Queen (105 page)

    of her room, wanting to know who was at the door.

    73

His name was Davis, and Miss Mandy hired him after only a small negotiation.

Told that a strange black man was working in the yard, Miss Mandy, who

dreamed of a formal garden, felt a small jolt of fear. But donned a

righteous wrath, went down to him, and demanded that he leave.

    "Who told you to do that? Who gave you permission?" she asked him sharply.

    Queen hovered behind her, at a safe distance.

    Davis did not stop scything. He had an easy, swinging stroke, and already

    he had cleared a large area.

    "I took it on my own authority," he said. The sight of the vast black man

    with a lethal weapon in his hands made Miss Mandy quail, but she stood her

    ground.

    "Get out of here at once," Miss Mandy ordered. "Before I call the law." It

    was an empty threat. There was no guardian of the law within sight or

    earshot. There were very few guardians of the law in this rambunctious

    South.

    Davis agreed that she had every right to do that, but her garden was a

    mess, and he was looking for work. He rested on his scythe, and spoke

    calmly to Miss Mandy.

    " If you could see yo' way clear to employin' me, I'd work fo' you right

    hard," he told her. "If not, or if you cain't afford me, I'll give you this

    afternoon fo' free, coz I hates to see a garden so. "

    He looked sadly at the wilderness that was the front lawn. "But if'n you

    want, I'll leave," he added.

    He had an extraordinary, quiet power about him. Miss Mandy, with little

    evidence to hand, was sure she could trust him.

"You're very sure of yourself, young man," she said.

Davis smiled. "Cain't see a reason not to be." He stared at

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    QUEEN 637

Miss Mandy, and she blinked first. She accepted his offer of a free

afternoon's work, and if he was satisfactory, she would consider more

regular employment. Davis thanked her, touched his cap, and went back to

his scything. Miss Mandy watched his easy grace for a moment or two, and

then went back to the house.

    "I will be watching you, young man," she called to him, as she went

    inside.

"Yes, m'm," Davis replied, and looked at Queen.

    Queen was astonished by him. He had handled the situation with charm and

    grace, and had got himself a job. And when he looked at her, she, like

    Miss Mandy, thought she could trust him with her life. It was too

    disturbing to her, and so she tried to put him in his place.

    "Them roses need pruning," she ordered, pointing to the untidy, rambling

    rosebushes.

    Davis looked at the roses. "Yes, they do," he agreed. "But not now. Wrong

    time of year."

He looked at her again, and she was sure he was laughing

at her. Smil - ing at her, anyway, and there was something else

in that smile, something provocatively unsettling. Queen scut

tled back to the house, bristling with indignation,

    He worked hard and well all afternoon, to an unseen audience. Miss Gippy,

    who had learned to fear black men from her few female acquaintances at

    their church, peered out at him from the comparative safety of her

    bedroom window, and prayed that she would not be raped. Miss Mandy

    watched from the sitting room, and it delighted her to see the dramatic

    improvement to her garden that happened before her very eyes. He raked

    and hoed and cleared, and what had been chaos became order, and visions

    of an English garden, of formal lawns, colorful borders, and sweet

    smelling roses, encouraged Miss Mandy to employ him on a weekly basis.

    She went out to him, to tell him so.

    Queen watched from the kitchen window as Miss Mandy talked to Davis, and

    tried to work out what made him so attractive. It was not that he was so

    very handsome, she decided now; her first impression had been wrong, his

    features were a little irregular. He was black, black as ebony, had a

    superb body, she could see, for he had taken his shirt off and was

638 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

working in his vest, but the sheer magnitude of him was, in itself,

daunting. Yet somehow the complete man added up to more than the sum of his

separate physical parts, and it was his eyes, Queen thought. Those dark,

magic, melting eyes, like liquid amber. No, it was his voice, deep and warm,

like molasses. Or perhaps it was his personality. When he looked at her, she

felt he was exposing his soul to her, while still keeping some private

anguish hidden. His embracing personality, gently commanding and totally

reassuring, made her want to tell him the secrets of her heart, as if he

would absorb her sorrows into his own.

    "The devil finds work for idle hands, Queen!" Miss Mandy had come into the

    kitchen. Queen had not heard her, and was startled by her voice. She shook

    herself from her reverie, and felt stupid. How long had she been staring at

    Davis? And why? He was only a gardener. She also felt a little guilty.

    11 Sorry, Missy," she murmured, and hurried to the sink. Miss Mandy guessed

    the secret, for she was party to it herself. She would never admit it

    because it was dangerous, disturbing; she was too old, she had no camal

    needs, and desire for a black man was unthinkable. But it was there, like

    a little imp, nibblirfg at her conscience. Davis thrilled her, and she

    thought of him in the basest terms, as a magnificent, untamed animal.

    "Why don't you take some lemonade out to that man in the garden?" she

    suggested to Queen. "He's a good worker, and it's a hot day."

    Queen nodded, and busied herself with lemonade. Miss Mandy stared out at

    Davis.

    "He seems to be a fine young man," she said. "Does he know he has a friend

    in Jesus?"

    For suddenly she had a new cause. She would bring this lion of the jungle

    to the rocky, redeeming slopes of Calvary, and prayed that some other

    missionary had not reached his soul first.

He was fixing some trellis when Queen brought the lemonade to him. Queen set

the tray on a box, and poured a glass of lemonade from the jug.

    "You can have a break," she said, and to persuade him, she added her

    authority. "Miss Mandy said."

    QUEEN 639

    He didn't respond, but worked on. Queen was a little miffed that her

    gracious order was ignored, but her speech lapsed from its formal vowels,

    and adopted some of his less cultivated pattern.

"You doin' a good job," she said. "Miss Mandy said."

    Still, he ignored her. What was the matter with the man? Queen wondered,

    temper rising a little. He didn't even look at her, and men usually

    looked at her in considerable appreciation, even if she ignored them.

    "I c'n give you dinner in the kitchen when you, done, afore you go home,"

    she said. "Miss Mandy said--

    His work on the trellis done, he turned to her. He liked to finish one

    job before starting another.

    "Better do what she says, then." He smiled, and her heart went pit-a-pat.

    She would make him a lovely dinner.

    'Me meat was as frustrating as anything she could remember. He washed up

    in the laundry, and took off his muddy boots before he came into the

    kitchen. He sat at the table, acce pted the food she gave him, and was

    impeccably polite. Queen had prepared a fine dinner; she even saved the

    knuckle of the roast leg of lamb for him, because she remembered it had

    been her father's favorite. She piled his plate with potatoes, pumpkin,

    and cabbage, and he ate everything she put in front of him, but in

    silence. Queen did her best to make conversation, but he responded to her

    with polite and noncommittal monosyllables. He had three pieces of her

    good apple pie, and when he was done, he stood and thanked her.

    "That was a fine dinner, ma'am," he said. "I thanks you kindly."

He walked to the door, but Queen could not let him go.

    "You know-" she began, but stopped because she couldn't think of anything

    to say.

    He turned and looked at her with those velvet eyes, and she found her

    only possible lifeline.

--you have a friend in Jesus," she said.

    He considered this and nodded, but absently, as if he could not imagine

    that he had any friends. Then said he would see her tomorrow, and left.

    She came to the door and watched him put on his boots and walk away down

    the path, into the night.

She walked out into the garden. The sky was clear, the stars

640 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

were bright, and the silver moon illuminated the work he had done that day.

She went back inside, washed the dishes, prepared the trays for breakfast,

and went upstairs to her attic room.

    She went to sleep and had sweet dreams that night. She was on a hill

    looking toward a distant city, and she could see Jesus triumphantly

    approaching Jerusalem. He was wearing white robes, riding on a donkey, and

    was surrounded by waved palm fronds. She walked to the city, but He never

    seemed to come any closer to it, and soon she was close to Him. When He

    turned to look at her, His face was full of quiet pain. And black, like

    Davis.

    74

The pattern was quickly set. He came to work each day, and his hard labor

and the bursting spring brought tranquility and a sense of renewal to what

had been disorder. Miss Mandy, desperate.to find some justification for a

fruitless life, saw it as a metaphor for the South, her own small

contribution to reconstruction, and infinitely more successful than that di-

rected by the Federal government. Good Christian example and discipline was

what these blacks needed. Queen and Davis were the living proof of that, not

the flagrant and unjustified equality that Washington was trying to inflict

upon them.

    Queen and Davis. She began to think of them as an inseparable pair, and she

    cherished the idea of a possible union for them, a good and happy marriage,

    with herself as instructing governess of their delightful children. She was

    sure her ambition was shared by Queen, for the girl positively blossomed

    whenever Davis was around, and was scratchy and unpredictable on his day

    off. When he came back to work, his boundless composure calmed her

    irritability, and she, in turn, was the only one who could make him smile.

Davis built a pleasant arbor for the sisters, sheltered from

    QUEEN 641

the sun, and planted climbing roses. The sisters sat there for hours on

the warm days, reading their Bibles, or doing their embroidery, or simply

watching the lovely garden grow. Occasionally, Miss Mandy would find

reasons to speak to him, first about plants and then about the love of

God, and he would listen to all she had to say solemnly, and nod his head,

and tell it was much to think about. She was content with this. She was

in no hurry to speed his conversion, for then what would she have to do?

    During the day, he never came to the house, but Queen would bring him

    cool lemonade, and sit with him for a while, and admire his handiwork,

    Each evening he took his dinner with her in the kitchen, and appreciated

    her good cooking. She would chatter to him endlessly about her day, and

    he would laugh or sympathize or offer a few words of advice as the

    occasion demanded, but he would never talk about himself. He always

    seemed a little distracted, as if he were cogitating matters of important

    and insoluble moment, and sometimes Queen was embarrassed that her gossip

    was distracting him from his unknown purpose. He seemed to understand

    this, and would smile at her, and compliment her on her pie, and she

    would serve him another generous helping.

    She didn't know where he came from or where he lived, or what his

    intentions in life were, nor did she care. She was still wary of a

    relationship, but the fact that this man to whom she was so attracted

    never did anything to disturb her peace of mind was like a balm to her

    hurtful experiences with other men.

    As the weather grew hotter, she convinced herself that his appetite for

    the lemonade increased, and her visits to the garden became more

    frequent.

She came to him one hot day when he was working on the roof of the garden

shed, to fix the leaks. He was stripped to the waist, and when he climbed

down and turned away from her to get his shirt, she saw that his back was

a mass of scars. She gasped, although she knew the cause of them.

    "Who did that to you?" she cried. He shrugged, and put on his shirt.

"Massa," he said simply. "In the old days."

642 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    He accepted the cool drink, and changed the subject to roses.

    That night at dinner, she tried to get him to talk about his bondage.

"Why they whip you that bad?" she asked.

    He shrugged again. "Ran away," he said, without trace of bitterness.

    "Caught me. Whipped me. Ran away again. Same thing. "

    Queen had never been whipped, but had seen it often enough. She closed her

    eyes, to block out the image of the lash striking Davis.

"How many times?" she whispered.

    "Often as I could," he said calmly. "I didn't want to be a slave, I never

    asked, wasn't my idea of my life. Jus' coz they white, how come they had

    that power?"

Queen had no answer, but put her faith in the future.

    "That's all over now," she said, to comfort him, but Davis stared at her as

    if he didn't believe her.

    "Mebbe," he said. He paused for a moment, but she could see he had

    something more to say.

    "Ain't changed much. I's free, but I cain't seem to find my place in life,"

    It's here, right here, you've found it, Queen wanted to tell him, but she

    said nothing. He seemed to be battling with some inner demon, and suddenly

    words flooded out of him as if a dam had burst.

    "Ain't gwine find it in the South, I reckon," he said. "Slavery's gone, but

    white folk still think like the of' days. I don't want to dig gardens all

    my life. I don't want to be treated like a jungle nigger. I don't want to

    live in a place where I ain't ever gwine be given the chance to better

    myself, free or not free. I don't want to beg for change from the white

    man's pocket. "

    He spoke quietly, but his voice thundered in Queen's ears, and his magnetic

    personality filled the room. At that mom6nt she would have followed him to

    the ends of the earth.

    He relaxed then, and seemed embarrassed by how much of himself he had

    revealed. He smiled, and shrugged again. "North, mebbe," he said as a coda.

    "They reckon a man can find his self up there.'.'

    QUEEN 643

    He stood up, thanked her for his dinner as he always did, and left. Queen

    sat on a chair, her hand shaking a little. The power and intensity of his

    speech, and the loneliness and anger that provoked it, had frightened her

    a little, for she remembered herself, when she had been in her times of

    greatest distress, which were not so very long ago.

    He didn't refer to the conversation when he saw her again, and resisted

    her mild questioning of his eventual aims in life. But he surprised her

    a few days later when he asked her if he might accompany her to church

    the following Sunday.

    Queen was only too happy to agree, but asked why he wanted to go. He

    chuckled and said that it might stop Miss Mandy's endless preaching at

    him.

The men had enlarged the church somewhat over the last few months, as more

and more blacks, disillusioned with the hardships of their reconstructing

society and the failed promises of freedom, sought solace from a higher

source. A small choir had been formed, and Queen, with her sweet soprano

voice, was part of it. A fervent believer, she sang in her most pure voice

that Sunday, and she had eyes for only one man in the congregation. She

was determined that she would be the bridge between him and his spiritual

well-being, and she prayed that the simple songs would transport him on

angel's wings to the embracing love of Jesus.

    As they walked home, she asked him what he thought of the service. He

    walked a few paces, as if putting his thoughts in order, before he

    replied, and when he spoke it was with his accustomed reserve and

    apparent lack of involvement.

    "I thanks you kindly, ma'am," he said. "Fo' showin' me that good thing.

    It gives me much to think about."

    She was disappointed that he was not more enthusiastic, but he went to

    church with her regularly every Sunday after that, and while he never

    prayed or joined in the hymns, he would listen to the sermons with rapt

    attention, and discuss the meaning of them afterward as they walked home.

    He became good friends with several of the men, even Charles, his

    erstwhile rival, and spent considerable time with Abram. Joyce told Queen

    later that Davis spent his days off at Abram's workshop, helping him with

    the fire and forge, and ceaselessly

644 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

questioning him about working conditions, and the role of black men in the

world.

He wrenched his shoulder one day, grubbing a stump of an old tree in the

garden, and when she came to him with his refreshment, she found him in the

potting shed trying to rub oil onto himself.

    "Let me do that," she said. He made no demur, but sat on a box, and let her

    massage his arm and shoulder. It felt good, and he told her so.

    "My marnmy taught me," Queen said, pleased. "She said it was my pappy's

    favorite thing."

    She put more oil on her hand, and caressed his injured muscles. She could

    not resist staring at the scars on his back, the hideous imperfections on

    his otherwise flawless body. The shed was hot and quiet, and she worked in

    silence, but she knew she gave him pleasure. Her hands inched toward the

    scars, attracted to them, repelled by what had caused them. She touched

    them and caressed them, and soothed them with oil, and he groaned softly,

    the broken twisted nerves close to the surface, and sparklingly alive.