The Governor's Sons (7 page)

“Well, it’s a fine business, and unfortunately, quite profitable.
 
People never stop dying, do they?”
 
She smiled.

“Yes, ma’am, but we must accept that death ultimately
is
a part of life.”

Miss Joan laughed a little.
 
“Death a part of life,” she mused.
 
“I guess I never thought about it quite like that.
 
Well, I just wanted to say hello, and compliment your family’s work.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Miss Joan fanned in broad strokes across her face and chest.
 
“I won’t take up any more of your time.
 
I’ll leave you alone so you and Catherine can socialize while you wait for your other guest to arrive.
 
It was nice to meet you, Russell.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kroth.”

“Ash,” Miss Joan said as she strode toward the swinging door, “why don’t you come with me and tell me about your father’s case in court today.”

“I will—in a minute.”

So this was Russell, Ash said to himself, a mummified mortician.
 
Kitty couldn’t marry him!
 
Russell looked like he couldn’t crack a smile, and he seemed half dead!
 
If she did marry him, vivacious as she was, Russell would suck the life out of her just like Bela Lugosi in one of those vampire movies!

That mortician could never love Kitty like he could, Ash thought.
 
Russell didn’t have enough life in him!
 
But Ash could make her happy—despite the sacrifices she’d have to make to be with him.
 
Ash toyed with the idea of legally marrying her up North.

However, with ambitions of being governor, could he have Kitty, too?
 
If Ash did marry her, how could he keep that a secret?
 
Would she be satisfied with only his word, and his honor as a gentleman, that he’d always love her, and never leave her?
 
Love makes a way, Ash decided, so he wouldn’t give up.

“Ash,” Miss Joan called from her parlor.

“I’m coming.
 
I’m just gonna--finish my water.”
 
Ash drained his glass, but didn’t leave right away.
 
Instead he stood glaring at Kitty.
 
She sat at the side of the kitchen table, while Russell sat next to her at the end.
 
The two were engaged in a pleasant conversation.

****

“Miss Joan let me make us some iced tea.
 
Will you have some?”
 
Kitty asked Russell.

“Oh, yes please,” he replied.

As Kitty turned toward the icebox, she found Ash propped against the counter next to it. She hesitated, caught off guard by the way he looked at her.
 
His eyes said she was his and he felt betrayed seeing her with another man.

And the truth was she wanted to be his.
 
She loved Ash, but she wasn’t a fool.
 
What kind of future would she have with him?
 
At least with Russell, she knew stability and security were guaranteed.
 
And she was sure she’d grow to love him.
 
She liked Russell, and enjoyed his company, but Ash moved her in a way she’d never been moved.
 
Although she’d never been with a man physically, she
wanted
Ash that way.
 

Shocked by her own thoughts, Kitty took her eyes from Ash’s and quickly walked to the icebox.
 
She pulled out the tea and took it to the table.
 
Avoiding Ash’s eyes, Kitty again turned in his direction to retrieve two glasses from the cabinet next to him. Once seated, she poured iced tea for Russell, and then for herself.
 
Ash still stood behind her.
 
She could almost feel his eyes boring into her back.
 
She wished he’d leave.
 
But to her dismay, he boldly yanked out the chair next to hers and sat down.

“I suppose ya’ll don’t mind if I join you for a little while.”
 
His tone implied that they had no choice.
 

Ash sat closer to Kitty than necessary.
 
His thigh touched hers and she pulled away.
 
Feeling awkward, Kitty said, “It’s your house.”

“I didn’t know you were leaving work early today,” Ash said to her.

“Your mama’s letting us, even though she needed us to stay until 3:30.
 
She suggested we bring our nice clothes with us, so our dates could pick us up here.
 
Now, sir, do you uh—care for tea?”

“No thanks.
 
So where are y’all going?”

“There’s a young people’s dinner at the church tonight,” Kitty said.

“And afterwards,” Russell added, “there’s going to be a speaker.”

“Hmm--sounds like a big evening for you and--Russell,” Ash said.
 
“So, Betty Jean’s going, too?”

“Yes, Mr. Ash.” Kitty took a sip of tea.
 
“And her beau should be here any minute.”

They heard someone stumble in the small hall off the kitchen near Izolla’s room.
 
“Betty Jean must be ready.”
 
Kitty stood up, relieved to escape.
 
“I told her not to wear those thick glasses, so I better go help her before she falls and kills herself.”
 
Kitty almost tripped as she fled from the kitchen.

She found her sister feeling her way down the hall.
 
“Wait a minute, Betty Jean.
 
You could have called for help, you know.”

“I can find my way.”

“No, you can’t!”
 
Kitty snapped.
 
“You’re blind as a bat!
 
No use crackin’ your head open before we leave.”

“Is something wrong?”
 
Betty Jean whispered as they walked into the kitchen.

Kitty ignored her, then said, “Why, Betty Jean, just look who’s out here, Russell
and
Mr. Ash.”

“Oh…”
 
Betty Jean said quietly.

Upon seeing the ladies, both men stood.
 
“Afternoon, Miss Betty Jean,” Russell said.
 
“You look absolutely divine in that key lime silk chiffon.”
 
Since Russell assisted in the mortuary during the summers, he’d become familiar with the different fabrics and colors used in women’s fashion while preparing female corpses.

“Why, thank you, Russell.” Betty Jean smiled.

“I’ll set you right here, by Mr. Ash.”
 
Kitty helped her sister to the seat she’d vacated moments earlier.
 
“And Russell’s on your other side.”
 
Seeking refuge, Kitty walked to the chair at the opposite end of the table, pulling it about two feet away so she wouldn’t be too close to Ash.

“You do look mighty pretty,” Ash said to Betty Jean.
 
After she’d thanked him, he glanced over at Kitty, then turned back to Betty Jean. “So, Kitty says your beau is going to this church affair, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I didn’t know you were talking to someone.
 
Is he from around here?”

“No.
 
I met him at Maretta U.
 
But he’s Russell’s cousin from Oklahoma.
 
He drove up a few days ago to visit and he’s staying with Russell’s family.”

“Where is he now?” Ash asked.

“He wanted to visit some kinfolk south of here, and this was the only day he could,” Russell said.
 
“He’ll pick us up on his way back, then drive us to church.”

“He’s got his own car, does he?” Ash drummed his fingers on the table, then looked Russell coldly in the eye.
 
“So—he must be doing well for himself.”

“His family has oil--” Kitty started, but Russell interrupted her.

“That’s right, sir, he’s doing all right for himself.”

“And what about you?” Ash’s tone was sharp.

“I reckon I’m doing alright, too, sir.”

“Oh, Russell!” Kitty laughed.
 
“Don’t be so modest.
 
Why, his family owns the biggest and the best Colored mortuary—”

“Catherine.” Russell wore a serious expression as he addressed her. “Why don’t we talk about something else, like Mr. Ash, here.”

“Why can’t we talk about you?”
 
Ash said, with an edge of intimidation.
 
He slung an arm over the back of his chair, then raised his head.
 
“Gonna be a mortician, are you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, you’ll be taking them out the world, while my brother’s bring them into it.
 
He’s an obstetrician.”
 
Ash hesitated.
 
“I could never be a doctor.
 
I can’t stomach the blood.
 
And I know I couldn’t work around a bunch of dead people.”
 

Russell laughed a little, but to Kitty it sounded like he was clearing dust from his throat.
 
“You’d get used to it.”

“Mr. Ash is gonna be a lawyer,” Kitty said.

“So’s Thomas.
 
That’s my beau.” Betty Jean said, smiling at Ash. “He’ll be graduating from Maretta’s law school next year.”

A knock sounded at the back door and Kitty left the table to answer it.
 
It was Thomas.
 
After greeting him, she showed him inside.
 
Ash stood as they approached and Kitty introduced them.

Thomas wore an expensive gray nails head suit.
 
He was about Russell’s height, but broader through the shoulders with a thicker build.
 
His features were handsome, and his hair, wavy and brown.
 
His light complexion was similar to Betty Jean’s.

Kitty offered iced tea, but Thomas declined.
 
“I think we ought to be leaving,” he said.
 
“It’s getting late.”

Russell stood up.
 
“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Why do we need to leave right now?” Betty Jean asked.
 
“We have plenty of time.”

“I insist,” Thomas prodded.
 
“We want to get a good table.”

“But—”

“Betty Jean,” Thomas said firmly, “this is no time to argue.”

“If you say so,” Betty Jean relented.

“I’ll need to get our things from Aunt Izolla’s room.”
 
Kitty disappeared down the small hallway and moments later returned with their handbags, hats, shawls, and gloves, plus a shopping bag containing their day clothes.

The sisters attired themselves as they prepared to leave.

As Thomas and Russell moved toward the door, Ash said, “It was nice meeting y’all.” They nodded in his direction and grumbled their good-byes.

Escorted by their gentlemen callers, Kitty and Betty Jean wished Mr. Ash a good evening as they departed through the back door.

“Have fun,” Ash said half-heartedly.

The door was partially closed for only a few moments before Kitty ran back inside to retrieve two fans.
 
Ash’s back faced her and he didn’t realize she was there.
 
But Kitty was just in time to see him slam his fist into the plaster wall.
 
Quickly grabbing the fans, she slipped out.
 
Ash had never seen her.
 
He was too preoccupied with the pain.

****

Kitty fanned away, sitting in the back seat of Thomas’s large blue Chevrolet.
 
Betty Jean sat next to her, while Russell and Thomas sat up front.
 
All remained silent until Thomas said,
 
  
“Working in a white man’s kitchen--that’s something I’ll never allow a daughter of mine to do.”
 
Driving to the church, he took his eyes from the road and glanced briefly at the girls in the rear view mirror.

“The Kroth’s are decent people.” Kitty defended them.

“Well, I wanted to get out of that cracker’s house fast,” Thomas said.
 
“Just what was that white boy doin’ in the kitchen with a bunch of nigguhs, anyway, spyin’ on y’all?”

Betty Jean crossed her legs.
 
“Mr. Ash is a gentleman.”

“That’s right,” Kitty said.
 
“Mr. Ash, Mr. Heath, and their daddy, Mr. Louis—all three of them are gentlemen.”

“And just as sweet as pie.” Betty Jean smiled.
 
“Not a week goes by that Mr. Louis doesn’t give us flowers.”

Kitty nodded.
 
“And they’re as respectful as can be.
 
They always say please and thank you.
 
They don’t treat us like we’re nothing,”

Russell glanced out the window.
 
“We’re nothing to all white folks.”

“But not to them!” Kitty said.
 
“Our daddy didn’t want us working in a white man’s kitchen either, but Mama’s aunt’s been working there for years.
 
She’s the one that told us Mrs. Kroth would pay good money if we worked for her this summer.
 
And Aunt Izolla speaks highly of the whole family.
 
She’s the one who convinced Daddy that it would be alright for us to work there, and—”