Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
I rushed inside while Daisy chased me into the kitchen, tangling our legs, nearly tripping us, our breaths mingling into worrisome gasps.
“What is it, Mrs. Claxton?” Daisy circled us and panted, her grin carrying the weight of the scare, the fright tinged white around her bulging eyes. “Is everything okay? Do you need an ambulance—?”
“You sure read a mess of books, but we don’t have ambulances here in Louisville,” she chided. “The police come in station wagons to transport the sick and wounded. This is something more.”
I studied her bright eyes, puzzled on what more it could be. “Do you have pains, ma’am, and need to see a doc? Where’s Reverend Claxton? I’ll go fetch him for you.” I shook my head, riddled that a big city like this didn’t have proper transport for those struck ill.
She picked up the morning newspaper off the table, then flipped the pages to a story with a photograph of her in front of the library at the top. The librarian tapped twice. “I couldn’t be better.”
“Ma’am.” I smacked the counter. “You nearly knocked the color off my skin.”
“Here, chile, just read this. Jed, Jed, get back in here.” She poked her head around the corner into their bedroom.
“Jedidiah. Hurry now and run to the store and buy more papers.” She scrambled around the kitchen for her pocketbook, digging for change.
“Cussy, we must send papers back home. Jedidiah. Jedidiah Claxton, hurry up before they’re all sold out. ”
“Woman, you done sent me out once before sunrise. Not a soul stirring,” her husband complained, carrying his shoes across her spotless linoleum floor. “Nary a church mouse could be found scuttling around those dark streets.” He pulled out a chair and plopped down.
“Hidelman’s will be opening in ten minutes.” She scattered coins onto the table, counting.
“They spell my name right, Effie?” he asked, tying a shoelace.
“They did indeed, as a matter of fact. And used it again for mine,” she said, a bother pinched on her lips.
“You got enough change there for me to send one to Brother back home?” Reverend stuffed his other sockless foot inside a shoe. “We need to send one to our daughter. And maybe—”
“Won’t Vesta be surprised. Oh, I can’t wait to show Susan.” Mrs. Claxton clapped her hands and then spilled more money from her coin purse.
I sat down and picked up the Saturday morning paper with Daisy’s head resting on my bare feet. Reaching under the table, I tickled her ears while reading the article, her breaths finally sliding into peaceful sighs after she was rudely awakened.
Mountain Women Teaching Literacy at Louisville Western Library
With the aid of state educator, president, and first woman of Kentucky Education Association Cora Wilson Stewart’s successful doctrine for teaching illiterates of Kentucky, California, New York, Massachusetts, Maryland, Texas, and dozens of other states to read and write, Louisville’s own seventy-one-year-old librarian director Mrs. Jedidiah Claxton, wife of Reverend Jedidiah Charles Claxton, previously of Fishtrap, KY, along with Mrs. Jackson Lovett, a former Pack Horse librarian of Troublesome Creek, KY, and numerous volunteers, taught 219 illiterates living in the city of Louisville’s West End to write their signatures and begin a reading program in a span of four days.
“It was also a joint effort between the mayor’s office, my staff, and local educators to offer accelerated reading classes to register more Negro voters,” Mrs. Claxton explained, thanking the mayor and crediting the success to the selfless contributions of her staff, area teachers, and the resolve of her newest library patrons.
The free literacy classes will continue nightly M–F and will run from 6:00 to 9:30 p.m. at the Louisville Western Branch Library, 604 South Tenth Street.
“It’s a fine article, Mrs. Claxton, and a real pretty photograph of you. More will hear and join the program.”
Reverend pecked her cheek as he headed out.
“Would’ve loved it if they’d photographed both of us,” she said. “But I’m going to fix that. Tomorrow after church, Jed promised to get out his Kodak and take a picture of us out on the library steps. I’ll hang it in there next to the clipping.”
I’d never had someone photograph me, or any of my kin, and I mused over the thought but again fretted the ridicule and shame it might bring down on me.
“I’ll get a nice frame for it,” she went on. “The patrons will see it first thing when they walk into those welcoming doors.”
I folded the paper neatly on the table and studied on my married name they’d used. Jackson would be proud, but my hand fell to my belly, and sadness marred the joyful moment.
Mrs. Claxton chatted on as the screen door announced Reverend’s departure. “It’s because of the wonderful job you’ve done for us.”
“Ma’am, you worked harder than all of us. It’s a fine program you have.”
She flicked her wrist. “Oh, I wish I had a dozen librarians just like you. Matter of fact, I put in a telephone call late yesterday to the prison. The warden had already left, but I asked if I could keep you at least another week. The officer on duty promised Warden Sanders would return my call early evening, by five at the latest. So I’ll have to be over at the library after our day out.
There’s a good chance, given all your hard work and the success of the reading program. ”
Warden Sanders. Just the mention of her name shaded my flesh. “That sure would be nice. Much obliged to you for extending your hospitality.”
But Warden would be itching to have me back now more than ever after reading the article—back to raise her funding. Even more, eager to abort my child.
“Something nice right about now would be if you got yourself dressed. It’s Saturday, our day off. Time I treated you to Walnut Street so you can spend some of that money you earned. Jed and the boys will have gone fishing later, and that means the ladies go shopping.”
She placed a five-dollar bill, three-quarters, and four green three-cent Mount Rushmore stamps in front of me.
I picked up the bill, scattered the stamps and coins. “That’s a lot, ma’am.” Though I already know’d I’d be sending the money back home to Honey.
“You grew us voters for this fine city, and I aim to tell the mayor and ask him to write a letter on your behalf to the governor!”
“Governor,” I whispered. Just maybe it would bring a quick pardon, with praise coming from the big-city mayor.
“Let me go get you a change purse for that.” She slipped into her bedroom and rummaged through the dresser drawers. When she came back, she handed me a red leather coin purse.
“Take this, chile. I haven’t used it in years.”
I thanked her and opened the kissing lock and placed the folded bill, coins, and stamps inside. Opened and closed again, staring at the contents.
My life’s possessions. My worth in this world.
Still, her offer to finally visit Walnut Street could not soften my nagging doubts that a pardon wouldn’t come quick enough to save the baby.
I wanted to tell her about the child, the abortion, and sterilization that I was facing.
Boldly, I tasted the words and then wetted my lips. “Mrs. Claxton, I need to—”
“Hurry and get dressed. I’ll have a light breakfast ready for us in a few minutes. We have a busy day in store.”
Her cheerful words had me swallowing mine. I would not wallow and ruin her festive mood.
She set plates down on the table, thumped a heavy cast-iron skillet onto the stove.
“Now, let’s see. I need to pick up Reverend’s church suit at the tailor’s and purchase a few items at the drugstore.
Oh, I sweet-talked Jed, and he gave us some spending money to dine.
That reminds me, don’t let me forget to cash my paycheck. ”
As she talked, a small headache budded, and irritable thoughts pushed up: Sweet-talked. I wondered exactly whose paycheck it really was. But I tucked my biting words under the fat flesh of lip, silencing my quarrelsome tongue. “Is there a post office nearby where I can mail Honey’s letter, ma’am?”
“The mailman’s already collected today’s posts from our box. But there’s a letter box along the way like the one you saw on Monday. They pick up all day long. If we’re going to be dining at the Old Walnut Street Chili Parlor today, we should be leaving soon.”
After a plate of egg toast, I hurried to dress while the librarian began cutting out the article from a stack of papers Reverend brought in.
Sitting on the bed, I bent and tied my shoes, suddenly feeling a light rippling.
The baby had moved again, and Daisy poked my side and cocked her head to my belly.
I kissed the tip of her head and closed my eyes, praying that with Mrs. Claxton’s help, it would all work out.
When I walked back into the kitchen, she handed me the news clipping. I folded it carefully into the stamped envelope she gave me, along with a letter, Honey’s birthday necklace, and the five-dollar bill. When Mrs. Claxton spied this, she smiled. “Maybe you can call her from Walnut Street.”
“She doesn’t have telephone service.” I held the envelope to my chest. “But she’ll appreciate this. It’s been a while since I had the means to send her something.”
I stuffed the change purse inside my skirt pocket.
Mrs. Claxton grabbed her large pocketbook and handed me two Bibles.
“We’ll drop these back off at the church after our luncheon.
” She pulled two scarves off the hall tree.
“Fashionable, and it’ll keep you cooler.
” She hummed as she adjusted a summery green-checkered scarf around my neck and tied it in a pretty bow, then wrapped a silky yellow fabric around her own.
“Hmm.” Mrs. Claxton raised a finger, then dared to take out a tube of lipstick from her purse, lift my chin, and dot my lips. She smacked her mouth, and I parroted her. I had never worn lipstick in my life, and I peered into the mirror, stunned.
“Fresh as a flower,” she declared. There was a whispered buzz, a churning energy in her words, and I fidgeted with my skirt and scarf, growing anxious, lifting a palm to my belly.
Leaning our heads together, we looked into the hall tree’s beveled mirror. The fabric livened my white blouse and brought out the color in my eyes. The light-pink lipstick softened my blue face.
She turned to me and pressed her hands over my bow, straightening. “Fancy as any of them big starlets in the magazines. Now, let’s go shopping and have us a nice day out. You’ve earned it.”
My face warmed. She reminded me so much of ol’ Loretta.
“Hear now, don’t you be tearing up on me, chile.”
***
We passed through the city streets, the librarian pointing out stores, businesses, and factories. With each block taken, I could hear the grind of Walnut Street call louder, the drums of the business district lifting. She paused occasionally to remind me of street names.
“Now, no one need know, especially the law. But if you stay, you’ll be running errands occasionally.”
Stay. It gave me more hope. “I’d like that.” I felt a smile bloom on my lips as I tried to imagine it.
“Jed and I are also going to sit down tonight and write the governor,” she proclaimed again. “With a letter from the mayor and us, it will surely persuade him. I need you here.”
We walked on, me dreaming of what a longer visit or a quick pardon would bring.
When we stopped at one of the blue boxes on the corner, I looked up at her.
“Go ahead. Mail your letter here.” She opened the latch and let it drop with a bang, startling me.
“Postmaster Bill at the post office sees to our letters. Could we visit the postmaster here?” I clutched Honey’s bulging envelope close to my chest and looked at the mailbox suspiciously, dared to touch the handle.
Mrs. Claxton pulled the latch open and waited.
When I didn’t move, she snatched the envelope from my hands, slid it into the slot, and dropped it with a bang.
I stepped forward and jerked open the latch, digging my hand inside.
It had disappeared. “Ma’am, please get it back for me. Now,” I pleaded. “I can’t leave Honey’s letter and her money and present in this big ugly box. Why, a squirrel or critter could easily get inside and carry it off! Get it back for me.”
“Chile—”
“No.” I dropped the handle and opened it again, and once more, then lowered my head, searched inside the darkened hole, prying my fingers and hand around again.
Pounding a blue-blackening fist on the box, I slammed the handle up and down several times.
When I reached for the pull again, Mrs. Claxton chuckled lightly and snatched me away.
“Now I promise you, it’s safe and as good as in your girl’s hands.
” She lightly thumped the box. “Old West Walnut Street is the next block over and waiting.”