Chapter Forty-Nine

JUNE 1948

Summer brought Marshall and Joe to No Creek, both ready for internships with Dr. Vishnevsky. It also brought Celia, home from her first year of college.

She couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face the minute she stepped from the train. After high school she’d been champing at the bit to get away, to go to college, to learn new things and set the world on fire, though it was a dream she’d never imagined could be realized. If not for Miss Lill paying the first semester of tuition it would not have.

By working weekends and after school three nights a week, Celia had saved nearly enough for the second semester’s tuition, plus room and board. But she’d not made it home for Christmas. Besides waitressing at the diner, overtime work at the five-and-dime during the Christmas rush was too important to miss.

By the time the school year ended, Celia was weary, bone weary. It was hard to know if that was all, or if she was truly unhappy, or if perhaps she needed to redirect her goals. She’d taken her mama’s advice and Miss Lill’s encouragement to pursue a teaching degree, like Ruby Lynne Wishon had, but Celia wasn’t sure she wanted that. She hadn’t the courage to tell them what she really wanted. It seemed a dream too grand. She missed her mama and daddy, Chester, Miss Lill, Reverend Willard —everyone in No Creek. Most of all, she missed Joe.

She hadn’t seen him in over a year, nearly two, though they wrote regularly, and lately his letters had taken on a more romantic tone. It was plain as day he no longer thought of her as a girl, and that he carried hopes for a future together.

She wondered sometimes if her dreams of Joe were more from imagination and homesickness than reality. Was she infatuated? Was it only a schoolgirl crush? She didn’t think so, but without spending more time with him she didn’t see how she could know. His internship this summer would give them that chance.

Her stomach full of butterflies at the very thought, Celia made her way into town and stopped at the general store to pick up mail for Garden’s Gate. She all but hugged Marshall, glad as she was to see him, when she spotted him outside, but knew enough to keep her distance. Still, she felt her smile nearly split her face when Marshall told her that Violet was set to come in the fall.

“Way longer than we expected everything to take, but the British don’t move fast. And the best part is that I’ll be here when she comes. God is good. His timing is perfect.”

“That’s the best news ever, Marshall. I’m so glad for you and for Violet.”

“What about you? Ready to take over the school superintendent’s job by the time you graduate?” His eyes held teasing, but it was a reminder for Celia of how far her path wandered from her dreams. He must have seen the light fall from her eyes. “Celia? What is it?”

Celia had not confided in anyone, but she needed to confide in someone or she’d burst. “Have you ever wondered if the path you’ve set your feet on is the right one?”

Marshall’s eyes told her that he had. “Teaching’s not what you want, is it?”

Celia looked away. It seemed ungrateful to say that. Teaching’s what Miz Hyacinth had done that changed the lives of most in No Creek. It’s all Ruby Lynne Wishon ever dreamed of and had finally achieved. It’s what her mama and even Miss Lill wanted for her. “It’s just . . .” But she couldn’t say.

“I always figured you for a writer —you know, like that Louisa May Alcott or one of those Brontë sisters. You, with your ‘amazing new words.’ Like to drove me crazy keeping up with you when we were kids. And the letters you wrote while I was away. I could see everything in No Creek, just as if I was here, the way you made it all come alive on the page.”

Celia’s breath caught. “You really figured me for a writer? An author of books?”

Before she could ask more, Rhoan Wishon, stepping from his pickup truck, interrupted.

“Never thought I’d see you back here, boy.” Rhoan spat in the dirt by his shoes, not three feet from Marshall’s.

Celia was ready with a comeback, but Marshall raised a steadying hand. “I’m working out my residency here in No Creek with Dr. Vishnevsky. I’ll see anybody needs a doctor. You come on by if you’re in need of help, Mr. Wishon.”

Celia liked to choke and did all she could to keep from it.

Rhoan’s color deepened to crimson and if there’d been any more room between him and Marshall, Celia knew he’d have filled the space. “You listen here, you uppity —”

“That’s right, Mr. Wishon.” Doc Vishy stepped from the store at that moment, the bell near jingling off its hook, and made his way down the steps to stand as near Rhoan as a man could. “Dr. Raymond is one of our new doctors and he’s doing a fine job. Perhaps now we’ll be able to treat more of our local citizens without them having to take the train when they’re sick or hide their ailments, hoping they’ll go away. It’s absolutely wonderful, wouldn’t you agree?” Doc Vishy gave Rhoan a stare over the rims of his spectacles. Celia knew the doc had Rhoan’s number from days gone by. If it hadn’t been for Doc Vishy, Reverend Willard, Miss Lill, and Celia, Rhoan’s brother would have gone on abusing Ruby Lynne and Rhoan would have never known, Ruby Lynne being terrified her daddy’d side with his baby brother.

Rhoan didn’t answer but shoved past and stomped up the steps to the store. At the door he turned. “You said one of our new doctors.”

“That’s right,” Doc said. “Dr. Rossetti is joining my practice, also working out his internship. I’m sure you’ll see him in time. We’re looking for a convenient location to expand our practice, but until then we’ve set up in my cabin. Come by if you’re in need.”

Rhoan unleashed his typical slurs against both Marshall’s and Joe’s ancestry.

Ignoring Rhoan’s profanity and bluster, Doc set his hand on Marshall’s shoulder and began, “Marshall, I’ve been meaning to discuss with you an article I read in one of our medical journals last week. It has to do with . . .”

Celia couldn’t hear more as they walked off, but she saw the glare in Rhoan’s eyes. The doc meant well, she knew, and had stopped what could have turned into a nasty confrontation, but she didn’t like to see that smolder. Smolders sooner or later erupted into fires, and the last thing she wanted was to see a blaze between Rhoan and Marshall.

What she didn’t know was what had happened about the land, if anything, but it had occurred to her that it was located nearly central between the colored and white sections of No Creek and could make a great place for all three doctors.

Miss Lill had not answered one of her questions about the progress Mr. Bellmont was making but said she would tell her everything once Celia returned home for the summer.

Celia had written that to Joe, and he couldn’t comprehend reasons for the delay, either. Celia was ready for the worst, because it certainly didn’t appear there was any love lost between Rhoan and Marshall, but she couldn’t tell from either of them that they’d discussed the old deed, and to Celia that was most concerning of all.

“What do you mean you haven’t told them?” Celia faced Miss Lill and Reverend Willard in the Garden’s Gate library after her mother and Chester had gone out for the afternoon. “You haven’t talked to Mr. Wishon or to Marshall —not even the Tates? I don’t understand.”

“Mr. Bellmont said he’s researched every possible lead. He even went to Dare County trying to trace the lineage of Minerva and Eleanor Belvidere. There was a small memorial plaque in a former freedmen’s school where Minerva —Minnie —evidently taught for a time, but there was nothing about Eleanor —or Ellie.”

“Nothing he could find,” Celia insisted. “But they went there, lived there. The diary says so.”

“Yes, but —” Miss Lill lifted her hands. “There is no other record. I remember Aunt Hyacinth saying once that her father and his older brother and sister were raised in this house. I remember, too, that when she and her father went to Dare County, he left her alone, saying he had personal business there. It was just after that he suffered his first stroke. I wonder now if he went to see his sister or his niece, but I can’t know. Aunt Hyacinth never mentioned that Elliott had a daughter. I don’t think she knew, or she would have told me. It’s like they disappeared, or never existed.”

“They did exist! Why didn’t the Tates tell Miz Hyacinth about Ellie?”

“I don’t know, unless they thought it safest to keep that past buried.” Miss Lill looked sick.

Celia thought her heart might break. Minnie and Ellie couldn’t have dropped off the face of the earth. They just couldn’t. But why hadn’t Minnie contacted Rose or Hyacinth and told them about the papers in the attic? What happened? Minnie’s diary had ended with them leaving Belvidere Hall, saying they were going to Dare County. There was nothing more.

“Because it was all so long ago that the deeds were drawn up and there is no proof that the land ever passed into Obadiah Tate’s possession, there is nothing that can legally be done.” Miss Lill twisted her hands together and Celia knew the truth pained her. “I don’t think it would help Marshall or Olney and Mercy to know that at this point. It would just seem like . . .”

“Salt in a wound,” Reverend Willard finished.

“What do you mean, ‘legally’?” Celia wouldn’t be put off. She’d waited too long. Surely something could be done. Minnie wouldn’t have backed down, and neither would she.

Reverend Willard laid a gentle hand on his wife’s back. She looked at him but shook her head, as if it was too much. “She means,” Reverend Willard continued, “that the only way this wrong could be righted now is if Rhoan Wishon signs the land over to Marshall. Olney’s made it clear that he wants no part of it for himself or his children. It’s already caused too much pain in his family. His father was murdered when he tried to gain control of the land —to buy it outright.”

“But that was years ago, and —”

“And based on the activities of the Klan in recent years,” Miss Lill broke in, “there is every reason to believe that old grudges don’t die easily.”

Celia’s heart beat faster. She could feel the tightness in her jaw.

Reverend Willard leaned forward. “Celia, we know you care about Marshall. We know you want to see this set right and so do we, but now is not the time. Marshall and Joe are here as interns, right here in No Creek, where there has never been a doctor who isn’t white. It’s a big step for this community —one that should have happened a long time ago, but at least it’s happening now, and that’s progress.”

“It’s the dark ages here.” It didn’t matter that Celia knew Reverend Willard was right about the new steps in the community. It was still wrong, all wrong, and Marshall and the Tates were the ones suffering because Rhoan’s daddy and Miss Lill’s great-grandfather had done Obadiah Tate out of his land. “Obadiah Tate earned that land. Besides the work, he saved Elliott Belvidere’s life.”

“Yes, he did. And Elliott’s father and Elliott granted Obadiah the land. But there is no public record of the deed, and as Lilliana said, the land never actually changed hands.”

“But we have a copy! The deed was filed, and the land should have changed hands! It would have if Grayson Belvidere and his buddies hadn’t burned the courthouse!” Celia felt her voice rising and couldn’t seem to stop it.

At that moment the bell over the library door jingled, making them all look up to see Joe standing in the foyer —Joe, who took Celia’s breath away. “The window’s open. I can hear you yelling, Celia, way out in the street.”

It crossed Celia’s mind that not once in all the time she’d known Joe had she made the entrance with him that she’d hoped for. Each time she’d put her very worst foot forward. Still, her heart beat faster, and it wasn’t from humiliation.

Reverend Willard stood. “Joe! Glad to see you.”

Miss Lill reached for Celia’s hand and whispered, “We’ll talk later.”

“We need to talk now, before Mama and Chester come back. Joe knows everything. He’s seen the deeds, read nearly half Minnie’s diary.” She turned to Joe. “They said nothing can be done.”

“So I surmised.” Joe stepped closer to Celia, so close their arms touched. “I’m sorry. That land would mean a home for Marshall and Violet, or something worth selling —a fresh start for all the Tates. Can I ask . . . ?”

“Ask anything,” Miss Lill said.

“Have you asked this Rhoan fellow? Have you shown him the deed? Given him the chance to do the right thing?”

Celia knew in that moment that she loved Joe. Cut to the chase. Do the right thing. So simple. Please, please listen to him.

“I know that sounds right. But you don’t know Rhoan as we do. He’d never —”

“Why not give him a chance?” Celia demanded, though she knew the likes of Rhoan Wishon as well as anybody.

“I heard about his daughter down at the store this afternoon.” Joe seemed to ignore them all.

“Ruby Lynne,” Miss Lill said.

“She’s coming home.”

“To No Creek?” Miss Lill sounded as if she couldn’t believe it.

“I guess Ida Mae gave you all the ugly history,” Celia quipped.

“Every bit. But she said Rhoan’s been real sorry all this time. Said they’ve made some sort of peace, and Ruby Lynne and her son are coming home for the summer.” Joe looked from one to the other and Celia knew he was taking their measure. “I’m just thinking that if he’s changed enough that his daughter’s willing to come back, maybe he’s changed enough to consider doing the right thing by the Tates.”

Celia snorted. After what she’d just witnessed at the store, she couldn’t imagine it.

“You don’t think that’s possible?” Joe looked crestfallen.

“Unlikely,” Reverend Willard answered in Celia’s stead. “We may as well tell you both that Lilliana offered to buy the land back from Rhoan. We didn’t tell him why or what we planned to do with it, but he’s not willing to sell, even at an inflated price, so he’s sure not likely to do it out of the goodness of his heart.”

“Not likely, but not impossible,” Joe insisted.

Reverend Willard turned, looking for his wife’s eyes. Miss Lill shrugged, helpless —a thing unlike her, Celia knew.

“We won’t know for sure unless we lay it out before him,” Celia spoke softly, knowing she had an ally in Joe. “Give him a chance to do right. Maybe Ruby Lynne being here will soften him, Ruby Lynne and her little boy.”

“But what if we do harm?” Miss Lill asked. “What if Rhoan takes it out on the Tates, like his father did? I couldn’t live with further injury to them.”

“We need to help bring people together here, get them to see beyond their prejudices,” Joe pushed. “Give them a chance and a reason to know each other and pull together.”

Celia sighed. “Good luck with that.” She cringed at the hurt in Joe’s eyes. “I mean, it’s a good idea, but even I can’t see as we’ll make that happen here. We had to keep separate days at the library for coloreds and whites just to keep Rhoan and his Klan buddies from burning the whole place down.”

“That was before he owned up to everything his brother did —at least that’s what Ida Mae said. People can change. They can.” Joe sounded as if he was pleading, and Celia wondered if he was still talking about Rhoan.

“What are you thinking, Joe?” Miss Lill asked, and Celia could just about see the wheels turning in his brain.

“I’m thinking we recently fought a war where the best of men died to stop this kind of thing. If we can’t do better after that, what good are we? And I’m thinking food. Food brings people together. Food is what we all have in common —food and the need for laughter.”

“The breaking of bread together is healing, yes. But I’m still not following you.” Reverend Willard frowned.

“I have an idea —something the grandmothers did back in Philadelphia to get their warring grown kids together.”

“Warring kids sounds about right,” Celia muttered.

Reverend Willard’s eyebrows rose. He sat back down, beside Miss Lill, and motioned Joe to a chair. “We’re all ears, Joe.”