Playing by the Rules: A Novel (27 page)

The bid went as high as two hundred dollars, and Medford topped it with two hundred and fifty. After a pause, the gavel hit the table and Louise was sold.

Louise couldn’t let Medford see the disappointment in her face. She watched Jeremiah turn his back to the stage and leave the area as Medford made his way through the crowd to hand his money to the auctioneer and collect his prize.

Medford could see the care Louise held in her eyes as she looked after Jeremiah, but he refused to allow his face to show any pain. He knew that women sometimes became overwhelmed with emotion, which tended to clutter their logic. He took her by the hand and they walked to the parking lot, neither of them speaking, neither of them looking at the other, but Medford didn’t mind because he was determined the silence wouldn’t last long. Once they got to his house, he would put her to work.

Nana went from being furious about losing the tomato competition to feeling like she was royalty in her own right, floating on top of the world, riding high on a rocket in the sky when Billy and Elvira brought her the news. Her heart overflowed with joy and she shouted out to everyone within the sound of her voice that she was going to be a great-grandmother. All were thrilled to hear Nana’s wonderful news, and shuttled like cattle to gather around her instead of Ole Miss Johnson in her emerald gold-plated crown and red robe, who was left standing by herself like a queen abandoned by her subjects.

This was the happiest day of Nana’s life. So when Ruby Rose came to her distraught, crying for forgiveness and apologizing about giving Ole Miss Johnson jumbo root to grow her giant tomatoes, Nana could care less about the girl’s deceit, but accepted her regrets just the same. She was also relieved that she didn’t have to ask Billy to go after Jeremiah. She was too happy now to work herself up to seeking retribution. Putting her arm around Ruby Rose, Nana tried to quiet her down, wondering if
there might be something else more important bothering her. She took Ruby Rose by the hand, and along with Elvira and Billy went off to find Granddaddy to share the great news.

Medford and Clement lived in a brick ranch-style two-family house on Rappahannock Road. Each side of the house was identical, with one adjoining door and a shared front and back porch. When Medford pulled into the driveway, the first thing he did was walk Louise to the kitchen. She was hoping to find some warmth behind the hint of coldness in his eyes, but what she received instead was an apron, a mop, a bucket, a broom, and a dustpan. He reminded her that this wasn’t her first time in his house and that she knew where everything was and that he had paid a lot of money for her services. He pointed to the pot roast that was marinating inside the refrigerator, the potatoes that needed peeling, and the mustard greens that needed to be cleaned, seasoned, and cooked. On the counter, there were all the ingredients she needed to bake his favorite pineapple upside-down cake. Medford added that he had been preoccupied over the past several months on his mission to find his mama, and as she could see hadn’t had a chance to do any housekeeping in a while. The rooms needed a good dusting and cleaning, he said, and the wood floors and bathroom tiles needed to be wiped down. His face was stern, not showing any signs of kindness after he dictated his instruction. Then he walked off to the TV room, leaving Louise by herself in the middle of the kitchen floor.

The only thing that prevented Louise from storming out the front door was that she was making a contribution to the Town Council Community Chest and the money Medford had donated for her services would go to a good cause. She looked around the room trying to figure out where to begin. After setting the oven temperature, Louise started sweeping the floor.

All afternoon Louise was cleaning until sweat began pouring down her face and she had to laugh at how silly she must look, the ‘seventies feminist slaving away like a ‘fifties housewife. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that her domestic duties weren’t personal. What she was doing was about business only.

Hours passed and she cleaned from room to room, rearranging items in the medicine cabinet, moving around shaving cream, razors, and cologne, straightening up Medford’s guest room, putting away socks, cuff links, belts, and pants left on the floor. The next thing she knew, she heard a thud and turned around to discover that Medford had thrown a pair of work boots on the floor on purpose.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

“Pick it up,” Medford ordered. “You’re here to do a job.”

“I’m not here to do extra work!” Louise shouted at him, bending over, picking up the boots. The next thing she knew, a shirt landed on her head.

“Now, wait a doggoned minute.”

“Money is going to charity, baby. Don’t forget it. You don’t want the Town Council to think you’re not holding up to your part of the deal.” After saying his piece, Medford returned to the TV room.

Louise grabbed the shirt off her head and followed him.

“No more clothes,” she scolded. “Don’t throw anything else on the floor,” she said to the back of his head.

“Oops,” said Medford, deliberately knocking his glass of water onto the carpet.

“That does it,” said Louise. “I’m done.” She took off her apron and threw it near the spilled water.

“No, you’re not.” Medford turned to face Louise in his chair. “I know you don’t give up that easily, just like I’m not a quitter.”

Louise stopped walking and looked at Medford.

“I’ve waited a whole year for this day to happen and I want you to stay here as long as possible,” he continued. “If it takes moving all the clothes out of my closets, out of my dresser, and tossing them on the floor, removing the dishes from the cabinets and throwing them into the sink. Whatever it takes, then that’s what I’ll do.” Medford faced the TV to give it his full attention again.

Louise stared at him as if he were crazy before realizing he was dead serious and the threat was coming from his heart.

“Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d get back to work. I paid for your time today. I have the receipt.” Medford waved the piece of paper in his hand as he relaxed into his chair and continued watching TV.

Louise grabbed a roll of paper towels and a mop from the kitchen to absorb the water that Medford had spilled on the floor. She put her apron back on, staring at him, hoping he would catch a glimpse of the mutual care in her eyes, but he wouldn’t break his gaze from the console.

Reluctantly, Louise went back to the spare room to finish cleaning. While dusting Medford’s childhood photographs in the frames on the night tables, she gazed at his face longer than she should have. She wasn’t even born when he was in third grade; it wasn’t until he was high school age that she remembered him, and there on the dresser was his high-school graduation picture. Looking at his young face made her recall the first time she had seen it. The fact their families had been together for a very long time and had a shared history, combined with the sweetness he had given her over the years, brought tears to her eyes and she wondered why she treated him the way she did. It occurred to her how much she must have hurt Medford, which made her sad, and she wiped her cheek with his crumpled shirt until she realized what it was, then hung it up and continued patting her skin with her apron,
holding back tears. Medford was a good man who had enough sadness in his life and she felt worse for adding to it. Being in his house was comfortable, and it was making her reconsider reconciliation. As she blew her nose into a tissue, she hoped that Medford would think it was a reaction from the dust.

When Louise had pulled herself together, she began opening and closing doors to all the rooms she had cleaned, making sure they passed her inspection. The only room left to clean was Medford’s bedroom.

“Don’t go into my bedroom,” Medford warned from the TV room.

“How come?” Louise shouted back at him, standing in the hallway with a dustpan and broom.

“Don’t go in there unless you mean it.”

Since Medford knew better than to tell her what to do, he also was aware she couldn’t resist challenging authority. Not knowing what to expect, she quietly turned the knob and opened the door. There were scented candles burning all over the immaculate room decorated with bouquets of colorful wildflowers. Taken by surprise, it reminded her of a sanctuary, a special place that required her to remove her shoes before entering, separate from the rest of the house. Looking around the room, everything was in perfect order until her eyes focused on the dresser and she noticed the broken glass. Moving closer to the debris, she discovered it was a picture of her and Medford that was taken at their first Soul Mate Auction years ago. She stared at the mess, the only place in the room that had been neglected, and it didn’t sit right with her that the glass was shattered, the frame was in pieces, and the photograph was torn, and she picked up the image to try to put it back together. It was ripped in half, but it wasn’t a clean tear and the paper was bent as if a big foot had gone through it. Tape would help to restore the picture, though it would never be the same.

However, there was no way to salvage the frame; it would have to be replaced. She began sweeping the glass into her dustpan. After that, she tried to match the edges of the frayed paper together. As she looked at how happy she and Medford were that day, she remembered that time in their lives, the spark of chemistry between them, how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Now that she was standing in his wonderful room, distinguishing his scent from the candle fragrance, she thought about what it might be like to revisit that feeling. At that moment she felt Medford ease his way behind her, gently press his warm body against her back and buttocks, his arms slowly encircling her, his sweet breath blowing a subtle breeze in her ear. She wasn’t startled, but rather his touch made her relax, and she sank into his arms almost as if she were expecting him. She was glad he had waited.

“Because you’re in here, I’m assuming you mean it,” Medford said.

Louise turned around and looked into his eyes, which had lost any signs of coldness. She touched his handsome face and felt herself lean into his strong chest as if her body had made the decision for her mind. She could tell he was waiting for her to make the first move, to give him a sign that the love they were about to make was consensual and not because of obligation or pressure. She kissed him, and then her mouth opened wide over his as if she couldn’t get enough of his familiar taste. They fell back on the bed and stayed there for several hours until the house smelled like something was burning and they both knew it was time to get up. The pot roast was inedible, but they didn’t care. They had already satisfied their insatiable appetites.

That night they had bologna sandwiches for dinner. They ate their pineapple upside-down cake on the back porch, feeding each other with their forks, watching the fireflies blink their lights on and off. Only after the mosquitoes became unbearable did they
venture back inside the house. When they did, they took a slow shower together and made love all over again. Having read the
More Joy of Sex
book, Louise couldn’t wait to show off a few things she had learned. But in the middle of a new position, Medford got suspicious and stopped what he was doing. When she revealed the source of her new knowledge, he made her swear on a stack of Bibles that she hadn’t used these techniques before.

The whole time Louise was with Medford she never once thought about Jeremiah.

Nana couldn’t wait to show Billy the baby wardrobe she had made that she kept inside the hope-chest collection at the foot of her bed. She opened up the trunk to reveal the sweaters, pants, dresses, booties, blankets, hats, mittens, and scarves she had knitted over the years, and laid the pieces on her bed so Billy could take a better look. The colors ranged from white to blue, pink, lavender, yellow, and green. Nana was proud of all the baby clothes and the fact that she had all the bases covered no matter if it turned out to be a boy or a girl. While in her bedroom, she suddenly remembered her pregnant dream and she put her hand to her bosom. The dream must have been about Elvira, she thought, but still the story of the pregnant slave woman dream didn’t make any sense. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to. But now that her daughterin-law had revealed she was pregnant, she was hoping the dream had served its purpose and wouldn’t haunt her again.

Monday morning, Louise was in her office at the library, cataloging new materials that had just arrived—
Sula
by Toni Morrison,
If Beale Street Could Talk
by James Baldwin,
The Good Fight
by Shirley Chisholm, and
Faith and the Good Thing
by Charles Johnson—trying to focus on her work and not the time she had spent with Medford over the weekend. What was distracting her
was that she was beginning to see that she really loved Medford and how making a life with one man was a possibility—maybe.

Louise took the next publication off the pile on her desk and read the title:
The Papers of Charlotte Hawkins Brown, 1900–1961
. She wondered why the name sounded familiar, then remembered the book that Nana had given her,
The Correct Thing to Do
,
to Say, to Wear
. As she read through Charlotte’s speeches, she began to realize the lady who had written about etiquette and proper behavior was actually a pioneer for racial, civic, and social equality, a recognized educator who traveled around the country and abroad addressing important issues. One of her papers read, “My success is due to the fact, I believe, that I deal in concrete things that everybody understands and not in generalities. I have main subjects that I use: ‘Manners and Culture, the Basis of Education,’ ‘The Negro, an American Asset,’ ‘Iron Chariots,’ ‘The Role of the Negro Woman in American Life,’ ‘What America Means to Me,’ ‘Getting Acquainted With Oneself.’ ” As Louise continued flipping through the pages, she was captivated by the speeches: “My friends, the future of the Negro womanhood in America depends upon the application of the four freedoms to the lowliest of her race as much as to the highest. Negroes living in any section of this country cannot experience real freedom until all are free.” “As with the nation, so with the race.” “No people can exist half slave and half free.” Louise couldn’t believe it! Charlotte Hawkins Brown, the woman who wrote the corny book on how to dress and how to act, was down with the struggle, a radical like herself. The more she read, the more she learned about this lady who was born in Henderson, North Carolina, and founded Palmer Memorial Institute. What especially impressed Louise was that Charlotte was an advocate for children and a champion for women’s rights. In her eyes, Charlotte was a true feminist, and in addition to her
independence she still managed to have a husband, which made Louise think perhaps she could remain a feminist and be attached to one man too. Reading through pages and pages of speeches, newspaper articles, and letters to people like Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Dubois, and Mary McLeod Bethune, Louise discovered a newfound respect for the woman Nana had been trying to shove down her throat like a spoonful of cod-liver oil. Suddenly Charlotte Hawkins Brown wasn’t so old-fashioned anymore. If Sly Stone could get married in June in front of 23,000 people in Madison Square Garden in New York City, then perhaps she could seriously consider Medford’s proposal and get married in Nana’s tomato garden with a handful of folks from Lemon City. Maybe, maybe not. She was still conflicted, but just happy to know she had options.