Redemption

The little girl resting on her back on the porch swing moved it back and forth with each gentle movement of her right foot. Her movements came with very little effort and with her eyes shut she was lost in her own world. A world of soft sounds, here and there, birds singing, the buzz of a bumble bee on Mama’s roses, Mama humming spirituals in the kitchen, and the occasional car headed down the red clay road that led to the highway and to places unknown were the only sounds that stirred the quiet of steamy summer afternoon. The light that penetrated the trees in the front yard danced across her mahogany face that was smooth and baby soft punctuated by a dimple in each cheek and a curious smile on full pink lips. Not much else to do cause it was so dang hot, everyone on Clayton Road had their windows and front doors open wide to catch whatever breeze they could. Occasionally, you would hear a screen door slam shut as someone came or went about their business. The thin sleeveless shirt that she wore stuck to her body in various places and her pedal pushers pants showed signs of wear, but Kat didn’t care she just wanted to stay cool, and laying here on the swing was getting the job done. Katheryn Deloris Purcell was eleven in August of 1960 and would turn twelve on August twenty-first an event that she so looked forward to that she could hardly wait. Mama and Papa had promised her a big birthday party to celebrate and all her friends were invited.

She had lived in the colored section of Garland Township, called Hilltown, so named after the old mill long gone and destroyed by a mysterious fire in 1939. Her family had moved to the town some six years ago when her daddy was offered an assistant vice president position with the Central Savings Bank, the only bank for colored folks for miles around. She loved the old Victorian house that they lived in with its high ceilings and beautiful wood trim and wrap around porch, Papa say, the house “had character” whatever the heck that was, but she thought it had too many rooms that needed constant cleaning.

Her right foot was dangling alongside the swing and just the tip of her big toe touched the wooden board of the porch. The paint had begun to peel away from the old house, and it was in need of some long-overdue repairs, but Papa was always too busy at the bank that he hadn’t had time to get around to getting them done. She really didn’t care at the moment what the house looked like, just as long as she could stay cool! As she glanced up towards the porch’s ceiling, she doubted if the wasps that were making a nest in the corner cared about character either. Her eyes were barely open; through the narrow slits, she could see clear across to Freedom Road and into the screened front door of old Dr. Porter’s house. The sounds of Mama singing “Wade in the Water” as she cooked further soothed her and added to her contentment for, she knew that as long as Mama was singing, she was happy and preoccupied. Preoccupied was good, cause then she wouldn’t notice that she hadn’t finished her chores for the day; Lord please let her keep on singing! High noon and lunchtime were just about here and everything and everybody stands still until one o’clock and whatever Mama was cooking sure smells tasty! Lord Jesus, no breeze stirred, and it is hotter than hell on this front porch. I reckon I better stay put, cause if I dare get up, I will just sweat even more.

This here thin blue cotton shirt that I got on has seen better days long before it was handed down to me. Mama says I should be grateful, cause the Lord saw fit for me to have a dress at all. I think Mama ought to save such talk for church but of course, she’s right and it’s still my favorite because I like the pretty flowers around the neckline. I’ve worn it so much that Mama says that I’ve just about worn it out. The numerous mending bore testament to that, there weren’t many places on it that hadn’t been ripped or hemmed. But all in all, there was still a hint of its past beauty even though it was a hand-me-down from Mrs. Rosenberg who had told Mrs. Purcell that her daughter Nanette had only worn it twice, or so she said, before she gave it to her for Kat some two years before. Not wanting to hurt Mrs. Rosenberg’s feelings she had taken the bag of clothes and given Kat a lecture about not hurting other people’s feelings, to just take what was offered even if you have to throw it away once you get it home. Papa says that is being dishonest, but Mama says the good Lord will forgive her for it and he understood why she was doing it that way. She could hear Mrs. Hughes next door pounding on the dusty rugs that she had hung up on her clothesline outback and Ms. Maggie knockin on Mrs. Fleming’s door down the street. So lost in her thoughts, Kat did not realize until it was too late that her Mama was standing beside the swing with her hands on her hips and a frown on her beautiful face.

“Kat! sit up young lady, your bloomers are showing, you know better than that! Folks will think that I haven’t taught you how to be a young lady. Have you finished what I told you to do! “

“No Mama. And I don’t want to be a lady!“

“And why not?”

“Cause then I can’t climb trees, catch bugs with Henry Lee, and have fun.”

“Young lady, there are more things to do in life than be a tomboy! You're growing up now and the sooner you accept that the better off you’ll be.”

“Well, I still don’t see why it matters.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, you have had all morning to get those floors swept, they are not going to sweep themselves and you know that the new teacher will be here in a few days”

“Yes Mama, but it is so hot!”

“Young lady, those floors still need to be swept, right now, real quick and in a hurry before I take a switch to you!”

Kat was so tired of hearing about this new teacher who was coming to teach at the colored elementary school. The Committee took three months to replace Miss Josephine Turner who died the first of May. The new teacher would begin at the beginning of the new school year in September and all the parents were so excited that she was coming. The kids on the other hand weren’t sure what to expect since the only teacher that had known had been old Miss Turner who was a kind widow who wore her hair in a bun and sported a large black mole on her neck. Ever since the committee had voted to select the new teacher, all any of them heard was that the new teacher gonna need this, and the new teacher gonna need that! All any of them seem to care about was what the teacher gonna need and not the kids. To be truthful, Kat was curious as to how she was gonna look since she was coming from Richmond, Virginia a big city to this small town. She tried to imagine that she was some middle-aged battle lax, all died up and mean who would make them do lesson after lesson until their fingers cramped up. She heard her parents talking, actually arguing about something that was discussed about needing the additional funding for the school to buy supplies and make repairs for both colored schools.

Pastor Johnson and the committee kept a tally of the school money that came in and out of the fund in a small black book that only he kept under lock and key. The fund had started to dwindle as more and more people moved up North for better jobs and the committee was afraid that they wouldn’t have enough for the coming years. As luck would have it, Pastor Johnson told everyone during last Sunday’s service, that an anonymous benefactor had given $20,000.00 to the fund just last week. This person had requested that their name not be divulged until after their death, whenever that may be, to protect their privacy. This person had worked hard with many of the good folks in town over the years and saved the money just for that purpose and Pastor Johnson wanted to abide by their wishes. Everyone was overjoyed and excited and everyone had ideas for how to use the money over the next few years. What intrigued everyone was that no one could guess who the person was, they must be from the other side of the tracks cause no black person would have that kind of money to give away.

Just when she got ready to protest about the cleaning again, she noticed a frown come across Mama’s face and darkened just before a look of surprise and disgust came across her face. Kat turned to see what her Mama was looking at and her mouth flew open. It wasn’t a what but who, one Betty Jean Rollins coming down the street in full regalia. The red dress looked like she had been melted and then poured into it, it was so tight, and it showed off her hourglass figure well, all too well. She was all gussied up from the top of her glossy “finger waved” hair down to her high-heeled black pumps. Her make-up was flawless and her lips that always looked like she was ready to be kissed bore her signature bright red lipstick. That pigeon-toed strut of hers gave an extra pizzazz and flair to her appearance and she sashays like she knew the effect it had not only on men but the anger it stirred in the other women in town, both black and white. Ethel began to shake her head slowly and before she could pretend that she hadn’t seen her, Betty Jean began to wave and smile.

“Well afternoon Mrs. Purcell, nice hot weather we’re having.”

“Hello Betty Jean, yes, it is very hot indeed”

“Well aren’t you a pretty Kat, how’s you doing today? Too hot to play hopscotch. Y’all take care, ‘cause it sho gonna get hotter!”

“Thank you and you do the same,” Mama replied as she continued to watch her walking towards the church.

“Kat come on and sweep the floors, your daddy will be here any moment for lunch. We ain’t got time for any more foolishness.”

“Yes, Mama” Kat muttered as she got up from the swing that continued to move in the warm air.

Weeks went by and then a month and school was due to start in two weeks, everyone was excited because of all the changes that had been made to the schools and they looked ready for the first day. As we all piled into the car, Mama, Papa, my big brother Calvin, my little brother Scott and myself I was so glad that the church wasn’t too far away because the heat was still with us, lingering and causing misery. Pastor Johnson preached on “the wages of sin is death, that we should all be ready when the Master calls us home because we know not what day or what hour that will be,” and the choir sang hymns about redemption. Then Pastor Johnson stepped to the podium to address the congregation once again.

“You know, brothers and sisters, the Bible tells us to judge ye not lest ye be judged. Now, I’ve lived in this community all of thirty years, twenty of which since I became your Pastor Johnson. I have seen sinners come through that door and ask for forgiveness and prayer so they could start a new life.” He said just before he had a pregnant pause that lasted way too long.

“Sista Betty Jean Rollins came to this church faithfully. Now, now I know we all know how sista made her money, and so do a lot of you more than you care to tell, but she struck me as a kind woman with a large heart.” At that moment, the crowd began to whisper and stir, no smiles could be seen on any faces.

Then Pastor Johnson continued, “Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t know what’s in another person’s heart. But I know the Lord says that if they should come to him and accept him as their Savior then they will be saved. A little more than a month ago, Sista Betty Jean came to this church to let me know that she was leaving town to go live in New York. She asked me to pray with her and that she wanted to be saved.”

Pastor Johnson shushed everyone as their voices began to rise in anger and disbelief that he had even entertained praying with the woman they all called Black Jezebel.

“Pastor Johnson, how could you. Allowing her to come here is one thing but baptizing her is another.” Deacon Mathews murmured under his breath, and others nodded in agreement.

“Now brother there ain’t no reason for you to say such a thing, all are welcome here! I got word last night that Sista Betty Jean was killed in a car accident in New Jersey yesterday. She will be funeralized here next Saturday afternoon at one o’clock.”

Shouting and pandemonium broke out in the sanctuary and it took Pastor Johnson ten minutes or more to bring order back to the service, and then he bowed his head in prayer. All bowed theirs as well as he gave the closing prayer and benediction.

“Dear Heavenly Father, we come to you now to thank you for all the many blessings that you have bestowed upon our flock all these many years. We thank you for our health and strength and for our ability to care for our families. We also thank you for the life of Sista Betty Jean and pray that she has found peace. Most of all we thank you Lord for the gift of $20,000 dollars that she gave to our schools before she left.”

You could hear a rat pissing on cotton in the sanctuary as the congregation looked at each other in total surprise and shock.

Then Pastor Johnson raised his hand and said the benediction, “May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Now may the Church say Amen!”

“Amen!” said the congregation and the church was dismissed.