coal miner's filthy underthings and having only a house filled with children for company.”

  “This Nathan Hawkins. You do know him?”

  “I've had many a run-in with the bastard,” Ruby hissed, opening the main door, stepping aside so Maria could enter.

  “He is an evil man, isn't he?” Maria said, stepping gingerly across the threshold, stopping, feeling her heart hammering against her ribs when her gaze moved quickly around her. She took it all in, then stared ques-tioningly at Ruby. “Why, it's so beautiful,” she finally blurted. “How . . . ?”

  Ruby closed the door then moved across the softness of a beige woolen carpet. “ I see you arc surprised to see how I live,” she said, reaching for a long, thin cigar. When she placed it between her lips, Maria's fingers went to her throat, struck with amazement. She had already been stunned by the crudencss of some of the words Ruby had chosen to speak. And … now? To smoke cigars … as only a man was normally wont to do?

  Once again Maria s eyes took in the room and its decor. It was a room of gentle colors, as though meant to make one relax … to forget any troubles that might be burdening one. It was a room of beiges and pale greens in both the brocade draperies hanging at the windows and the many upholstered chairs and matching sofa positioned for comfort in front, and on both sides of the six-foot-wide-and-high brick fireplace.

  Wide-leafed palm plants sat in each corner of the room, and a grandfather's clock stood ticking away against the wall, where steps began that led upward to the second floor.

  Maria knew that this house, and all that was in it, had taken much money to make it so beautiful. But… how . . .?

  “Come. Sit by the fire,” Ruby said, flicking ashes from her cigar into the flaming logs on the grate. She settled down onto a chair, with her back held straight, drawing from her cigar once again.

  Maria pulled her shawl from around her shoulders, already feeling the warmth from the fire moving into her flesh, making her feel a bit languid. She went to sit opposite Ruby, clasping her hands tightly together on her lap.

  Ruby removed the cigar fr
om between her lips, then leaned forward a bit. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” she asked in her slow drawl.

  Maria swallowed hard, reaching up to push her hair back from her shoulders. “No,” she said. “And why should you?”

  “I'm a Negro. Most white women turn their noses up into the air when a Negro approaches them, except if they are seeking one of my kind to do their dirty work for them. You know… cleaning… laundry… cooking. If this is needed, most white womenfolk can tolerate us. But that's the only reason they will confess to.”

  “If you will notice, my skin is not white,” Maria said proudly, reaching up to run her fingers over the smoothness of a cheek.

  “Yes. I noticed,” Ruby said, smiling. “I also noticed how fluently you speak the American language. Have you been in Nathan Hawkins's Italian community long?”

  The way in which Ruby had referred to “Nathan Hawkins's Italian community” sent renewed sparks of hatred racing through Maria. Her eyes blazed, showing her anger, though she didn't feel free to speak of it to this Ruby who was still only a stranger to her. “I've been in America only one day,” she murmured. “My Papa taught me how to speak English while we were still in Italy.” She paused, then smiled. “My brother Alberto and I arrived by train yesterday to be with our Papa, who was already here.”

  “Oh? A brother you say?”

  “Yes. My twin,” Maria boasted, flipping her hair, lifting her chin.

  “A twin,” Ruby drawled. “Hmm. Interesting. I've seen but only one set of twins during my lifetime.” Her eyes raked over Maria, glimmering. “And does your brother Alberto look exactly like you?”

  “Yes. We have the same color of eyes, hair, and even a birthmark of the same size and shape. Our heights are also the same.” She paused, then added, “Yes, we are the same, except for personalities. Alberto has only recently changed.”

  “In which way?”

  Maria looked away from Ruby, chewing her lower lip. “He has suddenly acquired the pleasures of a card game, one he was taught how to participate in while we were on board that wretched ship that brought us to America,” she said sullenly. “It seems this game has captured his heart in almost the same way as a woman might one day succeed in doing.”

  “The card game you speak of I'm sure is what we Americans call Poker,” Ruby said, laughing amusedly.

  Maria's eyes flew upward. “So you do know about this .. . this evil game?”

  Ruby rose from the chair and tossed her half-smoked cigar into the flames rising from the logs on the grate. She turned, standing with her back to the fire. “Yes. I'm very familiar with it,” she said, laughing still.

  Maria was puzzled by the amusement Ruby found in the mention of the card game. But Maria was puzzled by everything about Ruby. She rose and began moving around the room, touching the smooth finish of the redwood tables that sat beside chairs in the room. Then something caught her eyes. She leaned down over a lamp, seeing that behind its shade there was no sign of a wick with which to light the lamp. Instead, there was a tiny, pear-shaped bulb made of a delicate-appearing luminous material. She reached inside and touched it. “What is this?” she gasped, feeling its cold smoothness.

  Ruby moved to her side. “You've never seen an electric lightbulb?” she asked.

  “Is this … ?”

  Ruby laughed, then reached over and switched the light on, reflecting a bright ray of artificial sun upward onto Maria's face.

  “Yes. One of the first in the area,” Ruby bragged, straightening her back. “Nathan Hawkins has the same in his house, and further down the road at Creal Springs it has become quite commonplace.”

  “Then you must be one of the rich Americans, Ruby,” Maria said, reaching up inside the shade, marveling at the heat she could feel now radiating from the bulb.

  Ruby threw her head back in another fit of laughter. “Not really,” she said. “Just calculating and very smart.”

  Maria continued her exploration around the room. “I truly don't understand,” she said. “If Nathan Hawkins owns all the land in this area, how is it your house is … uh … so much nicer than the one I'm living in?”

  “That's simple enough to answer,” Ruby drawled, moving to stand in front of the fire once again. “Nathan Hawkins didn't succeed in buying my father out those many years ago. This house was my father's, and before that my grandmother's. When my father passed away, he left the house to me. I made sure Nathan Hawkins had no chance to get his hands on it. And if he even tries to come near the place, I sic my dogs on him or his representatives.”

  “And your … mother . . . ?”

  “She left when I was a baby. I've never even seen her. My father said she was a … uh … a tramp.”

  Maria gazed longingly around her once again, seeing the way she would truly like to live. Such luxury! “And I guess your father . . . uh . . . left you a lot of money? This house is so beautiful.”

  Ruby went to look up the staircase, furrowing a brow. “A nigger having a lot of money?” she said, laughing sarcastically. She swung her head around, eyes snapping. “That's what he was called. A nigger,” she blurted. She went to the fireplace and stared down into the flames. “No. My money? I've made it. In the only way I know how.”

  Maria went to stand beside Ruby, eyes wide. “Maybe you could tell me how you did it,” she said softly. “I'd like to have the same things you have.” Her gaze moved over Ruby and the richness of her attire. “Your dress. I've never seen one so breathtakingly beautiful.”

  Ruby's eyes wavered as she turned to face Maria. “I doubt if you would want to live as I do,” she said sullenly. “Yes, it appears that all is well here in this house. But you see, it is just that. A 'house.'“ She gazed back into the flames. “A house . . . of . . . girls,” she murmured. “I run a . . . house … of girls. . ..”

  Maria gasped and stepped back away from Ruby as though she was the plague. “You . . . what. .. ?” she whispered, looking quickly around her. “This is a place … of … ?”

  Ruby went to the door and opened it. “I knew your reaction would be one of shock,” she said. “Now it's best that you be on your way. I don't need the likes of you to associate with anyway.” Her eyes narrowed into two slits. “Just look at you,” she hissed. “You're no better than a slave yourself. Get out of my house. I don't even know why I asked you in, in the first place. Soft in the head, I guess.”

  With a throbbing pulse, Maria inched her way toward the door, then stopped when she reached it. “I'm sorry if myattitude offended you, Ruby,” she said, blushing. “It's just . . . that. . . I've never met face to .. . face with a. . . .”

  Ruby placed her hands on her hips and tilted her chin up, proud. “A whore?” she hissed. “You've never been around a whore before?”

  “Please, Ruby,” Maria whispered, reaching to touch Ruby on the hand. “I truly don't care if you run this house Please believe me.”

  Ruby stepped back away from Maria, making Maria's hand drop awkwardly in front of her. “Why would you even care anything about me?” she asked. “In most everyone else's eyes, I'm a cheap tramp, just like my mother.”

  “I think we could be friends, no matter your occupation,” Maria said, lowering her eyes.

  Ruby laughed sarcastically. “Your brother? What would he think of you associating with my kind9 And your father? They would probably disown you for sure.”

  Maria glanced quickly around her once again. She knew that she would willingly accept any threats from her family, if only she could occasionally come to this house and sit beside the fire and chat freely with this woman of dark colors. Until she had found out Ruby's occupation, she had felt a closeness of sorts to her. She looked toward the staircase when another dark-skinned girl came sauntering down the steps. Maria eyed her closely. She wore only a thin chemise, which revealed the largeness of her breasts and a tiny waist. The girl moved stealthily across the room, toward the fire.

  Ruby turned on a heel and raced across the room to stand with hands on h
ips next to the girl. “Isn't anyone stirring yet upstairs? What the hell do you girls think you're doing sleeping until noon? We have to get with it. We have to be ready for the rush this evening. The warmer weather brings the men out. You know that.”

  “Ah knows,” the girl said, wiping her eyes with the back of the hand. “But we's been ovah worked lately. You knows that.” Her eyes became as two dark coals when they turned to gaze upon Maria. “And whut is that white lady folk doin’ in our house? Don't tell me you're goin’ to put her to work side by side with us?”

  “No. Not quite,” Ruby said, turning with a small smile lifting her lips, nodding toward Maria. “No. She's just my friend. Nothing more . . . nothing less.”

  Maria smiled a bit awkwardly. She did indeed feel out of place standing in such a place as this .. . but. . . yet. .. Ruby did make her feel as though it was just another house, not one of prostitution. “Yes. We're friends,” she said softly. “But for now, Ruby. I must go.” She reached for her shawl that she had thrown over the back of a chair.

  Ruby moved toward her, hand outstretched. “You come by anytime,” she said.

  “I've much work to do at my Papa's house,” Maria said. “But I'll sure try hard to break away.” She took Ruby's hand in hers and shook it gently.

  “You should try and make it soon,” Ruby said, then opening the door for Maria. “It's best to even get your exploring done now. Real soon the snows begin to fall and it's hell getting around.”

  Maria's thick lashes fluttered, knowing that she would have to get used to this lady's way of loose speech, her smoking of cigars, and knowing that she was a madame of a . . . whore house. But she would. She didn't want to rot in that house of her Papa's alongside Alberto, who seemed content enough as long as he had a hand of cards to play with. “I'll remember your warning,” she said, laughing softly, then moved on out the door.

  Ruby moved out next to her, hugging herself with her arms as the wind whipped her dress up around her ankles. “I won't ever introduce my girls to you.” she said quietly. “You see, most only have known the acquaintance of men besides the girls they work beside. They don't even know how to carry on a decent conversation. None have been educated except in the ways of their bodies. I hope you'll understand.”