GodPretty in the Tobacco Field (21 page)

I
took that kiss for me, for Rainey, and for the future we could have out of here—a long kiss to other towns with proper names and with folks who saw folks fully and freely, and who didn't separate their coloreds like Monday's wash.

Weren't no barn mirror kissing either—nuh-uh—but a city kiss full of bold bigness.

The Feed & Seed's shop bell rang, parting us and sending me scurrying out of the storage's dim shelter, weak-eyed and weak-kneed.

Seconds later, Rainey came out of the building with the hitch.

Mr. Parker looked all around before spotting us.

Digit Crockett appeared around the corner of the storage building with his neck twisted toward us, glowering. He sprinted over to his daddy.

“Here, Rainey.” Mr. Parker handed him a newspaper. “Don't forget Gunnar's news.”

Rainey thanked him and took the paper, then picked back up the tongue hitch and my stuff, passing the groceries to me. “Think this trip to the grocery will sweeten Gunnar's mood,” he teased. “Know it has mine.”

“Reckon so.” I blushed. My first womanly kiss and it was better than everything I'd been dreaming of in that ol' barn mirror.

We left the feed store in single file with Rainey several feet behind me, crossed through the courthouse grounds, and walked toward the Shake King's parking lot. Two shaggy-haired hippies, barefoot and in wide Mason-jar-mouth jeans, stood puffing on cigarettes, shifting back and forth, looking around and watching the road for their next high.

A burly group of men huddled around Beau Crockett, straining their necks to stab us with mean looks. Rainey tucked his chin down. Then Crockett threw a Coke bottle, yelling “coal-shitted nigger.” Another man called “coon bastard,” and Digit and his daddy snickered and jabbed fingers my way, snarling “white whore witch.”

I didn't duck, and I would never duck for those hill scum-suckers. Instead I shot them one of Gunnar's best hurtin' looks.

From behind the Shake King building, Dusty and Dirty stepped wearily out of the shadows and sidled up to the men. The sisters cozied up to the group, scratching for a little whore pay, turning the men's attention.

Rainey muttered to keep going, then fell farther behind me.

We slowed at the tobacco rows trailing alongside Royal Road and Rainey fell into my step and grabbed my arm. He looked around, then took my sweaty hand, pulled me close. “You okay?” he asked with a little smile, setting down the hitch.

I peeked over my shoulder, too, then took a deep breath and relaxed. That was Rainey, always smiling, not letting ignorant town folk best him.

He squeezed my hand. “I love you, RubyLyn Royal Bishop. Loved you since that first day Gunnar toted you here, and with each of our good nights. And I aim to finish that kiss. Finish it with our promise.”

“I love you so much, Rainey Ford, and I aim to let you.” I melted.

“Then be my bride. Walk with me out of these hollars, girl, and give us that promise.”

A knowing whooshed in my ears, banging itself wildly against my heart. Trembling, I tried to scrape words, then dropped the bag and flew into his arms. My answer dissolved into a burning kiss that hit low—carried us off the dusty road and into the tall, soft leaves of the tobacco field. Unpinning my hair, he pulled my hips to his, pressing, trailing his slow-talking-hands over my curls, face, and down my breasts.

“Jesus.” He kissed feverishly.

Somewhere behind Rainey came a rustling in the plants, something swishing.

Then Ada walked through the rows big as Monday, her in tattered dress with one fallen sleeve, parting leaves with a long stick. The ten-year-old split a sneaky smile.

Breathless, I pushed at Rainey and nudged him to turn around. “Ada.”

Rainey pulled away like he'd touched fire, moaned a tiny curse. “Ada Stump,” he said, wheeling around, “don't be bruising the tobacco. Get on outta here, kid.
Get going!
” He lurched forward, wiggling a shooing hand at her.

“Let her go.” I caught his shirttail. “She can't hurt anything.”

Ada swept her tiny face up to the sky and kept snake-walking, beating the leaves.

The moment broke, the promise stashed away, leaving bits of Lena, her baby, Ada, and the Stumps' hidden grave.

Rainey looked around and then pulled me back to him.

“Not here,” I said softly, face pinking like the tobacco flowers, and more to myself than to him. “I want to, Rainey, but I want my marrying night more.”

He brushed his lips over mine, stirring, claiming the now for a few seconds longer before pulling back. “I'll see that you have it,” he whispered hoarsely.

Drunk on each other, we cut through the small countryside making big-city plans.

“I'll be in Louisville a few days before they ship me out,” Rainey said. “So I'll rent us a room, then come back home and get you.”

“But who'll tote you back?”

“I'll find someone, don't you worry, Roo. I'll hitch if I have to. Maybe catch up with Mr. Parker before he heads back that evening.”

“Gunnar will need to sign for me—”

“Once I take you to the city, I'll write him a letter and have him come up and he'll see that we are meant to marry.”

“What about the money?” I had none, but he was right, Gunnar couldn't know just yet. He'd try to stop us. I'd known for years my uncle had the idea for me to get my schooling diplomas.
Two of them
. High school
and
college . . . But I couldn't let that man ship me off to Lexington to go to the College of Agriculture to study how to work
harder
for him.

'Sides, I'd be sixteen here shortly,
old in hill age,
and what Oretta always said about anyone older than twelve.
And didn't I have all the schoolin' I ever needed? I was going to be an artist
.
And weren't another single lesson needed to be learned than the most important one in these hills: loving my man
.
Til death do us part lovin', same as all women did
.

“Well, Roo,” Rainey grinned, “while I was in Louisville I learned where you can rent a clean room. The army will pay us about eighty dollars a month. Heard about a place where you can get a room on credit till your first check comes in.” He reached for my hand, rubbed a thumb over my knuckle.

“Rainey, eighty whole dollars! And I met some nice folks at the fair who have a store. I can drop off some art at Zachery's in Tennessee. The woman who owns it says to bring her some . . . All that money, Rainey, from my art and your army. We'll have plenty enough to get a nice place near the army base, too, so I can wait for you to come home. Gunnar won't say no to that.”

That kind of money could buy snappy heels for my marrying day to go along with a set of soft baby-doll pajamas for my marrying night.

“Plenty for one of them gold bands, too.” Smiling, he leaned sideways to kiss me, then bent over and pulled up a wad of clover. Expertly, his long fingers looped the stems, tying, winding the soft buds into a perfect band. “Mrs. Rainey Ford.” He held it out to me.

My eyes lit upon him, exploring his coal-dark lashes, cut face, and soft swollen smile.
Mrs. Rainey Ford.
As far as I was concerned, in that moment, here amongst the tobaccos, this old Kentucky land and open sky, a sweet promise sprung up from the earth and joined us.

I knew he felt it, too, because his eyes were shining with dampness like mine.

 

Back home, I put the blossom ring on my bedroom windowsill and began preparing the dinner for Gunnar and the Thomases. When I was done, I set the food in the oven to warm and hurried outside. In the barn, I gathered the bundles of tobacco sticks, hauling them to the field where they would be used to spike the tobacco plants.

I came back into the barn for more sticks and stepped over to the kissing mirror, dropped the sheet, and sowed a kiss into the dark tobacco air. Rainey snuck up behind me, fixed one on my cheek.

“Let's get these 'bacco sticks over to the field before Gunnar comes looking,” I laughed, and started loading up my arms. Rainey helped me, then grabbed a bundle for himself.

We lugged them over to the fields and began driving the four-foot hickory sticks into the ground near every sixth or seventh plant.

Mr. Thomas and his son showed up an hour later, and Gunnar was sure happy to see them. He sent me back to the pump for more drinking water to sit on the gathering table for them.

When I came back with the water, Rainey placed a spear on top of a tobacco stick. “Let's lose some weight, ladies!” Rainey called out. He took the machete, cut the tobacco, driving the first stalk onto the stick. Because we'd let the cut tobacco sweat a few days in the fields before toting them into the barn, it was his favorite saying.

Gunnar would always fuss that the heavy, moisture-filled leaves had to lie in the fields to wilt perfectly, not crumbly or broken, before we'd house them in the barn and hang them on the tiers to cure.

I walked into a row behind Rainey and began spiking, too. Gunnar worked in the very back rows doing the same. Mr. Thomas and his son stayed close to the middle.

After a while, Gunnar strolled through my row, giving orders and making sure I'd picked up any fallen leaves. “There, and over there, RubyLyn . . . Pick up those leaves. Stack 'em! Leaving 'em on the ground is leaving money to rot!” He'd point and bark. “And don't forget back there.” Gunnar hitched his thumb over his shoulder to the tobacco in the corner where he'd let the plants go to seed for next year. “Make sure we get those buds off for next year's seeds.” He brushed past me. “And be sure and check on our workers and see that they're doing their job!” he hollered same as the next time.

In a row in front of me, Rainey laid a gravelly voice to the old spiritual slave song, “Sinner Please.”

Mr. Thomas and his son answered back.

Humming along, I climbed into the next verse. “ ‘
Sinner, O see the cruel tree . . . Sinner, O see . . .
' ”

The wind kicked up soft songful breezes of fresh-cut tobacco and fencerow honeysuckles.

I looked out at the land Henny worked, her daddy's field. I would love to sneak back there to talk to her about Rainey, us.

Close to noon, I got a break. Gunnar sent me to the house to fetch the dinner. I knew the men would take an hour to enjoy their meal and relax. I snatched bites here and there and waited on them. When they were settled, I hurried to the backfield with a plate for Henny.

I sat down beside her while she wolfed down chunks of chicken and cornbread. “How's Baby Jane?” I asked.

“Sister had a fever again, but she's better. Ma's been fattening her up, feeding her a'plenty with that money from the city people.” She picked up a chicken leg. “What was Louisville like?” she asked in between bites. “Tell me everything about them city boys.”

I told her all about it, leaving out the part about Crockett, skipping over Eve, and lightly going over my losing, while she hung on every word. Only the good things—the buildings, the art studio, the Future Farmers of America boys, the Ferris wheel, and all the city people.

She studied the land. “Y'all sure are moving fast this year.” She nibbled on the chicken. “ 'Bacco will be housed 'fore ya know it. First time y'all got it in 'fore September, too. You think y'all had something important to get to or something.” She picked up a biscuit, munched.

“I guess I do now that Rainey's leaving . . .” I pitched her a sly smile and peered up at the sky. “A hitching maybe . . .”

Henny set down her half-eaten biscuit on the plate and placed the dish on the ground. Her eyes popped as she pulled herself up on her knees. She looked at me closely, then glanced over my shoulder to Rainey.

I nodded.

“
Oh, Roo
.”

“A
secret
. Swear?”

Henny laid her promised swear of Xs everywhere. We pressed hands together, giggling.

“Gunnar will never sign,” she whispered, “unless . . .” She narrowed her eyes at my belly.

I shook my head. “I'm waiting for my marriage bed. Rainey says Gunnar'll sign once he sees we're together up in the city and making our own way.”

“The city,” she said wistfully. “Ya know, the law says you don't need a guardian if you're sixteen and pregnant.” Henny poked my belly.

“No.” I laughed. “I'm not, swear.”

“That boy's been head over heels since the day you stepped on this farm and I know'd you two would get out of here one day. Just gonna have to do it quick 'fore folks find out—”

“I didn't realize it until I was losing him, Henny.”

“He didn't want to lose ya neither or he wouldn't ask.”

“I can have me an art studio in the city—”

“That soldier boy'll buy you two studios if ya want. Hey, what was it like kissing him? Was it same as white lips—”

“There's sweet Scripture in his kisses.” I reddened and looked over at Rainey sitting on the grass eating, the sun glowing on his dark shoulders, a glistening halo above his tiny black curls. “I can still feel it . . . Feels right, Henny, and oh-so-grand. And when he asked—”