No Crystal Stair (24 page)

But as she watched Marcia retreat down the walk, she felt a twinge of guilt. Was she protecting Maggie or herself? For a moment she felt a longing so intense it startled her. A longing for the cozy segregated would of Atlanta's West Side with home and school and friends, the bustling colored business world of Auburn Avenue. A longing for the quiet uncomplicated life she'd known.

She remembered that night, twenty years ago, in the little Rockefeller Hall Theater, when she'd looked in the serious face of a white boy with red hair and thought.
We're doing all right without your help.
She'd been so happy. She
was
happy. She had a good life. Now people like Marcia Wheeling were trying to force her out of it.

And Rob. Rob was on her side. He had no right to go behind her back and appeal to the NAACP and that woman!

R
ob turned into his driveway, pressed the switch and watched the garage door open. Neat. He chuckled as he pulled his car in beside Ann Elizabeth's station wagon. Hadn't even had a garage in Sacramento. Had to tear down that old shack.

He entered the house from the garage and went in search of Ann Elizabeth. He found her in the kitchen, her back to him, reaching for something in one of the top cabinets. He watched for a moment, enjoying the sight of her figure in lavender stretch pants, as she stood on tiptoe straining to grasp whatever eluded her groping fingers. He laughed and strode across the floor. “I'm here, honey. I'll get it for you,” he said, his arms encircling her, lips nuzzling the back of her neck.

She swung around, shoving him away. “Don't you touch me, Robert Metcalf! Not after what you've done.”

“What... what did I do?” he asked, stunned.

“You know what you did. You blabbed about our personal affairs to perfect strangers.”

“What ... who?”

“Oh, just everybody at the NAACP and that white women do-gooder, and anybody else who'll listen. And sneaked behind my back to do it!”

“That's not true. I didn't—”

“I suppose you didn't go to the NAACP meeting and—”

“No, I didn't! Now, hold on, wait a minute and listen! Otis was at the poker game at Allen's a couple of weeks ago and asked me how we were getting along out here and—”

“And I suppose you didn't meet with a woman named Marcia Wheeling.”

“Well, yes, I did. But—”

“A meeting you neglected to mention to me!”

“Because you blow up any time I say school! And yes, I'm glad I talked to her. Marcia Wheeling has had experience with this kind of thing and—”

“Knows all about forcing kids into hostile environments!”

“Goddamn it, Ann Elizabeth! You act like school integration is a crime!”

“As far as I'm concerned, it is! And I'm not going to change my mind about Maggie. So you can just tell you friends to stop bothering me!”

“My friends? What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about Marcia Wheeling. She came to see me today. And take that surprised look off your face. You know you sent her!”

“No, I didn't. I swear—”

“Then why did she come?”

“Honey, that's not surprising. She's been working hard to implement the school-integration law. You'd be astonished at what she's accomplished.”

“I know all about what she's done. And believe me, nobody's going to use my Maggie as a guinea pig.”

Rob sighed. “Ann Elizabeth, listen. You can win all the decisions, get all the rulings and court orders you like. But it's not going to mean a damn thing if somebody—”

“Not Maggie!”

“Look at it this way. Nobody's going to hand you your rights on a silver platter. You have to walk two blocks to get them.”

“You keep talking about rights! I'm talking about hopscotch and jump rope and... and ...” her voice broke. “And sharing peanut-butter sandwiches.”

He pulled her into his arms. “I know, I know. You want Maggie to be happy.”

“Yes, like I was,” she said through muffled sobs, her face buried against his chest.

He cradled her in his arms, knowing how she felt. Christ, he wanted Maggie happy, too. And he wanted Ann Elizabeth happy. She was his life.

He picked her up and carried her to their bed. The outside world with its tensions and terrors was shut away. The setting sun filtered through the long sheer curtains that enclosed their world. With infinite tenderness and burning passion, he showed her how much he loved her.

But during the following weeks the outside world did not disappear. The problem remained, grew worse, tearing them apart. He didn't want it that way. He needed her on his side. Especially now, when he wasn't sure himself.

A little bit at a time, the old Jewish doctor had said. That meant you had to fight it a little bit at a time, too. But with your child? He didn't confess, even to Ann Elizabeth, that he was glad Bobby was in Atlanta, away from the furor. Julia Belle was right. Bobby was Randy all over again, laughing at life with that teasing grin, liking everybody. Rob didn't want that grin wiped away.
I'm glad he's there.

But Maggie? Maggie's here. Next to Ann Elizabeth, Maggie was the joy of Rob's life. She was more excitable than Bobby, a joyous jubilant child.

“Daddy, read me a story.” She curled up in his lap and pointed. “There's a c, there's an
a
and a
t.
That spells cat. See? I know my letters and I can read some words.”

“You sure can, baby.”

“How many more days?”

“Well, let's see. About forty, I think.”

“That's a long time”

“No. Not too long.” Not long enough.

“When I go to real school, I'll learn more words. Then I can read to you. Would you like that?”

“I'd like it very much.” And I'd like it if all you had to learn were letters and words. Wasn't that enough for a six-year-old?

“Ann Elizabeth,” he said later, “I do understand how you feel.”

“Then why do you fight me?”

Why, indeed? Because he couldn't help it. Something was pushing him. Something about rights. Something about dues paid—taxes, military service, good citizenship. He would not be cheated. He would not let Maggie be cheated.

The Supreme Court decision hadn't come as one big momentous event. It had come a step at a time, school after school, case after case, child after child. It wasn't fair, but if that was the way it had to be, then that was the way it
would
be. And he had to be a part of it. Maggie, too.

He wished Ann Elizabeth understood his point of view. She didn't. The chasm between them deepened. The dimple at the corner of her mouth appeared only with the tightening of her lips. The sunny smile was gone, only surfacing when she talked with Maggie.

He missed her cheerful chatter, her smile. Her. She went moodily about the house, keeping it in perfect order. He was beginning to wish they'd never bought the place. Often when he returned in the evening, it was silent and empty.

He couldn't blame Ann Elizabeth for escaping. For taking Maggie across town, where there was laughter and friendship. But he couldn't help feeling, too, that if she stayed home more, if people got to know her... How could anyone not like Ann Elizabeth?

“If you spent more time at home,” he suggested, “Maggie might find friends here.”

“Who, for instance? Those kids across the street? They stare, but they never speak or come over.”

“Does Maggie ever go over there?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not. Of course not,” he mimicked. “Why not?”

“I'll not have her traipsing over to be called names by bigoted brats!”

“You don't know how they'd receive her. Maybe if you got to know their mothers, made some gesture, they'd—”

“Make some gestures in return? They've made their gestures. Which reminds me—what do you plan to do about that unsightly cross in the middle of our lawn?”

“Oh, for God's sake, I'll take care of it!” Damn it, He had enough to take care of. All hell breaking loose at work, which was the reason Marks had sent for him in the first place, and he couldn't concentrate on it because of the school thing. If Ann Elizabeth would only... “Why do you have to be so standoffish? You go around with your nose in the air. Why don't you try—”

“To win friends and influence people? Among this group of godforsaken hypocrites?”

“Ann Elizabeth, they're people just like everybody else.”

“I don't need them. I have my own friends.”

“You know your problem? You're a snob!”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are. It's the damn Julia Belle Washington Carter pride. If people don't count it a privilege to know you, if they don't cater to you—”

“Cater? On, no. I just want them to refrain from throwing eggs on my porch and burning crosses on my lawn.”

“Ann Elizabeth, there haven't been any more incidents since the first week we moved in.”

“But there will be if we take our daughter to their precious school.”

“Not if they get to know you first.”

“They don't need to know me. I know me. I'm Ann Elizabeth Carter.”

“Oh yeah, girl from the golden ghetto in Atlanta, Georgia.”

“That's right!” she snapped. “And I wish I was there now.”

“You had the choice. You could have married that pale-faced doctor like your mother wanted you to.”

“I wish to God I had!”

That was the night she moved out of their bedroom. She retreated to the sanctuary of Maggie's bed, where he couldn't follow. Maggie had asked if Mommy was mad at Daddy, but Ann Elizabeth had merely said, “Oh, no. I just want to be with you.” At least the child would be protected from these anxieties and quarrels. A storm might be raging all around her, but Maggie must not know.

No way to reach Ann Elizabeth through the stony silence, broken only at meal times by gay trivial chatter for Maggie's sake. If Ann Elizabeth was even there. Almost every day she and Maggie were at the Slaters'or with other colored friends across town. The new modern house he'd so triumphantly purchased for his family now mocked him. Was it worth it?

He was frightened. She had said nothing, but he feared she might leave him. Go back to Atlanta. To that doctor Julia Belle had never stopped talking about. “Oh yes, he's still single and back in Atlanta on the staff of that new hospital for private Negro patients. You should see it, Ann Elizabeth. Fabulous, with the latest equipment. Spalding, the tennis-shoe magnet, donated the money for it. Full name is Hughes Spalding Pavilion of Grady Memorial Hospital,” she'd said importantly. “It's a teaching hospital, under the auspices of Emory University, so Dan's also on the university staff.” Integration, elitist style, Rob thought. Quiet, dignified. Nothing like the hell we're going through!

Their problem was compounded by publicity. He had done as suggested at one of the private meetings. He had spoken with
the principal of the school and Maggie's prospective teacher. The first-grade teacher, a Miss Agnew, was quite a person. Young, friendly, attractive. Of course she'd be delighted to have Maggie, she'd told him, and would do everything she could to make her happy and comfortable. She was sure things would work, out.

The principal was a mealy-mouthed hesitant sort. “Well, yes, Mr. Metcalf, we will abide by the law, but I'm not sure the public is ready for this. Do you think it's quite the time?”

Damn right, it's the time! Rob was even more determined when a group of parents, probably encouraged by the principal, appealed to the school board, requesting a delay. The school board, bless them, had stuck by the law.

He couldn't let the school board down. Nor the NAACP. Nor the Supreme Court. Nor himself. Nor Maggie. There was no turning back.

He missed Ann Elizabeth. He needed her, needed the strength of her support, her bright smile, the warmth of her body next to his. He had never felt so alone in his life. Even POW camp hadn't been this bad, he reflected as he sat in the kitchen, munching a roast-beef sandwich and staring out the window at the rain.

He'd always liked rain, but now found it depressing. It wouldn't be raining in California this early in August. He wished to hell they were still in California. He and Ann Elizabeth had had some spats there. But nothing like this.

When he pulled out of the driveway, he noticed how fresh and green his lawn looked with the rain pelting down on it. Except for that brown spot in the shape of a cross. He would have to do something about that.

He didn't want to go to the NAACP meeting tonight. What good were all the meetings? In the end, it would just be him and Maggie alone. If Ann Elizabeth didn't take her away, he thought glumly.

“We'll meet at Marcia's,” Otis had said. “There're some things we need to talk over.”

Well, it looked as if Otis, Marcia and a couple of other guys were all the support he had. He'd better show up at the meeting.

Marcia's place was on the outskirts of the city. The country, really, where the city hadn't encroached on farmland yet. It was dark when he parked his car in the driveway and made a run for the front door. Even in the dark and the rain, he could tell there had been some refurbishing of the old house. The shutters had been replaced and he could smell fresh paint. Looked as if Marcia, who'd apparently returned to her old home after a divorce, planned to make her residence permanent. Alone in this big house?

Well, it had probably been in her family since the time it was a plantation and Negro slaves were out picking cotton for her great-granddaddy. Otis said most of her land was now leased to a colored farmer who was doing quite well for Marcia and himself. Rob smiled, wondering what her great-granddaddy thought about that. He was probably turning over in his grave at the idea of this meeting. But Marcia was a rebel. So intense, and more dedicated than the rest of them. You almost forgot she was white.

Besides Marcia and himself, there were only four at the meeting. Otis, his wife, Cecilia, Jack Warren and another man Rob hadn't met.

“Reverend Williams is the pastor of the Abyssinian Baptist Church,” Jack Warren explained. “He's brought out a very significant point. One we'd like to discuss with you.”

Rob smiled as he greeted the old man, who appeared to be in his sixties. He wore a dark business suit, but his hands were gnarled and rough, as if accustomed to hard work.

“Most of his parishioners lived in Innsfield, an area that borders the Lansberg tract,”Jack said.

Rob nodded. He passed the area every day when he went to work. A squatters' community, a mix of makeshift houses and motor homes. Negroes who had come from the farms to work at the airfield had hewn out a community for themselves.