Embracing Darkness (32 page)

“Zachary!” Father Poole shouted, and then quickly composed himself. “Please don’t say that unless it’s in a prayer.” It was the first time he’d ever yelled at a child. Zachary lowered his head. The priest sighed and sat down on the bed next to Zachary.

“You had us worried sick. You could have let us know that you had Jessica when we were calling from downstairs.”

Zachary’s demeanor turned cold and expressionless again. “I told you I was havin’ fun with the baby. And I didn’t hear y’all hollerin’. So if I’m not supposed to have no fun around here, then just tell me, Father, and that way I won’t break no more of your rules.” Zachary touched the bloody bandage that covered his nose and winced as he felt a sharp pain followed by a trickle of blood escaping one of his nostrils.

“I’m sorry, Zachary,” replied the solicitous priest. “I guess that I overreacted. We were worried about Jessica, and, well, I’m just glad you were watching her for us. Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her, Father.” said Zachary as he licked the blood off his finger that he’d collected from his nose. “Shucks, I like little girls.”

Father Poole made his way over to the Benson house. As he entered, Sister Ignatius was standing by the threshold leading to the living room. Jonas had already fallen asleep upright on the sofa. “Now Sister,” the priest began, “regarding this new boy, he really is a remarkable child. His name is Jonas Hod… .”

But Sister Ignatius cut him off before he could continue. “Yes, Father Poole, but as I’ve just explained to Mr. Nichols here, you apparently have forgotten one little detail about this child.” She drew closer to the priest and whispered, “You forgot to tell me that he’s
a
Negro.
”

“Sister,” Phineas began, adopting a rather forceful tone. “My job is to see to the welfare of these children. And I will not choose which ones to help based on the color of their skin. Furthermore… .”

Again the nun interrupted, this time taking hold of Father Poole’s arm and pulling him close to her. She no longer smelled of glue. “The boy’s race
is
a problem, Father Poole. And do you know why? Because black is not as easy to hide as white! I mean, how easy would it be for us clandestinely to house and feed a teenage boy or a female toddler? Not too difficult if they both look like us. If someone asked, we could say that Zachary is from a nearby parish and has come to assist in the Mass as an altar boy every so often. They needn’t know he’s an abandoned child living here. People don’t gossip about things like that, but they will about a black child without parents. A Negro child is missing in town, and we just happen to have one staying here with us. That gossip will spread like wildfire. And before we know it, the authorities will be knocking on your church door, and we’ll wind up losing
all
the children.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, what do we say about Jessica?” asked Father Poole.

“I’ve already thought of that. Until she’s older, no one will see her. She’ll stay in the house during Sunday Mass. We’ll have Argyle Hobbs watch her. She’s fond of him. No one will know she’s here.”

There were so many questions and not a lot of time in which to answer them. Father Poole scratched his forehead near where his hairline had started to recede. “Sister, if we can make an excuse for Zachary, then certainly we can do the same for Jonas. We’ll say he’s also come to assist in the Masses.”

“Really? And I suppose we can just show him off like a brand-new black china doll? Father, you know it’s not as simple as that.”

“Then during Mass we can have him stay with Argyle Hobbs and Jessica inside Benson’s house.”

Sister Ignatius began to pace back and forth slowly, pondering other foreseeable problems if they were to keep Jonas. “Ah ha!” she exclaimed. “What about money? How do you propose we’re going to feed and clothe all these children? This is a poor parish. You’ve already spent the last two years writing in vain to Archbishop Rivers, asking him for a raise in our allowance. He’s turned you down every time, citing cutbacks. The last bishop wouldn’t give you an extra cent either. What’s more, now with the trouble brewing in the stock market, I see dark skies ahead for all of us. 1929 just isn’t the year to turn into Santa Claus, Father.”

Just then Arthur Nichols stuck his head into the hallway. He looked exhausted. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Father. Excuse me, Sister. We really should get this boy to bed. He’s had a hard last few hours.”

The two members of the clergy locked eyes. Father Poole’s expression seemed to say,
Are
you
going
to
yield
on
this,
Sister?
Then the priest motioned to the spare room upstairs. Sister Ignatius had all but taken over Ben Benson’s bedroom for the time being to watch over Jessica, and the child stayed in her grandfather’s old room.

Sister Ignatius poked her hands into the pockets of her sweater vest. Jonas’s potential accommodations were first and foremost in her mind. “Alright, Father,” she said, sounding as though she’d given up. “Against my better judgment we’ll add this boy to the list of new tenants in our parish.”

Father Poole’s face brightened, and he approached her with extended arms, only to be repulsed when Sister Ignatius put her palms up to Phineas.

“Don’t mention it, Father. After all, according to you, we have room for the whole town up here. We may as well start a kindergarten. What do you say?”

Father Poole ignored the Sister’s sarcasm.

With everything nearly settled, Arthur Nichols went into the living room to awaken Jonas Hodges. Sister Ignatius began walking up the stairs to check on Jessica, since it was Mr. Nichols and not she who had tucked the child into bed. She wanted to make sure that the child had been put to bed correctly for the night.

Halfway up the stairs the nun stopped, turned around, and said softly, “But he stays with
you
in the rectory, Father. After all, we can’t have that boy sharing a roof with two females. As covert as our plan is, Father Poole, we must continue to maintain our dignity, mustn’t we?”

This posed a problem for Father Poole. Besides his own, there was only one extra bed, and it occupied only one room. That bed and that room had been given to Zachary Black. Formerly it had belonged to Argyle Hobbs, who would often stay up on the hill until late at night and, due to his failing eyesight and gimpy leg, didn’t like walking down the hill in the dark. So Father Poole two years earlier had invested in a bed and mattress for the groundskeeper.

Father Poole wanted Jonas to feel as at home as possible, and allowing him something as ordinary as a bed in which to sleep was a decent way to start. At the same time he sensed that throwing the boys together in the same room might cause friction and resentment between the two of them, or at least on the part of Zachary.

“I was half hoping,” he began, “that you’d see fit to lift your ban on sleeping arrangements and let the boy sleep in the spare room upstairs. That is, until I can procure him a proper bed.”

Sister Ignatius walked back down the stairs and stopped on the last step. She lifted her hands to the back of her head and began pulling out the bobby pins that were holding her cap in place.

“What’s wrong with the couch in the common room?” she asked. “It’s big enough for the boy.”

“Oh, come now, Sister!” Father Poole snapped. “That sofa is tiny, and the fabric pinches. Even with bedclothes covering it, it would be too uncomfortable for Jonas to sleep on.”

Rolling her eyes, the nun continued pulling out the pins from her hair. She took out the final one and removed her cap. “Father Poole, I don’t feel like continuing this conversation just now. I would like to retire for the night. If you’re so concerned for the boy’s comfort, why not give him
your
room? You then could sleep on the couch in the common room.”

Father Poole grunted.

Feeling the need to respond, Sister Ignatius added, “Then put him in Zachary’s bed.”

“With Zachary?”

“No, with Napoleon Bonaparte. Certainly with Zachary! We are caring for them now, and they have to do as we say. Besides, it will be only a temporary arrangement. I’m sure it will be fine for the time being. Now good night, Father.”

She ascended the staircase once again, went into Jessica’s room, and closed the door. Arthur Nichols, standing at the threshold of the living room and all but holding up Jonas, who was now asleep on his feet, appeared to be on the verge of collapsing himself.

“Here, Arthur,” Father Poole said. “Let’s get this boy to his room.”

“You plan on moving him in with Zachary?” asked Nichols.

“I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Father.”

The two men left the Benson house and walked through the grassy clearing that separated Ben’s home from the rectory. By the time they were halfway to the rectory, Jonas had fully awakened, thanks to the crisp autumn air. The wind had kicked up, and the sky had grown overcast with dark clouds.

They made their way into the rectory and up the stairs. Father Poole had begged Arthur Nichols to either retire to his home or stay the night, but Nichols reminded the priest that he had no choice but to go home since there was no spare bed for him in the rectory.

They heard a clanking sound coming from Zachary’s bedroom when they arrived at the top of the stairs. His door was closed, and it seemed as though he were talking to someone. Father Poole went to the door and knocked gently.

“Zachary?” called Father Poole politely.

As he knocked, the clanking grew louder and more panicky; then the talking ceased immediately. Phineas knocked again.

“Zachary, is everything alright in there?”

“Yeah, Father,” answered Zachary. “I’m good. Everything’s good. I like my room. Thank you.”

The boy’s voice was shaky, and Father Poole picked up on it right away. “Zachary, please open the door.” Father Poole sounded more insistent now, although the tone of his voice was still kind.

After a deafening silence of about twenty seconds, Father Poole raised his fist to knock on the door again, this time with more strength, but Zachary unexpectedly swung the door open. His eyes immediately leaped to Jonas Hodges who, although beside Arthur Nichols, felt as though now just he and Zachary Black were standing face to face.

Zachary’s mouth curled, and his yellow eyes narrowed. He began breathing heavily and clenched his jaw.

“Zachary,” said Father Poole. “This is Jonas, your new roommate.”

SEVENTEEN
True Colors Shine Through
 

A cold rain began to beat on the bedroom’s window. There was a brief silence. The introduction of Jonas Hodges to Zachary Black had left all those concerned in an almost catatonic state. As the rain increased, its assault on the window grew ever louder. Jonas became unnerved by the sound.

He walked in, lowered his head immediately while passing Zachary, and stopped in the middle of the room. He faced the window, keeping his back to everyone. Zachary’s grimace was too pronounced to be ignored.

“What the… ?” Zachary said, his eyes locked on Jonas. All at once every prejudice within the boy’s soul manifested itself. “AIN’T NO WAY IN HELL,” he declared, “I’M GONNA BE BEDDIN’ WITH NO NIGGER!”

Father Poole’s smile faded rapidly. He approached Zachary, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and said as sternly as anyone had ever heard him speak, “You will behave yourself, Master Black! Is that clear?”

Zachary shot a quick glance at Father Poole. As his yellow eyes met Father Poole’s, which were blue and tranquil, a feeling of disquiet came over the priest, who sensed a great deal of hatred and hostility in the boy. Phineas decided it would be better not to scold Zachary in front of Arthur Nichols and Jonas.

Father Poole slowly released Zachary’s collar and smoothed out the creases he had caused. He then put his hand on the crown of Zachary’s head and messed his hair playfully. “I think we’re all just a little tired,” he said. “What with your just getting settled in and all, and the fact that I promised you were going to have your own room. I know it’s a lot to digest all at once.”

The priest then walked toward Jonas, whose back still was turned to the three of them. His head hung so low that his chin was buried in his throat. Father Poole put his hands on Jonas’s shoulders and began to rub them.

“This is the only room in the rectory that has an extra bed,” he said. “It’s more than large enough to accommodate the two of you. After all, it will only be for a couple of days until I can get my hands on another bed. Then you two will have your own rooms! But I doubt by then you’ll want to switch, since I’m sure you’ll be great friends by then. Right, Mr. Nichols?”

The old schoolmaster had no words with which to respond.

Father Poole took Jonas’s hand in his own and led him over to the right side of the bed. He put a hand on the nape of the boy’s neck and urged him to sit down. The boy did so.

Zachary’s eyes widened again. “I SAID IT BEFORE, PREACHER, AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN SO YOU KNOW I’M SERIOUS! I AIN’T SLEEPIN’ WITH NO… .” He stopped when he observed the sternness of Father Poole’s brow. In a voice that no longer sounded quite as angry, Zachary said, “Fine. He can have this room. I’ll sleep in another one.” He then walked over to the left side of the bed, bent down, and pulled his bag out from under it.

Father Poole went to console Jonas, who was beginning to whimper. Mr. Nichols, who had been standing near the doorway the whole time, saw Zachary’s bag, which was bulkier than when the three of them had left the Black residence.

Zachary stormed out of the room, deliberately bumping into Arthur Nichols as he did so. Arthur watched him as Zachary made his way to the other end of the hallway, opened the last door on the left, walked in, and slammed it shut.

Meanwhile the old schoolteacher could hear Father Poole muttering something to Jonas, but he couldn’t make it out. Mr. Nichols then started down the steps. He longed for his nightly glass of brandy and a licorice stick before retiring to bed in the bosom of his beloved wife.