Shadows of St. Louis (11 page)

Emma Lynn was screaming under Frank's crushing embrace.

"Leave her alone!" Henry yelled, finally coming to his senses. He reached for Emma Lynn, but Frank released her just long enough to punch Henry in the face. Henry fell to the floor. Before he could get to his feet, a streak of blond whizzed past him.

"Get off of her!" Charles yelled pulling Frank away from his sister. He threw Frank to the ground and start pounding in his face.  Frank didn't stand a chance against Charles.

Henry stared at the fight in ... awe. Why wasn't he strong enough to defend Emma's honor?

"Charles, stop he's not moving," Rebecca Jane said as she hugged her sister, Emma Lynn.

Charles didn't stop.

"Henry, do something."

Henry heard Rebecca's plea, but still he didn't move.

Finally, Rebecca Jane let go of Emma Lynn and pulled her brother off of Frank herself.

"I hate him as much as you do, Charles, but you can't kill him," she said as she pulled him away.

"The hell I can't." He shook off his sister and lunged for Frank again.

"Charles, please," Emma Lynn said through tears.

Charles stopped mid-punch and looked at his baby sister as she hugged herself.

Slowly he got to his feet. He spit on Frank, then pointed to Emma Lynn and said, "She's the only reason you're still alive." Charles picked up Emma Lynn then the three of them walked out of the alley.

Still Henry didn't move.

Jesse

“Charles, I can walk. I’m fine,” Emma Lynn said moments later.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind carrying you. We still have several blocks to go,” he said.

“Where are we going?” Emma Lynn looked around for the first time. They weren’t headed back to the Goodwin home. “Are we going toward the shantytown?”

Charles sighed then set her down on her feet. “This has been an awful birthday for you, hasn’t it?”

“It’s all right. I wasn’t expecting much. It’s Mary Anna’s night anyway.”

“The hell it is,” Rebecca Jane said. “She’s had hundreds of parties in her honor. This should have been your night. You deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve anything,” Emma Lynn swallowed back tears. Though she honestly didn’t feel that way, she knew it was the truth. She certainly knew she didn’t deserve happiness with Henry. It was crazy for her to even think that was possible. “It’s just the way it is, Rebecca Jane.”

“But it’s not the way it should be,” Charles said. “I … we … need to tell you something.”

Charles and Rebecca Jane exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke.

“Well? What is it?”

“Just follow us. There is someone you need to meet.”

Moments later, she Rebecca Jane and Charles entered a rickety shack built of two-by-fours and tin. It was dreadfully warm inside. Emma Lynn always imagined that the shantytown … homes, if you could call them that, reeked of sweat and human excrement. This one thankfully smelled of collard greens, as if the family had just finished dinner.

Rebecca Jane made herself right at home and started helping two little girls clean the dishes.

“Hi, Becky,” they said in unison. Why were they so comfortable with a white woman like Rebecca Jane entering their home? Emma Lynn was thoroughly confused.

“Um, Charles?
Where are we? Who are they?” Emma asked in a whisper as if the little girls wouldn’t be able to hear her in the small space.

“I’m Lulu,” one girl said.

“And I’m Josephine, but everyone calls me
Tumpie
,” the other girl said with a bright smile. “I’m
gonna
be a famous singer one day just like Becky.” The girl smiled up at Rebecca Jane.

“You sure are,” Rebecca Jane said, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“They often don’t have anything to eat so Cecilia has them come over for dinner,” Charles said as Lulu,
Tumpie
, and Rebecca Jane set about cleaning up the kitchen area.

“And who is Cecilia?” Emma Lynn asked.

Just then a rather large black woman with smooth dark skinned appeared from behind a sheet. Emma Lynn assumed the sheet took the place of a door.

“Well, I am Cecilia. The one and only,” the woman said, holding out her arms. Charles smiled and gave her a hug. “But you two need to hush, Jesse just fell asleep.” Her eyes fell on Emma Lynn. “My, my, you are just as pretty as Charles said you were. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She held out her hand, but Emma Lynn was too confused and frightened to realize she was supposed to do the same.

“Charles, what is going on? Why are we here?”

Charles sighed and grabbed her hand. “Come with me. It’s time you meet Jesse.” He pulled her behind the hanging sheet into a room with two mattresses on the floor. Emma Lynn assumed it was some sort of bedroom. On one of the mattresses lay a small child.

Emma Lynn looked down at the little boy peacefully asleep. She couldn't figure out why both Charles and Rebecca Jane were so adamant about her meeting him. He was a pretty little boy of about two years of age. He had shoulder length smooth black hair that was more wavy than curly. It definitely wasn't normal Negro hair, but from his complexion Emma Lynn could tell he was in fact Negro.

"He's beautiful. But I'm not sure why I need to meet him," Emma Lynn said as she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He stirred a little but his eyes remained shut.

After sighing, Charles said, "Emma Lynn, this is my son." At the sound of Charles voice, the little boy opened his eyes.

"Papa?" he said sleepily.
"Papa!"
Jesse jumped into Charles arms.

"What do you mean?" she said, staring at the two of them in shock.

"I mean, I'm his father," Charles said, kissing the little boy on the forehead and then both cheeks.

"But I don't ... Is his mother a
negro
? Is that why Charlotte left you?" Emma Lynn asked. She knew there had to be some important reason why his marriage to Charlotte was suddenly called off almost two years ago. She was never in a position to inquire. But now she knew. Charles had obviously cheated on Charlotte.

"Why don't you go see Aunt Becky? I think she has a surprise for you," Charles said to his son.

Jesse jumped up and scurried out of the room in search of this promised present.

Charles sighed as he watched his son leave the room. Then he turned to Emma Lynn and said, "Charlotte is his mother."

"How is this possible? Both you and Charlotte are white. How can you have a negro baby?"

"Because I'm not white,
Emmie
.
I'm Negro, just like you."

As Emma Lynn tried to process this information, Charles continued. "My parents are Negro." He paused then added, "
Our
parents are Negro."

"Mr. And Mrs. Goodwin
are
Negro?" Emma Lynn didn't notice the special emphasis he had placed on the word “our.” She thought he was merely referring to him and Rebecca Jane. Plus, she was still trying to comprehend the fact that her employers were Negros passing as whites. Any other implications in Charles' words went completely unnoticed by her.

Charles nodded. "They both have black mothers.
Which means I'm Negro.
Rebecca Jane and Mary Anne
are
Negro too. Just like you. We are all Negro."

Emma Lynn found it odd that Charles kept comparing himself and his sisters to her. They were nothing alike. She was completely
Negro
. And while Charles, Rebecca Jane and Mary Anne may have had a bit of Negro blood in them, they were still white by society's standards. They would never be beaten for wearing white’s clothing, or kicked off a trolley ride just because of their skin color. That was something only she had to worry about.

She noticed how Charles kept staring at her intently as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes.

"You've often wondered why you look so much like Rebecca Jane. We should have just told you. We should have told you years ago."

"Charles, what are you saying?" Emma Lynn asked suddenly feeling a chill run through her.

Just then Rebecca Jane entered the room. "He's saying you're our little sister."

Emma Lynn wrapped her arms around herself then sat on the mattress in a stunned silence.

"I've wanted to tell you for years. I really have. Something has always stopped me," Charles said.

"But I'm your servant," she said. "I work for you."

"That was my fault," Charles admitted. "Mary Anna, Rebecca Jane, and I were born looking white. You were always darker. And you got darker and darker as the years went on. People would look at you strangely whenever we were out as a family."

"Family?"
Emma Lynn repeated the word as if it never had meaning before that day.

Rebecca Jane nodded. "That's right,
Em
. You're our family."

Charles continued. "Our parents wanted to get rid of you, but I wouldn't let them."

"So, you made me your servant?"

"I'm so sorry,
Emmie
. It was the only way."

Emma Lynn pressed her eyes shut with her fingers trying to hold in all the emotions rushing through her. "All my life you've treated me like I was some sort of slave," she said trying to remain calm.

"That's not true." Rebecca Jane stepped forward and tried to put her arm around Emma Lynn but she shrugged her away. "
Emmie
, you know we've always treated you like you were a part of the family."

"That is because I am. I am your family. That is the least you could have done. You will get no praise from me for treating me like family when I
am
your family."

"You're right,
Emmie
. You're absolutely right. You have every reason to be angry with us."

"Damn right I do. I understand what you did, Charles. I truly do. But I'm sixteen years old now. You don't think you could have told me this earlier? All those times I asked about my family and where I came from and neither of you said a word. You've
lied
to me my entire life."

"We know and we are so sorry," Rebecca Jane added. "We didn't know what else to do."

"I don't ... I don't want to be here right now," Emma Lynn said heading for the exit. She suddenly felt like the walls were closing in, threatening to engulf her like a coffin. "I have to go."

"
Emmie
, it's late. Don't go out there alone. Let us walk you home," Charles suggested.

"Home?
I have no home. I have nothing."

Emma Lynn ran out of the house and on to the dark streets of East St. Louis. Her birthday had turned into the worst night of her life. First, Henry did nothing to protect her from the likes of Frank Gibson, and then she found out that her own family, her flesh and blood had lied to her for sixteen years.

The danger she might be in as a young Negro walking the streets alone didn't cross her mind. She didn't care about anything or anyone. But after hours of roaming the streets, she realized she had nowhere to go. She headed back toward the
Goodwins
’ home wondering if she would ever be able to say it was her home.