Breaking Matthew (3 page)

I opened my eyes and crossed the small room to my bed. Sitting on its edge, I thought of those months after Daddy died—the harsh adjustment to life as a sharecropper, my shame when Matthew and Mary first saw the shack we’d moved into, my feeble faith as I’d floundered along the path of serving others. And then I thought of Hannah and the terrible state of her home when we’d met.

Maybe a visit with Hannah was what I needed. It had been several weeks since I’d been out to see her. Our talks always seemed to help right my perspective. And right then, putting some miles between Hanceville and me seemed like a wonderful idea.

As I drove west out of town toward the Colony, each passing mile relieved my tension a little more. Dr. Fisher had seemed reluctant to allow me to drive two days in a row, but my promise it would only be a short trip to visit friends had loosened him a bit. ’Course, had he known where I was going, he would’ve said no for sure. Despite his affection for Hannah, and his care for her after the tornado struck, he adamantly opposed our continued friendship. Some kind of malarkey about my safety. So I didn’t often tell him exactly where I was going, and he’d learned not to ask too many questions.

“Why she coming out here all the time?”

“You got to wait on her in your own home?”

“Ain’t you scared?”

I laughed to myself as I pulled up into Hannah’s yard. We’d decided long ago that we preferred a world where a colored girl and white girl could be friends no matter what others thought about it, and that was the world we were building for ourselves. One day at a time. One visit at a time.

I supposed she heard me drive up, ’cause she met me on the front porch with a big smile and a little shadow peeking out from behind her skirt. Before I’d taken two steps, Isaac darted out from behind her and came running to me. “It’s Miss Ruby, Mama!” He leapt up and threw his little tan arms around my neck, and I carried him back to the porch. When he pulled his face back, I looked into his sweet gray eyes and felt my spirits take flight again.

I set him down and hugged Hannah while she fussed at me and loved on me at the same time. “Now, Miss Ruby, you done surprised me! I ain’t got nothin’ but a bit a cornbread and milk today, and you gone show up on my doorstep!”

I tried to reassure her that I’d already eaten and didn’t want anything but her company, but she wouldn’t hear of it. They didn’t have much in the way of food, but she’d try to feed me whatever she did have. I followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table, as she went to filling a bowl with cornbread. When she took a pitcher of milk out of the icebox, and I saw how little was left, I insisted she put it back.

“I don’t care for milk with my cornbread, Hannah. I’ll just take some water.”

She raised a finger at me and shook it. “Now don’t be telling me no stories. I seen you eat plenty a cornbread with milk.”

“Not today though. I’m just too full.”

She put the pitcher back and came over to the table, finally dropping into the chair across from me. I always liked it when she let her guard down and relaxed. Over the years, it had taken less and less time for her to reach that point during our visits. I even noticed that at some point while we talked, she’d drop the “Miss” in front of my name.

“Where’s Samuel?” I asked.

“No telling. That boy’s aiming to put me in the grave before my time.” She shook her head. “He said he was walking Millie Hatch home after church, but he should a been home by now. He probably found some other boys and went off to cause a ruckus.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “My brothers were the same way when they were fifteen. He’ll grow out of it.”

She shook her head and looked more serious. “I wish that was all it was. I’m afraid he’s heading down a dangerous path lately. Been talking—”

The door swung open, and Samuel stepped inside. He made eye contact with me, and I saw the hint of distrust he’d never been able to completely erase. But it was gone in a flash, and he gave me a smile instead.

“Hey there, Miss Ruby.”

Hannah jumped up and went over to him, swatting at the dirt on his pants. “Mercy! Can’t you even keep your Sunday clothes clean for half a day?”

She brushed the back of his shirt, and he slunk out from under her hand. “Mama, stop fussin’. It ain’t no big deal. ’Sides, I’m just going right back out.”

Hannah stepped back and put her fists on her hips. “Oh no, you’s staying right here and visiting with Miss Ruby! Them boys down the road can wait.”

“Mama,” Samuel groaned. “I ain’t got time—” But he didn’t get any further ’cause she pinched the back of his neck. “Ow! All right!” He slapped her hand away and moved over to the empty chair at the table, which he dropped into with a loud sigh.

Hannah came over and took her seat as well, shaking her finger in his direction. “You see? This is what I’m putting up with every day.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I don’t think you have too much to worry over. Seems like I remember my brothers causing a much bigger fuss than Samuel does.” I smiled at him, but he slumped even lower in his chair. “Boys can be a handful when they’re anxious to prove they’re men.”

Hannah huffed and crossed her arms. “Well maybe you can talk some sense into this one. Lord knows he ain’t gone listen to me!” She dropped her chin, glaring at her eldest son. “You want to tell her what you were up to last month?”

“Mama!” he said. “Miss Ruby don’t want to know about our business.” He darted a glance at me from under dark, angry eyebrows.

“Well, somebody needs to knock some sense into that head of yours. Go on! Tell her what ya done. I just found out myself a week ago.”

He stared at the table, picking at a flake of wood. Hannah turned her glare at me. “He went off picking cotton at the Calhoun farm. Not once, but three times! After all the trials we been through with that place, he wants to go and kick a hornet’s nest!”

“Samuel?” I leaned toward him, hoping he’d make eye contact. “Is that true?”

He shrugged.

“Why?” I asked. “Why would you do that?”

“I just wanted to see for myself.”

“See what?”

He shrugged again. I glanced at Hannah, wondering what was eating away at him. “See what?” I tried again.

“The life my other half is supposed to have.”

It was dead silent in the room for a good minute. I sat back in my chair and wondered what I was supposed to say to that. Samuel continued picking at splinters from the table, glaring at them like they were the source of his anger.

“Just ain’t right,” he said. “Half of me should be walking around that farm like any other white person, able to say hidey to who I want to, look any man in the eye I want to, or just walk across any piece of land I so desire. Half of me is free.” He looked at me sideways. “Should be, anyhow. I got just as much Percy Calhoun’s blood in my veins as Chester.”

I couldn’t help but see the caramel-skinned little boy I’d first met years before sitting at the table with me, scarred from years of beatings dealt out by Chester Calhoun. The first time I’d met Samuel, he was stealing a chicken to feed himself and Hannah. I’d covered for him, but I’d seen the way Chester tormented him. So much of Samuel’s anger and suspicion of me made sense once I’d learned about the abuse Chester was doling out on both him and Hannah. I’d felt his wrath myself, and I’d never forget it. I still suffered occasional headaches from the concussion Chester had given me.

“Samuel,” Hannah said, covering his hand. “God made you in His own image, so you ain’t half of anything. You’re
all
His. Can’t nobody take that from you. And you’re going to grow up to be the man He wants you to be. Maybe He never meant you to be colored or white. Maybe He meant you to be the glue that’s gone hold things together. So you don’t let nobody tell you who you are. You ain’t half Calhoun. You ain’t half colored, or half white either. You’s
all
Samuel.”

I wasn’t sure her words sank in, but I sure hoped they did. Underneath all that anger and mistrust, was a boy who loved his mother something fierce. I prayed God would give him peace and keep him from stirring up trouble with the Calhouns. I wanted to reassure Hannah, but I shared her apprehension. I’d have to keep my eye out for Samuel whenever I went to visit James and Emma Rae. Maybe he’d listen to me, if not his mother.

I was certain no good could possibly come from his being anywhere near that farm.

And I was right.

Monday morning, long before sunup, Dr. Fisher woke me from a deep sleep. We’d learned pretty quick that early morning calls put Ms. Harmon in a bad temper for the rest of the day, so I’d installed a little bell attached to a string that ran out of my window and down the side of the house. He’d only had to use it a few times. Most early morning calls he just handled without me, but he knew I’d never let him hear the end of it if he didn’t bring me along when it was time for Emma Rae to deliver. So when I heard the bell’s light jingle, I jumped out of bed and dressed quick as lightning.

Dr. Fisher met me on the porch with a lamp. “Got a call from the Calhoun farm,” he said. “Sounds like we best hurry. James says Emma Rae’s progressing pretty fast.”

That was all well and good, but Dr. Fisher didn’t have a hurry-up bone in his body. He still drove the same ambling pace down the road, no matter what the emergency was. Sometimes I fussed at him, but it didn’t do a lick of good. So I bottled up my frustration as he made his way down the dark roads.

By the time we reached the Calhoun place, I could make out the dim edge of dawn outlining the horizon. I’d hoped we were heading to James and Emma Rae’s house, but Dr. Fisher parked the car in front of the big house. Putting aside my discomfort, I followed him up the front steps, across the front porch, and through the open door.

Mr. Calhoun stood just inside holding the door open for us. Our eyes met, and like always, I felt a shiver go down my spine as I saw an older version of Chester looking back at me. It never once failed. In one instant, I’d see his face contort into Chester’s snarl, hear his gravelly voice swearing and threatening, feel the splitting pain in my head. But as quick as I’d see it, I’d close my eyes and turn away from Mr. Calhoun. That had been our greeting for the past four years.

James appeared, and ushered us up the stairs to the bedroom where Emma Rae was being tended to by her mother. Mrs. Calhoun jumped up from her chair beside the bed and pushed a tangled mess of auburn hair away from her face. “Oh, thank the good Lord you’re all here now. Ruby, why don’t you take little Abner and keep him outta the middle of things. Dr. Fisher, I have a fresh pitcher of water and clean rags ready.”

Emma Rae pinched her face up and tried to talk between her labored breaths. “No, Mother…I want…Ruby with me.”

I went to her side with one of the clean rags, dipped it in the pitcher on the bedside table, and gently wiped the sweat from her brow. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

Dr. Fisher’s deep voice carried authority with it. “I’ll be needing Miss Ruby. Why don’t you take the child down to his father?”

I could practically feel Mrs. Calhoun’s icy stare on my back. She called to Abner, and I heard the door close behind me. I smiled down at Emma Rae while Dr. Fisher did a quick exam. She gripped my left hand, while I continued to dab at her forehead with my right. “Just take deep breaths. You can do this.”

She pushed out a string of hard breaths. Then during a short break in the pain, she said, “Will you pray?”

So I called down blessings on her and that little baby. I asked for their protection, for a quick and uneventful delivery. And then I held onto her as she pushed with all her might.

By the time Emma Rae lay sleeping with another baby boy in her arms, the sun was well above the horizon and streaming into the bedroom like it couldn’t wait to greet such a precious creature. I washed up and told Dr. Fisher I’d be sticking around the rest of the day to help Emma Rae and her mother. So he packed away all his supplies and headed back into town.

Since Emma Rae and the baby were asleep, and the men had returned to the fields, I took the opportunity for a quiet walk around the property to give thanks for my answered prayers. Heading across the grass toward the barn, my mind full of thanks and praise, I could hardly contain my joy at my new little nephew. I began singing ‘All Hail the Pow’r of Jesus’s Name,’ lifting my hands as I walked.

As I rounded the side of the barn, I saw James and Mr. Calhoun standing with another man talking, so I quit singing. I was about to turn and head the other direction, when James shifted to one side, and I got a clear view of the third man with them. It was Chester Calhoun.

Before I could catch myself I gasped, but none of them seemed to have heard me. They just kept right on talking while I stood frozen. Fear snatched all my reason away, and I couldn’t think of what to do. If I ran, he’d see me. If I stood still, he’d see me. What if he came after me again? My insides went cold, and goosebumps spread over my whole body. I could hear his voice in my head, dripping with venom.
Look at you. Treating them Negroes like they’s equal to you. Like you don’t know no better.

I had to move. I took one step backward, as slowly as I could. Then another one. I couldn’t turn around ’cause I was sure as soon as I did, he’d be on me, kicking me and beating me over the head. So I took two more steps backward. Then two more. Finally, I was around the corner of the barn, and I let out my breath. I leaned against the side of the barn, bent over, and heaved like I’d just run a mile. My heart beat so loud in my ears I couldn’t hardly think.