Chapter 33 Tabitha
Charleston, South Carolina
October 1922
Tabitha examined herself and shushed pride away as she inspected her high-heeled boots, wide-brimmed hat, paste pearls, and a yellow flapper dress with elaborate floral embroidery across the hem and down the sides. She hadn’t been to church in a long time. She missed it, and more importantly, she needed Margaret to experience more than she had exposed her to.
The streets were quiet on Sunday morning, making the walk easy. Once they entered, they found a seat, and minutes after, Margaret pointed. “Mama, it’s Mr. Brady.” Tabitha grabbed the child’s hand and pulled it down. “I’ve told you it’s rude to point at people.”
Margaret apologized. Tabitha fought the temptation to look in that direction, but once she did, she saw Brady sitting two pews behind them. His Sunday best suit was a nice crisp black color, made of a fabric with just the right bit of sheen. He was handsome in it. A ripple of warmth erupted and spread through her. She contemplated her thoughts of Brady. Lately she’d had too many. She didn’t really want to imagine her days without seeing him. Mama had seen what she didn’t even know she felt.
Brady caught her staring, and she blushed when he tipped his head at her. Then he smiled, and her entire insides smiled back.
After service, Brady was quick to move in her direction. He complimented her on her dress and then did the same about Margaret’s new pink dress.
Once they stepped outside, Brady put on his hat. “I’d like to take you ladies to supper. A cook deserves a meal out.”
Margaret pressed into Tabitha’s body, and Tabitha knew she was itching to remind her of the fact that she had somewhere to be. “Margaret has rehearsal for a play at the YWCA soon.”
Brady was thoughtful as always and then said, “Let’s take her to the rehearsal and you and I have a meal while we wait for her to finish.”
Tabitha fought to keep her breath even. A meal with Brady outside of Tab’s was a date, wasn’t it? She had no good reason to say no, so she said, “That sounds like a good plan.”
Brady released a breath on a chuckle. “Good,” he said happily, nearly eagerly, and the three of them walked to the YWCA building.
Once they arrived, Tabitha had Margaret sit on the steps and eat the biscuit and pork chop sandwich she’d packed for her.
“I know this area a little,” Brady said. “There’s a place just around the corner.”
“Good. I don’t like to go far.”
Brady smiled. “I imagine you don’t.”
Margaret finished and went inside. She and Brady fell into step as they walked. Tabitha said, “Margaret knows the phone number to the house for emergencies. I made sure she learned it. It’s sewed in her dress hems too.”
Brady smiled again. “Mothers think of everything.”
“We try.”
“Do you have your own phone now?” he asked.
“No. It’s the same one we’ve had for the house. In the common area. We all contribute a little to it.”
“Same at my building. Phones are nearly necessary.” Brady took her elbow and ushered her around a broken piece of rock she had not seen. In her heels, she might have fallen.
“I thought about getting one so I could talk to my family about my boys, but the expense doesn’t make sense. Some months I’m barely scraping by.”
Not being on the docks made a difference in their step and the conversation. They were more intentional with each other and, unfortunately, awkward in small ways. It reminded Tabitha of how she was when she met Joseph.
She had learned a lot about Brady over the past two years, but never had she known about his love for music or that he had a year of college before he ran out of money and had to stop.
After they settled into chairs at a table in a small place with good smells coming from the kitchen, Brady continued the conversation they’d been having. “I wanted to learn business in college and move north. So many people I know went north. Columbia had a big exodus.”
“People are still moving,” Tabitha said. “The YWCA has to do a lot to help the women with boarding in the North. The women there write letters of request all the time to the YWCAs up there.”
“I wonder if our people fare better if their dreams come true the way they expect them to.”
“I don’t too much see anybody coming back. My brothers left a long time ago. Neither of them have come back... not even for a visit,” Tabitha said, lifting her teacup for a sip. She felt a little shame about that, but she’d already said it. “It must be gold streets up there for them to not come see our mama.”
“The North may not have Jim Crow laws, but they have systems that make it hard for Negroes.” He sighed. “The streets are not made of gold. Not at all. I’m sure they’ve learned that.”
“My brothers are much older than me. They were gone one day with just a hug and a goodbye.”
Papa’s words to Mama came back to her. “I’ve decided about the boys. I’m sending them north.” That didn’t make sense to her, but she figured if Mama accepted it, she had to as well.
Tabitha took another sip of her drink. Brady was easy to talk to. He listened to her. “Sometimes people want things so badly they’ll do anything to get them.”
Brady looked into her eyes with a deeper intensity. “What do you want?”
“Me?” Tabitha gave him a tiny smile. “More customers.”
He shook his head. “No, I mean what do you want besides Tabby’s?”
She was quick with her answer. She’d always known what it was. “My own restaurant in a building no one can take from me.”
Brady smiled again. “That’s not too big to ask of God.”
Tabitha put down her cup and traced her finger around the saucer. “I can’t even save for it. Most weeks I’m just making my due bills.”
“Nothing is unattainable. I think we have to be patient about God’s timing.”
***
Tabitha and Brady fell into the habit of attending church together, and it wasn’t long before they were courting. The more time she spent with Brady, the more she realized that being with someone was supposed to make her feel free, not trapped the way she was with Joseph.
And though she burned for Brady in the same way she had in the beginning for Joseph, he was a gentleman... always. He never made her feel silly for wanting to be decent and modest. And so this gentle courtship continued through the winter and into the early spring, when Tabitha thought the beginning of the new season might bring a new beginning for her and Brady.
Tabitha was humming a tune, setting up for a new day of cooking and serving. She remembered the picture show she and Brady saw the night before, and the way they held hands in the dark of the theater, when the bell rang over the door, bringing Brady through it.
Her heart quickened when she saw him, but then froze when she noticed his countenance. For a second she thought he was sick. Knowing he only ate what she cooked, she wondered if she had once again become a victim of tainted meat. Though she was careful about who she chose to buy from, the fear of that was always with her. Sam’s action had forever added a level of fear.
She walked to him cautiously. “What is it?”
“My father died.”
Tabitha gasped and put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“I have to go home for the funeral. They think it was his heart,” Brady said. He cleared his throat. “I’m locking up, but I was hoping I could store some more expensive things in your back room since you’ll be here every day.”
“Of course. You fetch them while I make room.”
Brady left and then came back with a pile of leather hides. He made a few trips before he was satisfied he’d secured his most important goods. When he was done, she handed him a bag with sandwiches and cake for the trip.
“Thank you for this, Tab.” That was his little name for her.
“It’s the least I can do. I can’t imagine what you’re feelin’.”
“It’s a cuttin’ pain for sure. I’m already worried about how my mama will fare without him. They are like one person.”
Tabitha nodded. She understood. Mama and Papa were the same in some ways.
“Is there anything else I can do for you to help you lock up?”
Brady shook his head. “I have everything done. I’ll get the train soon and be on my way. Unless Mama needs me for something, I should be back by the middle of next week. If I delay, I’ll call the phone at your place.”
Tabitha nodded. Brady didn’t move. Neither of them did. Her chest expanded more every second they stood there. They didn’t have words, only feelings between them.
“I know this is not a thing I should rush, but Tab...” He got down on one knee and pulled her hand to his chest. “I want us to get married. I love you.”
Tabitha nearly fell over. “What are you...” She hesitated. “Are you in shock about your daddy?”
Brady stood. “I want you to know how I feel and what I want. Maybe that has something to do with my father’s death, but not in the way you think.” He paused. “When I heard about my father, one of the first things I saw in my mind was you. You being there for me, traveling with me, holding my hand, comforting Mama. It was like a picture show in my mind. I thought you were my wife, I would have you... all of your tenderness and all of your ways. All of the things that make you beautiful.”
“That’s a fine way to think about me.” Tabitha was a bundle of happy emotions. This was love, the love she read about in books. It was real.
“If you’ll consider it while I’m gone, I will get a proper ring and travel to Georgetown to ask your mama, but let me know your yes or no when I return.”
“What if I told you now?”
“I could not bear a no, and I will not assume you have a yes in your heart. I know you have children to consider. Besides, if you say yes, it might be a sympathy yes.” He chuckled. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Be safe. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Brady released her hand, and she realized his palm was wet, sweaty like the sheen she noticed on his forehead. “You are perspiring, sir,” she teased.
He removed a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “The business of marriage takes nerve.” He chuckled again. Then he kissed her hand and breezed out the door.
Within seconds she missed him.
***
Tabitha was aware that if she didn’t fight for her life, she would not have one. She had no friends. She was isolated here. There was no one who would check on her, because the only other person who cared was in the room across from her, and she was just as sick. If she had a church family, someone would come by, but she didn’t. She’d let her bitterness and shame keep her from choosing a church home, preferring to be a visitor with no accountability to anyone.
She was like a heathen... she and her daughter, living near the docks with rough men and unrepentant women. She’d spent years reading the Bible on most Sundays with no real teaching. She only started going to church regularly because of Brady. She’d let all those years get between her and her faith, and she needed it now because she was going to die.
All this condemnation made its way in and out of her mind as she struggled with fear and weakness that glued her to a bed wet from her sweat and possibly some of her own waste. Mama had warned her. She’d told her to come home.
A cool cloth touched her forehead. Bless this child, she thought, and then she turned to Margaret, whom she wanted to stay away from her lest she catch this disease too. What she saw was not her daughter. It was an adult woman wearing a cloth around her face, but the eyes she recognized. Her sister.
“Cat?” She croaked her sister’s name across dry, cracked lips. “Oh glory.” God still loved her.
Catherine squeezed her hand. “I’m here.”
Tabitha’s head pounded like a thousand cows trampled on her skull. “How?”
“Margaret called Mama.”
Tabitha tried to express her gratitude, but she couldn’t speak anymore.
“I have soup warming, but I’m going to force some water into you first. I also have some medicine we been using at my hospital. It helps, but you must have something on your stomach.”
It wasn’t long before Catherine was spooning broth into Tabitha’s mouth. After the third spoonful, she asked, “Miss Libby?”
Catherine’s eyes dropped, and she shook her head. She looked back at the door. Tabitha let her eyes follow. There was nothing there except the door that led to Miss Libby’s room.
“Bitta, she didn’t make it.”
The pain in her chest sliced through to her back. She gagged, threatening to throw up what she’d eaten.
“No,” Catherine said. “You must keep this down. You’re dehydrated.”
Tabitha’s lip trembled. Miss Libby dead. How could this be? How had flu stolen someone else from her? Tears ran down the sides of her face.
“Older people can get better if they make it to the hospital. This Spanish flu kills the young ones... like you. That’s why I’m here. Mama was determined to come. I couldn’t let her.” Catherine raised the spoon again. “I don’t know if I’ll have a job when I get back. We have so many patients.”
Tabitha wanted to say she was sorry. All she could do was try to swallow. Try to keep it down.
“I’m right on time to keep you from...” She stopped, choosing her words. “You don’t want to leave this world. You have to let me help you. Grieving won’t make you feel better, so try to put Miss Libby out of your mind.”
Tabitha nodded.
“Focus on your children.”
“Margaret?” Tabitha asked.
“Healthy. Eating a chicken I brought. It’s good you have a full icebox. But the child has been keeping herself alive on cold food.” Catherine looked at the plate next to the bed. “I see she been trying to keep both of you alive too. She is resourceful for seven.”
Tabitha should have sent her with her mama as her mama asked, but what if she had? Who would have called for help?
After she ate, Catherine changed her and the bedding. Then Catherine gave her some medicine, and she slept fitfully, waking up now and then to thank God over and over in her spirit for saving her life and not leaving her children in this world without her.
The next morning, Tabitha felt a little stronger. She heard noises in the room next door. They had come for Miss Libby’s body.
Catherine entered her room and confirmed Tabitha’s thoughts. “I was able to get some men from the church on the corner to come and take her. Does she have a church?”
Tabitha shook her head.
“Family?”
Tabitha shook her head again.
“We’ll figure out what we can do for her.”
Tabitha’s eyes leaked again. The agony was still ripe. “She has a policy for burial. The papers are hidden. I know where.”
“Okay. We’ll find them when you have a bit more strength,” Catherine said. “You’re doing good. Now I’m going to clean that room.”
Tabitha closed her eyes and once again drifted off to sleep, but not before wondering what had happened to Brady.
It was three days before she was strong enough to manage a little on her own. Catherine was replaced with women from the YWCA. Tabitha’s letters to her sister had noted her volunteer work with them, so Catherine took the chance that they would return the kindness, and they did. The women cooked and cleaned. They got Margaret to school with a proper lunch. They even made the arrangements for the body of her dear housemate.
Community. She did have it. She wasn’t alone.
On the seventh day after her sister saved her life, Tabitha put on a sweater and made her way down to the phone to call Brady’s building. No one had seen him since he left to bury his father.
Tabitha walked to where the mail was and looked at the calendar tacked to the wall and counted twenty-three days. That was too long for him to be gone with no word to her. Not even a phone call.
Is he sick too?
She remembered how he’d been perspiring the day he left. His hands were sweaty, which was not like him. Later that same night, Tabitha felt like a trolley had run over her. The sickness came fast and hard. Miss Libby tried to take care of her, but within days she was sick as well. Had Brady given her this flu? If he did, he had it too.
She closed her eyes and prayed, “God, please do not take him from me.”
Tabitha turned to take her weak body back up the stairs but then thought to check her mail slot. Catherine had gotten the few pieces of post she had, but there was something in there for her. A small slip of paper was pressed against the wall of the slot that was easily missed because it was a brown color that blended with the wood grain. She pulled it out. It was dated ten days ago in an unfamiliar hand. It read:
Bradee brother call you. He still in Columbia with the flu.
Tabitha’s heart sank lower than it had ever sank in her life before. Her worst fear was confirmed. Brady was sick.
***
Over the next few days, Tabitha made multiple calls to Brady’s building, where she was told over and over that he had not yet returned from burying his father. The man who took the calls was a friend of Brady’s.
“Brady told me about you, Miss Tabitha. I checked on your restaurant. When I saw you wasn’t coming, I boarded both the store and your place so no one would steal anything.”
“God bless you a thousand times. Please let me reimburse you for the wood and your time.”
“Miss, Brady is my friend. I’m concerned about him same as you. It’s the very least thing I could do.”
Brady’s family did not have a phone, but someone in their community did because Brady would call and leave messages for his parents. Tabitha wished she had the foresight to get the number of that family before Brady left. She wished his brother would call with an update on Brady’s condition. Now she would have to send a telegram and hope to receive word back.
Even though she was better, the women in the building were afraid of her. Tabitha imagined that watching men remove the body of everyone’s beloved Miss Libby haunted them. Still, money made things happen. She was able to pay someone to carry her message to the telegraph office.
The response of nothingness kept her heart in a vice for the days that followed. Finally, she was strong enough to travel to her restaurant. With prayers on her lips, she hoped their businesses fared well.
By trolley car, she arrived at her second home. Brady’s friend had boarded both fronts just as he said. She went to her back door and used the hammer she’d brought with her to loosen the nails, and then she pulled the boards. It took more than the strength she had regained since being ill. It took the help of God to get the boards off.
Inside, her precious business was as she had left it. A stench rose, rotten meat no doubt, but other than that, every table and chair was in place. She went to the back room where Brady’s leather goods were hidden in flour bags under real flour and rice bags in disguise. She pulled one free and ran her hand down the leather, then pulled it to her chest.
“God, the same way you gave me favor, please have given it and continue to give it to Brady.”
She did not weep. She would not allow herself to. She emptied the icebox, wiped it clean, and walked out the back in the same way she’d entered, nailing the door closed again as best she could. She would not open until she had word about Brady. She had not the strength to do so, and it wasn’t just the flu that weakened her. Her entire chest area was filled with fear, sorrow, and mourning that she could not push out no matter how hard she tried.
She traveled to the school, got Margaret, and then went home, stopping at someone else’s shanty because she didn’t have the strength or mind to cook. Her bed was all she would find tonight. The pain in her heart was one she could hardly endure. It was so much deeper than the loss she felt for Joseph.
Margaret was just as sad, but for her it was that Miss Libby was gone, so they bathed with a little disinfectant in the water to keep more flu from finding them again and crawled into a freshly changed bed together with a book. For the first time since Mama had taken her sons, Tabitha was glad they were gone. She didn’t have to care for them. Margaret didn’t require much of her energy. Tabitha had space to be still. She could rest and pray and rest and pray some more.
Save the traffic outside the window, her daughter’s quiet breathing was all she could hear. Her little chest rose and fell in an even rhythm that only healthy chest walls could produce. Tabitha scooted out of the bed with the intention of going to her own bedroom. On the way, she stopped at the front window and looked out. There were a million stars in the sky. It was so beautiful. She could hardly believe she had to look at such beauty on a night when she was so troubled. She let her eyes fall to the street below, where a few people moved about. It was quiet for a Friday night with such fair weather and brilliant natural light.
Just as she was about to turn from the window, a figure caught her eyes. It was a man walking in a familiar way. She squinted, thinking her eyes created the vision she wanted to see, but then he stopped in front of her building and looked up like he could see her.
She opened the door and dashed from the apartment and down the stairs just as the front door to the building opened.
Brady.
Alive.
Well.
Home.
Just in time to stop her heart from breaking for the thousandth time today.
“I will marry you,” Tabitha said. He took her hand and pulled her into his arms.