As Jobeth sat on the mattress listening intently to Oliver, Shawna slept peacefully in her arms. The child’s pale hair fanned out across Jobeth’s lap and she absently stroked the silky locks.
“We all just gradually hooked up with one another.” Oliver said calmly. His elbows rested comfortably on his lap as his hands dangled freely between his knees. Jobeth could not help noticing Alan looking at Oliver uncomfortably.
She shook off the feeling of animosity and turned her attention back to Oliver.
“So you don’t have any parents?” Jobeth inquired, facing him. His eyes danced with amusement.
“Not one of us has a parent. They’re either dead or just up and left.” He smiled and leaned in closer to Jobeth. “What about you? Where are your parents?”
Jobeth darted her eyes away and began staring at her hands in her lap. Her nails were broken and black and the lines in the palm of her hand were embedded with dirt. She nervously began to stroke Shawna’s soft, blond locks. Tears tried to force themselves to the surface, but Jobeth swallowed them back.
“I have no parents. Shawna and I are all alone.”
“Is Shawna your sister?” Jonah asked, sitting beside Tamara. He had been silently listening to Jobeth and Oliver.
Jobeth looked up at him, still surprised at his color. She had only seen black people a couple of times around her hometown, and always on the poor side of citizenry. But the blacks and whites never spoke to each other. She was embarrassed to admit it, but she had never paid much attention to the colored folks. They were like apart of the scenery, standing on the corner or in the store. She had never taken notice.
“Yes,” she lied, not looking up. It wasn’t completely untrue, Shawna felt like a sister.
Alan noticed Jobeth’s uneasiness and sensed she was not used to addressing colored folks. Studying her tired face, Alan saw only kindness. She had probably never spoken to a black person before. Once she got to know Jonah, she would love him like everyone else did. Even Tamara, who pretty much hated everyone and everything, loved Jonah.
“I think it’s time we let Jobeth sleep,” Alan announced, still looking at her.
Relieved, Jobeth’s eyes met his. He tried again to smile warmly at her, but it only came out twisted, making him look ridiculous.
“But we want to hear more,” Tamara chided, lying back on her side, her head resting snugly on her propped hand. She smiled sweetly.
Jobeth ignored her. She was tired and did not want to answer any more questions. Too many questions would lead to too many truths, and that was the last thing she wanted them to know. Then they would throw her out and keep Shawna. They could never know the truth about what had happened to her. She would never let that happen.
“There’s plenty of time to talk,” Alan interrupted, scowling at Tamara. “That is, if Jobeth decides to stay with us.” He held his breath, afraid of the answer. Alan could not explain it, but he felt the need to protect her and her little sister.
Jobeth stared at Alan, open-mouthed. She hadn’t thought of staying permanently.
“Please stay, Jobeth,” Oliver repeated leaning even closer to her.
“Well, I don’t know…” Jobeth stumbled. She still felt a little frightened of these people. Tamara’s face was red with anger. Her friendly smile was now gone. Did she want to spend the whole winter with a girl who obviously did not like her and felt threatened by her? Tamara’s expression to Oliver was one of disgust. She flopped herself flat on the mattress, turning her back to Jobeth and Oliver.
“There is no need for her ta answer that question, Oliver,” Alan answered for Jobeth. “We all can leave any time we want and so can Jobeth. Stay as long as yah want.” He layed down on a mattress and yawned, his eyes never leaving Jobeth. “Lots to do tomorrow, better get some shuteye.”
She stared back, grateful. Alan nodded as she snuggled in beside Shawna.
Oliver stood up and went to the mattress Tamara was sleeping on. Lying down beside her, he whispered something into her ear and she elbowed him roughly in the stomach. He chuckled, said something Jobeth could not hear and crawled onto a mattress with another boy.
Jonah, smiling at Oliver’s behavior, crept away from the fighting couple and over to Alan’s mattress. He laid his large frame down, not noticing the difference between his frame and Alan’s lean one.
“I like her,” Jonah whispered to Alan’s rigid back.
“Me too,” Alan whispered back, wide-eyed, staring at Jobeth’s already sleeping form. “Me too.”
Jobeth awoke refreshed and in good spirits for the first time in a long time. She sat up feeling a little stiff and confused, unable to remember where she was. Suddenly she became frightened. Where was she? Her head spun around from side to side taking in the objects around her. Then the events of the past evening flooded her memory.
Alan and Oliver. Tamara.
It all came back in a rush of events. She turned to check on Shawna and smiled at the sleeping child beside her. The poor thing was still asleep, completely exhausted from all the activities of the past month. Jobeth pulled the blanket Oliver had given her over Shawna’s frail shoulders and lightly kissed her warm cheek.
“Good mornin’.” boomed a deep voice.
Jobeth spun around to face Jonah. Her hand clasped her heart and she did not know what to do.
Jonah loomed large with broad shoulders over her.
“Good morning,” Jobeth said, reserved, her eyes avoiding him.
She had remembered when Mother Tomalina had been offered a black baby. She had refused to take the baby, stating that there was no way she was having one of those kind in her home. Jobeth had not understood the comment. She had been in the kitchen peeling potatoes at the sink when the nice-looking lady with brown hair and a straw hat had come to the door holding the dark, crying infant. The baby was dressed in a darling white crocheted bonnet and dress that flattered the infant’s chocolate colored skin.
“But Mrs. Johnston, the child has nowhere to go. You are my last hope,” the lady begged.
The baby flailed its tiny feet, knocking off one of the matching white booties and exposing a brown foot with a pinkish underside. Jobeth leaned closer to the door to listen, her knife poised over a half-peeled potato. Mother Tomalina always wanted babies. For reasons unknown to Jobeth, Mother Tomalina had a soft spot for small babies. Maybe it was because they didn’t yet have a personality to offend her, or maybe it was because they did not look at her drawn, wrinkled face with disgust. Whatever the reason, it did not last long. As soon as the child was old enough to walk, Mother Tomalina would have nothing to do with it.
“No. Now leave with that--that thing, now.” Mother Tomalina ordered the lady out of the house. “Bring me a white child, even an Indian, but never bring those soulless creatures into my home,” she ordered. “I will not have the children of Ham under my roof.”
The woman left, enraged, and Mother Tomalina went to pray. As soon as Jobeth was sure Mother Tomalina was deep in prayer, she left the potatoes in the sink and went outside. She bent down where the baby had kicked off the bootie and picked it up. The yarn was silky to the touch. Jobeth couldn’t’ help herself and rubbed the small garment to her cheek, feeling its warm comforting touch.
Before her parents were killed, Jobeth had asked her Mama about the black people.
“Some feel they are different--inferior--to us white people.” Mama said while knitting in her favorite chair. “But the white people were the ones who enslaved the blacks, and no one, black or white should be treated like an animal.” She put down her knitting, motioning Jobeth to sit down in front of her. Jobeth listened and knelt down. As Constance Roberts began to braid her daughter’s long golden brown hair, warmth and safety enveloped Jobeth.
“Remember, my dear, we are all God’s children and in the end when we are in heaven, all color fades to a bright light and in that light, there is only love.”
Jobeth looked at the little shoe and the warmth she had felt when her mot
her braided her hair lingered. She gently folded the bootie and placed it in the pocket of her dress.
Jobeth looked at Jonah, ashamed. His size was threatening, but his face and his smile were kind and genuine.
“I owe you an apology Jonah,” Jobeth said looking at his confused features.
“Whatever for?” Jonah handed Jobeth some bread.
“I am afraid I have judged you unfairly.” Jobeth looked down at her hand holding the bread Jonah had given her.
“Aw, you ain’t the first,” he smiled brightly, “and you won’t be the last. Everyone does at first. It’s cause I’s so big for my age and I’s so dark and all.
Least yah say you’re sorry. Don’t normally gets a ‘sorry’ from folks.”
Jobeth felt her apprehension starting to leave.
“I guess you had a good sleep?” Jonah asked, coming close. He sat on the nearest mattress to Jobeth. “Sit down, Jobeth. Sit down.” He patted the mattress beside him.
Jobeth walked over and sat down uneasily beside the massive youth. Too many things had changed in her life in such a short period. It was hard for her to overcome. She had never spoken to a black person before and now she sat inches away from one. She couldn’t help feeling dirty around people. After what Father James had done to her--why would anyone want to be around her?
She closed her eyes and took a bite of the dry bread.
I am not going to think about that!
Jonah smiled and chuckled through a mouthful of bread.
“Yah looks like yah got the weight of the world on those little bitty shoulders of yours.”
“I do?” She twisted her hands, surprised at her outburst. She nibbled on her bread, angry with herself for revealing too much. “Where is everyone?” Jobeth gazed around the empty room, trying to change the subject.
“They all gone to town,” Jonah smiled broadly displaying a mouthful of teeth that seemed to take up his whole face.
She liked his smile. She started to relax again, the images of Father James forced to the back of her mind once more. Mama was right. Everyone was God’s child.
“We has to treat the newcomers with class,” Jonah continued eating, whipping away breadcrumbs from his mouth with his massive paw of a hand. “Bread won’t do for the feast we gonna have tonight.” He lifted his crust of bread to Jobeth’s face.
Instantly her stomach growled at the mention of a feast. It had been so long since she had eaten a good meal. She wondered if Shawna had ever eaten one. She felt warm inside thinking of the child feasting on good nutritious foods.
“Yah,” Jonah continued, noticing the hunger in Jobeth’s eyes. “Carter and Adam are at work, but they promise to bring home a little extra for the dinner.”
He grinned at Jobeth bashfully, his brown eyes twinkling with life. “Are yah hungry, Jobeth?”
She blushed, ashamed that her hunger showed so plainly.
“I am only hungry for Shawna,” Jobeth said with little conviction while sweeping the crumbs off her skirt.
“ Yah, I know how it is to be hungry for someone else.” Jonah laughed. Jobeth couldn’t help herself, she began to chuckle too. She sounded ridiculous. The sides of Jonah’s eyes creased and wrinkled with laugh lines. She wondered how old he was. His frame was the size of a man but his face was that of a boy, kind and gentle, not yet ruined from the cruelty of the world.
“Jonah?” Jobeth asked, “How old are you?” She blushed. She felt like her tongue did not belong to her. She had lost all sense of the good manners she had been raised with. Tears burned behind her eyes. Could Jonah not see what a fraud she was? But she suddenly really needed his kindness and offer of friendship.
“You are all so young,” she said, trying to recover from her mess-up. Her throat felt tight and it was hard to speak.
“That we are.” He stared at the doorway to the rest of the house, lost in thought, unaware that Jobeth felt she had insulted him. He turned from the door and graced her with his beautiful smile. “All babes lost in this great big
ol’ world. Well, let’s see. Carter and Adam are the oldest of the group. They’s eighteen and the best of friends you ever saw. Then there is Alan.”
Jobeth eased up and felt her throat relax. She could not help noticing the look of worship on Jonah’s face at the mention of Alan.
“Alan’s sixteen and Oliver the wild cat,” Jonah could not help but radiate as he spoke fondly of his only family, “he’s fifteen. Todd, he’s fourteen. He’s also Adam’s brother. He’s mighty shy, so don’t yah be getting upset and hurt if he don’t speak to yah.” Jonah wagged a finger seriously in Jobeth’s face. She shook her head, amused, and forgot her earlier shame.
“And we can’t forget Tamara. Beautiful Tamara. She’s at the lovely age of fifteen. And I, well I’s sixteen too.”
Shawna stirred waking up. She rubbed her eyes in the familiar way Jobeth had become accustomed to.
“Well, if the sun hasn’t shined right in this very room.” Jonah beamed, standing up and walking toward Shawna.
She quickly backed away from him, frightened. She had lived all of her life with Mother Tomalina and Father James. It was hard to remove a lifetime of learned racism in just one night. The messages the Johnston’s seeded in Shawna’s brain since infancy had taken plant and rooted on her shoulders for so long.
“Now there is nothing to fear from old Jonah, little girl. Now look here.”
Jobeth watched curiously as the boy searched in his pants pocket for something.
Shawna eyed him with distrust.
“I saved this just for you,” Jonah said, handing Shawna a large, shiny red apple. “Just for yah breakfast. A growing girl such as yourself needs an apple a day to keep the doctah away.” He chuckled, handing Shawna the red fruit.
Shawna held the fleshy apple, her eyes feasting on the red color. She looked to Jobeth for approval and Jobeth nodded, smiling. Without a moment’s hesitation she took the apple and bit into it.
“Mmmm . . . It’s GOOD!” She beamed up at Jonah. Apple juices ran down her chin. “Thank you!” She bit into it again, the sounds of crunching rang through the room and all fears of Jonah vanished with each sweet bite.
“You are welcome. And since you love ma apples, I will bring one for yah every day.” Jonah said, standing up. He picked up Shawna and walked back to Jobeth.
Jobeth reached her arms out for the little urchin and placed the apple child between the two of them.
“Jobeth?” Jonah asked, handing each of them more bread.
“Yes?” Jobeth placed the bread in her lap. She began to wipe away some breadcrumbs that had fallen onto her dress.
“I always wants to know what a body wants out of this great big ol’ world. An’ I wants to know what you want too.” Jonah asked, looking at Jobeth sincerely.
She knew he was serious with his question and it made her uncomfortable. She had given up all her hopes and expectations of the world.
“What do you want?” Jobeth countered back, teasing, trying to avoid his questioning face.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jonah’s face puzzled up like an old rotten apple, “I guess I want people to see me and accept me as Jonah. Not the nigger boy. Not the poor black trash. Just Jonah.” He looked at Jobeth with wide, wet eyes. “See, I got two strikes against me. I’s black and I ain’t got no one but a bunch of white kids as family.”
“But that is better than being any color and all alone.” Jobeth spoke softly.
She felt for the man-child beside her. She knew what loneliness was and it did not discriminate. It attacked everyone it could.
Jonah saw Jobeth’s fallen face and the sadness plainly displayed there. People’s troubles come in all forms, he thought. He perked up quickly, not wanting to darken this new encounter.
“That’s right, Jobeth. I knew yah was meant to be a part of our family. I just knew it. I gots a bad habit of getting down on myself and the group is always at me, reminding me of the good things in life
. Just like you just done.”
Jobeth laughed and tickled Shawna, who giggled and bit into her half-eaten apple. It felt good to laugh. It had been a long time since she felt like laughing, since it felt safe to laugh. It might not be so bad to stay the winter with these people. They could not tell Father James had raped her. Besides, winter was nearly at the door and it would be good to spend the cold nights talking to Jonah. Maybe with time, she would even become friends with Tamara. She allowed herself to be content, if not happy. Maybe she could put the incident in the Johnston household behind her. Maybe she could forget and go on with her life.
“Now quit tryin’ to change the subject. You tell me now what you’d like outta life.” Jonah scowled playfully.
“I’d like to be as free as a birdie.” Shawna tittered.
Jobeth still could not believe the change in Shawna. She had really transformed into a new little girl.
It was hard to believe that Shawna had once been a frightened little phantom, afraid of her own shadow.
“Me too,” Jobeth said dreamily. “I would like to fly away where no one would ever find me. Like a deserted island. I would eat wild berries and drink from a clear crystal stream. Then I would dive into its cool depths and be forever clean.” She blushed, embarrassed. Shawna and Jonah listened intently.
Jonah put his hand on Jobeth’s knee and clasped her hand. It felt warm and friendly.
“We have the same dreams,” he whispered.
Stillness enveloped the room.
“How did you meet up with these people, Jonah?”
Jobeth coughed nervously. The silence between them had grown uncomfortable.
“Well,” Jonah began, ripping his bread in two and handing half to Shawna. She took it greedily and began to munch down on it. “I was three when my ma died and a few years later my Pa died of a bad heart. I believe that it was a broken heart. He was always a silent man, but after Ma died of her headaches, he seemed to become even quieter. Into himself. I didn’t have no brothers and sisters on account of Ma nearly dying havin’ me. Pa said it messed her insides up pretty bad. Anyway, I was just wandering around, nearly starved, when I met up with these boys. Most have the same story. Some different. Some have been on their own as young as Shawna.” He ruffled Shawna’s hair. Shawna rolled her eyes up at him.
“Yah, Tamara’s been on her own since she was seven. I don’t know much about Alan. He’s pretty quiet about his past.”
Jobeth felt queer. Why was the boy Alan so secretive about his past? But then again, she did not want anyone to know about her own sordid history. She pushed the mystery of Alan’s previous life out of her mind. What did she care about a boy she did not know? Jobeth had enough to think about with Shawna and herself. She did not need to worry about Alan and his secrets.
The door suddenly burst open, causing the three to jerk clear out of their seats.
“Hey,” laughed a slobbering, drunk Oliver. He reeked of booze. Jobeth became frightened and reached for Shawna instinctively.
“No need to dent the roof.” He stumbled into the room and nearly fell onto Jobeth. For a brief moment she felt like screaming. A memory of Father James looming above her popped into her mind and just as quickly faded when Alan grabbed Oliver by the collar of his shirt, frowning at him.
“What? What did I do Alan?” Oliver looked confused and a little hurt.
“You better learn how to handle your whisky, Oliver, or I might have to teach yah how.” Alan steamed. He had seen the look of terror cover Jobeth’s face. She could not help noticing Alan looking at her. She bent her head down and felt her face begin to burn red.
Oliver sulked over toward Tamara who was standing in the doorway frowning down at Jobeth. She had also noticed Jobeth’s reaction to Oliver’s drunken behavior.
“Hey, baby,” Oliver slurred at Tamara. A pink tongue protruded out of his mouth and darted into her small white ear. Tamara’s expression revealed that she was not impressed. “How about it honey? I need a little lovin’ and I know you can fill it.” He leaned over and planted a boozy kiss right on the nape of her neck.
A shiver ran up Tamara’s spine. Softening, she gazed down at Oliver’s tousled black hair. She had a weak spot for his good looks and exquisite blue eyes. Eyes, she now noticed, trying to focus on the surprised Jobeth. Fury that seemed to always fill her snapped free. Tamara turned around so fast that Oliver did not have time to duck and her hand smashed into the side of his flushed face.
“Pig!” She shrilled so loud that Shawna leapt into Jobeth’s lap. “You don’t talk to me that way or I will do more than slap yah. I knows how to do that too,” Tamara hollered. She stormed over to Alan, who was taking food out of the inside of his jacket.
“Stop it, Oliver!” Alan said, shifting to Tamara. She began to remove food from her coat. Alan avoided looking at Jobeth.
Oliver shook his head, touching the side of his face where Tamara’s handprint was already red and noticeable. He went to the nearest mattress and lay down. He did not understand what had come over Tamara.
“We got a ham and a dozen eggs. Carter and Adam got some other stuff. We gotta be careful from now on. They’re startin’ to watch us closer.” Alan spoke to Tamara. “You women can go and begin this ham.” Alan avoided Jobeth’s fixed look. He could tell the look of disapproval in her eyes and it made him feel small. He was sure Jobeth had never stolen for her supper. It was plain to see in her eyes.
Alan was sure he was right.
She thinks I am trash, he thought, ashamed and humiliated. She is too good for us, for me.
“C’mon.” Tamara said miserably as she picked up the ham and slung it loosely by her side. She did not even bother looking at Jobeth as she trudged out the door.
Jobeth started to slowly stand up and follow the raven-haired beauty, unsure as to what to do.
“Jobeth?” a small voice questioned. Jobeth wheeled around. She had forgotten about Shawna. The poor thing looked frightened as a scarecrow. Tears had begun to roll out the corners of her eyes and her bottom lip started to tremble.
“Am I a woman? Do I go too?” She choked, trying not to cry.
“Do you want to come?” Jobeth asked. She felt bad; her mind had been on Alan’s stealing and Tamara’s insolence. Shawna was her responsibility. She should not have concerned herself with how Alan and Tamara lived their lives. Shawna would be eating tonight. Eating until she was completely filled up. What did it matter where the food came from or how it had landed on their plates? It only mattered that it was there. Jobeth could not believe she had let herself forget about the little girl. She was going to have to be more careful. These people were temporary and this place was only a pit stop for the winter. Shawna was permanent—she was her whole future.
Shawna nodded her head up and down, forcing the frown from her lips. She really liked Jonah and the attractive boy Oliver, but she still was not ready to be away from Jobeth.
“Then come along,” Jobeth coaxed holding out her hand.
Shawna grinned and jumped up from the mattress, running to Jobeth.
“You’s in charge, Shawna,” Jonah said, pointing. “Don’t let those two diddle-daddle with our feast.”
“I won’t,” Shawna said, feeling better.
Jobeth and Shawna went outside behind the broken-down house.
Tamara was already building a fire. The ground was black and full of ashes. There were burnt twigs and black charcoal rocks placed in a circle. Logs were neatly stacked up against the wooden walls of the building. Tamara had already brought three good-sized logs beside the circle.
“Shawna, honey,” Tamara said, surprisingly sweet. The young child looked at her fearfully, grabbing the hem of Jobeth’s frayed skirt. “If’n you wanna play, I have some pretty dolls up in the house by my mattress, just waitin’ to be played with by some beautiful girl just like you. You see, they happen to be lonely. No one’s played with them for a long time.”
Shawna’s mouth grew into an ecstatic smile
. She had never had dolls.
Mother Tomalina did not believe in such indulgence. They were a waste of money, in her opinion.
“Go play, Hun’.” Jobeth coaxed, thinking maybe Tamara was all bark and no bite.
Shawna giggled and ran off excitedly into the ramshackle house. She quickly returned moments later with three porcelain dolls. They were beautifully made, with real human hair as blond as corn silk. Their faces were delicately painted with happy smiles. The dolls, Jobeth noticed, were well taken care of, their dresses clean and bright. Shawna sat down on the grass a little ways from the other girls and began to play.
Tamara’s fire had started to take and she was preparing a spit to roast the ham on.
“If you’re gonna stay, you better learn to cook.” Tamara said, glaring at Jobeth. She ignored the look. “Everyone has to work. Ain’t no room for one livin’ off the others here.”
“I can work.” Jobeth spoke bitterly, poking a stick into the ground. The sight of the ham, which moments ago had caused her stomach to growl, now made it churn. Her breasts began to throb and she wondered if her monthly would soon start. She glanced at Tamara putting the ham on the spit. It looked red and the smell of raw pork began to repulse her. Her mouth began to water and bile rose in her throat suddenly. Turning to the bushes, she quietly spit up her bread that Jonah had given her for breakfast.
Tamara watched out of the corner of her eye. She had been ready to argue with Jobeth for leaving her duties when she noticed her throwing up. Tamara turned back to her cooking. She hated being sick, but she was only briefly concerned for Jobeth. She didn’t like the scrawny gal invading her home. The little one, Shawna, was all right. She knew only too well what it was like to be so young and alone.
“Sorry,” Jobeth said returning back to Tamara, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I haven’t been around solid food so long that I’m afraid my stomach can’t handle it.”
Tamara nodded, not bothering to look at Jobeth’s waxen face. Oliver paid too much attention to the gaunt, stringy-haired girl. She couldn’t understand his attraction to her. She thought Jobeth’s hazel eyes were too big. Her hair was too straight and an awful mousy color. Although Jobeth’s dress was barely being held together, she had no body to contend with. She was built like a skinny child, compared to Tamara’s curvy frame. Tamara knew she turned all men’s and even some women’s eyes. She always had. People had always fantasized about her and lusted after her. And Oliver had been no different.
She let him have her a few times. What did it matter to her? Sex was nothing new. She had always been surrounded by it.
She was born in a brothel. Her mother, a black-haired beauty like Tamara, had been the favored prostitute of the establishment. Madame Keisha, the painted, red-haired woman who owned the pleasure hotel, had pulled the bloody, screaming Tamara from between the quivering legs of Lorraine, Tamara’s mother. It had been a cold winter night and the room was so frigid that a hazy mist steamed from Tamara’s wet body. Her balled-up fist struck out angrily at the world. Madame Kiesha placed the infant on her mother’s working bed, the very bed Tamara had been conceived on, and looked up at Lorraine, who was exhausted. It had been a hard and long labor. Madame Keisha expected both mother and child to die. She was still afraid that her most popular girl would. Her business would not be as prosperous without Lorraine. She had the beauty the clients only dreamed of having, but would pay highly to have, if only for the night.
“It’s a girl,” Madame Keisha said, looking down at the squirming infant shivering in the cold. Little puffs of cool air blew out of her wailing blue lips.
“She should have died,” Lorraine whispered weakly on her side. A tear ran down her sweaty, pasty face. “Who will marry a whore’s daughter? She will be a whore too. Like mother, like daughter,” Lorraine sobbed. Madame Keisha lifted the wiggling Tamara to her mother’s breast. Lorraine wished she could have feelings for the child. The child was from her body, but she just could not love her. She did not even know who the child’s pa was. He could be any of the foul-smelling rogues who frequented the establishment. The thought of the men who came to pleasure themselves on her made Lorraine sick. This child was a product of one of those encounters. Lorraine had hoped that maybe it had been one of the wealthier clients. Maybe even one of the young virgin boys whose daddy or older brother had treated them on a birthday. She was an expensive product. It was something to relax her mind for a moment. But there were the few scoundrels who, captivated by her beauty, spent a month’s salary just to pump her for a few moments of pleasure. The thought that one of these men could have fathered her child sickened her.
The baby cried angrily, begging to be fed. Lorraine placed a hard nipple into the child’s mouth to stop the fury of the infant. She laid her head down upon her pillow, feeling her child feed from her and cried.
Tamara grew up watching her mother with countless men. She always craved the love Lorraine seemed to give them and not her. Only when Tamara had been sick would Lorraine sit by Tamara’s small bed that was beside her mother’s and feed her soup, humming a tuneless hymn.
When Tamara was seven, her mother was killed. She had told a favored customer that she was pregnant. The man was enraged and strangled Lorraine while Tamara slept peacefully beside them.
Tamara never cried when Madame Keisha and two of the other girls who worked for her removed her mother’s limp corpse from the stained sheets of the bed. Madame Keisha pulled Tamara aside after her mother’s body had been taken away.
“Tamara, your mother has left us, child. It is a great loss to my business. But she did have you and you will garner a great price. The beautiful daughter of Lorraine, even more beautiful than she, and still pure. You will be my greatest profit.” The heavily made-up woman spoke, her eyes visibly calculating the income that would come in with the price of Tamara’s virginity. “I will auction you off to the highest bidder. The gentlemen will bid high, very high for your young beauty and unspoiled body.”
Tamara said nothing. She was aware of the virgin auctions. She had no intention of having the filthy creatures who groaned naked over her mother do the same to her. That very night when the brothel was packed with customers and laughter, Tamara slipped out of the establishment when everyone was too busy to notice. Madame Kiesha never saw her again.
Tamara shook her head. That was a long time ago. She had survived. Sometimes by the very means she had run away from. Men seemed to desire her, wanted to possess her. Tamara just shrugged it off. They could have her body if she needed the money, but they would never possess her.
Eventually, years later, she met Carter, Adam and Todd. They treated her like one of them. For the first time in her life, she felt she belonged to a family. Others joined the group. Some left, some stayed. Although there were the few boys who felt they could have Tamara, she had never allowed it. Not until Oliver showed up, so handsome and charming. She never minded lying in his arms. In fact, she loved the way he touched and caressed her.
She glanced over at Jobeth and noticed her pallor.
“What do you have against me, Tamara?” Jobeth breathed heavily, the back of her hand pressed against her moist mouth.
“Nothin’.” Tamara stiffly turned away. Guilt kept surfacing in her conscience. She turned the ham, which had begun to release a delicious aroma.
“Don’t lie, Tamara. You don’t like me. If you just got to know me, we could be friends.”
It would be better for the two girls to be friends. When Jobeth’s monthly started, she would like a girlfriend to confide in about womanly woes.
“We are living together. I just thought we might as well get along with each other instead of being at each other throats.”
A cruel laugh escaped Tamara’s lips. Her anger had returned. She placed her hands on her rounded hips and spread her legs apart.
“Hell, I don’t need to like you.” Her lips curved into a hateful grin. Black hair swept out behind her in defiance. Tamara was indeed an
enchantress. One that Jobeth knew she would never be. Not that Jobeth was ugly. She had her own special qualities, but Tamara was a gorgeous creature.
“If yah want to know why I don’t like yah, well, I’ll tell yah. Yah nearly fainted when I swore. Yah think you’re all high and mighty with your proper English. I bet yah even went to school.” Tamara was wild. She had seen Jobeth’s type before. Even though Jobeth was dressed worse than her, she knew her type: the type of girls who whispered and laughed about Tamara. The type of girls who called her names, names for people like her mother. Jobeth was like those girls and that was what attracted Oliver.
Jobeth was no whore’s daughter.
“You don’t belong with us! You ain’t one of us! Go back wherever you came from!” The ham started to burn unattended, giving off a charcoal smell. Smoke swirled up from the fire, mingling with Jobeth’s tears, blinding her vision.
“No!” She shrieked with all the force she had. Shawna and Tamara both jumped in union. Shawna dropped the dolls she was playing with and ran over to Jobeth, trembling like a leaf. Jobeth bent down and hugged her tight to her swollen breast. “I cannot. We can’t ever go back. I am like you. I went to school when Mama and Pappy were alive. Yes, I liked it, but when they died and I went to live--” Jobeth stopped. Shawna was sobbing holding tightly to her waist. She took a deep breath and looked straight into Tamara’s surprised face. “I have not been to school since my parents died. That was a lifetime ago. I was another person. Please try and like me. I want us to be friends. I am not high and mighty--I am far from high and mighty. We can’t leave. We just can’t. And you will just have to live with that whether you want to or not.”
Jobeth’s back felt naked as she stretched herself straight. Tamara would not defeat her. She would never be defeated by anyone again.
She hugged Shawna defensively and began to whisper comforts into her ear. Shawna had become the little sister she never had. The little sister to replace the little brother she had lost. If only Tamara knew what had happened to them, to Jobeth. Maybe she would be more understanding.
Maybe Tamara wouldn’t be so mean. Jobeth tightened her lips angrily. She would never tell anyone about the horrors of her recent past, especially Tamara.
Tamara looked at Shawna whimpering and clutching Jobeth around the neck. She was astonished by Jobeth’s outburst and a little amused. Jobeth might have guts after all.
“Stop crying, Shawna.” Tamara said softly. “I guess I can try to get along with your skinny old bones.”
She began to turn the burning ham, avoiding the two clinging figures behind her.
“I guess it ain’t your fault the way yah are. Just don’t get all mushy on me. I just can’t stand that.”
“Thank you,” Jobeth swelled, smiling comfortingly to Shawna
Chapter 6 —