No Crystal Stair (25 page)

Even before they finished speaking, Rob knew what was coming. Why not include some of the Innsfield kids in the integration move?

My God, another Little Rock? No, he didn't want that.

Strangely enough, it was Marcia who supported his stand, “I'm thinking of Mrs. Metcalf,” she said, “who, you know, is reluctant in the first place. I've assured her that the entrance of one little girl will not cause the furor that bringing in several would.”

She managed to convince the rest of the group, and Rob was grateful. After the meeting he remained to tell her so.

“Thank you, Marcia,” he said when she'd closed the door behind the others, “for understanding how difficult this is for my wife, and... well, just thanks. You have compassion, as well as dedication.”

“Not compassion. Strategy. It's easier to break through with just one child who lives in the district than to ... Oh, enough talk! You look bushed. Sit down and let me get you a cup of coffee.”

He sat back on the sofa. He was bushed. Weary of the whole damn thing.

“This is difficult for you, too, isn't it?” she said as she handed him a mug of coffee.

“It sure is.” He took a swallow, set the mug on the table, sighed. “I'm not sure it's right to force my—”

“Now wait a minute! Don't you back out on me!” She put her mug on the table and sat beside him. “There's nothing, no progress at all, without people like you who are willing to take risks.”

He thought about that. Had he taken risks? He grinned and said, “Mostly it's just been pounding on doors, trying to get in long enough to eke out a living, take care of my family.”

“Well, it seems you've done some pretty good eking. And, look, it's like I told your wife—every step you make is a step for your race. And when your child walks into that school...” She talked on as if he and Maggie were examples for the whole Negro race. It shouldn't be like that and he didn't want the burden. He studied the women beside him, sparkling with zeal and determination.

“Why do you do it?” he asked.

“Huh?” She picked up her mug and drank some of her coffee.

“Okay, so what I do is for me, my family, or my race. But you—why are you knocking yourself out trying to open doors?”

She smiled, but there was a sadness reflected in the eyes that were looking at him but seeing something a long way off. She put her mug back down on the table. “Would you believe,” she finally said, “That it started when I was about your Maggie's age?” She didn't notice that he hadn't answered, but went on talking as if to herself. “A circus came to town and my daddy took me down to see the parade. There was a clown on one of the wagons. He was joking and handing out candy to all the kids, and my dad went rushing up to get a sucker for me. But in front of us was an old colored man. He had a little girl, must have been his granddaughter. He pulled her along and got to the wagon just before we did. He reached up for a piece of candy for her. And that clown, that stupid ugly painted clown ... he spat in the old man's face. The old man just dropped his hand and stared. But I could see tears in his eyes and the little girl kept asking, ‘Did you get it, Gramps? Did you get the candy?'”

Marcia took a deep breath and when she spoke again, there was a sob in her voice. “My daddy handed me a sucker and I started to run after them. I wanted to give it to the little girl,
you see. But the old man was hurrying her though the crowd and my dad was holding my hand. I couldn't catch them. I didn't enjoy the circus. I kept looking around to see if I could find that little girl. But I didn't see any colored folks at all. Everybody laughed when the clown came out. But I didn't. I hated him.” She picked up her mug again, holding it with both hands, as though its warmth gave her comfort. “That day haunts me. It haunts me every time I see the differences between white and colored schools. I can't help it—I get so mad!”

“Yes, I—”

“At everybody! At those self-righteous bigots who are fighting us every step on the way. The sanctimonious do-gooders who tell us to go slow. And yes, all the Negroes who try to pretend everything's jim-dandy if they just don't make any waves. It... It's like I'm giving a big party and nobody wants to come.” She laughed, but he saw the pain in her face, saw a little blond girl holding out a piece of candy to a little black girl who wasn't there.

And he saw a warm loving compassionate woman. An attractive woman with expressive green eyes that could dance with zeal... or cry. Why had her husband let her go? Or was it the other way around? Suddenly he had to know.

“Your husband, Marcia? Did he object to you... this cause of yours?”

“Ken? Oh, no. He was definitely in favor. Felt the same as I do. Still does, I guess. He's a psychologist, and he testified for some of the colored plaintiffs in the integration suits.”

“Oh? I didn't know that.”

“People got the idea he resented my activities. But he was all for it.”

“Then why did you—?”

“Divorce him? Because he's a bastard!” the coffee mug flew from her hand and crashed against the stone fireplace. The green eyes brimmed with tears. “Do you know what it's like to live with a bastard? To watch him chase one woman after
another? And try to put up with it? Ignore it? Because you love him.”

“Marcia, don't!”

“To lie awake at three in the morning, listening for his car? To wish... ? To wait ... ?”The tears were falling freely now.

“Don't do this to yourself. It's over now.”

“Do you know why I left him, Rob?”

He shook his head, wishing he could say something. Wishing he hadn't started it.

“I left him because I couldn't stand
me.
Loving, wanting that cheating bastard! It's no good, you know. I still want him.” She put a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the choking sobs.

He took her in his arms. This vibrant lovely woman, as needful as he was ...

September 1958

 

S
eptember came too soon. The air was heavy with it, a nostalgic reminder of all the Septembers of Ann Elizabeth's life. May smelled like apple blossoms. December smelled of pine needles and peppermint candy. But September smelled like a tin lunch box with an apple in it. The aroma engulfed her, filled her nostrils, and tightened the band of fear around her heart.

Memories of happy childhood stirred within her, at odds with hatred. The hatred embraced them all. The NAACP, the Supreme Court, Rob. Yes, even the delightful anticipation in Maggie's big brown eyes. And that wasn't fair. When it was September and you were six years old and the beginning of school was only three days away, you had a right to be excited.

“I'm going to go to school on Tuesday. Did you know I'm going to school on Tuesday?” That was Maggie, outside, her voice floating like September through the open window. At first I thought the pink one. But then I thought maybe that one with lots of red. On account of Daddy likes red. Do you like red?”

“Yes, I do, Maggie. I think red is very pretty.”That was Mrs. Levin. Ann Elizabeth often warned Maggie not to bother her, but Maggie just as often forgot.

“I like pink. But daddy says red is a brave bold color. Not wishy-washy like pink.”

“Okay, so I'm wishy-washy.
Ann Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn't want to leave Rob. She had delayed hoping Rob would change his mind. But now... She
swallowed again, thinking of the two plane tickets in her purse. Maggie didn't know it, but she wouldn't be here on Tuesday.

“You wanna know which dress I decided?”

“Indeed I do. Which?” Mrs. Levin's voice was light and cheery. But Ann Elizabeth could imagine the question in the piercing blue eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles. Where are you going to school?

“The green one. On account of it has a real leather belt. The red one is pretty, but it has a sash like babies wear. I wouldn't want to wear a sash the very first day, would you?”

“No. I think I'd choose the green,” Mrs. Levin said. “My my! Such a big day for such a little girl!”

Abruptly Ann Elizabeth shut the window. She couldn't stand it. It
was
a big day for a little girl. And she was not going to have it spoiled. The perfect case, Marcia Wheeling had said. But Maggie wasn't a case. She was an adorable child with thick black braids, fun in her eyes and a dimple in her chin. She liked licorice and raw carrots and Huckleberry Hound and people. Especially people.

If only Rob would see it her way. But he was so stubborn. And now... so detached. Her fault maybe. Moving out of their bedroom. But he'd made her so mad that day. And once out, there seemed no graceful way to move back in.

Especially when he'd stopped pleading. No more arguments, just polite stilted conversations more deadly than the long silences. She didn't like living like this. And she didn't want to leave Rob. She would try one more time to convince him. Tonight.

She didn't think he'd change his mind. Numbly she went about doing what had to be done. She packed, set their suitcases in the back of the closet, washed Maggie's hair.

Rob was late. Probably went from work to one of those meetings. She and Maggie ate their dinner, watched television. She put Maggie to bed.

Ann Elizabeth paced the floor, waiting for Rob. She would do her best to convince him. She had to.

At eleven o'clock the doorbell rang, startling her. Rob had his key. Who could it be this late? She flicked on the porch light and looked through the peephole.

“It's me, Ann Elizabeth. Otis Pitts.”

She opened the door, started to explain. “Rob's not here—”

“Yes, I know.” Something in his tone frightened her. “Now look, don't get excited. Everything is all right. But... there's been an ... accident.”

“Rob?” Her heart stood still.

“Well... not exactly an accident. He's going to be all right. He's at the hospital. I came for you. Cecilia can stay with Maggie.”

Ann Elizabeth turned her confused gaze to Otis's wife, for the first time noticing that she was with him. Cecilia put both arms around her. “Now you mustn't worry, Ann Elizabeth. It's not too bad. But you'll see for yourself. Go on with Otis and don't worry about Maggie. I'll be here.”

On the way to the hospital, Otis told her what had happened. A gang of men had apparently forced Rob's car to the curb, dragged him out and beaten him. “Thank God a passing motorist witnessed it.” Otis said, “And had the good sense to get to the nearest phone and report it.” By the time the police got there, the men were gone. “They found Rob lying in the gutter behind his car and took him to the hospital.”

Stark terror gripped her. Rob, lying helpless, unable to move. “If he couldn't even...”

Otis's hand covered hers. “He'll be okay. He's been pretty badly knocked about, but no knife or club marks and no guns. I think they just wanted to scare him.”

She shivered. “On account of the school thing.”

“That's what the police think. What Rob thinks, too. He asked them to call me. Didn't want you coming down alone. He
was so worried about you, Ann Elizabeth. When I got there, the sedative hadn't quite taken effect, and he gave me a message for you. Said to tell you that you were right.”

Rob, hurt and bleeding, thinking of her. She wanted to take back the ugly words, erase the empty weeks. On the ride over in Otis'car, she stared out at the dark streets.

Jennie Lou and Allen Slater were at the hospital, and General Marks, Rob's boss, and Joe Tillman and Marcia Wheeling. Marcia was crying. That frightened Ann Elizabeth.

They gathered around to assure her that Rob was going to be fine. Some pretty bad bruises, a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder. They were lucky. His injuries could have been a lot worse.

It was a long time before she believed that he
would
be all right.

It was longer still before her fear for him was replaced by hard cold anger. At men who roamed dark streets and brutally assaulted one lone man. Who thought
their
rights were the only rights.

With anger came determination.

They didn't expect it of her. “Of course you can't take Maggie to the school now. We didn't anticipate this kind of violence. But now ... no. Too dangerous.”

“I
will
go,” Ann Elizabeth said. “We'll be at that school on Tuesday morning.”

Marcia stared at her in surprise. “Don't be foolhardy. Rob wouldn't want you to go. Not now.”

“I think that was what he meant to tell you, Ann Elizabeth,” Otis said. “He kept saying ‘tell her she's right.'”

“We can wait,” Marcia said. “We'll have another chance.”

But Ann Elizabeth wasn't listening. More than a school was at stake. She knelt by Rob's bed. He looked so defenseless. Gingerly she touched the bruise over his left eye. He winced in his sleep. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but his
shoulder was swathed in bandages, and there was a cast on his arm. She touched his lips lightly with her own.

“I won't let you down,” she whispered. He couldn't hear, but she had to tell him anyway. He'd had a long journey—countless missions in a bloody overseas war, A German prison camp, the battle for jobs and dignity at home, a dark street in Virginia. “I won't let you down,” she whispered. “Not when our rights are just two blocks away.”

When they couldn't talk her out of it, they offered to come with her.

She said she'd go alone. Her mother had once told her, “Sometimes it's better for a woman alone.”

 

 

She didn't tell Maggie that Daddy was in the hospital, only that he'd gone away for a few days—as he often did.

Tuesday morning it was almost as if she got Maggie ready too quickly. The last scrap of egg had disappeared from the plate, the teeth were brushed, the thick braids smooth and tied at the ends with crisp green ribbons. Nothing to do but buckle the green leather belt.

“Maggie,” she said as she knelt before her, “Mommy wants to tell you something.”Tell her what? That the children might not be friendly? That grown-ups might stand by and sneer? That somebody might throw a rock? What could you tell a six-year-old girl who was eager and happy about her first day of school? The light in those big brown eyes almost blinded her.

“What, Mommy?”

“That you look very pretty. Like a very big girl. And I love you. Daddy and I are proud of you.”

Then there was nothing more to do. She opened the door, took Maggie's hand and started the two-block walk. Like going the last mile.

“Hello,” called a cheery voice. “So the big day begins!”

“Hello, Mrs. Levin,” Maggie said. “Do you like my dress?”

“I do. It's just right for the first day of school.”

“That's what I thought,” Maggie smiled proudly.

“I'm on my way to market,” Mrs. Levin said. “You don't mind if I walk along with you, do you?”

Ann Elizabeth's heart flooded over. Mrs. Levin never walked to market, and it was too early, anyway.

“Thought I'd like to see my girl start her big day.”Mrs. Levin's arthritic fingers gripped Maggie's other hand.

Ann Elizabeth couldn't speak around the lump in her throat. It was as if she and Maggie and Mrs. Levin, and nine robed judges and a million other Americans were walking together.