Reconstructing Jackson

by Bush, Holly

  Belle carried a pie, and Nathan held a dish while Reed wheeled along beside them. Town was quiet. Those that were out stared at the odd trio as they made their way down the middle of the street. Once outside of town, black families began to fill the lane. Henry and Mary Ellen were behind them.

  Reed turned to a hand on his shoulder. “Mother, I thought you were leaving.”

  Lily Jackson took the dish from Nathan. “There’s another train this afternoon.”

  “I … I didn’t expect you, Lily. We would’ve stopped at the hotel, had we known,” Belle said.

  “Father must be furious,” Reed said.

  “He’ll get over it,” Lily said.

  “I didn’t think you liked Beulah and after the things I said,” Belle trailed off.

  “Liking or not liking Beulah Freeman has little to do with it. She was a friend to my son and daughter-in-law. Under different circumstances, perhaps she would have been a friend of mine,” Lily said staring ahead towards the Freeman cabin.

  Brother Freeman met them at the door. His watery eyes held a lifetime of grief. Beulah’s brother led them all to seats. The room was crowded and many stood outside in the cold. Women wept softly, and a few hummed hymns.

  Brother Jackson’s shoulders were low in his stiff black suit as he faced the room. “Praise be to God,” he shouted. The room exploded in a mimicked reply. “Say hallelujah.” Hallelujah. “Sister Beulah Freeman was a woman of many gifts.” Amen. “She was a healer, a giver. Born to this world in shackles to rise to freedom. And carry those too weak with her. But the dear Lord needs our sister Beulah.” Yes he does. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.”

  Reed listened to the man’s sermon. Not once did Beulah’s brother falter. Although grieving deeply, Reed was sure, he sang God and Beulah’s praises in the same breath. Nathan reached for his hand and broke him from his thoughts. Brother Freeman was eulogizing Amos Black. The boy’s eyes filled, and he clenched Belle’s hand as well. Lily looked at Reed and the small black hand squeezing his. Certainly it could not be acceptance he saw in his mother’s eyes.

  Solemnly, a line was formed as Beulah’s brother closed the service. Every man, woman and child filed past the two wooden caskets. Some prayed aloud; some touched the wood with their hand. Belle, Reed and Nathan stood in front of Amos Black’s casket. Nathan reached out and whispered. “Good bye. I’ll never forget ya, Pa.”

  Belle stared at Beulah’s casket and held Brother Freeman’s hand. “I love you, Beulah.”

  Brother Freeman’s face was marked with tears when he turned to Belle. “And she loved you. And hears you now even from heaven.”

  * * *

  Belle took Nathan’s hand and led him away while the caskets were lifted and carried to waiting graves. The air was cool on her tear-stained cheeks as Belle watched them lower each one into the ground. Ashes to ashes, she heard. When will I quit my grieving? When will Nathan release his?

  Women had laid out food in Brother Freeman’s home. The congregation drifted inside and slowly began to fill plates. Belle looked out the window and saw the sheriff on horseback. He had kept his vigil. Brother Freeman led a young black woman and man to Belle and Reed.

  “This is Sister Mary and her husband, Elijah. They have four children of their own and have agreed to take in Nathan.” Brother Freeman smiled at Belle.

  Nathan buried himself in Belle’s skirts. “What are you talking about?” Belle asked.

  “They own a working farm, and Nathan will have brothers and sisters,” Brother Freeman said. He tilted his head at Belle. “You weren’t thinking of keeping him, were you?”

  “Well, yes, I was,” Belle replied.

  “Belle, the boy can’t stay with us,” Reed said as he wheeled closer to hear the conversation.

  “His name’s Nathan,” Belle said. “We should ask him what he wants to do.”

  Belle knelt down and held Nathan’s face in her hands. “Would you like to live with Mary and Elijah? Or would you like to stay with me and Mr. Jackson?”

  Lily gasped.

  “Whatever his answer, Belle, he can’t stay with us,” Reed said.

  “Better the boy be with his own kind,” someone shouted.

  Nathan put his hand on Belle’s. “I don’t think Mr. Jackson thinks too much of me,” he said. His eyes filled with tears. “I’d rather stay on with you, but … but …”

  “It’s not that I don’t think much of you, Nathan,” Reed explained. “You’re a fine, bright young boy. But I think you’d be happier with your own people.”

  Nathan turned hurriedly. “I’d stay out of your way, suh.”

  “It’s not that …” Reed began.

  “Don’t want no nigger boy in your house,” a voice said from the back. “He’d be better off with Elijah, I’d say. This ‘un will be making a slave out of a freeman. Amos Black’s son.” The crowd jeered.

  Reed turned his chair. “The war is over. And with it slavery. I’d have no intentions of beginning it again.”

  “He’d never do that, ya hear?” Nathan shouted through his tears. “He done defended Miss Beulah and Miss Belle and me.” Nathan raced to Belle and buried his head in her skirts.

  Reed could not meet the silent eyes surrounding him. This boy had defended him to negro and white alike. Just as Belle had done. Was this the path, Beulah, he asked himself silently? Did his salvation lie in the hands of a farm girl and an orphaned colored boy. Reed shook his head. He looked at his wife. Did she realize the censure, the trouble this decision would lead to? Would she care?

  “Brother Freeman,” Belle said. “I promised Beulah as she lay dying to take care of Nathan. I could never go back on my word to her.” Belle lifted her head to the crowd. “Sister Freeman trusted me. Her word should be enough for anyone here.”

  Brother Freeman shook his head. “My sister thought highly of you. She’d trust you with her life. But … your husband. Young negro men will be called on to lead us from our dark history. Will Mr. Jackson be the one to teach him?”

  Belle faced him. With her arms around Nathan. Could he mold a mind destined to endure ridicule? Could he teach the pride needed to sustain a negro in this world? He honestly did not know. His own pride lay in tatters.

  “Reed Jackson is an honorable man. He’s my son. I should know,” his mother said.

  “He’s my husband. I know as well,” Belle said.

  Damn these women. They thought more of him than he thought of himself. Pride or love or the touch of Beulah’s hand to his shoulder made Reed respond. “Ridicule and pain are constant companions to a man in a wheelchair. Nathan will need to understand those things and learn to rise above them.”

  Belle smiled at him through her tears, and Nathan raced to him, climbing in his lap. Reed touched the boy’s head awkwardly. What had he done, Reed asked himself?

  Brother Freeman told the crowd that it had been decided that Nathan would live with the Jacksons. Sister Beulah had condoned it, and the boy deserved some choice in the matter.

  On the walk home, Nathan hung on Belle’s hand, head bowed. Lily walked beside Reed, head high as she always had. He had questions for his mother. So many questions.

  “Why did you say what you said, mother?”

  Lily Jackson stared straight ahead. “I don’t take kindly to anyone, colored or white, questioning the honor of my son.”

  “And you think me trying to raise a free negro boy honorable?”

  “My feelings on that are confused, Reed. But I am not confused one iota about the guilt and dishonor you would bear if you hadn’t respected your wife’s wishes. Obviously Belle feels indebted to Beulah Freeman. If you hadn’t agreed to take the boy, she would have been forced to swallow her honor. I know what that feels like, Reed. I’d never wish it on another woman.”

  Belle and Nathan walked ahead as Reed negotiated ruts in the road. His mother had just given him a glimpse into the life she had led, and he had never bothered to consider. What would it have been like to be m
arried to Buford Jackson? To love him?

  “After what I’ve done and seen on the battlefield, what I’ve ignored at Bristolwood, I doubt I’ve any honor left. But Belle,” Reed faltered, “Belle’s got grit and determination and a clear notion of right and wrong. I’d hate to see her lose those things because of my cowardice.”

  Lilly Jackson stopped in front of his chair, hands on her hips. “Don’t ever call yourself a coward, Reed. I won’t stand for it. It’s not true. I know it. Belle knows it. Even the colored boy knows it. You came here on your own against your father’s wishes. Very few things in life require more courage than facing down your father.”

  Reed looked away. “I’ve run from everything …”

  “Nonsense. Knowing when to fight and which battle to pick just make you wiser, not frightened. Beulah’s advice was right, you know. The same as mine. Let Him lead you. And He has led you to Henry and Mary Ellen. To Beulah. To this town. To a woman named Belle, torn inside so much like you but battling every step of the way. Like you. To a little boy with no father and mother who sees in you what you won’t see in yourself.”

  “Everything I’ve been raised to believe has been challenged since I came here.”

  Lilly’s eyes softened. “You never believed in any of it. But you did what you thought was your duty. Going to war. To college.” She leaned down and held the arms of his chair.

  Reed could smell the lilac cologne water he knew so well. He stared into her clear pale blue eyes, so familiar.

  “Start over for you, Reed. Love this woman. Figure out right from wrong with the boy. You’re the smartest of all my children. I don’t believe you will fail me.”

  Lily marched ahead, leaving Reed in the middle of the road to catch up with the women. Near the hotel, Lily said her goodbyes, kissed Reed and Belle and patted Nathan on the head. She smiled wryly when she turned from the steps of the Ames Hotel.

  “I do believe I’ll wait till we’re near Savannah to tell your father he has a grandson. One that came before Winston and Belinda’s.”

  She was a saint. More than he had known. Reed looked on as the diminutive Lily Jackson regally swept through the doors. She would face father with the news of Nathan and probably threaten to tell the neighbors he had a colored grandson if he made any trouble. Reed had to chuckle. He looked up to the confused faces of Belle and Nathan.

  “Your father will try to make trouble Reed. Maybe she shouldn’t tell him about keeping Nathan,” Belle said.

  Nathan’s eyes were downcast. Probably cursing himself for bringing trouble to their door already. Reed had no intention of allowing the boy to think he was the culprit. “Be nothing he can do once I file the papers.”

  “I was born free, Mr. Jackson. No papers need filing. My Pa said so.”

  “Not that, Nathan.” Reed took a deep breath and looked up at his wife. “Adoption papers will make it all legal and binding. I don’t know how we go about filing here in Missouri, but I’ll find out tomorrow.”

  “Do you mean it, Reed?” Belle asked.

  “Once it’s done, nobody, colored or white will be able to deny it. You’ll get to keep Nathan and raise him, Belle,” Reed said.

  Belle fell to her knees in the dust of the street before Reed. Hope and love shimmering in her eyes. Trust and the pledge to Beulah within her grasp. “You are the finest man I’ve ever known, Reed Jackson.” She turned to Nathan. “Is that what you want? Would you like to stay with Mr. Jackson and I for good? Be a family?”

  * * *

  Nathan’s eyes darted to the seated man, Mr. Jackson, and to the pretty lady, all soft and good-smelling. It seemed too good to be true. But she was looking at him smiling so sweet. If he couldn’t have his Pa, this woman would be the next best thing. And the man’d get out of his chair and walk for her if he could. “Yes, ma’am. I’d like that.” Then she hugged him right there in the middle of the street.

  Chapter Twelve

  “He’s finally asleep,” Belle said wearily and sat down at the table across from her husband.

  Reed looked up at Belle. He’d sat silently at the kitchen table most of the evening, hearing only the shuttered cries of Nathan and Belle. They had comforted each other, Reed imagined. He’d spent the last two hours cursing himself for doing what he knew would only bring trouble to his door. Chaos overcoming the beginnings of a quiet existence.

  “Where’s he going to sleep, Belle? Can’t go on having him sleep on the floor of my office,” Reed asked.

  “I don’t know,” Belle said, head on her chin. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Well, don’t get any ideas he’s going to sleep in our room,” Reed said.

  Belle tilted her head and looked at Reed. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling jealous of a ten-year-old boy, Reed Jackson?”

  Reed felt his face color at Belle’s assessment. His bedroom was his last bastion of privacy. What he and Belle did in there was theirs alone, and Reed wanted no interference or caution in that room. “I’m hardly jealous of an orphaned Negro boy, Belle. Don’t be ridiculous. I am just trying to point out the practical problems this boy creates.”

  “What will we do when I have our first child, Reed?” Belle asked him. “We’ll have these problems then.”

  “It’s not the same, Belle,” Reed said. “You’ve taken on the responsibility of raising this child. But he’s not ours. Never will be.”

  “I’ve taken on these problems,” Belle whispered. “You said you’d make it all legal. Adopt him. You’ve taken him on as well. What other proof will we need that he’s our child?”

  “And I will adopt him. Feed him. Clothe him. But that’s a far sight different than him being our son.”

  * * *

  Belle shook her head “How do you make a child part of your family by feeding and clothing him but not claim him? How do you do that, Reed? I know what a family is not supposed to be like. I’m going to do things different than my Pa.” Reed’s face was unforgiving, relentless in its surety. His glare gave rise to Belle’s anger. “I intend to love him, Reed. As much as I’ll love any child you give me.”

  “Answer the door, Belle,” Reed said. “I hope trouble hasn’t found us already.”

  The sheriff strode in to the kitchen, shaking water from his hat and slicker. “Sorry, ma’am, ‘bout getting your floor wet. It’s a terrible night out there.”

  “What can we do for you sheriff?” he asked.

  Belle put on fresh coffee on and threw another log in the stove. Reed eyed the man warily.

  “No way to go about this easy, so I’ll just ask what I need to be asking,” Sheriff Vernon Waters replied. “Did either of you get a look at a face the night Amos Black was lynched?”

  “No, Sheriff,” Belle answered. “I was so scared, so …” Belle slid into a chair. “Truth be told, I’ve been trying not to think of it.”

  “Mr. Jackson?” Sheriff Waters said as he turned to face Reed. “What about you? Did you get a chance to see anything at all?”

  “Have a suspect, Sheriff Waters?”

  The sheriff sat back and fingered the mug of his coffee cup. “Maybe so. But I’ll need proof or witness’. Let me ask you again, Mr. Jackson. Could you identify anyone who had something to do with Beulah Freeman being dragged to her death?”

  * * *

  The room was silent other than the cracking of fire logs breaking. Reed had replayed his memory of the scene moments before he pulled the trigger that night, time and again. He was fairly certain it was Jed, but it was dark, and he was panicked. He wondered if the sheriff knew that. Not much chance of Jed hanging unless, of course, a federal judge showed up. Then all bets were off. Post-war Washington was bound and determined to show that the new republic had teeth. Negro against white or not. Damn it all, though, he was an officer of this new republic. He’d best fess up and take the entanglement as it came even as he denied it the night of Beulah’s murder. The sheriff’s next words stopped him.

  “I got Jed Richards in jail. He’s
asking for you to be his attorney.”

  All color drained from Belle’s face. “Jed?” she whispered. “Jed did this to Amos and Beulah?”

  “I’m sorry for you to hear it like this, ma’am, but there was no way around it,” the sheriff replied and looked to Reed with a piercing stare. “I wanted to make sure there was no conflict by getting your husband to defend your brother.”

  “Well, he won’t defend him, Sheriff. He can’t. Jed’s mean enough to do it. Everybody in the county knows it,” Belle said.

  “Who’s prosecuting?” Reed asked.

  “John Benson,” the sheriff replied. “Don’t imagine it’ll take much imagination to see the outcome of this.”

  “Why do you say that, Sheriff?” Reed asked.

  “Benson’s uncle wants him to get noticed in Washington for defending the negro. Benson’ll do as little as he can to press the case against Jed, and he’ll manage to come out smelling sweet on both sides. It’s his specialty,” the sheriff said with a grim smile.

  Beulah’s death had little chance of being avenged, Reed knew. If he didn’t take Jed’s case, trouble would come sooner rather than later with Nathan living under their roof. And how could he defend his home or his wife from a wheel chair? If Belle had run out in that yard, Reed wondered if her brother would’ve dragged her to her death instead of Beulah. He wondered what Belle was thinking. Where did her loyalties lie? He looked up at his wife.

  “You’re going to do this? You’re going to defend Jed?” she whispered in horror.

  “He’s your brother, Belle. Do you want to see him hang? I’m an officer of the court. It’s my duty to defend people. Even people that might be guilty,” Reed replied.

  “’Specting most folks would expect you to take the case, Jackson,” the sheriff said. “With you arriving new from the South and all. And Jed being your wife’s brother.”

  Reed glared at the man but he dare not imply he was anything but a sympathetic white attorney. Yet it galled Reed to lie to the sheriff. “Jed Richards being my brother-in-law has no bearing on it. Nor does me just being newly arrived from the South.”