* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
It was good for me to be home again. It was good to go to bed early and rise in early morning long before dawn to take care of the animals, to feed the cows and the hogs, the chickens and the guineas, to milk the cows and gather the eggs. It felt good to carry wood from the log pile to the wood-burning stove, and to tend the fireplaces before bed on a chilly night. It felt good to ride the new horse, named Lady, after the horse of my childhood, and even ride old Jack, the mule of my childhood. It felt good to walk through the forest down to the pond, take off my shoes and slip my bare feet into the cool water, and wonder at the dear, dear old trees all around. It felt good to walk the land. It felt good to sit at the long table, even though it felt empty without the boys, and to rejoice in Big Ma’s cooking, to sit in front of the fire at night or on the front porch on warmer evenings, to talk about the day, to talk about the past, and even to venture into the future.
I told Mama I thought I was pregnant.
She smiled wide. “Oh, that’s good,” she said.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Flynn hasn’t been truthful with me.”
Mama gave me a look. “Then make him be. You love him, right?”
I conceded to that. There was no denying that I loved Flynn.
“Then whatever you think he’s done, you talk it out with him and, between you, make it right. I did that with your papa when we were young, married, and separated, and I’ve never regretted it.”
I looked incredulously at Mama. I had never heard this before. “What? You mean to tell me, you and Papa . . . What was it about? Why’d you separate?”
“Not your business,” Mama stated curtly. “Point is, we both got past it. So, whatever’s going on between you and Flynn, you’ve got to get past it, and not just for the baby’s sake, but for the two of you in this union.”
Big Ma agreed. I didn’t have to tell Big Ma I was pregnant. She had already guessed. “No matter what, Cassie. Long’s he’s a good man, you need to figure a way to keep yo’ family. Ain’t nobody ever said it was gonna be easy. Long’s he ain’t hittin’ on you, disrespectin’ you, or doin’ some ungodly thing, you need to stand by this man. You love this man, he love you, y’all gotta work to make this marriage sound. Ain’t nothin’ worthwhile come without work and that’s the same in marriage, same’s anything else.” Now Mama knew and Big Ma knew. I was waiting for the right time to tell Papa.
I lingered for several weeks at home and felt my clothes getting tighter. I couldn’t zip my skirts all the way up, and there was no point in trying to button up a dress. I wore cardigan sweaters to cover the gaps. I should have gone shopping for maternity clothes while still in Toledo but I had put it off, thinking I would not need to go shopping until I was back in Los Angeles. Now I had to get some new clothes, and as much as I hated it, I decided to go shopping in Jackson. I asked Papa to take me. I went first to look for dresses on Farish Street, but couldn’t find anything I liked. I decided to look for something on Capitol Street. At one of the department stores I found several dresses that suited me. They were not maternity dresses, just larger sizes. I did not want to show up at the train station in Los Angeles and meet Flynn in maternity clothes before actually telling him my news. I took the dresses over to the saleslady.
“You ready to buy those?” she asked.
“No. I’d like to try them on first.”
The woman’s look was condescending. “You know our policy.”
Yes, I did know their policy. Colored folks could buy clothes, our money was welcomed, but we could not try on the clothes. I had known the policy since I was a child, but it was now 1950, not 1933. A war had been fought and colored men had fought in that war and colored women had served in that war. I thought maybe, just maybe, there could have been some changes made about policy. But nothing was changing here, not in Mississippi.
“Well, you buying these?”
I handed the saleswoman the dresses. “Not without trying them on I’m not. You keep your dresses and I’ll just keep my money.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
On the way home, I told Papa about the baby.
Papa smiled. “’Bout time you said something. Your mama’s already told me.” I smiled, knowing I should have figured she would. “Told me too that you and Flynn been having some problems. Course she didn’t have to tell me that, long as you been away from him.” Papa looked at me for a moment, then back to the road. “Now, I ain’t ever met Flynn, but if you chose him, I figure your good sense was all I needed to know he’s a good man. He was mistreating you, I’d take a shotgun to him, but you say he ain’t, so you gotta figure a way for him to make whatever’s wrong, right. It’s been long enough, Cassie. Time you went home.”
“But, Papa, I am home,” I said.
“No, Cassie girl. This ain’t home no more for you. Your home is with your husband, wherever he is and where y’all make your family. If you’re gonna stay married to this man, you need to go home to him. Much as I’d like for you to stay here and in my care, it ain’t the right thing. Now, you’ll always be my baby girl, but you’re his wife now and your place is with him. Like I said, time you went home, back to your husband.”
I looked at Papa. They all had spoken.
Soon after, I took a train, segregated out of Jackson, and traveled through Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, back to California, back to Los Angeles, back to my husband, back to Flynn.
CASSIE’S LOVE STORY
CHAPTER VI
(1950–1951)
It was evening when I arrived in Los Angeles. Flynn met me at the station. I was nervous about seeing him again, nervous about what I had to tell him. As we walked to the car, I took a deep breath knowing I would have to ride in the Mercedes. But the car Flynn led me to was not the Mercedes. It was a Pontiac. “Where’s the Mercedes?” I asked.
“Sold it” was all Flynn said. I asked nothing further. I was saving all my talking for later. Flynn opened the door for me, touching me for the first time, his hand on the center of my back, as was his habit whenever he helped me into a car. I fought to control my trembling. For a while as Flynn drove through the streets of Los Angeles we said nothing, even though there was so much that needed to be said. Then I realized we were not headed for the apartment and I broke the silence. “Flynn, where are we going? This isn’t the way home.”
“Are you sure?” Flynn returned. “As I recall, you don’t know L.A. all that well.”
“I know it well enough to know this isn’t the way to the apartment.”