“Minnelsa is thirty-three years old. An old maid in the eyes of many, but wise for a woman. She has talents and attributes and you are not the first man to come and call upon her. You are more intelligent than the others. I feel that my daughters should have husbands that befit their station in life. They are all college educated, could take care of themselves if need be, but well trained in the household arts. A young wife, say a young woman June’s age, is sometimes too quick to jump to conclusions, not understanding the ways of the world. Maturity in marriage brings with it a certain spark, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir,” was all Peter had added. Willie observed that the Piano Man did not even flinch at the mention of June’s name.
“Some people say I am wrong, but I expect Minnelsa to marry before the others, After all she is the oldest. It is expected for her to marry first. It is respectable and, of course, customary.”
Peter nodded and sipped his drink. Willie followed suit, feeling comfortable between the two men. He was sure from what was not being said that Minnelsa was being given away.
“It is the custom in many countries and in many tribes, although we are not of a tribe, that the eldest is given away first.” Peter turned to Willie. “Daughters and sons do their parents’ bidding. They don’t marry for love. They marry to unite families. As you said, sir, it is a custom in many places.”
“Yes it is.” William Brown stood stretching a bit longer than his full six foot six. “The old customs are sometimes the best. I am not sure that I have ever met someone who was married for family unity.”
“It is more an Anglo custom,” Peter went on to explain. “A white custom. But it is not looked on lightly in many Spanish countries.” He pointed to the box of cigars. “The gentleman from whom I received this charming gift married his eldest daughter to a widowed rancher ten years his senior to achieve peace between their properties. Marriages are not always made in heaven.”
The two older men nodded as did Willie, though he did not agree. He wanted his sisters, each of them, to be happy. Why did papa think that they would have to marry for money? Why did papa assume that each man who courted them wanted the dowry, the property papa put aside for them? Didn’t he see they were beautiful, that any one of them could have any man she wanted?
“Some marriages are made in heaven. Like Mama’s and Papa’s. Right, Papa?”
The Blacksmith smiled at the boy and walked around and patted him on the shoulder. “Some marriages, my marriage. Yes, Brother is right, made in heaven.”
Willie had always known that the mention of mama’s name, even at the most unpleasant time, brought a smile to his father’s face.
“Do you mind my asking how you met Mrs. Brown, sir?”
The Blacksmith sat in the chair closest to Peter directly across from Willie. “She doesn’t like to be talked about, son,” he said softly. Peter nodded respectfully. “But we met in Alabama. She had just buried her family and was working for an uncle of mine. Cleaning his house. My uncle took her in ’cause he had known her folks. Felt more like his daughter and he treated her that way. Uncle Leroy wasn’t real interested in another woman other than my aunt. Their marriage wasn’t made in heaven, Willie, but they learned to love each other. When I met Bira I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. June looks a lot like her mother did then. When I asked her what she thought was most important to her and she told me family, I knew she was the woman for me.”
The men sat and sipped in silence for a few moments. Willie, no longer imbibing, would not share with June what he had seen. Given the nature of the conversation she would not care what their father did if he was giving her sister to her Piano Man.
“I suppose there is a suitable period of courtship prior to a marriage proposal for each country, don’t you agree, Mr. Brown?”
William Brown did not even study upon this for a second. “By the town, son, not the country but the town. Courtship is a ritual decided by some families, the families that start the towns.
“Years ago, when I first sat up this little area of Atlanta, when most of the people couldn’t afford to own their own home and I built and rented them everything they needed, the fathers and mothers would come to me and say: ‘Brother Brown, our daughter been seeing that boy across the way. They been keeping each other company for four months. Spend every Sunday night taking dinner at my table. Now don’t you think that’s long enough for this boy to be getting his meals for free and my daughter to be twiddling her thumbs waiting for him to ask for her hand?’”
The Blacksmith laughed boisterously at his imitation of the man from long ago.
“What did you tell them, sir?” the Piano Man asked.
“I told them the next time that boy came to sit at their table stop him at the door. If he had no flowers, no candy and if he didn’t have on his best shirt and shoes or if he looked like he thought he belonged in that family they should ask him what his intentions were. Because if he wasn’t dressed like he was courting anymore then he should be dressing to go to the altar.” The Blacksmith laughed again as did Willie and the Piano Man. Then he talked on.
“That girl got married five months after the suitor darkened her door that evening. Now I call that a short courtship. They had known each other since childhood and didn’t need to know each other better. That was back when nobody around here had two sticks to rub together. Taking a wife meant taking on a partner, someone to help you with your future. Some say long courtships are suitable in the young. I was young and courted my wife for six months, a long courtship by poor southern standards. Uncle Leroy was eager to get rid of her and me.”
Peter cleared his throat before he spoke. “I guess things have changed since more people around here own their own houses and land.”
“Yes, indeed.” The Blacksmith smiled. “They got it all from me.” He sipped a bit of brandy and thought before he spoke, his big dark fingers gently caressing the snifter. “Right after I sold the first few pieces of property people started making more money for themselves and being able to put it in the bank or get new furniture, even send their children to school. Courtships got longer, sometimes a year, because the parents wanted to make sure that the man was marrying the girl for her sake and not to get something from the family.”
He settled back in the big chair and asked the Piano Man: “What do you consider a proper courtship?”
“Well, sir,” Peter started off slowly. Willie watched as the man weighed his answer. “If a man has the means to support a wife and family he is justified in expecting a short courtship. But if he has little means, or if he is just getting on his feet, he must first prove himself. He must become worthy even if his financial situation becomes stronger.”
“Good answer,” said William Brown. Then without blinking an eye the Blacksmith changed the subject: “Tell me about the writers you met in Paris.”
The subject may have closed that night, but the topic was always present. Willie had to find some way to explain to his sister that, love him or not, the Piano Man was not for her.
But not tonight. He was still cold from that hand that reached out of nowhere. He covered himself and quickly fell asleep. He dreamed he was courting Lanney. He dreamed he was dancing at June’s wedding though he did not see the groom.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She was not sleepy in the least, but dreaming awake. The sky was filled with stars and she wondered if it was really true that if you wished upon one your wish might come true.
Minnelsa had placed many wishes on the stars in her youth, but her youth was gone. John Wood had given her youth reason. She had wished for him to want to marry her and he had said he wanted to, but could not on his professor’s salary. She had wished her father had not gone to the trouble of keeping John’s death from her but he claimed he wanted to save her the grief. “Besides,” he had told her, “That boy had no right to look at any man’s daughter if he has sired a son by someone else.”
Most of all she wished she
had been strong enough, independent enough to defy her father when it came to John Wood, but she hadn’t. One wish on a star had come true.
Now there was Peter.
She climbed out of the bed and opened the window to look into the night. She turned to make sure she had not disturbed Fawn who was probably dreaming of her insurance salesman. Each day Fawn, Jewel and Rosa wanted to know if the Piano Man was any closer to proposing.
She would tell them: “This isn’t the time yet. We’ve only known each other for four weeks.”
But each moment of those four weeks he had spent being devoted to her. The man brought her flowers, played her music and spent time with her father. All of this he told her was to please her.
Some evenings, when the sisters were in the sewing room, and June was studying in her room-she had taken to her books with such fervor lately-and papa was in the study reading with Willie, the Piano Man would ask her to sit next to him on the stool as he played. Or he’d take her outside and they’d stand beneath one of the peach trees and he’d tell her about the stars.
At first she hadn’t let on that everything he knew about the constellations she had known for years. The stars had been her only friends on the lonely nights when she was parted from John Woods. She knew about the constellations for she had gone to books to learn about her nocturnal companions. That’s what her loneliness had done for her: sent her to the science teacher at the college to ask him about the stars.
Like any man he assumed that she was trying to get him interested in her. The gangly professor had leaned over her. “Perhaps we could look tomorrow night and I could show you the Taurus Constellation.” He pointed to a group of bright stars. “I could call on you. Or, if you’d like,” he moved closer to her, “we could meet at. . . ”
“I believe you are wrong, Professor.” She moved away from him. “This is Orion’s Belt. Not Taurus and I don’t think you are likely to see that constellation anytime soon according to this book.” He watched as she pointed out how wrong he was. Finally he loaned her books to read and gave up his feeble pursuit.
The previous week she let it slip that she knew more about the stars than Peter could imagine. Now she spent nights showing him warriors battling in the sky, dragons breathing fire, chariots rushing across the heavens. She knew each group, each legend and myth. Bathed in moonlight she told him tales that old people told her about the Drinking Gourd, what the slaves called the Big Dipper, and how the masters didn’t understand it. She even sung the song she learned for him after much teasing and pleading. While the Piano Man held her shaking hand she looked up at the sky singing very close to his ear:
“Follow the drinking gourd
Follow the drinking gourd
For the old man is awaiting
For to carry you to Freedom
Follow the drinking gourd.”
When she had finished he told her: “You have such a sweet voice. Soft and loving. A voice that’s soft enough to make the meanest man sleep.” Then he kissed her. Not just on the cheek, but full on the lips for the very first time.
She wanted to break away, to look around to see if more than the stars were watching but she felt relaxed is his arms. The kiss made her think of music, his music. And for days after she hummed the tune around the house until June, sick of hearing it, said: “If you gonna hum something, hum something happy. Not that old slave tune. Sweet Jesus, Minnelsa, it’s so depressing.”
She had stopped humming it but not thinking about it. If she had wished for a better suitor, she would not have gotten one. In fact she hadn’t had a real one since John.
He found a reason to kiss her each night after that. Each kiss was different, not like the first. After each one she found an excuse not to dwell in the moment.
“How are you getting along with the church members?” she asked as she pulled away from him.
Peter smiled. “Wonderfully. People here are so nice to me. Unfortunately I have been invited to many of their homes for supper. Many of the women, as you probably know, are not married.”
“You turned them down?” she asked as she gazed at the stars, pretending that even though he was the handsomest man she had ever seen it wouldn’t bother her if he ate with other women.
“Of course.” He would slip his hand onto her shoulder. “I tell them I am spoken for.”
She turned to him and allowed him to kiss her again.
“And the students at the college? I understand they love your way of teaching.” She had pulled away again.
“Well, I’ve already got the choir in shape. I try to use a gentle hand.” He slipped his into hers, not kissing her again but holding it there in a gentle way.
Now she looked up in the sky at a hazy cluster of stars. One star shone brighter than others. She had not noticed this star before so she decided to wish on it.
“Star bright, star light, first star I see tonight. I need Peter.” Then she whispered: “I am not sure if that is why I love him or if the need has turned into love. I am old and in need of someone to touch me again in body and soul. John, you would like Peter. He’s brilliant and he treats me well. John, please forgive me. I thought I would never love another. Please let him love me.”
All she had to do now was wait for him to ask her to marry him.
Waiting was hard, but she knew it would happen. It was now early October and if he asked her soon perhaps they could wed before Christmas.
“Perhaps Papa and Mama won’t approve of such a short courtship,” Rosa told her one night.
“She could tell them she doesn’t have much time,” Fawn said as she brushed her oldest sister’s hair. June sat on the side of the bed brushing Jewel’s.
“She can say she’s an old maid.”
“June, whatever made you say that.” Jewel almost got hit in the head with the brush as she turned.
“You can be so mean sometimes,” Fawn growled.
“If she’s trying to get papa to do something she wants she’s got to convince him why he should do it.”
The others were about to jump on their youngest sister when Minnelsa said: “June has a point. I want to marry and have babies of my own. Every day I wait is too long. I’m not a child like June. Long courtships are for woman who are young. . .”
“So, you only want the Piano Man.” Rosa smiled at her sister.
Minnelsa nodded and Fawn, Jewel and Rosa giggled.
“Now all you have to do is get him to ask you.” It was the only thing June said they could all agree with.
Minnelsa wished on the star that sparkled the brightest. A new star that appeared in her sky. She wished aloud so it might come true.
“Make him ask me. Make him marry me soon.” As she turned to go to bed something caught her eye. Out in the dark running barefoot across the yard was a woman in red. Long black hair flowing as she ran. Minnelsa watched as she ran down the street quickly like a fiery fairy. She closed her eyes hoping this was her imagination. When she opened them the woman was gone.
Mama would say it was a sign. Women in red dresses were always trouble.
It’s nothing more than a dream. No woman, no red dress. Just a dream.
She covered herself and went to sleep humming: “For the old man is awaiting for to carry you to freedom . . .”
* * *
While her sister wished upon stars on one side of the house, June tossed and turned on the other.
“He belongs to me. I saw him first. He saw me and wanted me.” The song Minnelsa had been humming for days flowed through her head. “I hate that song.”
June could no longer pretend to sleep. She got up, went to the box beneath her bed and pulled out her red dress.
She gave herself a long look in the dresser mirror with the dress before her. She was young and beautiful. She had more to offer than some spinster who had spent her whole life bowing to her father. She ran her hands over the beads of the dress and the curves of her body. The feeling excited her. June knew what she had to do.
&n
bsp; She brushed her hair and touched her lips with a dab of the dark red color she hid in the box beneath her bed. She had sat with the spinsters and brushed their hair. She had been one of the sisters tonight and all had been fine until Minnelsa revealed she only wanted the Piano Man.
“Tonight I will not stay here any longer. Tonight I will not be one of you.” Then she remembered: “Mama said I could have any man.”
June only wanted one man. She had to have him.
And for him she ran into the night.
“I let her think she had a suitor, Willie. It was the least I could do.” She sat on Willie’s bed after the sisters had brushed their hair and said goodnight. “One of my professors said the trouble with youth is we think we have all the time in the world.”
“What does that mean?” a tired Willie had asked.
“Time is up. It’s time for him to stop courting Minnelsa and start courting me.”
“Oh God.” Willie turned away from her. “Are you starting that again?”
“I don’t need to be courted by him. I need to be with him.”
“He’s with Minnelsa. He wants to be with Minnelsa.”
“That’s what everybody thinks, but Willie they are wrong.”
He turned back to her and grabbed her with a large strong hand. “Think June. You have never kissed him. He’s kissing. . .”
“I know what it is like,” June said and her brother sighed. “And Willie, you’re wrong. Peter did look at me when he came to call.”
“I give up. Drive yourself crazy. He looks at everybody. He looks at me.” He slid down in his bed and under the covers.
Once when she had been serving dinner and no one was looking at her, thinking only of Minnelsa and Minnelsa’s suitor, she had served him some corn and had almost dropped the cob to the floor. His smooth long fingers had grabbed her wrist and one finger gently stroked her palm as he assisted her.
The Wilful Daughter Page 11
