The Messenger, Page 2

  “He’s a man of principle.”

  “Maybe, but what good is principle when people are getting beaten to death in the street? They don’t need his bull-headed principles, they need his leadership.”

  “Why is this crusade so meaningful to you, Delilah? Clearly you are a woman of means. Why do you not just leave this turmoil behind and go where there is equality and acceptance?”

  “Is there such a place, Carlowe? Do you come from such a place?”

  “No, perhaps there is not such a place,” I answered as the waitress came to take our order.

  “Where are you from, Carlowe?”

  “I have lived in many places. Some are welcoming; some are filled with doubt and mistrust. The last place I spent a significant amount of time would have no tolerance for a heritage such as yours.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Berlin.”

  “Berlin? I am sure I would have figured you were from Italy or maybe Spain with a name like Ambrosi. Were you there during the war?” she gasped covering her mouth delicately with her hand and looking at me with fear and trepidation in her copper colored eyes.

  “Yes, I was.” I said bluntly.

  “You must have seen terrible things. This must seem childish in comparison,” she said laying her hand on mine upon the table.

  “I saw many things I would like to forget. I wished for the ending of the world with that war. I thought surely this world could not survive such atrocities.”

  “Don’t think of it, Carlowe. I must be a foolish girl because I simply made my predicament the worst situation I could imagine. But clearly there is much worse.”

  “I don’t want to belittle your life. Perhaps what you have seen has been equally devastating; perhaps your assessment is just. Would you tell me?”

  “It’s a long story. Are you sure you wish to hear?”

  “I am sure, Delilah. Please.”

  “What does that color mean, Carlowe? It looks both sad and eager. It makes me think you are looking for some affirmation or redemption.”

  “I would like both of those things, but I do not dare to wish for them.”

  “Not me. I don’t need any confirmation of what I am, I just want acceptance. I want to fit in somewhere and not be looked at with disgust or worse, sympathy.”

  “I do not understand. You're quite beautiful, who could feel aversion looking at you?”

  “Carlowe, you are a different kind of man. I will tell you my story. I wonder what color your eyes will be in the end,” she smiled, withdrawing her hand from mine. “My grandmother married my granddaddy when she was seventeen years old. She was a chambermaid in a nice hotel and he worked in a market. They had three children. My mama was the oldest of them. Mama was very different from the other children and the whole family, excepting her daddy, treated her like she was flawed. My grandmother’s sister Dorothy told my mama a story about a white man coercing my grandmother into having relations with him in his hotel room when she was working. She asked her parents if that were true. Her mama said nothing. But her daddy covered her ears. He said, ‘don’t you be listening to no tales, Cora. The good Lord gave me a daughter and I am grateful, you hear me?’ So she never asked again, but every time she looked in a mirror and saw her light skin, every time someone make a comment about the color of her eyes, she knew it was the truth.

  My grandmother took her secret to the grave, she never admitted what happened to her.” Delilah sighed, she took a long sip of her iced tea and watched the condensation run down the side of the glass but she avoided looking at me.

  At last she started again. “My mama had a steady boyfriend when she was seventeen. His name was James Foster and all the family was expecting them to get married. He was from a good solid family and they knew each other from church. He would tell her all the time how beautiful she was, but then he would say other things to let her know he was doing her a favor seeing a woman whose daddy ain’t really her daddy. And anytime he was with my mama and there was a white man around he’d make comments. If it were an older man, he’d say things like ‘maybe he’s your real daddy’ and if it were a young man he’d be crazy with jealousy. My mama was afraid of him, too afraid to just end the relationship.

  She got a good job working in the house of an important lawyer. His name was Clayton Emerson. Mr. Emerson worked so many hours she never even saw him until she worked in his home for more than two months. But she went home one night and James was waiting at her daddy’s house. He was crazy with rage that she was working in a white man’s home. He said all kinds of things to her daddy about how could he allow it seeing as what happened to his own wife. James made my granddaddy mad and he forbid them from ever seeing each other again.”

  I was watching her very intensely though I hadn’t said a word.

  “What are you thinking, Carlowe?”

  “I am thinking that when something is forbidden, the desire for it becomes much greater, insatiable even. I am thinking your story is not one with a happy ending.”

  “No, not happy per se. You don’t have to hear it. I told you, I am not looking for sympathy by telling you,” she said firmly.

  “I will not pity you. Clearly you have been raised well. You are educated and refined. What befell you weighs on you and I wish to understand that because it is that circumstance that you hold on to I think, that makes you an outcast more so than your skin color or your parentage.”

  “Perhaps you are right, Carlowe. I have never thought about it exactly that way. Do you want me to continue?”

  I nodded and she smiled at me.

  “I wish I could see your thoughts right this moment. I wish I could know what made your eyes turn that shade of purple. It’s unnatural, Carlowe, but it’s beautiful.”

  I began to laugh and the color must have changed again. “Are you beginning to like me, Delilah? I might ask you to dinner if there is a chance you won’t turn me down again.”

  “You are a jester, Mr. Ambrosi! I will maintain that I most certainly do not like you!” she laughed.

  “Miss Emerson, you have crushed my spirit.”

  “Oh you!” she laughed, shaking her head but running her fingers over mine once again upon the table. “I will tell you though, I had every intention of heading back to Atlanta this morning. But I told an acquaintance that I might be available for tea.”

  “Atlanta. I assumed this was your home.”

  “No, Sir. My daddy is an attorney in the Capitol. I came here just to hear the speech. Now I am curious how it will turn out for the Reverend. I might even stay long enough to be available for dinner tomorrow evening.”

  “Are you toying with me?” I asked with a wry lift of my brow.

  “Perhaps. But perhaps not.”

  She paused for a short time as we enjoyed the lunch. At last she pressed the napkin to her lips, inhaled a long breath and began her tale once again. “My mama was relieved when her daddy told James not to come around anymore. She wasn’t involved with Mr. Emerson then, Carlowe, in fact she hardly even knew him yet. She was just too afraid of James’ anger. But it was not too long after that Mr. Emerson wrapped up a big case. And he came home to stay for a good while. That was when he took notice of her. He didn’t say anything to her, he just looked at her and he smiled. And he knew he was in love. That’s what he told me. He treated all his employees nicely, but she was special to him and he would put flowers on the counter in the morning before she got there. It was a little thing he did just for her. He was very bold as a lawyer, but he was a gentle man and she started to love him, but she was reluctant to let him know that. She still had some fear of the white man because of who she was, you understand.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  Delilah licked her lips and dabbed her face with her napkin for a moment and when she spoke again, her voice cracked a little. “She was walking to work one morning and James caught up with her.
She just ignored his cruel words and kept walking but he wouldn’t have it. He grabbed her by the arm and he start yelling terrible things about her and Mr. Emerson. She didn’t say a word because she’s too afraid and he just got so angry that he started hitting her. Another one of the employees heard the commotion and saw James. She ran and got Mr. Emerson. He came with his gun and he told James to go away or he’d make him go away. Then he scoop my mama up off the ground and carried her to his home. He told her, ‘Cora, I don’t want you to go back to that life. Stay here with me. I will keep you safe. This will be your home.’ But she was hurt and embarrassed and she didn’t really know what he meant or what his intention was. She told him there was shame in being a white man’s mistress. He said: ‘I don’t recall asking you to be my mistress. If all I wanted was a mistress I would have one already. I want to make a life with you. You are hurt right now, so I won’t pressure you. Rest and when you are well perhaps you will see me differently.’

  Mr. Emerson went to her daddy and told him what happened and her daddy came to see her. ‘Cora, you are sensitive about the color of your skin because folks have always made it matter to you. But that don’t matter to all people. A red rose is just as beautiful as a white rose or a yellow rose and it smells just as sweet. Mr. Emerson he sees only the rose. Maybe his eyes are better than all those other people because he see the most important thing. Now he asked me for my permission for you to stay. He says you got a home inside his heart and he is hoping sometime you might have feelings for him too. I told him it was your decision, and I meant that, girl. If you don’t feel those feelings for him, then you come on home to me. But if maybe you do and you just a little afraid to say so, give him some time, give him a chance. You only know what it feels like to be afraid of a man who supposed to love you. James done a bad thing and I was foolish not to see it sooner. This man, he knows respect. He spoke to me with respect, and I believe his words.’ He hugged his daughter and he went away. My mama stayed. But was a long time before she was able to say her feelings to Mr. Emerson.

  “He sounds like a fine man. Your grandfather was right about him.”

  “Yes, my father is a very fine man.”

  “Did your parents marry?” I asked her.

  Delilah pressed her lips together. “No, Carlowe, they never married. He took her on lovely dates. They went on vacations. He hated being apart from her so he took her wherever he traveled. He even bought her a lovely ring and asked her to be his wife but she said no.”

  “Why?”

  “She told him, ‘Clayton, I can wear a beautiful dress and speak like a lady when I step out on your arm. But people will shake their heads and whisper that this relationship is unnatural. They warn me on the street that loving you is a crime against God. They tell me I am a sinner. And I don’t care if I am a sinner. I don’t think when my time comes and I stand before the gates of Heaven that the Lord is going to turn me away because I loved a man, a good man. But if I go into his house to speak my vows to you and the Preacher says this is wrong in the eyes of God and condemns me, then what? My soul will never know Glory. My soul will never find yours again. I offer you my love, Clayton. I will honor and respect you. Wearing your ring is enough for me.’

  “She was a strong woman.”

  “Or she was extremely weak,” Delilah corrected bitterly.

  Clearly that weakness stung her. “Are they still together?” I asked softly.

  She shook her head. It was a few moments before she could speak. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “You needn’t tell me. I don’t want to ruin this day.”

  “I must tell you. It’s the most important part of the story I think. They were together as a couple for a number of years before my mama gave birth to me. My daddy was a proud father. Never did I think there was anything disgraceful about our family or our lives. I was just a little girl with a mama and a daddy like all the other children I saw. It never occurred to me that I was different. When I was three years old, one day in the summertime my mama took me with her to the market. She was dressed pretty right down to her shoes and she always made sure I was dressed properly too. My mama considered me a white girl. I was more white than Negro and she wanted me to believe I was like the white children. Anyway, we came out of the market. Mama was holding my hand and carrying her shopping bag. We were walking down the street talking to each other minding our business, when a man stopped and looked at my mama then he went crazy. He started yelling terrible things at her. ‘Run back to the store, child!’ she told me. But I couldn’t run, Carlowe. I backed away a little ways, but that man started beating my mama right there in the street.” Delilah whispered as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I heard her say ‘don’t do this, James.’ And those were the last words I ever heard her speak. People passed right by them and they did nothing. I stood there crying, calling ‘mama, mama’, but not a single person looked at me. He left her there bloody and unconscious in the street and he walked over to me. There was evil in his eyes and I thought he was going to hit me like he hit my mama.” Delilah shook her head. “All he did was spit on me and he walked away. I sat in the street with my mama and I cried. Until a policeman came and he thought he saw a white child. He came over and when he looked at us he wrinkled his nose. I asked him, ‘Sir, can you call my daddy? That man hit my mama and she won’t move.’ He started to say no, but I told him my daddy was Mr. Clayton Emerson and his eyes got real big around. He went back to his car and in moments there was all kinds of police and an ambulance, but they were too late.”

  “Delilah, I am so sorry. How horrible to have witnessed such brutality.”

  “We are the same, aren’t we Carlowe? Both haunted by things we’ve seen.”

  “We are similar. You are innocent, a victim of circumstances.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  “No. I heard a terrible message and I wanted this terrible world to end so I did what I thought…”

  “Don’t you say such things. You must have a story. Your eyes could not show so much feeling if you were not a man who could feel. I saw evil in the eyes of the man who killed my mama. I will not believe that there is evil behind eyes that look like yours, Carlowe.”

  I wanted to believe her. But I knew what I was. Perhaps evil was not exactly the right term. I was capable of goodness. I was capable of mercy. I chose discord to spite my father and to avenge myself upon this prison. My desire to go back to the home I was banished from and the others of my kind was still so strong that I never asked myself at what point this place would actually be my home. Of course, my immediate stubborn response would be: never. And yet, I was sitting here with a woman who was kinder to me than any of my kindred save Evangeline, and though my appearance in this time had me awkward and uncomfortable, I suddenly wanted to stay. “Is that the end of the story, Delilah?”

  “Oh, it is a story that could take days to tell. My daddy came to the police station. I heard him come in yelling. ‘Where’s my daughter? Where is my baby?’ He was frantic. None of those police even talked to me the whole time I waited. But I ran to my daddy and he picked me up and held me tight in his arms. He said, ‘did you see the man, Delilah?’ I nodded. I told him what my mama said. ‘Did that man touch you?’ he asked me. I shook my head and I started to cry. I’d never seen my daddy as mad as was when I told him that man spit on me. But I told him everything. I told him how the policeman wrinkled his nose and started to walk away from me until I told him my daddy’s name. ‘Which policeman was it?’ he asked me calmly. I pointed. He set me down and we walked over to an office. He sat me up in the big chair behind the desk. ‘Delilah, you listen to me, you saw too much for one little girl to ever have to see. Now I have to talk to those men and I am going to be very stern. I’m a lawyer, my job is to be very stern, so you should not be afraid if you hear my voice loud, ok? But don’t you leave this
room. No matter who comes in or what they say you be stern too. You tell them your daddy, Clayton Emerson told you to sit right there.’ Yes, Sir. I told him. And he went out there and raised Cain. I covered my ears and closed my eyes tight, but tears still came, Carlowe. On the way home I asked him where mama was. He stroked my hair and said ‘Mama had to go home to the angels. But don’t you worry, Delilah, the Lord is welcoming her and he will give her beautiful wings because she was a beautiful person.’ And my daddy cried.”

  In that moment, I was glad I was not a man. I know that was hypocritical considering the things I promoted in the last lifetime. But I never saw their faces. I never looked them in the eyes as they were torn from their homes and marched to their cruel ending. I only wished for the sound of gunfire and the stench of death because I wanted to go home. Suddenly I felt cold.

  “Carlowe? What is it? Are you thinking about the war?”

  “There are many things I can’t forget, Delilah, many battles, many losses and many disappointments. But nothing compared to what you witnessed. You are a very strong woman.”

  There was a certain lift to her chin and pride in her eyes that sent my mind back to the place I came from, but many lifetimes ago. But the way Delilah smiled, made my hurt evaporate away.

  “Thank you, Carlowe,” she said looking deeply into my eyes.

  “For what?”

  “You said there would be no pity, and there was none. For a moment, I saw fire in your eyes, and that gave my spirit a boost. I don’t tell many people my secrets, but I look at you and I just want to keep on looking,” she laughed. “Oh my word, I did not realize how late in the day it was! I must be getting back. If I don’t call my daddy soon, he’ll be thinking the worst.”

  “Delilah, would you dine with me tomorrow evening? I would very much like you to. Of course I will have to extend my stay and perhaps find a place to enhance my wardrobe.”