Sugar (23 page)

“You know, you remind me so much of her.” Pearl’s eyes were gleaming and they seemed to smile and cry all at once. “You got her color, you know. Like Joe, strong, black skin. The old ones call it pure African skin. They say when you the color of darkness, your lineage is pure, never been touched by a white man.” She laughed and waved her hand. “That’s what they say anyway.”

“You always calling me by her name,” Sugar said, wanting to keep Pearl talking about her daughter. She still woke from wild dreams with Jude’s name pressed to her lips like a lover’s kiss.

“Do I.” Pearl’s reply carried no surprise. “I suppose that happens when someone is always on your mind.”

“Tell me more about her.” Sugar wanted to hear about the daughter that took so much of Pearl with her when she died.

“I done told you about her already,” Pearl snapped. She did not want to dwell on it now, not when her life was beginning to take on some joy again.

“You told me about what happened to her, not about her.” Sugar touched Pearl’s face with a gentleness she did not know she possessed. “Please.” She turned soft, soothing brown eyes on Pearl’s own.

“She—Jude was my only girl, my last child. I didn’t mean for her to be the last, God made that decision for me.” Pearl wrung her hands and spoke in quick bursts. “We all doted on her. Me, her daddy, Joe Jr. and Seth. She was a sweet dark thing. Joe usta call her his sweet licorice stick. Hmmm, she was sweet, but don’t be fooled, she was a tough thing. Jude ran before she walked, you know? Humph, always trying to keep up with her older brothers. I tried to keep her feminine, but Jude was a hard one. Always tearing her dress, losing her ribbons, ripping and running like a new colt all over the place.

“But we loved her anyway. Can’t help but love a child that lived inside of you for nine months. She was smart as a whip, could out-spell both of her brothers and add up big ole numbers without using paper or pencil. Joe and I told her she was gonna make a fine teacher or doctor. We were saving to send her to college after she finished her schooling here. One of them fine Negro colleges. I was gonna go back to work to bring in a little extra.” Pearl sighed and looked at her hands.

“The boys ain’t have no interest in schooling,” she continued, “Joe Jr. was talking about going in the army; and Seth, well he had big dreams, was going to start his own business. He said ‘Mamma, I ain’t going in no white man’s army to get killed for a country that don’t want me to piss in the same toilet they do. Me, I’m gonna start me my own business, one that the white man gonna find a need for and when they come into my place of business they gonna have to call me Sir!’

“That Seth was always talking big. Still talking big. Always got ideas that go beyond normal colored people’s dreams.”

Pearl showed Sugar a picture of Joe Jr. and Seth. Handsome men. Joe Jr. in his service uniform and Seth, all teeth, hand-painted sign in hand that said SETH’S FIX IT SHOP.

“Another dream that never made it.” Pearl traced a finger over the letters and grimaced.

“Where’s Jude’s picture, Miss Pearl?” Sugar flipped through countless photo album pages that held black and white pictures of picnics and birthday parties, hoping to find Jude.

“I—I took them out. I couldn’t bear to look at them, at her. It was just too painful, so I took them out and put them in here.” Pearl went to the closet and retrieved a large white jewelry box from the top shelf. The age-old paint was yellowed and chipped at the corners, revealing the pale pine wood. A smiling ballerina stood gracefully on its top, her painted lips pursed in perfection. “This use to be mine when I was a little girl and I gave it to Jude on her eighth birthday. She loved it so, would lift the top and let the music play for hours. It don’t play music no more, it stopped the day . . .” Pearl trailed off.

“It’s okay, Miss Pearl.” Sugar gently took the box from Pearl and went back over to the bed.

“I only look at them when I feel I need to have her near me. When I miss her the most.”

Sugar lifted the lid and saw herself staring back at her. She jerked as if struck. Her hands were shaking as she lifted the first of many pictures from the box. Jude rolling in the grass, Jude swimming in the lake, Jude sleeping, Jude laughing. Sugar’s head was swimming. If someone had brought these pictures to her and said, “Here you are in the life you can’t recall,” she would have believed every word of it and ignored the slight differences that remained between Jude and herself. Jude’s smaller nose and thinner lips, her rounder eyes and fuller brow. But the smile was the same; sure and solid. Sugar knew that smile, it was her own.

“You see,” Pearl said, standing over her. Sugar shook her head yes. She did see and it scared her to death. “They say everyone got a twin, you hers, I guess,” Pearl said and sat down beside her. “God done sent you here to soothe my hurting heart. I see that now. He could have sent you anyplace else, but he chose Bigelow. He sent you here to put a smile back on my face and laughter back in my mouth. He knew I had turned my back on him after Jude, I told him I would continue to serve him, but I couldn’t trust him no more. That was, until you showed up.” Pearl placed her hand over Sugar’s. “I love you for helping me trust again.”

Pearl’s words melted over Sugar, coating her in warmth and sweet affection, but simple acceptance was hard for Sugar after so many years of rough callused hands handling her body.

“You think you love me because I remind you of Jude,” Sugar said quietly.

“That may have been so in the beginning, but now I love you for you, not who you remind me of.”

Chapter Fifteen

J
OE
stepped into his home just as the long hand on his watch skipped past the two, dawdled a while and then anded squarely on the short hand, which comfortably kissed the three. Welcomed by an empty home, Joe was immediately aware of the untidiness of his house. Thick dust covered the coffee table and the plastic lampshades. There were dishes in the sink, an unwashed bowl, batter still clinging to its inside walls. Clothes were strewn across the unmade bed and globs of blue Pepsodent littered the bathroom basin.

He unpacked, and carefully placed his clothes in the closet. All the while he wondered where his wife could be.

He moved to the lower parts of the house, discovering the warm smell of lemon pound cake. Joe scratched at his chin and walked to the living room. He thought about calling Shirley to see if Pearl was there, but as his hand made contact with the phone, large yellow headlights traveled quickly across the room, blinding him for a moment and then disappearing. An engine hummed contentedly outside his door and he heard loud, loose laughter that for some reason reminded him of the French brothels he visited during the war.

He opened the door slowly, not realizing he had moved to do so, and what he saw made him catch his breath. A woman he thought to be his wife, but was quite sure she wasn’t, was ascending the porch stairs; her smile, painted burgundy, was fading quickly until it was just a line. “Joe?” She must know me, he thought, she’s called me by name. The first drops of rain began to fall, within moments it was driving, drenching the stranger before him. Pearl was thankful for the rain, for it hid the tears of sudden shame that sprung as if on cue when Joe opened the door.

Blue and black ran down her face and washed over the painted burgundy lips. “Joe?” Why wasn’t he saying anything? He was tormenting her with silence. She was misreading his eyes, and for the first time Pearl felt fearful of her husband.

Sugar was standing in the background, her off-white dress soaked through revealing her naked breasts and bright red French cut underwear. Darkness had swallowed up Bigelow, thunder clapped loudly behind its curtain, but Sugar remained. Isaac was gone before the first drop fell, barreling his beat-up pickup down the road, one hand hanging out the window waving good-bye. Sugar looked around to see if there was something she could use to protect Pearl, should Joe strike her. Nothing. She clenched her fists and summoned up every bit of strength she had. She would take him with her bare hands if she had to. She waited.

“Joe, I got’s a lot to tell you. Uhm, something’s done happened since you been gone.” Pearl was yelling over the driving rain and booming thunder. Bolts of lightning sliced through the damp darkness, lighting up her frightened face, reflecting the terror that was eating its way out.

“Bit?” Joe leaned forward and Pearl flinched. “Jesus Christ, that you, Bit?” His voice was pure amazement. “Bit, w-what, where you been? Come inside before you catch cold, woman!” Joe stepped forward and grabbed Pearl’s hand, pulling her to him in a quick, wet embrace.

Sugar’s racing heart began to slow. Her fists relaxed and then laughter, nervous at first, bubbled out until it poured like the rain that soaked her.

Pearl sat in the warmth of the kitchen, her grandmother’s quilt wrapped around her damp body, her feet soaking in a warm tub of water. Blue and yellow flames danced below the kettle encouraging the long, high scream that pierced the quiet calm of the house.

Joe was moving about; mixing eggs for scrambling, bending over and looking in the refrigerator to check for slab bacon; shaking his head in dismay when he found none. Searching cupboards and finding a half-empty box of grits and flour for biscuits. “We got buttermilk?” he questioned and looked over his shoulder.

“Some left,” Pearl responded. She had insisted that he sit while she made breakfast, but Joe would not have it. He’d pause every once in a while and fold his arms, shaking his head, marveling at the beauty that reclaimed Pearl’s face. “You sure do look different, Bit.”

Slowly, as the grits cooked and her tea cooled, she unfolded for him the two weeks spent with Sugar. The helpless connection she felt toward her, the affection that grew beneath it. Her face moved in angry waves as she told of her so-called friends’ disdain for Sugar and their relationship; the threats and warnings that would certainly befall her should she continue on the path she’d chosen to take.

Joe listened intently as he scooped the grits onto two plates and stirred the eggs. She used her words carefully, side-stepping exactly what Sugar was and always had been. But Joe knew, he’d heard talk from the men in town. She described in detail Sugar’s time in Short Junction, growing up at the Lacey home. Joe’s mind cringed at her words and he stood quickly, attempting to avoid the question he knew would come.

“You know about that place, the Lacey place over in Short Junction?”

“Yep, heard about it when I was there.” Joe knew he’d answered too quickly. They both heard the false composure in his tone and fell silent. Over the years he’d tried to expel the memory of the beautiful brown woman with hair that touched her shoulders and a smile that seemed to warm the air. Her name had passed his lips once since he married. And that was while he slept beside Pearl and dreamed of the time he spent with the woman beneath the sycamore trees.

Bertie Mae.

Even now as he sat remembering what he’d tried so hard to forget, he could taste the sweet dew that was her lips.

He’d met her while laying railroad tracks just on the outskirts of Short Junction only days after he’d decided to marry Pearl. His days in Short Junction were long hard ones. Lifting steel and laying steel was not an easy task for any man, but the black man seemed to complain less and accomplish more. Those long hard days laboring beneath a relentless sun were made bearable knowing that the sun would set, the heat recede and evening would find him at the Lacey home.

His path crossed daily with the beautiful Bertie Mae, since she’d taken to sitting up on a grassy incline beneath a sycamore tree. She said that was her place of solitude. Later it would become their place of passion.

Joe was not a man who took advantage of women. It wasn’t in his character to do so, but Bertie Mae did something to him that tested his morals and caused his stomach to quiver. When she touched his cheek, her hand hot with desire, he knew that he would not, could not deny her.

Evening fell and she slowly undid her blouse. He had all intentions of saying no. He saw the first button slip and disappear from its opening and then the second. He’d found his voice by the third. “No, Bertie, please don’t.” He reached his hand up quickly to still her movements and found his palm pressed against the swell of her breast. She shuddered and covered his hand with her own, pushing it down hard.

Joe was still. He felt her nipples harden and strain against the thin worn fabric of her dress. He reached up and undid the remaining two buttons of the blouse. The material fell away to reveal two full, round, brown breasts. Bertie’s breathing quickened and her chest seemed to beckon him.

He leaned forward and kissed each jutting nipple gently. Flicking them with his tongue, causing Bertie to moan aloud, grabbing his head, anchoring his mouth on her hot breasts. Joe sucked like a hungry newborn, and pushed Bertie down to the ground.

He ran his tongue lightly up and down her neck. He came to her chin and nibbled at it. He moved to one ear and then the other, exploring it with his tongue and teeth. He kissed each eyelid and her nose. Joe paused when he came to her mouth. It was open, wet and ready. “You are so beautiful,” he said as his mouth came down on her own burning lips. Their tongues danced together for what seemed like forever.

Quickly and awkwardly, Joe removed his boots, overalls and thin white T-shirt. He stood before her, nude, his body as strong and dark as the trunks of the century-old trees that surrounded them. Bertie ogled at his penis. It stood long and erect, throbbing before her like his second heart. He removed her skirt and slip. She wore no panties, as she had only two pair and both were drying on the line in her yard.

Her stomach was flat, smooth and as unblemished as a river stone. He bent and kissed her navel, inhaling the sweet musky scent of her. Bertie gasped.

His tongue made circles on her thigh and then found itself between her legs, relentlessly toying with her womanhood. Bertie moaned and called his name over and over again. The grass beneath her was slick with her liquid. He pulled himself up and straddled her, placing her legs over his shoulders. As he entered her he kissed her, softly at first, and then with more urgency. Bertie winced in pain, pulled him closer, deeper until the pain was replaced with pleasure.