This Bitter Earth (6 page)

Bertie wanted to tell May that Ciel didn’t talk to her. She cussed, screamed and spit at her, but talking was the one thing she didn’t do.

“No,” Bertie said and began attacking her chicken leg.

“Here.” Ruby giggled as she placed a jug and three glasses down beside Bertie. “So what you be sitting under that tree thinking about every day?”

Had they been watching her all this time?

Bertie just shrugged her shoulders and bowed her head.

“So where you gonna go when it get cold?” Ruby asked her, sincerity etched in her face. Again Bertie shrugged. “Well, you could always come here if’n you need a place to think or just to go, okay?” Ruby added.

Bertie looked up into her face and saw the warmth that rested in her eyes.

“Okay,” Bertie responded politely.

Ruby filled the two glasses and handed Bertie one. “To family,” she said, lifting her glass in the air.

Bertie Mae sipped, made a face and then sipped again. “What’s in this?” she asked, holding the glass up to the sun.

“Lemonade,” May said before draining her glass with one swallow.

“And a little something else,” Ruby added and laughed.

The drink warmed Bertie’s belly and made her head swim a bit. She finished the first glass and May filled it a second time.

Bertie gulped the second and was giggling through a third by the time Joe approached.

“Hi,” she yelped as she offered Joe a smile that seemed a bit off-kilter.

Joe gave her an odd look before responding. “Hi.”

Bertie could barely keep her eyes open and she giggled in between the hiccups that had suddenly overtaken her. When she tried to stand up she tilted and then fell flat on the ground.

Joe rushed to pick her up.

“Oooh, she drunk as a skunk!” Sara laughed as she walked toward them.

“Can I place her inside to sleep it off, May?” Joe said, already walking toward the house, Bertie cradled in his arms like a baby.

“Joe?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t take me home, Joe. Is that where you’re taking me, Joe?” Bertie slurred and turned her eyes on him.

“Nope.”

“Joe?”

“Yep.”

“What kinda lemonade was that?”

“That was May’s Pike Lemonade.”

“Pike?”

“Yep, it’s mixed with shine.”

“Shine?”

“Moonshine.”

“Ohh ... Ohhh. I ain’t never had no shine before. Am I drunk?”

“Yes, Bertie, I believes you are a bit drunk.”

Joe carried her up the wooden stairs past Handy Green, the owner of the general store; Bernie Miles, the preacher’s son; and Mayfield and Jenny Nettles, domestics at the Chelsea home. The news would carry fast that Bertie Mae had gone into the Lacey home with Joe Taylor.

The men looked at each other, saluted and hollered: “Bertie Mae Brown!”

Bertie had never been in a house so fine. The parlor walls were a soft pink and the windows were hidden by heavy cream-colored drapes. There was a chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling that reminded Bertie of the icicles that formed along the roof edges during winter.

Joe placed her down gently on the deep purple chaise lounge. The fabric was silk and felt cool against Bertie’s body. She ran her hand up and down the sides of it, enjoying the slippery feel of the material and the raised gold threads of the paisley design.

There were two chairs directly across from the chaise lounge, with the same deep purple silk. A tall chest of drawers sat against the far left wall near the doorway and a mahogany table rested at the foot of the chaise, its marble top graced with numerous silver-framed photographs.

“How you feeling?” Joe asked, his voice deep with concern.

“Well, it feels like everything is swirling all around me.” Bertie’s speech was thick.

Sara walked into the room and coughed loudly, before coming to stand next to Joe.

“How ya feelin‘, baby?” she asked Bertie as she snaked her arm around Joe’s waist. Bertie felt jealousy creep through her and could have sworn she saw Sara sneer at her.

“I’m just fine, thank you,” Bertie replied as she tried to pull herself upright.

“Really?” Sara said smiling as she pulled Joe closer to her. Joe grinned stupidly while he tried to free himself from Sara’s grip.

She released Joe and smiled sweetly at Bertie. “You ought to not get so upset over me touching Joe here, we just friends is all. Anyway, men ain’t worth a shit!” She laughed out loud and slapped Joe on his behind before walking out of the parlor.

“They’re something else, ain’t they?” Joe said with an air of embarrassment.

Bertie nodded in agreement. “Look, I better be getting home, my mama will be looking for me soon.” She sat up and placed her feet firmly on the floor.

“I best be going myself,” Joe said, and helped Bertie off the couch.

May saw them leaving and walked over to them. “Y‘all going so early? Why, it’s barely twilight, and you know it’s just ’bout to start swinging.” She stuck out her hip and twirled her finger in the air.

“I know, May, but I gotta be getting on down the road, and Bertie here gotta get on home.”

May eyed her warily. “Uh-huh, yeah, you better be going. I don’t want Ciel to get her panties in a bunch. It was nice meeting you, though, and you family, so don’t be a stranger. You welcome here anytime.” And with that she embraced Bertie. Bertie couldn’t remember the last time she was held, not by her mama or anyone else. Then she remembered being wrapped in Joe’s arms just moments ago and her face flushed red.

She hugged May back and did not understand the tears that began to form in her eyes. “Okay,” she said as the rush of emotion overtook her, and she broke away from May’s embrace and shot off across the lawn.

Joe was surprised and started after her, but May gently held him back. “Leave her be, she’ll be back. She done found a place where she can be at peace. She’ll be back.”

Clemon was seated at the kitchen table when Bertie Mae arrived, his bald head gleaming beneath the soft light of the oil lamp. There was a pot of pink beans simmering on the stove and the muffled sound of Bertie’s brothers’ voices floated in from the back of the house.

Clemon greeted her. He had been in a solemn mood, but Bertie’s presence instantly lifted his spirits and his face lit up.

“How ya doing, Bertie.”

“All right, I guess.” Bertie’s response was low. She wasn’t sure if Ciel was home.

“Your mama went into town for something,” Clemon said, realizing the need to put Bertie at ease. “I’m just here cooking up some beans. Thinking about cooking some grits too.” He paused for a moment and looked down at his hands before continuing. “Uhm, where you been?”

He let his question come off soft. He’d begun to realize how much he enjoyed her company. He longed to touch her hair and hold her in his arms. He fantasized about pressing his lips to hers and inhaling the sweet scent of her neck.

He supposed he was falling in love with Bertie Mae Brown, but falling in love with his woman’s daughter could get him killed, so he tried to push those thoughts away.

Bertie pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Her head was still swimming. “Oh, just out walking.”

Clemon moved to the stove and dipped a spoon into the pot of beans.

“Uh-huh,” he said as he scooped a spoonful of beans into his mouth.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. They just sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Ciel’s arrival moments later ended the quiet happiness as she banged through the door, pushing past Clemon so hard he went flying against the stove, toppling over the pot of pink beans.

Ciel was airborne when she threw her body against Bertie Mae. The sudden impact and the screams that followed were so deafening that it sent the chickens scattering.

“You no good bitch! You don’t have no respect for me, do you? Going up there to that whorehouse, embarrassing me in front of the whole town. I know it all, Bertie! How could you! Answer me, how could you drag my good name through the mud like some kind of hog!”

Ciel hauled off and smacked Bertie so hard she flew across the room and landed on Clemon, who was just pulling himself upright. They both went crashing back down to the ground.

“Stop, Ciel! Stop!” Clemon screamed, trying to protect Bertie and thwart off Ciel’s blows at the same time.

His pleading did no good; Ciel kept coming after her. “Birds of a feather flock together, ain’t that right, Bertie!” Ciel screamed. “You must be a whore if you keep company with them!”

She grabbed Bertie by the hair and dragged her across the floor toward the back door.

“You are sleeping in the shed tonight. I don’t allow whores to sleep in my house!”

And with that she took her foot and began kicking Bertie in the ribs over and over again until she crawled, weeping and gagging, out the back door and onto the porch.

Bertie sat in the shed with rusted tools and rotten planks of wood and thought that it would be better if she were dead. She heard the front door slam open and then Clemon’s feet stomp down the porch stairs. The pot of steaming beans came flying after him, missing him by an inch.

Days later, after Bertie Mae could walk upright again and it didn’t hurt so much to breathe, she returned to her place beneath the birch tree, and tried to forget Joe and the Lacey women. But Joe Taylor wouldn’t make it easy for her.

He stopped to speak to her every day, sitting down beside her, telling her he missed her and sharing his day with her and asking about hers.

Sometimes their conversations were as wide and as rolling as the meadows around them; other times they just sat in silence, content to watch the clouds float above their heads.

Bertie was happy to have him near her, speaking or not, and without him she daydreamed about his dark skin, deep voice, gentle ways and what it could be like if he became hers.

A month later the railroad let Joe go.

“Joe, I don’t want no trouble,” the white man said to him one afternoon. “Just want to finish laying these tracks, so’s I got to let you and them other coloreds go.... Ya understand, don’t ya, boy?” Joe understood perfectly. He shook his head, collected his final pay and headed on home.

“Well, Bertie, this here was my last day,” he said as he stood over her. His words were strained. “I believes I won’t be passing through here no more.”

Bertie felt her heart drop. Her lip twitched as she struggled to control the tears that threatened to explode behind her eyes.

“Don’t say that, Joe, please don‘t,” she said quietly.

Joe let out a heavy breath as his mind ran on his girlfriend, Pearl.

“Joe, up until now my life ain’t been nothing special. Then you came along and made it special. I don’t know why or how, and now I’m scared to death of losing you.” He looked away from her; but she caught the guilt that sat on his face like an open sore.

“If you don’t feel the same you tell me right here and now.” Bertie was standing up now, her face tilted up toward his, daring him to mention the woman or women that Shonuff had accused him of having. There were tears forming in her eyes but all Joe could think of was kissing her.

Joe felt ashamed. What could he tell her? He couldn’t tell her the truth about Pearl, the woman he’d promised himself to. He couldn’t hurt her that way.

“Joe?”

Her hands were on his arms, around his waist; her head on his chest, her small sobs rocking both of their bodies.

He pulled himself from her embrace, ran his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears, and still all he could think of were her lips.

“Joe?” Bertie was pleading, pulling him back into her. “Joe,” she said again, breathless this time, her lips parted, beckoning.

When Joe took Bertie Mae in his arms, Pearl’s name and face began to fade. When he went to kiss Bertie Mae’s lips, all that he had promised Pearl vanished and Joe, he succumbed.

Chapter 5

BERTIE flinched as the fabric of her corset brushed against her nipples. They’d become sensitive over the last few months. She moved her hands lovingly across the swell of her stomach and smiled sadly.

She was growing quickly and she knew Ciel would notice soon. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to band her stomach down. The restriction added to her nausea, and she worried that she was harming the child inside of her.

Clemon saw the symptoms, and knew Bertie was with child even before she’d realized it. He watched her go from picking at her food to eating five times a day. He heard her in the outhouse retching and he watched her as she slept late into the mornings.

Bertie Mae’s brothers knew and whispered about it amongst themselves. They made it a point to save an extra biscuit for Bertie or bring in fruit they stole off of the town carts.

Ciel didn’t seem to notice at all.

Day after day they watched Bertie in anticipation of the moment Ciel became aware that her daughter was with child and without a husband.

One evening during dinner as Ciel raised her glass to drain the last few drops of water from it, she stopped, just as the rim of the glass was about to touch her lips, and looked blankly at Bertie for so long that all the conversation that had been going on around them stopped.

“You better cut down on that eating, gal, you getting as big as a house. I can’t afford to feed you as it is. You gonna have to find work soon and fend fer ya self. Either that or find a man that will marry ya homely ass,” Ciel finally said, and then drained the glass of its contents, before placing it back down on the table and excusing herself.

Bertie looked at the faces around the table. Everyone had their eyes on Ciel’s back.

“Who going to do them dishes?” she asked before disappearing into the bedroom and closing the door.

A sigh of relief as thunderous as a falling elm settled around the table.

Clemon walked into the bedroom to find Ciel seated in front of the window, naked all but for a sheet wrapped around her ankles, babbling in a language Clemon did not recognize. He had heard these ramblings before and had ignored it, but tonight the moon was full and Ciel’s madness had been dormant for much too long. He decided, as he eased himself out of the room, that he would have to confront Bertie Mae.

Bertie was out on the back porch, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes staring out into space.

“Bertie, I gotta speak to you,” Clemon whispered.

Bertie blinked and then smiled before pulling the quilt tighter around herself and positioning her body in a way that would help camouflage her stomach.

“Yes, Clemon?”

Clemon gulped and took a step closer to Bertie before speaking again. “I know you got a baby coming and from the looks of you I see you already done made up your mind on keepin’ this child, but I got to ask you where you plan on
keepin’
this child?”

Clemon expected surprise, even denial, but all Bertie gave him was an easy smile.

“Bertie, listen, your mama gonna find out soon ‘o later ’bout your situation. She about to get ready to go through one of her spells, and if things haven’t been clear to her recently, they gone be clear to her now. I believes if you come to her—I’ll be right there wit you—if you comes to her and tell her what the matter be, maybe—”

Bertie cut him off with a bitter laugh. “Maybe what, Clemon? Maybe she’ll understand? Who you been sleeping with the past year? Not my mama, ‘cause my mama, Ciel Brown, she don’t understand nothing.”

Clemon took a step backward. He had never heard Bertie speak that way, ever.

“Is the man who done did this to you gonna take responsibility?” Clemon asked, still stunned by Bertie’s response.

“He don’t know nothing ‘bout this,” she said, opening the quilt and rubbing her stomach. “I ain’t seen or heard from him since we ...” Her words trailed off and for a moment she was the young innocent girl Clemon had grown to love. “Well, I ain’t seen or heard from him,” Bertie said again.

Clemon looked over his shoulder before creeping closer to her. “He gotta know, though. I mean, he was the only one there, right?” Clemon knew he was overstepping his boundaries and asking the question for his own selfish reasons, but he felt he needed to be direct with Bertie Mae, didn’t make any sense to beat around the bush now.

A look of surprise spread across her face, but she said nothing.

Clemon cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “Well, do you know his name?”

Bertie Mae shook her head and laughed. “Of course I know his name, but that don’t matter, he got his own life to live.”

Clemon insisted, pushed and practically begged until Bertie got up and said good night, leaving him alone to the porch and its blackness.

Two days later, Ciel walked in on Bertie as she struggled to pull her nightgown down over her stomach.

“Mama, I—” was all Bertie was able to get out of her mouth before Ciel attacked her.

“Whore, whore, whore!” Ciel screamed as she pounded Bertie across her shoulders and back.

Clemon rushed in and grabbed Ciel by her shoulders. “Ciel, stop, stop!” he screamed as he struggled to pull Ciel off of Bertie.

Ciel turned on him, wild-eyed. “You did this to her. YOU! You always wanted her. Why? Why? Wasn’t I good enough, wasn’t I good enough?”

Clemon put his hands up to protect himself and stepped backward. “Ciel, now Ciel, I ain’t touch that child and you and I both know it. Now—”

Ciel didn’t let him finish. She pounced on him, clawing at his face and ripping at his clothes.

Bertie slipped around them and stumbled out of the house and onto the front porch, where she collapsed.

Ciel found her curled up on the ground in a pool of blood. The sight of the blood pulled at something deep inside her, something maternal, some might say. The sight of her daughter’s blood and her swollen stomach snapped Ciel sane.

“Get her legs,” Ciel screamed at Clemon, who was standing behind her with his hands clasped around his head. “Hurry up!” she yelled as she slipped her hands beneath Bertie’s armpits.

Together they carried her into the house and rested her gently down onto Ciel’s bed. The baby was coming, and it was coming fast. Bertie’s screams traveled deep into the night. She called out to God, but mostly she called out for Joe.

Her blood loss was hefty. The midwife told Ciel she might look into having the undertaker come in and measure Bertie. Clemon had the preacher come in and pray over her.

Three days later, Bertie’s eyes fluttered open.

When she awoke, the first person she saw was Margaret Slate, who lived on the other side of town. She was buttoning the top of her dress and smiling down at something Bertie couldn’t yet see.

“Ciel!” Margaret yelled as she turned her one good eye on Bertie. “Lord, girl, you put a scare on all of us. But I told your mama, she young, strong, she’ll pull through.”

Bertie tilted her head to see the middle drawer of Ciel’s bureau pulled out. Margaret peeked in, adjusted something and then turned back to Bertie.

“She sho’ is a fine baby. You done real good.” Margaret patted Bertie on the hand before giving her a toothless grin. “She a greedy thing too. But she full for now. I’ll be back in about two hours, she ready to eat again then.”

Bertie wanted to see her baby. Her daughter. She tried to lift her head, but the room swam around her.

“Margaret been nursing your baby while you been sick. You know she had them twins a few months back and got plenty of milk.” Ciel’s voice floated in from the doorway. Bertie could barely make her out in the shadows.

“Still got some decent people ‘round here,” Ciel said and then stopped to pick something from her teeth.

“You had a fever for a while and you lost a lot of blood, but I believe you should be okay in a couple of days.” She glanced over at the open drawer and then back at Bertie. “Then you and your baby gotta go.”

Ciel disappeared into the shadows and Bertie allowed the darkness to swallow her again.