A Cry in the Wind
By Bobby A. Troutt
Copyright 2011 Bobby A. Troutt
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Table of Contents
Cotton Bloom
It was 1947, a hot and muggy day in Dink Hut, Arkansas. The hot spell had lasted most of the summer. It had been the hottest on record even though at times you could catch a cool breeze blowing off the Mississippi River inland. I’ll always remember that summer. It changed my life forever.
We were playing hopscotch. Mop, Mary, and Booger were my best friends. We played a lot together back then. Dink Hut had always been our home. It was the only part of the world we knew.
“Okay, Mary, it’s your turn,” said Mop as she handed her the stone.
“Watch this,” replied Mary. “I’m going to do it with my eyes closed.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Now Booger it’s up to you.”
“One, two, three,” giggled Booger as she hopped about.
“It’s your turn Cotton Bloom,” yelled Mop, “then mine.”
Cotton Bloom was my nickname. That’s what all my friends called me, but most of the time they called me Cotton for short. I am what they called light skin; it was almost white like an unbleached bit of Cotton. My mother is white and my daddy is a Negro. My real name is Jackie Raines or Jacquelyn.
“Okay, girls,” I shouted. “Here I go, one, two, one, two.”
When I turned to come back, I saw a shiny new quarter bounce on the ground in one of the squares.
“There you go, Cotton,” came a voice from above.
As I tilted my head upward, I saw a figure in the light but couldn’t make it out. But I knew the voice. It was Wilburn Bradshaw.
“Hello, girls,” he said as he squatted down to talk.
“Hello, Mr. Bradshaw,” we replied.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” he asked. “A nice game of hopscotch I see. Are you girls good at it?”
“Mop and Cotton are the best,” replied Booger.
“Oh, they are,” he said. “Do you think they are good enough to win some candy?”
“Sure!” they yelled.
“Okay,” he replied. “If Cotton Bloom wins, you all get some broken stick candy,” he replied. “If Mop wins, you all get jawbreakers.”
“Alright!” shouted the girls as they cheered them on.
Carefully, Cotton and Mop took their turns and tried hard to beat the other. But the competition was good between them. It ended a tie.
“Now, Mr. Bradshaw, what are you going to do?” said Mary. “They both won.”
“Do we still get the candy?” asked Booger.
“Well, I don’t know,” he replied as he lifted his hat and scratched his head. “What do you think, Cotton?”
“Well…,” I thought for a minute. “I—think…”
“That’s it!” Mr. Bradshaw shouted. “I’ll give you all a jawbreaker and a couple of broken stick candies.”
“Whoopee,” they all screamed. “Thank you, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re the best.”
“You’re quite welcome girls,” he said. “I guess I’ll be going.” As he started to walk away, he stopped suddenly and turned, “How’s Smooth doing?”
Smooth was daddy’s nickname. Reece is his real name.
“Oh, he’s doing fine,” I replied.
“Tell him I asked about him,” said Mr. Bradshaw. “He is in my prayers.”
“I will,” I replied as he climbed up into his old Chevy pickup and drove off.
“Bye, Mr. Bradshaw!” we shouted.
“He’s a nice man,” said Booger as she sucked on the broken stick candy.
“I’ll trade you my jawbreaker for a piece of your candy,” said Mary. “I don’t like jawbreakers.”
“Okay,” replied Mop. “I love them.”
“Here, you can have mine too,” said Booger.
“Mr. Bradshaw is very important,” stated Mary. “I’ve heard momma and daddy talk about him.”
“Me, too,” replied Cotton. “Him and Daddy are good friends. They’ve been friends all my life.”
“That’s not been too long,” replied Mary. “You’re only eight years old.”
“It’s been long to me,” I said.
People say he owns about everything in Butler County. The county lay across the Mississippi from West Memphis into Eastern Arkansas. He was the richest and most powerful man around. Daddy said that Wilburn’s daddy was a judge for years. His daddy had made a lot of influential friends while he was in office; a lot of them owed him. I don’t pay it no never mind. I said, “All that matters to me is momma and daddy and what happens here in Dink Hut on Nubia Road.”
Oh, Dink Hut, I’ll never forget it. It was one of the colored sections of Butler County. Dink Hut may have been the poor side of a poor people county, but it was home to me. Daddy’s dream for me was to be a lawyer, a good lawyer and to help people. Be the best, make a difference. And that’s what I wanted too. I want to make him proud.
Sometimes we would go up to the Illinois-Louisiana Central trestle at noon and see who could guess the number of cars on the train. Some of the boys around Dink Hut love to frog gig along the banks of the Mississippi. We girls loved to tag along. The boys would catch giant mud turtles and take them back to Dink Hut. People would buy them to eat. That is how we got money for cold drinks and candy. While the boys played by the river, the girls made mud pies and played with dolls until the boys interrupted. It was also fun to swim in the small of the river where it cut into the banks, it wasn’t too deep there. We looked for crane nests and other water fowl. It was fun trying to find them in the tall marsh.
We loved living in Dink Hut, but we had no idea what lay ahead. I wish I could go back to those days and be eight again. I would love to play in the cotton fields and along the river bank.
Butler County was noted for cotton and tobacco. It was one of the poorest counties, but was run with an iron fist, Wilburn Bradshaw. There were times I can remember Mr. Bradshaw driving along the dirt road along the riverbank in his pick-up truck. He would stop and watch the children play. Sometimes he would haul a bunch of us up to the trestle to count cars, and then bring us back.
Daddy said once that Mr. Bradshaw was an only child. I thought that’s why he liked to play with us so. He never had anyone to play with when he was growing up. One day Robby and I were walking home from Mary and Mop’s. He was my first boyfriend. Robby was one of several white families that lived around Dink Hut. We were walking along laughing and talking when, out of nowhere, a voice called out to us. We quickly looked around; there in a swing on his porch was Mr. Bradshaw.
“Hey, kids, what are you doing today?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” replied Robby.
“What about you, Cotton?” he said.
“Nothing much,” I replied, remembering I had to get home and watch after Daddy while Momma ran some errands.
“How is Reece feeling?” questioned Wilburn. “That emphysema can be bad.”
“He’s coughing a lot,” I explained. “The doctor came yesterday and gave him a breathing treatment. If he doesn’t get to breathing better, they will have to put him back into the hospital.”
Then Wilburn leaned forward and reached into this pocket and pulled out a brown sack full of broken stick candy.
“Would ya’ll like some candy?” he asked as he held it out in front of us.
“No, sir, not today,” I replied. “I need to get home. Bye, Robby. Bye, Mr. Bradshaw.”
“Bye, Cotton,” shouted Wilburn. “What about you, Robby?” he said.
Then Wilburn reached into the sack and pulled out a piece and held it up.
“Sure, Mr. Bradshaw,” he yelled as he ran toward the porch.
Eagerly, Robby jumped up in the swing beside him, as Cotton disappeared down the road.
“Here you go, Robby,” said Wilburn as he handed him another piece of candy. Slowly the two of them swung back and forth in the swing, and Wilburn talked and talked. Robby didn’t really know what he was talking about. He just agreed and went along with him. The old porch swing popped and snapped; the rusty chains slowly twisted and untwisted. Then Wilburn reached over and eased his arms around Robby and gently hugged him, patting him on the shoulder.
“You’re a good boy, Robby,” he said. “I’ve known your mom and dad all your life. Why, I was there the day you were born, celebrating with him.”
“You were, Mr. Bradshaw?” asked Robby.
“Yes, yes, I was,” he replied as he took a deep breath. “Call me Wilburn, son. I would like that.”
“Sure, Wilburn,” he said as Wilburn handed him the sack of candy.
“Go ahead, son, eat all you want.”
“Gee, thanks!” yelled Robby.
Slowly, Wilburn began to move his hand over on Robby’s leg then gently he began to pat it. Then he jumped up.
“I bet you’re thirsty,” said Wilburn.
“I sure am,” replied Robby. “That candy makes you thirsty.”
“Come on in boy,” said Wilburn. “Let me fix you a glass of cold milk.” They went in and disappeared into the darkness of the house.
I recall I never did see much of Robby after that day. He began to stay to himself and didn’t have a lot to say. He never wanted to play with us like he did before. There was something wrong, I sensed, but I couldn’t figure it out. But not only Robby, but other children around Dink Hut started acting strangely. They seemed distant, so afraid. Some even moved away. I tried to talk to Robby several times. He would only drop his head and look away. “There’s nothing wrong, Cotton,” he would say, “I have a lot on my mind.” What was even stranger, I never saw Robby eat another piece of broken stick candy again. It was his favorite. Little did anyone know that a few years later we would be shocked to hear Robby committed suicide.
Summer moved on. I use to love summer, riding my bike and playing in the warm sunny days. I remember the summer showers that use to come and go. I loved to run about wildly in the rain and getting wet. Then the thunderstorm would stop and the sun would come out and dry me off again. I could even smell the dust from the road, where it had rained as it stirred in the air. Sometimes you could taste the dust. Yuck! I didn’t like that. I loved autumn, too. I guess it’s my favorite. It’s so colorful and pretty. Winter is cold and dreary, but I like the snow. I loved eating snow cream, making snowmen, and getting out of school.
Mr. Bradshaw came many times and visited my dad. He would always bring a box of candy and berets for my hair. We had it hard that year with Daddy and those bad spells of emphysema. Momma worked two jobs. I helped around the house and took care of him. His breathing was bad. He would get to coughing and couldn’t stop. It seemed like he was gasping for his last breath. It was scary. A lot of the time I would run to my room and start to pray, “Jesus, don’t take my Daddy.”
The doctor came by at least once or twice a week to see him. He would help him with the breathing treatments. “Smooth, I’ve got some bad news,” said the doctor. “It appears the emphysema has gone into the final phase.”
“What do you mean, Doctor Brown?” replied Momma. “Ain’t there anything else you can do?”
“No, Juanita,” he answered. “I’m afraid not. I’ve done all that I can do medically. It will continually get worse. Keep him comfortable and keep giving him the medicine. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
I listened at the door as Doctor Brown and Momma talked. Tears filled my eyes as I took off. I cried as I ran across the yard and down the road. Suddenly a pair of arms reached out and grabbed me.
“Now, now, now, Cotton,” Mr. Bradshaw said as he hugged me and held me tight. “What on earth is wrong?”
“It’s Daddy. It’s Daddy,” I screamed as I laid my head on his shoulder.
“What about Smooth?” he asked. “Is he alright?”
“He’s going to die!” I cried.
“Oh, oh, now, little girl, come up here on the porch,” he said, “and tell me about it.”
Slowly, he turned with me. We made our way up the steps, to the porch, and sat down in the swing.
“Now, don’t cry, Cotton,” he encouraged me. “Your daddy will probably be alright. You may have misunderstood.”
“No, I didn’t!” I shouted as I jumped up. “I know what Doctor Brown said. I heard it.”
“Do not be upset, my child,” he said comforting me. “Why don’t you lean back and let me swing you a little. Everything is going to be alright,” he assured me. “I won’t let nothing happen to Smooth, he’s my best friend.”
The last thing I remember was the sound of the Illinois-Louisiana Central passing on the trestle. I heard the train whistle as it passed through the tunnels at Gentry’s Bend. What seemed like hours later, I woke in the arms of Mr. Bradshaw in front of my house. Momma and Daddy were sitting on the porch.
“Oh, Mr. Bradshaw is she alright?” cried Momma.
“Sure,” replied Wilburn. “She was crying and a little upset was all.”
“Are you okay, girl?” said Momma.
“Sure, Momma, I’ll be okay,” I replied.
“Thank you, Wilburn, for bringing her home,” said Reece.
“Are you doing alright?” he asked. “Can I do anything for you?”
“I’m fine,” replied Reece, “you know what I mean.”
“You have done a lot for us,” said Juanita, “and we appreciate your kindness.”
“Why, that’s alright,” replied Wilburn. “Smooth and I go back a long way, don’t we. We grew up together, didn’t we Smooth.”
“Sure did,” replied Daddy. “It’s been a lot of years.”
“It’s been a long time since we ran these hills and hollows,” laughed Wilburn. “I don’t know how many times.”
“Ain’t no telling how many times we set out to try to swim across that river,” interrupted Daddy. “Those were some good old days, long, hot and muggy summer days as this, right Wilburn?”
“That’s right, Reece,” replied Wilburn, “a long time ago.”
“Winter wasn’t too bad. I remember Momma making crackling cornbread,” said Reece.
“I remember it, too,” replied Wilburn. “You’d trim the fat off the meat, cut it up in little pieces, put it in an old black kettle, drop a little lard in with it, and cook it down until the grease is cooked out of it.”
“That’s right,” replied Daddy. “You had to keep it stirred, and when those cracklings started coming to the top, they were brown and crisp.”
“You couldn’t get it too hot,” said Wilburn. “Then you strained the lard and put it in a lard stand and let it set.”
“Those cracklings were ready to eat. I can taste them now!” shouted Daddy. “Glory be, Momma’s crackling cornbread sure was good.”
“You two hush up now,” said Juanita. “You making me hungry.”
“Listen,” hushed Daddy.
“What is it?” asked Juanita.
“It’s a rain crow,” interrupted Wilburn.
“Yep, that’s what it is,” said Smooth. “Hear it baby girl.”
I listened and in the distance I could hear it cooing.
“It’s a rain crow,” said Smooth. “It’s going to rain, Wilburn.”
“Yep, it sure is,” he replied.
“You know,” replied Reece. “They said it was pouring down rain the day they found Jessie Walker’s son drowned.”
“He was only ten years old,” replied Juanita. “Ain’t that a shame? That family has had it hard.”
“I heard he was a good swimmer,” noted Smooth.
“He was,” replied Cotton. “I’ve watched him swim a lot of times down by the river.”
“Things happen,” warned Mr. Bradshaw. “We don’t always have all the answers. I best be going on.”
“Thanks for bringing her home, Mr. Bradshaw,” said Juanita. “I hope she was no trouble.”
“She was fine,” he replied as he walked on, waving goodbye.
I still remember that day. For some reason it was so sad. Why, I don’t know. I started to change after that day. I guess I had started growing up.
“Come here, girl. Get up here in my lap and tell me what’s wrong?” said Daddy. “You look like you have lost your best friend.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Daddy,” I replied.
“What’s wrong, baby,” asked Momma. “Are you still worried about your Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m tired.”
“Did we upset you talking about Jessie’s son?” Daddy asked.
“No,” I replied. “I think I’ll go to my room.”
“Okay, baby girl,” Daddy said. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”
“I love you too,” replied Momma.
“Love you too,” I replied as the screen door shut behind me.
“She seemed so quiet and so distant,” I heard Momma say.
“She’ll be alright,” replied Daddy. “She’s a kid.”
After that day, I started having bad dreams. There seemed to be something wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I guess, a lot of it, I was afraid of losing Daddy. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night so afraid. I kept smelling this smell. It was like I had smelt it before, but I didn’t know from where or why. Mama would come in and comfort me and stay with me until I fell back to sleep. She was puzzled and started to worry. Mama also noticed that I started spending time by myself a lot.
The lazy days of summer were slowly slipping by. The air at night was getting a bit nippy, as the leaves on the trees were beginning to change. Autumn was my favorite time of year. Although the changing of the leaves was so beautiful, it just didn’t seem to me like it use to. Fall seemed so sad and lonely. Not even the brightness of the leaves left me with much of a smile. And the nippy bite of the cool breeze set an uneasy feeling to me. If this, I thought, was growing up, I was beginning to wonder if I wanted to or not.
I remember one day I was on my way over to Mop’s and Mary’s when I went by Mr. Bradshaw’s house. He was swinging in the swing like usual.
“Hey, girl,” he yelled. “Why are you in such a big hurry?”
“Oh…,” I hesitated. “I’m on my way to Mop’s and Mary’s house.”
“How about coming up here and swinging in the swing with me,” he replied as the old swing popped, snapped, and screeched.
From beside the road you could hear the swing. The eerie screech of the rusty chains that held it would pop and give, giving to the weight of Mr. Bradshaw sitting on it. I always did hate that sound, I thought. It was so haunting. Anyway, if he was so rich and powerful, I thought, why did he live in an old run down, weatherboard house that needs painting? The roof was patched and the old porch was falling in. It didn’t make any sense.
“Come here, Cotton,” he said “and sit awhile. There’s no need to be in a hurry.”
Then he’d take his hand and softly pat the seat of the swing.
“I can’t,” I replied. I wanted to hurry over to Mop’s house.
“Oh, come on, Cotton,” he begged. “Let’s swing a little.”
Then he stepped down off the porch and brought out a bag of broken stick candy.
“Here you go,” he said. “You like candy, remember.”
“I hate it! I hate! I hate you!” I screamed.
“Hush up, child,” he said quietly as he placed the candy back into his pocket. “Shhh, now Cotton, lets not talk too loudly.” Then he whispered in my ear. “I sure would hate to see anything happen to Reece or Juanita,” he angrily said. “Strange things do happen.”
He took me by the hand, and we began walking toward the porch, then up to the swing. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper sack of candy again, placing it in my lap. I don’t remember much from there. I really can’t remember anything. As we were swinging, he took his hand and put it on my leg. He slowly moved it up and down, talking a mile a minute about something that didn’t make any sense. Then all of a sudden, the swing stopped, and he took me by the hand and we went inside the house.
I recall Daddy saying one night at supper that there had been a couple that tried to cross Wilburn. They disappeared and were never seen again. Some folks say that he took them out into the marsh and buried them. No one crosses Wilburn Bradshaw without paying for it. Too many strange things happen around him. I’ve known him all my life. He can be a good man when he wants to and mean when he gets rowdy.
That night, after supper, we all went out to sit on the porch. Momma and Daddy listened to the radio while Mop, Mary, and Booger played in the front yard. I quietly sat on the porch. I didn’t want to play. My mind and my heart were heavy, and my spirit was broken. I didn’t know what was wrong.
“Come on, Cotton Bloom, and play,” yelled Mop.
“Yeah, girl,” spoke up Mary. “You never want to play anymore.”
“I don’t feel like it,” I said.
“Why don’t you play with your friends?” replied Momma. “I’ve got to get me a sweater on. The night air is getting chilly.”
Quickly, Momma stepped inside, then out onto the porch, slipping on her sweater.
“That’s so much better,” she said. “You know, Reece, I’m worried about Cotton. She’s not herself at all and all that stuff that goes on around Dink Hut, maybe something has happened to her.”
“Oh, she’ll be alright,” encouraged Daddy. “It’s nothing more than growing pains I’m sure.”
“Maybe you’re right,” answered Momma, “I hope so.”
“Come on, girl,” said Mop, Mary, and Booger as they took Cotton by the hands and pulled her out into the yard.
“Let’s catch lightning bugs,” cried Booger.
As the children ran about the yard catching lightning bugs, you could hear in the distance the cry of a whip-o-will. The girls screamed and ran toward the porch when they heard the cry. Suddenly there came a warning across the radio, the local station broadcasted that another child’s body had been found in the marsh.
“Well, it’s time to go in,” announced Momma. “It’s not safe around here anymore. Girls, I’ll take you home, get into the car. Cotton, you stay with Daddy. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As Momma drove off, Daddy started having a bad spell. Slowly Daddy made his way into the house, he began to cough and lose his breath.
“Daddy, Daddy,” I cried as he fell down into the chair.
I ran to get his breathing whatchamacallit.
“Here, Daddy, breathe,” I cried.
He was coughing so bad he couldn’t get his breath. I raced to the phone to call the doctor, but he wasn’t home. His wife said she would try to find him.
“Please hold on, Daddy,” I cried. “I don’t know what to do. Help me, Lord, please help me. Don’t let my Daddy die.”
Then, without a warning, he fell asleep. His eyes were still open. He didn’t even blink.
“Daddy, Daddy,” I screamed as I shook him. “Don’t die Daddy.”
All I knew to do from that point on was to crawl up into his lap, lay my head on his shoulder, and hum.
By the time Momma got back, Dr. Brown was there, Daddy was already dead. I was holding on to him screaming, “Daddy, Daddy, don’t leave me.”
After Daddy died, we left Dink Hut and moved to Momma’s sister in Baltimore. From that time on I was never called Cotton Bloom again. It was Jackie or Jacquelyn.
My life would be doctors, hospitals, and medicines of all kinds. From 1947-1949, I was in and out of the hospital. The doctor said it was the trauma of my Daddy’s death that was wrong with me. But it was more than that. A part of me died in Dink Hut, but what and why, I can’t remember. The preacher always said the Lord watches over us and takes care of us. But I couldn’t understand why so many bad things would happen. I still had my bad dreams at night, kicking and screaming. They seemed to be getting worse. They would have to tie me to the bed. Night after night, dream after dream, I pulled my hair, scratched myself and stayed awake for days until I went off to sleep. Momma, Momma, Momma, I would cry. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, where are you I would scream. There was always this awful smell, like you would never dream, something awful like bad, horrible breath. I knew there was something wrong with me but I didn’t know what.
Finally, in the fall of 1949, the nightmares seemed to pass. It was over. I don’t know what the doctor had done, but thank the Lord it was over. I believed now I could go on with my life. I guess it took a lot for me to let go of Daddy. I loved him and missed him so. I wish every day he was here with Momma and me, talking about things of years ago. But, he’s not. I believe he has gone on to a better place. I hope and pray one day I’ll get to see him again.
I was able to go back to school that fall. While I was at home and in the hospital, I had a homebound teacher to come and help me stay up in school. Baltimore was a different world from Dink Hut, Arkansas. Momma and I lived with her sister, Cynthia. It helped a lot while I was in the hospital and all. I guess now Momma and I will get us an apartment. Aunt Cynthia doesn’t have much room with her family also.
One afternoon, after supper, I overheard Aunt Cynthia talking to Momma. She was telling her that she needed to pass me off as a white girl.
“Juanita, this may be the north,” she said, “but Jackie’s chances are far greater as a white girl than a Negro.”
“Jackie should be who she wants to be,” replied Momma.
“She’s just a child,” replied Aunt Cynthia. “She doesn’t know what she wants. Please do as I say, sister,” warned Cynthia. “You will thank me later.” Quietly, I eased back from around the door and ran on to play.
Momma never mentioned it to me for a while, but when at school, children began to tease me and make fun of my hair, she sat me down and we talked. From that day on, I became white, although I really didn’t understand it.
“You’ll understand later,” Momma would always say.
Not too long after that, we moved from Aunt Cynthia’s to an apartment. I graduated from high school, the class of ’57, at the top of my class, and received a scholarship to college.
I never would have dreamed that my life would take off so as it did in college. A whole new world had opened up to me—new friends, new adventures, and new relationships. There was so much to do and see. There were movie houses, drive-ins, hangouts like Pop’s diner, dance halls, and so much more. Dink Hut never had anything like this.
When I went off to college, Momma moved back in with Aunt Cynthia. Momma’s health was beginning to take the best of her, like Daddy. Momma had developed diabetes. She had it for several years and didn’t know it. Her feet would swell so she could hardly walk, much less hold a job. The diabetes, little did we know, would be a hard road to battle. At first she started on the pills, but as time passed she went to the shot, and then two shots a day. There came a time or two when we were afraid she might lose her legs. Things were so uncertain. I didn’t know if I could give her up or not. Who really know? I kept in touch with her and saw her on weekends.
The college life had a lot to offer if you wanted it all. But, I stood by what my Momma and Daddy always said, “Work hard, be strong, determined, dedicated to your dreams, and your dreams will come true.”
I loved law, but was also interested in medicine. I started off with a General Associate Degree, but by the end of my first year I knew I wanted to be a lawyer. Why, I didn’t know. There was something about it that drew me to it. Life is funny that way.
Boys, boys, boys, I had never seen so many in one place. Like Momma always said, there were more than you can shake a stick at. Some of them were nice, some good looking, some ugly, and some silly. I don’t really know what I like in a man. I’ve never really thought much about it. He doesn’t have to be the best looking boy on earth, but not ugly—I mean too ugly. He should be kind, friendly, and a little silly at times, and I have to love his smile.
Daddy had a pretty smile. I guess I would love to have a boyfriend or husband like him. As time went on, I dated some and partied a little, but not much. And then it happened all at once. I met him, my dream. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know how to act or what to say. I felt like I was sixteen again. I thought I was going to melt.
“Hey!” was his first word to me. He was so cute, too and had a smile like Daddy. He would do some of the funniest things that would make me laugh, like doing his Elvis impersonation, or telling his stupid jokes that made no sense. But he got so involved when he told them, I would crack up. He enjoyed having fun. He was energetic.
From that moment on, we were inseparable. At last, I had met Mr. Right. We met at school in the library. He had transferred here from another college in Tennessee. His name was James. We had a lot in common, both being from the south. Our relationship hit right off with a bang. We talked a lot about home. James wanted to be a teacher. I told him I wanted to be a lawyer. He would always kid me about being a crooked lawyer, and I’d kid him about being a hillbilly.
The summer of my second year of college, he proposed to me and I accepted. We had gone to a little diner not far from the college for a bite to eat. We talked a lot, laughed, and enjoyed our burger and fries. Above our heads were a lot of different colored balloons hanging from a line stretched out above our heads. What you would do was pick a balloon and bust it and inside there was a piece of paper with a number on it. That number would be the cost of your banana split. He picked one and busted it. He got a banana split for twenty-five cents. He picked me one and I busted it. I read the piece of paper inside. It said will you marry me. I couldn’t believe it. He had set it all up. I was dumbfounded, speechless. I didn’t know what to say. He said yes and I said yes, yes, yes. He then kissed me and slid his banana split over to me.
We were soon married. I hadn’t seen Mama so happy in a long time. She told me she was so proud of me and that Daddy would be proud of me also. To see her once again with that sparkle in her eyes meant it all to me. Afterward, we rented an apartment outside of Baltimore. We both worked and went to school. It was hard on us. Our money was tight. But, we always seemed to make ends meet. Daddy always told me that where there’s a will there’s a way. We had to do without a lot of things, both of us, still in school and all. But, we did have each other and that says a lot. I couldn’t imagine trying to get by on my own.
We had been married about a year when things started to turn around. I had started having those bad dreams again. I didn’t know why. It seemed like everything went bad all at once. All James wanted to do in our free time was to stay in bed. That was all he thought about. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Between the dreams, the headaches, and James’ desire, I could scream, and I did. Time went on; it grew worse. So, I decided to go stay with Momma and Aunt Cynthia in Baltimore.
Momma needed me. She had become bedridden. She had already lost one leg, and her sight was about gone. James and I talked it over and we both agreed it was for the best right now. Maybe some time apart could help us both. It was too much going on and going so fast. I didn’t know how I felt or who I was anymore. It was scary. We promised to keep in touch. I packed some clothes and moved in with Momma. He would come by from time to time, but as the time passed he eventually stopped.
The days ahead were troubling. My mind was like a whirlwind with no way of stopping. One minute, I thought about Momma, the next James, and then finishing school. Maybe it was too much at one time. I had to let some of it go.
After a while, the dreams got a little better. They didn’t occur as often as they had. I haven’t heard from James since the last time he had dropped by, I guess a month ago, and Momma was barely hanging on. It was about a month and a half after I had moved back in with Momma that she passed. It hurt so bad. I felt so deserted, lost, and so lonely. First I lost Daddy, then James, and now Mama. All that I could remember of that day was I cried out unto God, “Why must I lose it all?” I didn’t want her to leave me behind. She was all I had left.
“Momma, Momma,” I cried. “Please don’t leave me. Oh, God, why must she go? Why did Daddy go? Why, God, why are you doing this to me? I need her.”
For days, I cried myself sick for her. I can still remember her being brought out of her bedroom with a sheet pulled over her. Momma was always our strength. She was a strong woman, but at the same time tender in her own way. I remember Mama would always say, ‘We all have our own mountains to climb. We have our flowers to bloom in the spring, and our leaves to fall in autumn. But, do we have the faith to take a stand and face our troubles’?
After Momma was buried, I got myself together, and I decided to try to save my marriage. I packed my things and went back to James. I was hoping since the time we had been apart, just maybe, we could salvage enough of what was left to start over again. I didn’t blame him for it all. It takes two and I do have my share of problems. But, my question was if he would be willing to forgive me. But, when I opened the door suddenly I heard a noise coming from the bedroom. Immediately I dropped by bags and barged into the bedroom.
“What’s this whore doing in my bed with my husband?”
Then I rushed over and grabbed her by the hair of the head. As I reached up to slap her, I suddenly let her go and grabbed him by the hair and slapped him. All the whore could do was cover herself with the sheet while looking for her clothes. All James could say was, “It’s not like you think.”
“What am I supposed to think? What do you call it?” I shouted.
“But—but, Jackie,” he cried “you’re taking it all wrong.”
“You get out of my house,” I threatened her.
Quickly, the woman grabbed her shoes and clothes and raced out the door. As I slammed the bedroom door, I grabbed a vase and threw it at him. I turned the room upside down. He slipped up under the bed and cried out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were coming back.”
“You sorry, low down snake in the grass,” I cried. “I ought to kill you, you two-timing hillbilly.”
Quickly, I grabbed my bags and headed back out the door. I left him with one leg in his pants, and his t-shirt hanging half way over his head. I moved back into the dorm at school in Baltimore and I filed for divorce.
“That’s all a man thinks about,” I said as I was getting ready for class. Then came a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Sarah, my dorm mother, with a young woman.
“Jackie, this is Katherine. “She’s your new roommate. Katherine is from Boston.” “Everyone calls me Kat for short,” she replied.
“Okay, then, it’s Kat. I’m Jackie,” I replied, “short for Jacquelyn.”
“Well, I’ll be going,” said Mrs. Sarah. “Jackie, would you mind finishing showing Katherine, I mean Kat, around?”
“Sure,” I replied. “That will be fine.”
“Where are you from, Jackie?” Kat asked.
“Arkansas,” I replied.
“The south,” she said. “Okay.”
“How’s Boston?” I asked.
“It’s good,” she replied. “Lot of party scenes.”
“I haven’t been anywhere but to Baltimore,” I stated. “We moved here when I was little after Daddy died. What are you majoring in?”
“I really don’t know what I want to do,” she stated. “What are you going to major in?”
“I hope to be a lawyer,” I replied. “I kinda like the legal thing you know.”
“Yeah, I can see it,” she said. “You look like a lawyer.”
“What does a lawyer look like?” I asked her.
“Sort…you know,” she laughed.
I sort of you know then laughed and threw a pillow at her. Then she laughed and threw one back at me. After that, Kat and I became best friends, like sisters, in a lot of ways. We were inseparable. It felt good to laugh again and to have someone to share with. We shopped, saw some movies, shopped and shopped some more. You know those girl things. She told me her life story and I filled her in on mine, divorce, Momma dying, and giving up Daddy. A few weekends later, I went to Boston with her and met her parents. They were nice, sort of uppity, but I didn’t care. Kat was not like that, she was down to earth like me. She talked to me about dating again, and having that special person to be a part of my life again. But, I told her I didn’t know anymore. I still felt the hurt there a little and my guard was still up. Trusting someone again, well it could be still too soon. I would see.
We had been sitting around the dorm room a lot, studying for our finals. Time had somehow slipped away. Graduation was only a few weeks off. I felt like she had something on her mind. But, she held back from talking about it. So, I waited for the chance to confront her. There’s something she said she had wanted to ask me for a long time and I had an idea what it was, but I didn’t know for sure.
“Kat we are best friends, we’re sisters,” I said. “Why would you hold back?”
“Jackie, I don’t want to say something you might take wrong.”
“What is it, girl?” I laughed. “Come on, what on earth is it?” Tell me!”
“Jackie, are you mixed? Never mind,” she said “it’s not important.”
I wondered when she would finally get around to it.
“It doesn’t matter any way,” I replied “what color a person is. My Daddy was a Negro and was a good daddy, a good person and a hard worker. His heart was good and his love was pure. And Mama, she was as white as you. She was one of the best mamas in this world. I wouldn’t take any other mama or daddy for them. They may have been two different colors but their hearts were a big heart of love to me. Ya’ll look down on the Negro and the mixed, but we are just as human as you. God made us all. Color is but an outer thing, but in the heart lays the real truth. Is there a problem with that?”
Kat just smiled and opened her arms to me, reached out, hugged me, and replied, “No problem.”
Not long afterwards, I graduated from college, Valedictorian of the Class of 1960, with high honors and a scholarship to Baltimore School of Law. Kat graduated, after changing her major, with a degree in education. After college, I never saw Kat again. We kept in touch for a while, but then things got so busy I guess we had little time for writing.
I entered law school in the fall of 1960. I still remember it as if it was yesterday. I had decided not to be called Jackie anymore, but introduced myself as Jacquelyn. It sounded so professional. I had quit passing myself off as white. I was black, mixed and proud of it. War was going on in Vietnam, and our boys were being sent over there a coming and a going. Rioting, protesting, and demonstrating had become a way of life. Drugs were taking over the young people. The Civil Rights Movement was stirring in the south. The southern states were bombarded with violence of hatred and protests. Things were changing. People were changing. It was a changing time for us all. Me, I was getting tired of school. I wanted to hurry up, get out, and move on with my life.
At the beginning of law school, I struggled. I worked hard to make it through. If there was one thing in my life I was going to do, it was to become a lawyer. That was my daddy’s dream for me. I made a promise. If God was willing and he gave me the chance, both of them would be proud of me.
Then it happened in the spring of my third year of law school. I met him. I had never felt this way before. I saw him at the park getting a hotdog. I didn’t know what was coming over me, but I felt like a little love sick girl. I walked by and noticed him looking at me. He was so handsome, so—you—know—I thought I was going to faint. Then he smiled as I waltzed by. “I love it, I love it, I love his smile,” I said. When he smiled, his eyes sparkled.
Slowly he turned and asked, “Would you like a hotdog?” First I acted like I didn’t hear him, then he said it again. “Would you like a hotdog?”
“Why not,” I replied acting nonchalant. “I guess one hot dog wouldn’t hurt.”
“Mustard and relish?” he asked.
His hair was so wavy. I couldn’t help but stare.
“Mustard and relish?” he repeated.
“Oh, what did you say?” I replied. “Mustard—uh yes, uh that will be fine. Mustard and relish, I’ll take both.”
“My name is John,” he said, “and yours?”
“John,” I replied.
“John,” he replied.
“I mean, uh, Jackie, uh Jacquelyn.”
“Hi, Jacquelyn,” he said with a pretty warm smile.
“Hi,” I replied dropping my hotdog.
“Why are you so nervous?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m not,” I said. “I mean usually, I promise.”
“Here, let me get you another one,” he replied.
“That will be okay,” I cried as I hurried off so embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Bye!”
For the next two weeks I couldn’t get him off my mind. I’d close my eyes and picture him. I felt so silly. On my way to the library I made it my business to go by the hotdog cart to see if I would run into him again, but I didn’t.
Baltimore was so big, I thought. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. A month had passed, and I had given up all hope. I started cramming myself back into my books. Examinations were coming up, very important examinations, and I needed all the help I could get.
Then one day I was downtown shopping and decided to get a bite to eat. I went into this little old coffee shop for a quick bite and to look over some notes. I ordered and opened my tablet to look at them. As I began to study, I happened to look up. I couldn’t believe it. It was him. It was John sitting at a table looking over some papers. Quickly, I started to scoot down in my chair. About that time, the waiter brought my order. Suddenly John looked across the room.
“Jacquelyn,” he called. “Is that you?”
God, I was so embarrassed. My face felt like it was on fire. My knees got weak, and my voice quivered.
“Yes, a—John, it’s me,” I answered.
Then he got up, came over and sat down with me. I didn’t know what to say or how to act.
“Just be yourself,” he said calmly.
I melted. We began to talk.
“I want to know all about you,” said John, “everything. I don’t want you to leave out anything.”
“What about you?” I replied. “I want to know about you first.”
“I’m a counselor,” he said. “I was born and raised here in Baltimore. Uh—I love that new singing group that came to America.”
“The Beatles,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s them,” he replied. “They’re supposed to be on the Ed Sullivan Show tonight. I like children, reading, and golf. What about you?”
“I’m from Arkansas,” I replied. “I want to be a criminal lawyer. Both my parents are dead, and I had one bad marriage.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Arkansas,” he grinned. “Nobody comes from Arkansas. Where is that anyway?” he laughed. “I’m only kidding Jacquelyn.”
Then I laughed. His eyes sparkled so. He was a down to earth kind of guy, so different from a lot of the other men I had met. The time quickly passed.
“I need to get back,” I said.
“When can I see you again?” he asked.
“Here’s my number,” I replied as I wrote it down on a piece of paper and then I stuffed it in his pocket. “Call me. Bye.” Then I pecked him with a kiss on his cheek and ran out the door.
From then on, John and I began our life together. I graduated from law school, one of only a few women, and black too, to graduate from Baltimore School of Law. We got married and lived in the suburbs outside of Baltimore. Life was great. I was studying for my bar exam, and he was helping me. We laughed, cried and had mad spells too, but we always seemed to come back together. John was a lot different than James. John was gentler, caring, patient, and didn’t force himself. That meant a lot.
In the spring of 1966, I went before the Bar Board of the state of Maryland and passed. I was so happy I couldn’t keep from crying, and so did John. That night was ours. We were so happy. I wish Momma and Daddy could have been there. I believe they were. I believe they have never left me. It was early the next morning; John woke me up, pulling me out of bed by my foot.
“What is it,” I cried kicking at him. “What is it, John?”
“Come on, girl, I want you to get dressed,” he said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Hurriedly, he tried to dress me until I slapped his hands to stop.
“John,” I said, “I’ll do it. I can dress myself, thank you.”
He backed off and laughed, then whistled at my naked body.
“That’s enough,” I replied with a smile.
We drove back toward the city. “I have two surprises,” he said. “One surprise and one question. The surprise I will do last, but the question I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for a long time.”
“What’s that,” I replied thinking what on earth is he going to ask.
“Well,” he said hesitantly. “I want to have some children. Not a bunch, you know, maybe one or two, a boy and a girl. What do you think about it?”
I didn’t know what to say. We had never talked about it. My heart fell into my stomach, and I began to get sick. He noticed something was wrong.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t have to have a baby today. I was talking about later on, maybe.”
“Oh, it’s okay, honey, I must have eaten something that upset my stomach. Let’s talk about it later, okay.”
“Okay,” he replied. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m sure,” I answered.
I didn’t want to hurt him, but children I didn’t want, I didn’t know why. Finally, we arrived downtown in front of one of the tallest buildings I have ever seen. It was the law firm of Browns, Burns, and Cartwright of Baltimore. As we made our way in and up to the twenty-second floor, John told me not to say a word until he told me to. I didn’t know what to say anyway. I was dumbfounded, surprised, and shocked even more. Finally, we walked in. John hushed the secretary to be quiet.
“Is he in?” John asked.
She smiled and shook her head. We stepped toward a door, with a sign Hillous Brown Attorney-at-Law. We opened it and walked into the giant room.
“Well, John,” he said, “it’s good to see you again. I suppose this is the lady you have told me so much about.”
“Yes, sir,” John replied. “This is Jacquelyn, my wife, and this is my grandfather, Hillous.”
“Surprise!” shouted John.
“Your grandfather,” I cried. “You never told me—uh, I’m glad to meet you, sir,” I said.
“I’m sorry I missed the wedding. I had to fly out on the West Coast on a high profile case that took longer than I anticipated. Jacquelyn, John tells me he believes you will make a great lawyer.”
“He did,” she replied.
“Yes, and I believe he could be right. I have looked over your file and it’s very good,” stated Hillous. “I’m very impressed.”
“Well, thank you, sir,” I replied half scared to death. “I’m going to kill you, John.” John just laughed at me, “Sorry, sir.”
“So you want to be a lawyer?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes, sir, I do,” I replied eagerly. “That’s what I always wanted to do. It was my Daddy’s dream.”
“Do you believe you can take it, rubbing elbows, going head to head with some of the other top-notch attorneys across the country?”
“Yes, sir, I believe I can. I’m a fighter,” I replied confidently.
Then he sat down in his chair. I waited and wondered if he was going to offer me a chance. He thumbed through my file and quietly studied it over.
“Tell me a little about yourself, Jacquelyn. Where are you from, things you have done, what practicing law means to you, and justice?”
I nervously began to answer his questions trying to choose the right words. As I spoke, he didn’t seem too impressed. John sat quietly by my side.
“Okay, okay, Jacquelyn,” he said as he interrupted me. “I don’t think you’re quite what I’m looking for here at the firm,” Hillous stated. “I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think she’s got the courtroom gut. We here at the firm have some major high profile cases and they get rough sometimes. It takes a lot out of you and your marriage if you’re not careful.”
“But, Granddad,” John said.
“No buts about it, John. I’m sorry!” he replied. “It’s been good to see you again. You do have a beautiful lady there.”
The more I sat and listened to his bullshit, the madder I got. I suddenly jumped up and let him have it. I didn’t care if it was John’s grandpa, uncle, or brother. I flew in on him like a sitting hen protecting her eggs. I floored him, up one side the room to the other. John was standing back, calling my name.
“I wouldn’t work for you if you were the last lawyer on the face of the earth,” I screamed. “You can take your high-falutin law firm and put it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
All John could say was, “Jacquelyn, Jackie, Jacquelyn.”
Then I looked around and saw John and his grandfather dying laughing.
“She’s got spunk and fire,” Hillous cried. “I like that.”
“You ought to see her at home,” replied John.
“What’s so funny?” I started to cry.
“Nothing, baby,” replied John. “I think you passed the test. You get the job.”
“What test?” I asked. “I got the job!” John. Then I grabbed him, then his grandfather.
“You’re hired, girl,” replied Hillous. “A fit like that in the courtroom ought to win a lot of cases. She’s got what it takes, and she’s sensitive. I like that.”
That’s how I got my first job.
“Why didn’t you tell me your grandfather was the head of the firm at Browns, Burns, and Cartwright of Baltimore?” I said.
“I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to wait until the right moment to tell you,” he replied.
“Dad wanted to do counseling work instead. That didn’t go over well with grandfather. Then I came along and he wanted the same for me, but I was like dad. I wanted to be a consultant. Not long after I got out of college, I was drafted and went to Nam and served a year and a half. When I came home, he offered to send me to law school. But I didn’t care about that. I bummed around for a year, trying to make sense out of my life and the world. Then when Mom and Dad were killed in a car accident, it helped put me back into perspective. I didn’t want to study law. I wanted to be a consultant, and that’s where I’m at today.”
“God, I can’t believe it, John, I’m going to work for Browns, Burns, and Cartwright of Baltimore. Can you believe it!” I shouted. “I love you,” I said.
“I love you too,” he replied.
“Let’s have a baby,” I whispered.
He said, “Now! We’ve been married for almost a year. Maybe it’s time to start our family.”
“Okay,” I replied. “Let’s go for it.”
“Alright,” he shouted as he reached over and hugged me.
“What about your younger brother?” I asked.
“The last time I saw Peter was at Mom and Dad’s funeral. He took off across the country on a Harley. It’s been about five years ago now.”
At work, I started off with some small cases while we tried to have a baby. Nothing seemed to work. It bothered John a lot but he never said much about it. Still I could tell. He was moody and more to himself. I believed the baby would fill the vacant spot. He still had nightmares of Vietnam, waking up in his sleep yelling. Things began to change. Things were nothing like they were when we first got married.
Then one day it happened out of the clear blue. I got my first high profile case. It was a Civil Rights issue. A black child had been murdered in Alabama. I was so happy. John was tickled and happy for me. I asked Hillous if he was sure I was ready. He nodded his head yes.
“I believe you’re ready, Jacquelyn. Go for it!”
I remember I was nervous and tried hard not to let the firm down. The trial went on for two and a half weeks and ended in a guilty plea. The three white men received the death penalty. They were members of the KKK. From there, it didn’t seem to stop. When I came back home three weeks after the trial, I received a phone call from Hillous.
“Jacquelyn,” he asked. “Would you want to go to New York?”
“Sure, yes, sir,” I answered. I couldn’t believe it, my second big case.
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