Chapter 7
It was two days after Justine had been admitted to Harlem Hospital that she received her second visitor; the first had been a social worker.
Pamela walked into the maternity ward grinning from ear to ear.
Justine had been told she’d lost a lot of blood, her son was underweight, and she would remain in the hospital until she was strong enough to be discharged.
The attending doctor said there was a possibility that if the baby gained enough weight, they could go home together.
Justine couldn’t stop the tears filling her eyes now that her entire world had been turned upside down—because she had given birth to a baby, one she was responsible for taking care of on her own, and because there hadn’t been any indication that she’d been carrying twins.
Even the midwife had missed the signs there could’ve been not one, but two heartbeats.
The lies she told were now punishing her, because she’d told Pamela she wouldn’t see her during her last month because she was going to go and live with her grandmother.
After giving birth, she would stay long enough to recover, then come back to the apartment; and if anyone asked to see pictures of the baby, she would say it had been a stillbirth.
The truth was that Mrs. Crawford and her daughter had planned for her to give birth in a private hospital under the name of Precious Boone.
Pushing herself into a sitting position, she smiled through her tears at her friend and neighbor. “I didn’t know if you were coming.”
“Did you actually believe I wouldn’t come?” Pamela pulled the curtain closed around her bed, allowing them a modicum of privacy from the woman in the next bed, and rested her hands on the bed’s rails. “How are you feeling?”
“I can honestly say that I’ve felt better.”
“And I can honestly say I was never so frightened when I walked into your bedroom and saw all that much blood. Don’t worry about it, because I cleaned up everything.”
Justine’s eyelids fluttered. “Thank goodness you were around when I called you.”
“I was supposed to go grocery shopping, but then I decided to put it off for the next day.” Pamela smiled. “It looks as if the good Lord was smiling down on both of us.”
“I had planned to go and stay with my grandmother, but that’s not going to happen, because my son decided he wanted to come early.”
“Are you still going to stay with her?”
Justine shook her head. “Yes, eventually. But for now, I’m going back to my apartment.”
An apartment she planned to vacate as soon as the hospital social worker informed her that she’d found one for her. However, that was something she had no intention of telling Pamela.
The middle-aged Black social worker had become the answer to Justine’s prayers.
When she told her that she was a recent widow, Mrs. Taylor said she would let her supervisor know Justine Russell was an emergency case.
That as a widow with an infant, she would become a client under the auspices of the Department of Social Services ADC—Aid to Dependent Children.
She would receive a check twice each month to cover rent, food, and clothing.
Mrs. Taylor reassured Justine that she would be given an additional check to cover moving expenses.
Pamela slowly blinked. “Are you certain you’re going to be okay taking care of yourself and the baby?”
“Women do it every day, Pamela. In some cultures, pregnant women squat down in the field, have their baby, and then a couple of days later they’re back working the fields.”
“This is not some culture, but the United States, Justine. Women don’t give birth in the fields anymore.”
Justine met her eyes. “Who are you kidding? You don’t think women who work on farms or are sharecropping can afford to lay up for weeks after giving birth?
The answer is no. It does happen often enough in the South and also in other rural places in this country.
” She paused when she noticed a tinge of red suffuse her friend’s face. “I’m sorry—”
“There’s no need for you to apologize,” Pamela countered. “My grandparents were sharecroppers in North Carolina, and my mother said everyone in the family had to work in the fields. That included little kids when it came time for harvesting tobacco.”
“Enough slave talk,” Justine said. “I’m not certain when I’m going to be able to bring my baby home, but if I’m discharged before he is, then I have to shop for a crib, baby clothes, and diapers.”
“You can wait on that. Sandy is almost potty-trained, so I still have a lot of diapers you can have. I’m certain I can find some baby clothes that I packed away after she outgrew them.
You can also wait on a crib, because I happen to have a bassinet someone gave me that I never got to use.
Ellis wrapped it up and stored it in a room in the basement. ”
Justine’s eyes filled with tears that seemed to come so easily now. She hated deceiving her friend, but there was no way she could tell Pamela the truth about the two women who’d concocted a plan to derail her plans to attend college.
“Thank you, Pamela.”
“No, Justine. I should be the one thanking you for all the times you looked after Sandy when I had to take my son to school and then go back and pick him up whenever Ellis wasn’t available.
Ellis keeps talking about having another baby, but I told him in no uncertain terms that he has a son and a daughter, so that’s it for me. ”
“What do you use to prevent getting pregnant?”
“I’m using a diaphragm, and Ellis will sometimes use a condom.” Pamela sighed. “There are times when I question myself why I fell in love with a man who is a super when I could’ve married one who got up every morning to take the bus or subway to work.”
Justine stared at her neighbor as if she’d lost her mind.
She’d married a hardworking man who had provided a home for her and their children.
At least he’d married her once she discovered she was pregnant with his child.
It was something Justine’s father hadn’t been able to do, because he was already married when Justine’s mother told him she was carrying his baby.
“You’re married to a good man, Pamela. So, count your blessings.”
“You’re right. When do you think you’ll be discharged?”
“Probably not for another three or four days. I was given a transfusion because I lost a lot of blood. Once my red blood count is up within normal range, then I’ll be ready to go home. I’m also hoping my son will have gained enough weight so we can be discharged together.”
“Don’t worry about your apartment, Justine. I’ll make certain you’ll have the bassinet, diapers, and some clothes for the baby by the time you come home.”
Justine nodded, then averted her face. Pamela Daniels was not only a neighbor, but a true friend; it pained her that she had to lie to her about her future plans, because she planned to move and leave no forwarding address.
What she hadn’t decided was whether to leave the furniture or take it with her.
The more she thought about it, Justine decided to take everything in the apartment, since she wouldn’t have to buy furniture for her new apartment.
She would be able to save money; now that she’d delivered Precious’s baby, her monthly payments would stop.
The only other benefit she’d been offered was that she could continue to live rent-free in the apartment until the end of June 1953.
That also was not an option for Justine, because she didn’t want to take the risk that news would get back to Precious that she had another child—a son Justine refused to give up. She’d become a modern-day Rebekah, who’d given birth to fraternal twins Esau and Jacob.
Justine vowed that she would do everything in her power for her son to get what he deserved, even if it meant destroying his brother.
Jacob had stolen firstborn Esau’s birthright, and history would repeat itself when Kenneth Russell would bring down and destroy Dennis Boone’s son sometime in the future.
“I have to go, because I want to be back home to pick up my kids from Ellis’s sister. It’s not often that she’ll volunteer to watch them, because she has four of her own and another one on the way.”
Pamela’s voice broke into Justine’s musings, and she turned to smile at her friend. “Thank you for coming.”
“Anytime, Justine. I don’t know if I can come to see you again before you’re discharged, but you know where to find me.”
Justine nodded, then closed her eyes. A wave of exhaustion swept over her, much like the undertow of the ocean that had nearly swept her farther away from the shore the one time she’d gone to Orchard Beach with her family.
She’d initially panicked, then allowed herself to relax before a wave came and pushed her to safety.
She didn’t feel as physically tired as she was mentally drained.
She believed her grandmother inviting her to come to Mount Vernon to live was a reprieve from the upheaval she’d experienced when living with her mother.
However, behind the doors of the magnificent white Colonial, Justine had found it to be a house of horrors.
Dennis Boone held court for his friends and business associates like a king holding sway over his subjects, while his wife and mother-in-law were the reincarnations of a fairy tale’s evil stepmothers.
The two women seemingly had sold their souls to give Dennis Boone what he coveted most—a son and heir.
All she had wished and planned for had been thwarted when she’d been blackmailed into sleeping with another woman’s husband. It was as if her life had become a repeat of her mother’s. Not only was she unmarried, but she’d bore a married man’s child.