The next morning Eudora went to her little church on Azula Street, allegedly to do some tailoring of the choir robes, but she went to pray as well. To pray for Tom, herself, her children. She asked the Lord for patience and strength. She asked the Lord to lift her burdens before she lost her faith. The welt on her face didn’t go unnoticed by the Reverend, who gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Even so, Eudora winced, her whole body a tangle of pain.
“Eudora, is there anything I can do for you? Is there somethin’ you want to talk about? The Lord’s put me here as his instrument, to tend after his flock. Nothin’ is too great for the Lord to handle.”
“Oh, no, Reverend. Everything’s fine. I’ve just been working too hard lately, I guess. But I did notice that in the program for next Sunday, you didn’t list Elma’s solo. Did Tom forget to tell you?”
As compassionately as he could, Reverend Caldwell said, “Eudora, Tom hasn’t been comin’ to choir rehearsal for quite some time now. We miss his playin’, we surely do.”
Eudora didn’t know what to say, but she turned to the Reverend and smiled. “I must have forgotten that Tom told me the farm was taking so much of his time that he had to cut back on his church activities. I must’ve simply forgotten he told me that.”
Lizzie was laughing with Osceola at their favorite watering hole not far from her farm. The water was clear and cool and the rocks they lounged upon were smooth and warmed by the sun. They’d been coming here for years, and felt it was their own private domain. That’s why they talked about important things here and nowhere else. Osceola liked to talk about love.
Lizzie didn’t.
“I’m never gointa fall in love, and I’m never, ever gointa get married.”
“Oh, Lizzie, you’re just saying that ’cause you’ve never been in love. When you are, you’ll change your mind for sho. Besides, how’re you gointa have any chirren if you don’t fall in love?”
“Who said I wanted to have chirren anyway? I don’t want them either. And what’s love gotta do with havin’ chirren anyway?”
“I’ll show you.”
“Boy, everythin’ you got to show I done seen.”
“That was different. We were little then.”
“Well, how different is it? Let me see.”
Osceola was losing patience with his best friend. “Girl, you downright nasty.”
“I am not. Ain’t nothin’ nasty ’bout lookin’.”
“Well, all right, but first you’ve got to close your eyes.”
Then Osceola did what he’d been contemplating for a good long while. Lizzie wasn’t really a little girl anymore, and he was almost a man. Osceola kissed Lizzie on the lips, which threw her into a rage. “What’s wrong with you, boy?” Then she did what she knew her father would want her to do and slapped her friend straight across the face.
Osceola lost his balance and fell backwards into the water. Tickled with herself, Lizzie laughed and jumped in after him, but Osceola would have no truck with her. He climbed out of the waterhole, picked his clothes off the tree, and angrily walked away, not even looking back. When Lizzie came up for air, poking her head out of the water, Osceola was already yards away.
“I’m sorry, Osceola. Don’t be like that. Don’t just leave me here. Please.”
When she got no response but Osceola’s back, she shouted, “You hard-headed half-breed!” Then she went back to swimming to cool off and think about having been kissed for the first time. There was a small smile on her face when she re-emerged from the water, but it disappeared quickly when she saw Deke and the white man, the same white man who spoke to her father in front of Haggerty’s store. She paddled closer and hid in the brush to hear.
Deke gave the man a sheet of paper, looked like a list. “All these fellas are havin’ a hard way to go right through here. They should be good marks for you,” Deke assured the white man, who then gave him a wad of money.
“That’s two dollahs a head from now on,” Deke told the man.
“What if these guys don’t pan out? I have no way of knowing if you’re playing straight with me.”
Deke chuckled, putting the money in his pocket. “I’m the only game in town for you, and what do you care so long as you get niggahs interested in leaving town? Anyway, I’ll have some more names next week, but I’m gonna need some more money.”
Singleton, convinced he was being had, shook his head vehemently. “No more money.”
Deke turned to leave and said, “Okay, no more names. I don’t have time to play with you.”
Lizzie was perplexed and very still.
The white man called after Deke, “All right, I’ll see you here again next week. But all these men better be on their way north within a week.”
Deke replied, “That’s your job. I done mine.”
Lizzie stayed in the water until she was sure both men were well on their way. Then she ran all the way home. Elma was coming.
That evening, the Winrow house was a discordant discontent. Eudora was livid because there was nothing special for Elma. “The chile’s been gone ’most a year and I don’t know what I’m gointa feed her tomorrow.”
Ma Bette said, “Oh, I’ll get something together, believe you me. My great-grandchile is not comin’ home to an empty plate.”
There was not much food on the table this night, either. Tom saw this. Eudora tried to ignore it. When there was finally some quiet as they ate what there was to eat, Tom saw an opportunity to show he did have initiative and ideas. Maybe Eudora’d stop fussing so much if he showed a bit of progress.
“You know, Eudora, there’s a lot of talk about folks moving up north, where there’s plenty of work for a healthy Negro man, and more opportunities for Negroes in general.”
Eudora looked at Tom as if he’d lost his mind. “What’s that got to do with us?”
Tom got really excited now. “I’ve been talking to this fella who says he can guarantee me a job in West Virginia for a whole lot of money. More than I could ever make on this farm, or working for some white man down here.”
Eudora almost dropped her fork. “Are you drunk again, or crazy?”
Lizzie tried to join the discussion, if it could be called that. “Pa, I saw Deke.”
Tom turned at the mention of Deke’s name from his baby girl. “I don’t want you seeing Deke at all, for any reason! Is that clear?”
“Yes, but what I want to tell you—”
“I don’t want to hear another thing from you. Just do as I say.”
“Yes, Pa.”
“Now finish eating your supper.”
“I am finished, Pa. But I’m still hungry.”
Tom was touched by Lizzie’s honesty and handed her his plate. “Oh, thanks, Pa, but wait for me so I can go to church rehearsal with you.”
Eudora glared at her husband, but he didn’t see her. He was caught up in explaining to Lizzie that he couldn’t take her that night.
Lizzie whined, “Oh, please, Pa. You know how I love to hear you play with the choir. Please let me go with you.”
Tom still said she couldn’t go, but promised her something even more exciting. “You know what, since I can’t take you with me tonight, I’ll make it up to you by taking you to the minstrel show next week.”
Eudora jumped up from the table. “Tom, are you truly losing your mind? We don’t even have enough food to get through the next week, and you’re fillin’ her head with all this nonsense.”
Ma Bette grumbled, “They’s bad blood in this house now.” She started to sweep the corners of the ceiling in circular motions, an old purifying ritual she learned from her ma, who’d learned it from her ma.
Eudora was fit to be tied. “Mama, stop that heathen mess in my house.”
Ma Bette paid her no mind and said, “Somebody’s gotta do something to bring some healing spirits ’round heah.”
That night sat on Tom’s shoulders like a boulder. He didn’t go to choir rehearsal—as Eudora knew he wouldn’t—but he wasn’t fumb
ling through the night without purpose or thoughtfulness. Tom went directly to the Calhouns’ house. Mr. Calhoun was surprised to see him at that hour, but welcomed him in. Tom felt uncomfortable in the white man’s house and wanted to get his business over with soon. Mr. Calhoun did not offer him a seat.
“Mr. Calhoun, excuse me for disturbing you like this, but I’ve got some very serious business to talk to you about, sir.”
Calhoun replied, “Whatever it is, it must be very pressing, Tom, to bring you here at this hour.”
“Yes, sir. I want to sell my land.”
“What?”
“I want to sell my land. Now. Tonight.”
Calhoun was taken aback. “Listen, Tom, I realize things have been very bad for small farmers like you, especially the colored ones, but it’s not like you to give up.”
“Sometimes it’s time to give up, sir. Do you want to buy my land or not? That’s all I need to know.”
It didn’t take Mr. Calhoun but a minute to agree to purchase the Winrow farm. The land was good, only waiting out a bad season or two was beyond the grasp of these colored people, he thought.
So Calhoun suggested, “Why don’t you sell me the land, Tom, and continue to work it as a tenant farmer?”
“No, sir. That’s not what I want to do.”
Puzzled, Calhoun asked, “What are you planning to do to support your family, then?”
“Oh, Mr. Calhoun, that’s not gointa be a problem. I’ve got contract work out of town. We’ll be fine.”
Mr. Calhoun nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard they are hiring in the mills, but Tom, once you get yourself straightened out, consider my offer. I can really use good boys like you.”
Tom pulled a crumpled paper from his jacket. It was the deed to the land he loved so much, land that had turned on him, made him less of a man than he ever wanted to be. Tom signed the deed over to Calhoun, fighting back tears, his hand trembling. Mr. Calhoun went to a safe and counted out the agreed-upon amount of money. He started to give Tom the envelope of money, but Tom stopped him.
“I’ll just take a few dollars, sir. I don’t want to carry that much on me. It’s a distance home and dark out there. Eudora will be comin’ to fit your wife on Monday. You can give it to her then. And I think my wife and children will be movin’ back to town as soon as arrangements can be made.”
Calhoun assured Tom that his family could take as much time as they needed to resettle. “But Tom, I’d always be glad to have you back. Boys like you with a feel for the earth are hard to find.”
Tom didn’t respond. He moved slowly to the door and went into the night, his vision blurred by tears. He’d lost his land, given it up, and his heart believed it was raining.
Tom made his way to Lil Mexico to find Singleton. He’d heard that the recruiter was staying at a boardinghouse not far from Pilar’s place. Lil Mexico was alive with every illegal and bawdy activity imaginable, but on this night, Tom was not seduced by revelry. He found a shabby boardinghouse known for hosting transients and women of disrepute. He humbly asked the landlady if there was a man named Singleton there.
“Top of the stairs, to the right,” was all she said. Tom climbed the stairs with trepidation, but he climbed them. When he got to Singleton’s door, he pulled himself together enough to sound enthusiastic.
“Hello there, brother,” Singleton greeted Tom. “Won’t you come on in?” Tom stepped through the door and saw a bottle of whiskey on a small table. His glance at the whiskey was not missed by Singleton, who immediately offered him a drink. Much easier to handle niggahs when they’ve got a bit of sauce in them, was his philosophy.
“So what can I do for you, Tom?”
“Well, I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout what you said about goin’ north, and I think I’m ready to go.”
“Well, brother, you’ve seen the light! Made a great decision. I’ll get you all the help you need to get yourself situated once you get up there. You’ll never be sorry, brother, for deciding to take this step.” Tom finished the shot of whiskey Singleton had poured him, took the papers for his employment, and headed for Pilar’s place.
Suddenly Tom had a new sense of himself. He had a future. He had some money. He didn’t have to beg for anything anymore. He wasn’t gointa to be the laughin’stock of the town after all. He was gointa be a success. Emboldened, he walked into Pilar’s. When Deke saw Tom, a broad smile came across his face. Here was the fool he could have some fun with. Tom just didn’t know when to stop. But Tom had a surprise for him.
“Here’s all your money. Now I don’t owe you a thing. And I didn’t come here to gamble, either. I just want to play some music and relax myself. Maybe I’ll even buy me a drink.”
Deke was dumbfounded. Tom took a seat next to Mr. Jocelyn and began to sing and then, pulling his horn from the sack slung over his shoulder, he played Dixieland. The rhythm was fast, but there was a melancholy aura about his solo that no one missed. Osceola sat right up and watched him. He loved Tom’s music just like Lizzie did.
When Tom saw Osceola, he stopped playing and took the boy aside, right in front of Deke. “Osceola, I want you to look after Lizzie for me, ya hear?”
“What do you mean, Mr. Winrow? I always look after Lizzie.”
“I know it, just keep on doin’ it, all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Osceola and Tom went back to the bandstand, and Tom played all night long. He wanted to hear music till he got on the train in the morning. Osceola fell asleep at his feet, but Tom Winrow was on that train north at dawn.
11
Daybreak couldn’t come soon enough for Eudora. Her darlin’, her blessed Elma was on her way home. The sun obliged, leaving traces of lilac and tangerine lingering in the skies as Eudora checked to make sure everything in Elma’s room was perfectly appointed. The sheets fresh, the woodwork spotless, and the curtains flowing to the floor with such grace that Elma’d be sure to know how cherished she was. Eudora’s next task was to ready Lizzie, who was always tardy and such a mess that Eudora was sure she fought with great ferocity somethin’ not human in her sleep. Lizzie woke up out of breath, eyes blazing and ready to do battle. Sometimes this took Eudora aback and she’d tell her child that it was time to start a new day with some caution in her voice, or if Lizzie’d been routed by the demons she fought off each night, Eudora’d shake her and shake her till she wearily opened her eyes, totally shocked that there was relief from her tormentors. This morning, however, Lizzie was up and donning her Sunday best before Eudora could get so much as a “How’s my baby today?” out of her mouth.
“Oh, Mama, Elma’s comin’ home today, aren’t you excited? Isn’t it wonderful? Do you think she’ll recognize me? I’ve grown so much. Do you think she’ll be different after living in the city on her own? Oh, Mama. Elma’s comin’ home and I do love her so.”
Eudora couldn’t help but laugh at Lizzie’s torrent of questions and exclamations. The most important thing was that her daughters loved each other tremendously. With all the problems posed in her family, this was one thing she’d succeeded in doing. “All right, all right, but put some of that energy into gettin’ yourself ready to go to the station. Elma’s train is arriving shortly.”
“Yes, Mama, I’ll be right on time. Wheee! Elma’s comin’ home and I’ll have someone to talk to again.”
Eudora shut the door to Lizzie’s room and moved toward the downstairs. She wisht her child could talk to her, but Lizzie’d always been drawn more toward Tom. Never understood why that was. Never put up a fight against it. But it hurt Eudora that Lizzie seemed to feel closer to anybody but her own mother, and it especially hurt that she so clearly preferred Tom. Pushing that thought from her mind did Eudora no good, for the next issue was where was Tom? Even he knew today was the day that Elma returned from Nashville. Yet Tom was nowhere to be found. Eudora stood in the middle of the kitchen and prayed, “Lord, please let this be a day of grace, a day of rejoicing, and thanks for all Thy bounty. Lord, we are so grateful fo
r Elma’s safe return and good experience at college. We’ve worked hard, Lord, to do Thy will.”
Just as she finished, Eudora heard Bette mumble, “ ’Bout time somebody did some thankin’ ’round heah.”
Eudora rolled her eyes at her grandmother, who insisted on havin’ the last word, even if it had to do with talking with the Lord. “That’s right, Mama. Today’s a day to be thankful for. You are absolutely right today.”
Bette poured Eudora some coffee and placed some cornpone by her saucer. “Well, there’s no news in that, chile. I’m thankful every day and I’m always as right.”
Eudora surprised her mother and didn’t even respond, except to say, “Mama, this coffee is delicious, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Seemed like all the daughters had surprises for their mothers today. In fact, Lizzie got the horses and the buckboard ready before she came in for her breakfast.
Eudora was glowing on the way towards Charleston. She’d forget from time to time that Tom was late. She settled on the notion that he was waiting for them at the station. In fact she imagined he’d gone on ahead and bought Elma some flowers for her welcome. There were some things about her husband that Eudora liked, even though she kept that close.
The women of this family were so colorful and happy they turned heads at the train station. Eudora in a red and white gingham dress with a bonnet sporting a matchin’ ribbon, Lizzie in a paisley dress with just enough flounce for her to be her rollicking self, and Bette in a concoction that’s virtually indescribable except that she mix-matched whatever she could and held her head high while her ears nigh touched her shoulders weighed down as they were with heavy gold hooped earrings she saved for special occasions. The three waited toward the end of the railroad platform where the Colored section of the train usually stopped, but they attracted attention nonetheless. They had about them a dignity not expected from Negroes that did not set well with white patrons.
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