Chapter 18 Adesua Ridley
Adesua Ridley
Adesua hadn’t expected to see a block party when she pulled up to Joseph’s family’s barbecue in Sugar Hill.
The entire street pulsed with life, families spilling from one brownstone to the next.
She had never seen anything like it. Her smile gleamed bright as Mr. Pierre opened the car door, revealing a group of young girls in their Sunday best playing hopscotch.
Adesua walked up to the tall double doors, knocking gently.
A girl younger than herself peered out. “Whatcha knocking for? Just come on in.”
Adesua smiled as she waved off Mr. Pierre.
“Forgive me, I wasn’t sure if I had the right house; I was looking for Joseph,” Adesua said politely.
“Oh, you must be that girl my brother was talking about. I am his younger sister, Sara.”
“Pleasure to meet you, honey. I’m Adesua. Now, where can I put this? I brought some mac and cheese.”
Sara shot her look. “Oh, Adesua, that’s the name? Hmm, well, that was a bold choice for you to make. Don’t you know the aunties always have control over the mac and cheese?”
Adesua did not, in fact, know of this unspoken rule, but they were going to have to let her slide this one time.
She set the glass tray in the kitchen next to three trays that already had spoons dug into them.
Sara chittered and chattered away, walking her outside, where Joseph’s extended family had gathered, though it looked more like a reunion of old friends of all ages.
Joseph’s face lit up when he spotted her. “My beautiful woman made it all the way out to Harlem for little ole me? I am flattered.” He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘little,’” Adesua teased.
“Come here. I want to show you around.”
The dancing area thrummed with couples and children jumping and swinging in every direction. The string lights above them twinkled overhead like stars. He brought her to the closed porch, where a few older women sat.
“And this right here is my beautiful momma and my auntie Adaline.” He motioned to two ladies with their legs crossed, sipping on what seemed to be tea, but Adesua knew better at a party such as this.
“Momma, this is Adesua, the one I told you about,” he said, his confidence suddenly wavering.
She sat up, recrossing her legs and pouring more cloudy drink into her glass.
“Adesua, hmm? Tell me about yourself, gal.” His mother twisted her lips.
The lady beside her smiled brightly, quite in contrast to his mother.
“Well, I just graduated from college in Atlanta a few months ago. I came back home to see where I want to—”
“Oh, Atlanta, you say? I got some kinfolk down there. Is that where you originally came from, girl?” his mother asked, slightly more intrigued.
“No, ma’am, I’m originally from Illinois. I did have some family from the South, my adoptive parents told me,” Adesua said, smiling at the small similarity they shared.
“‘Adoptive’?” His mother’s voice sharpened. “Joseph, don’t tell me she’s one of them Ridley girls.”
Adesua was used to the crazed looks of others who didn’t look like her. But this was new. She thought they’d understand—they’d experienced the same racism and injustices, after all. Who cared if she was adopted? And who cared if she was a Ridley?
They did, apparently.
“Momma, listen—”
“Now, Irene,” the woman next to Joseph’s mother cut in. “Settle yourself. I know the Ridleys. Met her mother years back, when Adesua was just a little thing.”
Irene rolled her eyes at her sister and then looked back to Adesua. “I just didn’t realize Joseph was bringing you here. I’d have kept on my good clothes.” She chuckled.
“That Mrs. Ridley is a kind woman, so you need to stop being ugly.” She looked at her sister, then continued. “I am Adaline, again, by the way. I know Joseph has introduced you to probably every person at this party. Take a seat, darling.”
Adesua sat with her legs crossed, trying to keep the nervousness and disappointment off her face. Then she remembered who Adaline was. The lady who’d helped them when she and Amelia were young. The connection stunned her.
“I mean no offense to the girl, Addie, but, honey, you aren’t one of us, no matter how dark your skin may shine,” Irene said. “Raised by them white folks, probably don’t know the first thing about her own people. I won’t have my only son giving me grandchildren who—”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Blackwood,” Adesua cut in, digging her nails into her own palms, “you have no right to speak to me and my family in this way. You think I chose to watch my family burn alive? You think I chose the Ridleys? I have done everything possible to get closer to my people, but I am only pushed away by the likes of folks like you. I went to a Black college, date Black men, support Black communities. But it’s never enough for some people. ”
Everyone looked at her silently, shooting cutting glances at Joseph’s mother.
“Well.” Irene smoothed her skirt. “She sure has a mouth on her, doesn’t she. Joseph, she’s got spirit, I’ll give her that. You can bring her back.” Mrs. Blackwood paused, easing the tense lines on her face.
She and her posse went back inside the house while Adesua slowly exhaled. She looked away to stop herself from crying, staring at a man’s mouth with a cigar that hung limply from it. It made her think of a memory she thought she had long forgotten.
Illinois, 1913
The world closed in on Adesua when she awoke one Sunday morning to a dark fog spiraling down her chest. She figured she was trapped in a nightmare that would never end as she gasped for air .
. . good, clean air. The night before, her mama and daddy had yelled in fury and rage as Mama prepared the family dinner.
The thunder had seemed to bang on their doorstep.
She liked it when the weather was like this because the thunder would drown out every poisonous word her mama spat at her daddy.
A young Adesua had left the table without even being noticed.
Now she was being shuffled out the door and thrown onto a mysterious bed that was not hers.
A voice echoed through her ears as her eyes stayed shut.
“Young Black gal, probably no older than six or seven. Her parents both died in the fire, and it seems a cigarette from the father could have caused it. We asked neighbors if the girl had no family there. Her mother and father both originally came from the South alone. So she’s on her own here now, Ida,” a man said with a hint of sorrow.
Adesua lay in that orphanage bed every night, hoping her mama and daddy would miraculously walk through that door. Hadn’t Jesus returned from the dead, and so many others in the Bible, just like Mama had taught her?
The day Adesua was adopted was a blur to her.
She remembered how alone she was for weeks, then months, then two years.
Every child Adesua would meet who had the bluest eyes or even an unruly face filled with freckles—they were all adopted before she could even introduce herself.
All because of the shade of her skin, which glowed as bright as the sun, making the tears in her eyes gleam.
Every potential parent immediately looked over her, going to the next child to ask their name.
She knew they looked different from her, but what made them so much better?
She saw one boy throw a toy in a lady’s face, and he was still adopted!
She knew from that moment that there was nothing she could say or do until Mother—her new mother, Caroline—came directly to her.
“You are the one we have been looking for, honey.”
She smiled as she remembered walking up those grand steps, looking at this enormous white house that felt larger than life.
Every night, her new bed would be drenched with tears.
She’d been brought into a new family and world that didn’t seem possible without her mama and daddy.
She knew, as loving as Mrs. Ridley and Mr. Ridley were, they were not Mama and Daddy.
Adesua dreaded the thought that she would never again find herself in their arms. And, oh, their love.
She wished she could go back to the day before the fire and that last fatal fight.
Her mama would wake her up with the smell of golden, buttery biscuits, sausage, and eggs, and Daddy would kiss her on the cheek with a murmur of “I love you” through his slender cigarette that blew wispy clouds from the side of his mouth.
She snapped out of her deep trance.
“I am sorry, Joseph. I wasn’t expecting—”
Joseph pressed a finger to her lips. “No, it was my fault. I hoped seeing you here would change her mind. But mothers can be a little . . . complicated, no matter what color,” he said. “Let me make it up to you on the dance floor.”
She knew he respected her but wished he had spoken up more.
Maybe this was another unspoken rule of Black families she didn’t know about?
Adesua made a silent promise to herself that she would no longer let people make her feel like her existence was a burden.
Their discomfort was their problem, not hers.
Joseph took her hand and swung Adesua around until she was dizzy and smiling.
She could tell he was distracting her from this and something else.
“What else is going on, Joseph?”
He grabbed her hand, taking her away from the crowd and walking her toward the street.
“Adesua, I love you, and I am really trying to make this grow, but is there anything else you need to tell me?”
She hesitated because she could barely trust her siblings anymore. Why would a man that she had just brought into her life give her any loyalty?
“That’s the answer I needed. Adesua, I am trying to protect you, but it’s getting out of hand.
I paid the school. When I gave it to the committee, I was informed that you owed money to another organization, and it went there.
They refused to give me any more details,” Joseph said with sadness tinging his voice.
“I will get it under control, Joseph. I thank you for your kindness and generosity for the school. I know who I need to talk to.”
She gave Joseph a kiss on the lips, reassuring him that he wasn’t the crazy one or at fault.
Adesua was, and she knew it. She thought everything she had done was careful, but it wasn’t.
She sent her goodbyes and thank-you’s to the family for letting her enjoy the day with them.
Long Island was the only place to hide. Harlem was slowly moving her out day by day.
Mr. Pierre was waiting for her with open arms. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”
His strong British accent startled Adesua. Mr. Pierre was a silent man. A keen observer but always watchful and protective over each of them since they were children. None of them knew much about Mr. Pierre’s life before the Ridleys, but he was their family.
“Nothing, I just needed a hug without words.” Adesua hugged him tightly.
He gave her exactly that. No other words were spoken on the drive all the way back to the estate. He stopped looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“Dusie, don’t forget how bright your light is. Even now, you’ve always been a star in my eyes. Don’t let this world stop you from what you need to do. No matter what they say.”
He turned off the ignition and opened the door once more. As she headed upstairs, she heard arguing in the foyer.
“Father is in the Hamptons, doing nothing because he is losing his mind!” Wei exclaimed with his arms in the air.
“There’s a right way to do this. We go behind Father’s back, and he finds out. Me and you are done. He will take away everything we worked for,” Omar said calmly.
Wei shook his head, walking back and forth.
“No, we need to do it soon. The board has already talked about his loud outburst. Him being senile. He will ruin the Ridley Line.”
Adesua walked away, but her heel got caught on the floor, causing her to trip and break a vase of roses. Another thing broken, she thought.
Wei swiftly came and picked her up. He checked her arm, which was now bleeding from the broken shards of glass. He set her on the foyer couch. This made Adesua laugh because her legs were functioning just fine. Wei ran upstairs to his room and came speeding down with a small paper packet.
“Here, I am going to put this on you. It’s called Yunnan Baiyao,” he said comfortingly.
This was a drastic difference from his earlier tense attitude about Father.
“We just need a little. This little packet can heal almost anyone,” he said as he rubbed her arm gently.
Omar had left by this time. Adesua knew he didn’t want to be confronted about the conversation he and Wei had just had.
“Wei, about the night Dale died. I just want to apolo—”
He stopped her before she could finish.
“Dusie, not now. Let me just do this, okay? We don’t have to mention that ever again. He is gone for a reason.” He was getting riled up again just thinking about it.
Adesua let him leave without pestering him further.
No one wanted to face the truth. It was easier to instead pretend it had never happened.
But someone knew, and they were waiting to be slaughtered next, just like Dale.
This time, it would not be by the press, but by the people who had prayed for the Ridleys’ downfall.