Sweet Song (36 page)

She sat so still and so silent that he had to wonder. Before she said a word more, Jenny fidgeted. Her fingers moved first, wiggling. Then her mouth set itself in a straight line. Her eyes narrowed. The birdsongs didn’t affect her. A breeze pulled on her pinned-back hair, removing a few strands from the pin, letting those strands struggle in the breeze as if they were trying to get loose of her head as well. The freed strands panicked. Bob could see the deep sound of words growing inside her long before she spoke. “I have to go,” she said.

He followed her until she began to run. He stopped. The sun lay warmly across his shoulders. A breeze from the river blew into his face. The corners of his eyes became cool where his tears had accumulated in sad pools. Regardless of the hurried conversation about his past, Bob felt relieved. He felt lucky for being alive, even at the cost of being submissive, at keeping quiet, at holding the truth close to his chest and hidden inside his mind. Lucky and unlucky. Black and white. His world consisted of opposites.

Jenny had stopped running, but she had never looked back. Bob continued to stand there, and as he did the realization of what he had done overtook him. His release, like sexual release, had been short lived. Fear reentered his life. Jenny would no doubt tell her brothers. Jimmy had already warned him not to hurt her. Bob suddenly felt vulnerable. Was this going to be a repeated situation,
like the one with Hillary? He looked around to see whether anyone could have heard them. Chills ran down his back. The breeze appeared to be picking up. The trees leaned away from the river. Bob peered across the Susquahanna. His gut wrenched. Winter was coming. Logging camps would form soon. He fell to his knees and shook his head. He couldn’t stay there. Surely someone would come for him. Once word got out, not even the logging camps would be safe for him. In fact, that would be worse. They would kill him. Just as he had walked for days over the mountains to get here, he would have to go even farther to escape Williamsport. He wished he could end it. Let them do what they will. Yet, something inside him would not let that happen. No matter what he suffered, he would go on. He should have never stopped at this town. He should go to another state where the chances of being found out would be near impossible. Like the Negro roamers he had been with, he needed to create a story that fit his life, a story that explained who he was and how he wished to be. The story the Lord had given him no longer worked.

His life could be recreated. But not here. Not in this town. He knew he wasn’t invincible, yet, his life had been spared great pain at least twice before; perhaps this time it would be spared as well. He couldn’t expect that to go on forever.

There was little time. Jenny had run off upset. Even if she wished to remain silent until she thought the situation through, her brothers might take it upon themselves to come for him.

Taking the long way home would be safest. On his way, he offered a young Negro of about twelve, twenty cents to go to the mill and let Hugh know to meet him at Carl’s. Bob hoped he had a few hours, but didn’t know for sure. He could always run.

He packed quickly, even though he thought he had plenty of time. He stood next to the window and peered out, watching the street, ready to rush down the hall he was told not to use, and out the back door. He also had the gun even though he didn’t think he could force himself to use it. Just touching the cold metal to pack it brought back the image of Fred Carpenter.

It was funny to Bob how many Negro children had been separated from their families so that they had no connections in the
world but their owner-employers. Fred Carpenter had, in many ways, created the same effect between him and young Leon by ignoring the boy all his life. Even Hillary must have felt that Leon was not part of her family.

And so, as horrible an image as Fred Carpenter had been, it was of little or no difference – a misfortune of a mere acquaintance. It is when Bob added his own hand and gun to the formula that he felt the connection. That frightening connection also meant that he could easily be hanged for a crime accidentally committed. A crime as much of self-defense and fear as of attempted harm to another soul. A crime of black against white.

B
ob lost all sensation in reference to heat and cold. He sweated as though the bedroom burned. His predicament, still rolling around in his head, was reminiscent of how he felt as he and Big Leon ran toward freedom. Yet, Leon had become a different man, a new person, and Bob had as much reason to stay as to run.

Standing as quietly and as alert as possible next to the window in his rented room, Bob alternately shivered and sweated, cried in defeat and bucked-up with a firm demeanor and clenched teeth. His knees wobbled and his mind became too self-absorbed, too preoccupied. If he had held back his own truth, this is what his life with Jenny would be like until the truth came out. And his secret would come out, somewhere, sometime, even if it happened one, two, three children down the road. He could see himself standing at another window, of some future house, while Jenny screamed from another room, giving birth to a Negro child.

When Hugh came down the street, Bob almost collapsed in relief. He thanked the sweet, sweet Lord that Jenny or her brothers hadn’t appeared first. He had already accepted the fact that he would not touch the pistol in his sack, that he would step out and let them take him, shoot him, or whatever they chose to do. But it was Hugh who rushed down the street toward him. It was Hugh who showed up first.

Either Jenny had kept silent or her brothers had assumed that he would be long gone. And perhaps he should have been. As Hugh approached, Bob grabbed his things and left the room and the house. The cool outside air stung his fevered brow and neck. The pain
lasted a moment, then faded into his skin like snow on a hot rock. “Follow me,” Bob said.

Hugh caught up to his side and kept pace. “What the hell’s wrong?”

“I’m in trouble,” Bob said.

Hugh turned one corner after the next with Bob in the lead.

“Where are you dragging me?” Hugh asked.

“A little farther.” Bob led the way past the shacks and into the hills above Williamsport. They puffed and gasped for breath as they climbed. Bob gleaned the area for a familiar place to hide. In a low thicket of pine scrub, Bob bent down and climbed along the ground until he felt they were hidden. They sat together for a few minutes to catch their breath.

After a long sigh – Hugh was in better shape than Bob – Hugh asked again why they were hiding.

“I told Jenny,” Bob said between breaths. “I don’t know what might happen.”

“Whoa there for a minute. What righteous moment did you have that thought blurting out the truth would go smoothly? Jesus Christ, I told you to stay away from her in the first place. You know if you’d just get your pluggings from a Negro, it wouldn’t matter what happened. But shit almighty you go and fall flat for some well-placed white woman.” Hugh rampaged on, shaking his head and spitting out words like a preacher talking about damnation.

When Bob was able, he said, “I know.”

Hugh’s shoulders dropped. “What happened? Why’d you tell her? I should be asking why you didn’t listen to me, but it’s too late for that.”

“The farm I worked for when I was a child. It’s on the other side of Pine Creek.”

“Holy shit. They came to town? Why would you stay so close? I’m sure you don’t miss home. Christ.”

“Hugh, please.”

“All right. All right. No wonder you kept this secret. But it would of blown eventually anyway.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I could get lost here. Never be found out.”

“Did they tell the authorities?”

Bob looked at Hugh. “It’s too complicated, too long a story, but my half-brother never even recognized me.”

“Then what’s the problem? Did someone else recognize you?”

Bob sat still and quiet. He searched for words, but found only the most mundane. “My white father.”

“Holy shit.” Hugh shook his head back and forth.

“But he couldn’t talk.”

“I don’t think I’m following this. Is there a problem or not? If not, why would you tell Miss Jenny?”

“Haven’t you ever done something without thinking?”

Hugh said, “Yes, but nothing I could get lynched for.”

“I was upset and confused. Seeing my white pa. I shot him. I didn’t know it until now. I don’t know how he lived through it, but now he’s stupid. He can’t even talk.” Bob shivered. He took a breath. Hugh remained courteously silent until Bob regrouped. “He had been with the posse who were chasing me. He shot and killed my black pa. Then he told the posse to stop chasing me. He let me go. When I found the gun, I twisted around and fired several shots, then ran off. I never knew what happened. I just found out that my half-brothers carried their anger back with them and murdered my whole family, every one who was left.” Bob fell back onto the ground. He stared into the brush. “I was confused. I got sick and vomited when I heard what had happened. I ran away. I don’t know why I felt like I had to tell Jenny that I was black, but I did. She doesn’t even know the rest of the story.”

“Why were they chasing you?”

In Hugh’s eyes, Bob saw a huge gap in understanding.

“Terrible things went on,” Bob said, not wishing to go back to that place. “My mind was muddled and all I could think was to get rid of all the lies. I just needed to tell the truth.” Bob closed his eyes for a moment. “I never told her the whole truth though. And now I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.”

“You should have told me,” Hugh said.

“I know. I should have never come here, either. No one should have found out. I should have kept it inside.”

“That’s a hard life to live,” Hugh said.

“You live it, don’t you?”

“My past is locked away. I never go there. Never.”

“Then I won’t make you go there. Just tell me, am I right?”

“You’re right.” Hugh reached back and patted Bob on the shoulder, closing the deal on their pact never to go there.

“What if she never tells anyone?” Hugh said after a few minutes.

“I can’t stay here.”

“No. Perhaps not. A lot of people know you. You’ve helped out more than you might know.”

“It won’t matter. So many have had me in their homes, trusted me with their businesses, their children and wives. Once they know I’ve lied to them, there’s no telling what they might do. And there is that tiny fact about my shooting Mr. Carpenter.”

“If you’d only gone black,” Hugh said.

“I can’t.” Bob rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. “There is no way I can let a black woman touch me.”

“I won’t even ask you why.”

Bob fiddled with some fallen leaves and pine needles. “If she didn’t tell, if she went back and thought about it and still loves me, do you think she’d go away with me?”

“You are one fucked up and confused man.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“And who will you be, then? The black man with a white wife? How will that be for her? For you, too? Your whole life will change.”

“What life?”

“Dammit, Bob, you have a life. People like you now. They’ll like you in the next town, too. No one will ever know as long as you don’t tell them.” Hugh sighed. “Come-on, you know it’s true.”

“But I can’t marry, have a family, live normally.”

“You aren’t living a normal life now. You said that.”

“I want to.”

“You get used to being alone. It’s not so bad. There’s always the crew you work with.”

Bob rolled back over and sat up. “You should know.”

Hugh stared out beyond the thicket, not turning to look at Bob once. “This ain’t about me.”

“We all choose differently.”

“I know. I know.” Hugh lowered his head. “And we should choose for ourselves. And those we love, well, they should have the chance to choose on their own, too.” He began to get to his knees to crawl back into the open. “Your life just ain’t going to be normal no matter what you choose.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find Miss Jenny.”

“Don’t. She’s upset. She doesn’t need this kind of trouble.”

Hugh peered through the brush at Bob. “We’ll let her decide her life.” Then Hugh was off and down the hill.

The hidden sun let twilight slip into the scrub. Bob wondered what animal he might surprise when it returned in the morning. He thought to leave. He even got part way to his knees, ready to crawl out after Hugh.

He stopped short. Hugh had been through something. Bob wanted to know what it was, to compare it with his own situation. Hugh had closed that part of his life away, though, and Bob didn’t wish to cause Hugh any pain. All Hugh was really saying is that he had made a choice in life and had learned to live with it. He wanted Bob to do the same. On his own. But Bob wasn’t so sure he wanted to decide.

His memories sickened him, but would not let him sob. He knew that whatever happened to him was through ignorance, uncontrollable sexual urges, and, when it came to Fred Carpenter, by accident. Age, intelligence, and experience discolored everything he knew from his past. He thought that he had left the evil of his life behind, but now he had stepped back into it. The more he knew, the more he remembered, and the more disgusting his whole life opened to him. Was it even possible to change a past like the one he lived through? Would he have to carry it with him forever? Of course he would.