A Most Precious Pearl

by Piper Huguley

  Asa came closer to her. “They would starve?”

  “Nobody would starve. They would have to eat cold sandwiches after church. They wouldn’t be happy about it.”

  “But they would still eat, which is more than a lot of people can claim in this cruel world.” Before she knew it, he had come to sit on the rock next to her, and she could see that he sat down because his leg was stiff and pained him. She was being inconsiderate, twice over.

  “Sorry if you are hurt coming to look for me with your…injury.”

  “That’s all right. I just need to rest for a while before I go on back.” They sat companionably in the silence watching the stream run and babble past them.

  She plucked up some daisies and started weaving them into a chain. He looked at her closely. “What are you doing?”

  Mags dropped the chain, “My hands can never be still. Really, industrious should be my middle name.”

  Asa smiled at her, and she could not help but notice the beauty of his white, white teeth and his thick moustache, such a prominent reminder of his masculinity. “What is your middle name?”

  “Ruth.”

  “So your name is Margaret Ruth?” She nodded. “Why do they call you Mags?” he asked her.

  “I don’t know. It was Maggie when I was little, and when people wanted to call me, I guess it got to be too much to say, so it was Mags.”

  “It’s not a very pretty name.”

  The nerve of him. “It’s who I am.”

  Asa turned to her and gave her a fiery look. “No, it is not. I look at you and I don’t see Mags. You should be called something where someone takes the trouble to call you by more than one syllable.”

  “That’s a nice thought, but I’m the workhorse of my family. Mags is me. I would have been Pearl, but Mama doesn’t like that name. She knew a mean Pearl when she was little, but when Daddy wanted to continue with the jewel thing with his daughters, I got to be Margaret.”

  “Jewel thing?”

  “Yes. Ruby, Nettie is really Garnet. Em is Emerald. Delie is Cordelia, which is not a jewel but means heart of a jewel. Margaret means Pearl, so that’s me.”

  She saw his hand come up and gesture to the earrings she wore. “So your earrings are your emblem?”

  She didn’t know what he meant, but she nodded only because she was startled to have him nearly touch her pearl earrings. She wondered how it would feel if he did that, what his touch would feel like on her. She connected the daisies together.

  “When I was in France, you would see these flowers everywhere.” Asa gestured to the ring of daisies on her lap. “There, they are called marguerites, the French word for Margaret, a name rich with history and dignity. Much more suited to you.”

  She watched him hook the daisy ring with his finger and examine her handiwork. “What is more suited to me?” she said, dazzled by this man who had traveled further than anyone she had ever known.

  “Margurite. Daisy. Pearl. You pick.” Asa crowned her with the ring of daisies on her hat. “Yes, that’s it. Lovely.”

  What would it be like to put this plan to the side and have someone love her, just love her and not people who asked her for things, or made her bring money home or cook for them? What would that be? She shook her head and took the daisies off of her hat. “I really should not be here alone with you.”

  “Because I’m a stranger? Or a man?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, I’ve rested my leg. Let’s go back to my car, and I’ll be glad to give you a ride home. With the window down so that your reputation is not unduly compromised. I wouldn’t want anyone to think ill of you.”

  “Thank you.” Mags stood and watched him adjust himself as he stood on his cane. She made sure to make her steps even with his, so that she did not walk too far ahead of him. She lived life at a fast pace, but she was stirred at what it meant to slow down and enjoy the movement of her body next to his, a man who exceeded her in height, something that did not occur too often in her world.

  Then she remembered. He was her boss and she had a plan to carry out.

  He was no good for her.

  Asa watched Mags as she walked to the car in such a stately and regal way and thought it shameful that she did not know what her own good qualities were. He wouldn’t be here in Winslow long, and he would take her back to Pittsburgh, but he could let her know that she had value, integrity and beauty. What would it be like to allow himself to be a part of that beauty, and to bask in its glory on a daily basis as a wife?

  Starting the car, he adjusted himself and shook his head. He couldn’t offer much to any woman. He was a man who just traveled looking for stories and now he had a fake leg. Not the kind of stability that Mags deserved. No, it was better to let her know about her good qualities, and what made her worthy. Then when the time came, he would retreat. But to where? Back to the bedroom in his mother’s house?

  He pointed the car toward the Bledsoe farm and thought that the label even sounded ridiculous, as if he, a grown man, were trying to get back into his mother’s womb. His mother’s house seemed less a comforting place and more a suffocating one. It was amazing how things changed over a few days’ time and he wondered if Ruby knew all of this when she sent him down here. He wouldn’t put it past her. Maybe he would splurge on a phone call and pass her the message, telling her so. She would get a kick out of being right.

  “Something funny?” Mags said above the noise of the car, but still, quietly.

  “I was just thinking of your sister.”

  “Which one? Oh, you mean Ruby? What has she done now?”

  “Was that a repeated refrain while she was growing up?”

  Now it was Mags’s turn to smile. “You have no idea. All of the gray hair on Lona’s head is her fault. The other four of us knew better than to give her a hard time—she always had so much to worry about with Ruby.” Then the smile disappeared. “I wish we could talk.”

  “We can set up a phone call.”

  Mags looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Doesn’t the commissary have a phone?”

  “It does. It’s for the white people.”

  “It’s for paying people.”

  He noticed that she folded her arms and pursed her lips. “Paul Winslow controls everything around here. No one ain’t calling in on that phone unless he wants them to.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You haven’t been down here long enough. He is in control.”

  “And you don’t like it.”

  “No.”

  He looked over at her, but he could see that the serene countenance had gone away, replaced by a stormy one. As a journalist, one thing he had learned how to do was to read people. He could read Mags and knew that Paul Winslow bothered her a great deal. He wanted to see her serenity return to her, so he tried to make light of it. “You still mad at him because he took away your job and gave it to a stranger?” He pulled up to the front of the Bledsoe farm, and leaned back in his seat and looked over at her. John Bledsoe tended to the mules in the barn, so they weren’t but so late for lunch.

  “If it were only about me, that would be one thing. No, he hurts the people I love.”

  “Your family does very well for itself, Mags. They seem to be blessed in a number of ways that other families of the race are not.”

  “That’s good enough?”

  He shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant. I was just pointing out that your family is very special.”

  The look on her face softened a bit. “Thank you. I always have thought so. That is why Paul Winslow is someone who has to pay for what he has done.”

  “Pay?” He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her when he realized that the look on her face was dead serious.

  “Yes, pay. He’s a human being like the rest of
us. Why not?”

  “I know we’ve just come from church and everything, but Mags, remember that he is a child of God too.”

  “And that gives him the right to ride roughshod over the rest of us? We all have to be subject to his will? Why?”

  He had no answer for her. It all seemed to be ridiculous. “Then why stay? Go elsewhere and start over.”

  “He’s the outsider. He came here from Tennessee maybe fifteen years ago. Before he got here and built that mill, my father was finally able to win a little piece of it for himself. He is one of three Negro landowners in all of Milton County. So he should leave?”

  He did not want to diminish John’s rather singular accomplishment. It was hard to get any Negro man to own his own land. “No. I just don’t see how a pretty daisy like yourself would do anything to make a man like Paul Winslow pay.”

  She turned to stare at him. “Do you know who Solomon’s father is?”

  He was taken aback by the question, but he knew there was a story there and tried to sit still for it. “Dr. Morson isn’t? He’s the spitting image of him.”

  “No, Adam is his uncle. His half-brother, David, attacked Ruby to keep her quiet against her attempts to organize the men in the mill into a union. Solomon was the result.” He tried to wrap his mind around that reality, first that Adam was not Solomon’s father.

  “David?” was all he could manage to say.

  “David Winslow. Paul’s son.”

  “Paul has a son?”

  “His white son. He’s dead now.” Mags waved an arm. “But he got to Ruby on his father’s order to keep her quiet. You think people here love her, but she stayed at home the entire time she was having Solomon and didn’t leave the house until he was five months old. Just because people thought she had seduced David. It was only until he publicly admitted it people could see how Ruby had survived their little punishment that people realized how virtuous she was. Then she had to leave.”

  He couldn’t believe that the smiling, happy, Ruby was a victim and that her beautiful little son was the offshoot of that kind of terror.

  “Paul Winslow is a terrible man, and has to be stopped.”

  “So why do you work for him?” he asked, whispering so that John did not hear them talk.

  All of sudden, it seemed as if she remembered who she was, and she started to step out of the car. “I need the money,” she said, more quiet than he had been then she practically ran into the house, keeping her head ducked as she did so.

  She was so wonderfully complex. He waved over at John, who was doing a bit of work in the barn with the door open. She was nothing at all like Aline, who only had seemingly lived to make him happy in all kinds of ways. He wondered what made him think of Aline just now, when he had been engaged in the most revealing, soul searching conversation with Mags. It was because he realized his French woman had never engaged him mentally, only physically. It was a new and wondrous thing to discover at the rather belated age of twenty-eight that a woman existed in the world who could do both things. And she was, even more wondrous, a Negro.

  Her invective, even though she had such a serene Christian countenance was stunning. How could he make her know, or understand that he was on the same team as she was? He didn’t want any more men like Paul Winslow running the lives of Negroes anymore. Negroes were their own people, more than fifty years away from slavery and able to run their own lives. Men could make their own decisions, and women, especially women like Mags, could make their own decisions. Women were even getting closer to the vote, something that his mother and sisters had worked for many years. No doubt they would do it too.

  Mags was a part of the story. This is what Sister Ruby was trying to tell him. In that moment, her battle to see Paul Winslow pay for what had happened to Ruby became his own. Not because of Ruby. But because of Mags.

  Chapter Five

  It didn’t matter what Mags did that week, she could not escape him. Mr. Thomas was in their house every night, eating dinner, every morning having breakfast, escorting her and Katie to work in his car, and back again.

  He was at the mill, noticing how few movements she used to operate her machine, leading to her being far more efficient than the rest of the workers. Her efficiency was what singled her out to Paul Winslow to promote once a number of the men in the area went to the Great War.

  However, Mr. Thomas had other ideas about coordinating and teaching the other workers the finesse of her movements, and spreading her methods. He simplified things in his explanations. He didn’t mind rolling his sleeves up and getting on a machine to make his point. He would even loosen his collar, and she would see little curls of hair that popped out here and there on his chest. The sight made her very nervous and she would avert her eyes and turn away.

  Very often, the day ended short where they were looking for more cotton to process.

  She knew that for the most part, the folks who were paid by the hour were not happy about it, but she knew that Mr. Thomas was doing it to show Paul Winslow that the workers should be done much sooner. He believed that making the workers happy would be crucial to his overall success. He had prevailed upon Paul Winslow to keep paying the workers until his shipments of cotton caught up to the new efficiency.

  She had her doubts that Mr. Thomas could do it; after all, Paul Winslow wanted the waking hours and thoughts of everyone in his town accounted for. So, when he gathered everyone in the plant together on Friday evening, she was surprised when Mr. Thomas made an announcement to them.

  “You all have done very well this week and have shown great patience with me and I appreciate it. We have processed the cotton very well this week. It will not be necessary for anyone to report tomorrow, and so, we can report to the mill first thing on Monday morning. Thank you.”

  The buzz among the excited workers was palpable. She looked out and saw Paul Winslow looking at them through the window. She couldn’t tell if he was upset or had feelings for their happiness. She doubted it.

  A thrill of happiness ran up her arms and she hugged herself. She would have time to herself tomorrow. What would she do?

  Mr. Thomas began to approach her, so she went over to where Katie stood and talked to her. Katie said, “This man is amazing. I haven’t had a whole Saturday to myself, ’less it was Christmas, since I was twelve.”

  “I know.” Mags tried to match her tone. “We should have a picnic.”

  A cloud crossed Katie’s broad features. “Hold on now. I know that my mama will have a lot for me to do in catching up on the piecework. I might could come out, but I’ll let you know.” She saw a slow smile spread across Katie’s features and she knew Mr. Thomas must be behind her. “Sides. I think you will be busy.”

  Mags turned around and he was standing right behind her. She righted her mill dress. “Yes?”

  “Yes, what? Yes, I’ll spend tomorrow with you.” Mr. Thomas pulled at his vest lapel.

  “I was saying yes, because I believed that there was something that you must have wanted.”

  “Which was?”

  Now she was confused and she didn’t like it. Before this man had intruded into her life, she had been clearheaded about her responsibilities both at home and here. Now, he made things worse. He was in the very air she breathed and her heart beat faster, as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. “I don’t know,” she said, trying to use the smoothest, coolest tones.

  “I’ll probably have to help at home with my mother and sisters.”

  He smoothed his hair back. “I haven’t helped your mama in the kitchen, so I don’t know what she would need. But I have caught your sisters up on a good deal of their school work. You have done well with them.”

  “Well enough until you came along, I suppose,” she couldn’t stop herself from saying. He frowned down at her.

  “You’ve a very fine mind, Mags. There’s a lot that you c
an do with that mind if you had the opportunity to do so.” He looked around at the quiet mill, now that people were leaving to go home. Even Katie had left and she wondered what that was all about. Traitor—she was her protection against gossip. Now, she would have to walk home.

  “I do what I can with what I have.”

  His face fixed in a firm, stone mask. “And you deserve more. That’s my point.”

  Mr. Thomas had a few surprises in store, it seemed. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Your sister went on to nursing school.”

  “Yes, she graduated last year. She’s helping Adam out.”

  “But not as much these days. Let’s go.” Mr. Thomas gestured ahead of her and she followed the path of his arm.

  “Good night Mr. Winslow,” Mr. Thomas called into Paul’s office.

  They heard scrambling and Paul Winslow came out and faced them. “You taking Margaret here on home?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been taking my meals there.”

  “Yes, indeed. Lona is a fine, fine cook. One of my regrets that I could never talk her into coming to cook for us full time.” Paul Winslow grinned at Mr. Thomas and he grinned back. “You take care with young Margaret here, you hear me? She’s mighty precious cargo.”

  “I agree. She’s precious, sir.”

  How could they speak of her as if she weren’t even there?

  “Well, then, enjoy your extra day this week and don’t compromise our precious cargo here.” Paul Winslow waved a hand in dismissal and turned to go back into his office.

  Precious indeed. To show her power, she would drop one little gem before she walked out of the door.

  “They say Ruby is carrying wide and across. That means she going to have a girl. If she does, she want to name her Mary Margaret.”

  Walking out of the door ahead of Mr. Thomas, she knew Paul Winslow was frozen in place listening to every single word. He lived for these small nuggets of information about Adam or Ruby. She smiled and refrained from rubbing her hands together. These were small victories in her plan. Anytime she could shake Paul Winslow’s emotions, she would. Actually, Ruby was feeling very antsy about thinking of potential names for her coming child with her two previous losses, and she had no idea what her sister would name a girl. But using Mrs. Winslow’s first name combined with her own made the two names sound pretty good together.