Chapter 15 Tabitha
Charleston, South Carolina
September 1917
Joseph moved Tabitha to an apartment on the first floor of the building. It was still small, but being on the first floor made it easier for her to manage the children as she entered and exited the building. All the tenants were women. Some of them received their male guests in the sitting room at the entrance. They would play cards or listen to music on weekends. Tabitha tried to make friends, but they were unfriendly. In fact, she felt a coldness from most of them.
Some nights Tabitha would stand in the hall and listen to the conversations being held in the sitting room. There were hushed tones that ended in giggles and conversations that were on occasion about her—or at least she assumed they were about her. Tabitha was the only she in the building with a stroller and the only she who did not work. Those were words she heard them use.
One afternoon as Tabitha pulled the stroller in the door, one of the women jumped up from the sofa and held it open.
“Thank you so much,” Tabitha replied, grateful for her kindness but even more grateful to be seen. “It’s not easy to manage the weight...”
The woman’s eyes stopped Tabitha’s conversation cold. She dropped her eyes to Margaret and Amos and then raised them to Tabitha’s. “You gon’ have ten children by him if you don’t help yourself. There are teas to stop babies from coming. You best get some. Miss Libby... upstairs... she knows the old ways. She can help you.”
Tabitha was so shocked, she did not reply. The woman walked back to the sofa, picked up a magazine, and trotted up the stairs, leaving Tabitha standing there for many minutes to recover. She placed her hand on her bulging belly. It had occurred to her that the babies were coming quickly, yet the marriage had not. She feared the marriage never would, and she needed to hear the truth about why. Joseph owed her at least that, so when he came again, she asked him.
“I can’t marry you. It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t.”
As they were often these days, her hands were on her round belly. She rubbed, fighting to find space in her brain for the words Joseph had just uttered. For a fleeting second, she thought she had not heard him correctly. But there was nothing wrong with her hearing. That sentence, this moment, would forever be seared on her memory, even if she delayed processing it.
Joseph’s lips moved again. “I’ve been married for ten years.”
Tabitha looked across the room at the small dining table. The birthday cake she’d made for Joseph became the focus of her attention. She’d prepared a special dinner. Margaret was looking forward to singing to her father before eating that cake. Because he didn’t arrive in time for dinner, Tabitha had to cut it without him and put the children to bed without their song.
She pulled her eyes from the table and looked at Joseph again. With only the light from one lamp on the table, the room was dim. A shadow from the moonlight divided Joseph’s face with a diagonal line. Most of him was cast in darkness.
Married ten years.
Tabitha didn’t know how she was supposed to respond to such evil words. This man had intentionally pursued her. He’d run her down, took her from her family, and made three babies with her when he already had a wife. She had a sudden revelation of a piece of the Bible. The devil is a roaring lion, walking around, seeking whom he may devour. Joseph was the devil.
Her fingers rolled into her palms until they made fists. Tabitha banged against her thighs on both sides. “No, no, no.” She lunged at him and pummeled both fists on his chest with one hitting his chin. Joseph clasped her arms.
“Gal, now you get off me!” He pushed her onto the sofa.
She sat there, fists locked. Heat and pain mixed together in her blood and moved through her like fire. “Why would you do this?”
“Because I wanted you.”
She didn’t know how to process those words. Was that the only answer the devil had for her today? “You wanted me so you could make me into your whore. You promised me marriage.”
“I know.”
“You lied to me.”
“I know that, Peach, and I’m sorry.”
Peach.Tabitha felt disoriented and confused. He still thought it was okay to call her that.
“I’m sorry I put you in this situation.”
No one was sorrier than Tabitha because she knew there was a reason he wouldn’t marry her. She’d told him about the snickering in the hallway by other tenants. He assured her the other women were jealous. Tabitha had told Retha about it.
“What do they have to be jealous about?” Retha asked.
Retha’s tone carried the tenor of worry more than curiosity. Tabitha didn’t have to hear her sister’s thoughts. Tabitha was a kept woman, and keepin’ was never for a good reason. Though their conversations were on the telephone and by letter, the distance did not lessen the impact of her sister’s questions. When Retha wasn’t being subtle, she was being frank.
“Bitta, if he hasn’t married you by now, he probably never will.”
But Tabitha denied that lie. Rather than look more deeply at Joseph, she believed lies about herself. She wasn’t pretty enough or light enough or worthy of being his wife. She believed he might be comparing her to his first wife... that he’d simply changed his mind about marriage but cared about his children too much to abandon them. She refused to accept anything but this. And now her silly thinking had trapped her here with the children like a rat who was being fed enough cheese to keep her beholden to him. She had no power, not even any to deny him her bed, which she wanted to do on many nights because the love and hunger she’d once felt for him she didn’t feel as strongly.
“I left my family for you.”
“I didn’t have to beg you. You came willingly.”
“Well, I can’t go back with three children and no man!” Tabitha’s words sounded so much louder than she intended, but the rage that had been building inside of her amplified her voice. She raised her hands to cover her lips. A sound escaped her throat, one she didn’t even recognize. It was uglier than the grunt she made when she delivered all three of her babies, and it ended with sobbing. “Why would you do this?”
“I love you.”
He’d carved a hole in her heart and called that love. He was a Judas.
“I know you don’t believe me right now, but I do know how I feel. When there’s something natural between a man and woman that can’t be denied, you can’t ignore it.”
“The only thing between us is sin, Joseph.”
The bedroom door opened. Wiping sleep from her eyes, Margaret padded into the dark room. When she met her father’s leg, Joseph hoisted her to his hip. “What you are doing up, Maggie baby?”
“I want Mama,” she cried, extending a hand in Tabitha’s direction. Tabitha was too injured to respond to her daughter. Her tongue was stuck in the top of her mouth.
“Mama and I are talking. You have to go to bed...” Joseph’s voice trailed off as he walked her back into the bedroom. He was gone for a few minutes before returning without her.
Joseph was a good father. Good enough... when he was here. But he was not a good man. Not at all. No matter how much she wanted to blame him for this mess, it wasn’t all his fault. She’d waited four years—through excuses from everything like work interfering to money to trying to prepare his preacher daddy to accept that he had children before marriage. Excuses, all of them. This was why Mama wanted her to wait for Papa to see him. To do what fathers do for their daughters. Even if Tabitha was not Papa’s daughter, Charles Cooper would have known who this man was and was not. Looking back now, she realized she should have trusted Mama. She should have trusted family. Family would have recognized the devil she couldn’t. But now it was too late to depend on family.
Mama traveled to Charleston once when Papa was away. That visit was the only time she and the children saw Mama. Joseph would never take her to Georgetown, his excuse being that he’d sold his business interest in the mill. Tabitha held on to Mama so tightly, she didn’t want to let her go.
She was tempted to get in the wagon with her and go back to Georgetown. Mama said, “You can come home,” but Tabitha could tell by the strained way that Mama extended the invitation that Papa’s house would not be home. Mama had a tell—tightness in her neck and clutched hands. She avoided looking Tabitha in the eye. Those were signs that Mama’d already fought with Papa and had not won. Mama never really won. She was one of those women who submitted under the strong thumb of a man.
Joseph’s voice broke through her thoughts. Disappointment had so engulfed her that she’d forgotten he was there. “I need to tell you more of what’s going on.”
“Iffen you not about to tell me you’re going to divorce your wife and marry me, I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”
“I can’t say that, though I wish I could because she’s...” Joseph hesitated. “She’s unwell. I’ve been waiting for her to get better, but she’s not better; she’s worse.”
“What kind of unwell?”
“She has fits and other things.”
Fits.Tabitha had seen those before. Old Mrs. Rice down the road a piece from back home had fits and had to go to Bull Street in Columbia. Tabitha couldn’t imagine Joseph’s wife would be there. It was for the poor Negroes. “Where is she?”
“In a place for people like her. It’s in Atlanta. Near her family.”
Tabitha shook her head. This didn’t change anything.
He added, “You can’t divorce someone in a mental sanitarium.”
A sick wife. So this was the truth that stole her happiness? The shame Tabitha felt did not decrease.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t stay here tonight,” Tabitha said. “If you do, I don’t want to share a bed.”
“You can’t stay angry with me forever, Peach. I know this is not the way you wanted things, nor did I for that matter, but we are a family.”
A family.She wasn’t sure she agreed. “You should allow me time with my hurt. I never expected this.”
Joseph nodded. He leaned into her, and though she turned her head, he kissed Tabitha’s cheek. “I’ll give you time.” He placed his hat on his head, and after a final plea with his eyes, one that lacked lasting contrition, he left her.
Tabitha walked to the window. She watched him climb into his carriage. He had not dismissed his driver. He had no intention of staying or suspected he would not. She dragged herself away from the window. Standing at the table, she looked down at the cake. Her plans were spoiled, and not just dinner. Her plans for her life were ruined, and that hadn’t happened just tonight. It happened the day she gave herself to him.
Tabitha placed her hands on her belly. “God, what have I done?” she asked, and then a more important question crept into her mind. What am I going to do?
Now that she knew he was married, sick wife or not, she didn’t want to continue things the way they were. But Tabitha didn’t have a choice. She had no skills, no one to help with her children, and way too much pride to go home and deal with Papa’s bitter disdain. She was dependent on Joseph, but they were damaged forever like the broken leg of a horse. There was no way to fix their relationship and make them whole again.
Tabitha grunted. Joseph thought he was giving her time to get over it. She would never. She’d hate him always.
***
Tabitha baked a butter pound cake, and after putting the children down for a nap, she cut it in half, wrapped it, and made her way up the stairs with the words from her neighbor in her thoughts.
You gon’ have ten children by him if you don’t help yourself.
Her baby would be born any day now, and she needed to be prepared not to have another. She knocked, and the door opened. Tabitha had seen the older woman a few times. She was the newest tenant in the building and mostly stayed to herself. She kept children while their mothers worked.
She smiled and asked, “What can I do fa ye?”
Tabitha smiled back at her. “I’m Tabitha. I live in one of the apartments downstairs.”
“I know who you be, sweetheart. I’m Miss Libby. You need me to look after your youngins?”
“I may, but first I thought we could get to know each other.” Tabitha extended the cake to her. “We’re neighbors.”
Miss Libby looked at it and took it from Tabitha’s hands; then she invited her in.
Tabitha counted three babies and a set of twin girls who looked about four years old.
“You have a full house,” Tabitha said, sitting in the kitchen chair Miss Libby offered her.
“Can I make you a coffee?” Miss Libby asked.
Tabitha smiled. She realized this was the first bit of hospitality anyone had offered her in the years she’d lived in the building. Heat pricked the back of her eyes from the emotion of it. She shook her head. “My children are napping. I don’t have time, but I made the cake and thought of you.”
“That’s kind,” Miss Libby said. She got a knife from the counter, unwrapped the cake, and cut a piece. “I love a yallah cake.” Tasting it was a joy for the woman and one for Tabitha to watch. She praised it far too much. “I ain’t one to bake.” She cocked her head toward Tabitha’s belly. “When de babe be bawn?”
Tabitha was carrying so large, she wished it was now. “Soon. Maybe a month.”
“Oona here fa tea?” Miss Libby asked. “Me na when I see oona in de door. I’ll make it.”
Relief washed through Tabitha. She was glad she didn’t have to explain herself. “Thank you.” She put her hands on her belly and rubbed, hoping her unborn child didn’t think she wished she had the tea before. “I’ll need some help with my children after the baby.”
“I da ya,” Miss Libby said.
Tabitha didn’t know what it meant.
“I be here,” Miss Libby said, “to help with the children.” She smiled and took another bite of cake. “Oona come back tonight with the chillun’. Ima make dinner, and we can get to know each other.”
“I’d like that.” Tabitha stood. She turned to leave the small kitchen, and Miss Libby followed her to the door and pulled it open.
“Tabitha, him ansa for what he do,” Miss Libby said. “Sooner not lader.”
A chill slipped down Tabitha’s spine. There was no malice in this women’s tone, but it carried a surety that made Tabitha think Miss Libby had been born with a veil.
At 6:00 p.m. an excited Margaret knocked on Miss Libby’s door. When it opened, Miss Libby smiled wide as if they were her family. She took Amos from Tabitha’s arms and welcomed them inside. She still had one baby and the twins. Margaret made quick friends with the girls while Amos, new to walking, held on to Tabitha’s skirt.
Miss Libby’s meal was an oyster and okra stew and yams. They sat down to dinner, squeezing the other two girls in at the small table. Miss Libby was very good with the children, gentle, but also firm on table manners. Tabitha noticed something different about her. She waited until they were done and the children were in the front room to ask.
“You didn’t speak your native tongue during the meal.”
Miss Libby wagged a finger at Tabitha, seemingly pleased that she observed it. “Mamas don’t want me to teach their youngin’ Gullah. I speak as properly as I can in front of the children so they don’t pick up my way of talkin’.”
Tabitha nodded, further impressed with her ability to move in and out of it so well.
Miss Libby reached into the cupboard for a large, corked jar of dried herbs. “When your blood comes back, you drink dis, b’fo’ day. It don’ fail none.”
Tabitha accepted the jar and looked at the colors of the different herbs. “Thank you,” she said, and her heart burst with gratitude. She had something that she could use to take back some of her own space in the world.
“We women have to help each other. There ain’t no way to make it alone in these times.”
With the jar clutched under her armpit, Tabitha stepped toward Miss Libby and gave her a side hug.
Tabitha returned to her apartment and put the children to bed. Once she was alone, she picked up the jar of tea and examined it, hoping it held the answer to her prayer not to give Joseph McCoy another child. She was glad for her new friend. Community was what she was missing, especially since she didn’t have the closeness of her family. But the words Miss Libby said about Joseph came back to her.
“Him ansa for what he do. Sooner not lader.”
Her baby kicked—hard. Tabitha put down the jar and rubbed her belly, letting the feel of little feet push into her palm. He would be the last, and then with Miss Libby’s help, maybe Tabitha could figure out a life that wasn’t meted out to her by Joseph McCoy.