September 1888
“I need to remind you that this is all in the service of your personal development,” Lily Breeze said. “Attachment to persons is not what we are about.”
“I know that,” said Newton. They were naked in her bed, wrapped up under the covers, and he had murmured an endearment.
“I’m not sure you do,” she said. “We don’t engage the body for our own selfish reasons, we do it to advance our understanding. Brother Braswell wanted me to remind you of this.”
“You tell Braswell about everything that goes on between us?”
“Of course I do. He’s my spiritual leader.” She seemed about to say more but stopped herself. “Anyway, Brother says we should proceed from where we are.”
Newton didn’t speak. He’d never been able to overcome his misgivings about the entire relationship, but the ready availability of pleasure was so new and irresistible to him that he couldn’t keep himself away. She had never permitted him the full measure of her body, just the touch of her hand and the pressure of her lying full length. Until she was confident that he had sufficient self-control to engage with her without accidentally making a baby, she said, there would be no full measure. So was today the day?
“You’ve heard the expression ‘French whore,’ no doubt,” she said. “Ever wonder what it means?”
“Think about all those Bible kings with their hundreds of wives. If you wanted to stand out among a hundred wives, you’d need to learn some pretty fancy tricks. This secret knowledge was handed down through the years, woman to woman. When the Crusaders came to the Holy Land, they met up with women who possessed these secrets of the flesh and were enthralled by them. Back to Europe they went, with these secrets and some of the women. The Church hated this and tried to stamp it out, and you know why? Because they wanted women to be lumps of meat with a hole for procreation, not equal and active partners in the pleasures of the body. It’s not the sex they feared, it’s the equality.”
“Where’d you hear all this?”
“Brother B., of course. The man has read and studied all his life, more books than you and I will ever read.”
“I don’t know. Sounds like a fairy tale to me.”
“Maybe so. But I’ll tell you this. Shame is a woman’s great enemy. You talked about a whore in town you used to visit. Bet she never took off all her clothes, like you and I do.”
“No,” Newton said. “She was more of the ‘drop your pants and I’ll hike up my skirts’ sort.”
“That’s shame at work. The woman you marry, whenever you marry, probably won’t do it either.”
“What if the woman I marry turns out to be you?” He had meant it as a tease, but regretted it immediately. She’d already scolded him once for a bit of gallantry.
Lily Breeze laughed, but not unkindly. “Not in a hundred years. That is not the part I am to play. I’m a tool of your enlightenment, not a partner in romance.”
Newton didn’t answer, not wanting to admit his relief. Lily Breeze’s strange talk unnerved him. He figured it all to be mumbo-jumbo that she had heard from Braswell, but she repeated it with such conviction that he began to doubt himself.
“You don’t believe any of this, do you?” she said, as if reading his mind. “No matter. Experience is a better teacher than authority anyway. The point is, if women want to find true equality, they have to rid themselves of shame over natural functions.”
She climbed over him to the floor, taking the blanket with her to stay warm in the cool air. She draped it over her shoulders. “So lesson number one from the hidden secrets of the Bible, by way of the so-called French whores. Sit up.”
He did as he was told, swinging his legs out of bed and planting his feet on the floor. Lily Breeze pushed his knees apart and knelt between them. Then she gripped his root and dipped her head down like a bird drinking from a puddle.
Newton had never experienced such a thing nor even been aware of its existence. The railwaymen who passed through from St. Louis and Memphis sometimes hinted of exotic pleasures to be had in the city, but they never spoke in detail. The sensations were intense, and he felt a little lightheaded. He thought about the Crusaders, rough men in chain mail stepping into a silken-pillowed seraglio. Of course they would have been carried away by such feelings. Who wouldn’t? And then he could no longer think of Crusaders or railwaymen or anything at all, and then it was over. His body tensed and then released, trembling, and he gasped and lay back.
They hung there a moment, lost. Then she stood up abruptly and put on her underclothes.
He caressed her leg as she rolled up her stockings. “When can I see you again?”
She chuckled as she slipped her dress on and smoothed it down. “Interested in more lectures?”
“Something like that. Experience over authority.”
“So you were listening after all. That’s good.” She surveyed him where he lay. “When we meet again is up to Brother. He’ll send you a message. For now, think about what I told you. The idea is to return to the state of Adam and Eve. Not merely naked, but unaware of their nakedness.” She patted his bare belly. “You seem to be making progress on that front. Now get going. I’m sure you have work to do.” And she was out the door.
As he walked home, still shivering from the experience, he wondered if any of Lily Breeze’s story held up. All this talk of hidden knowledge, secret history. One thing was certain, at least. What she said about the power of an active woman rang true. Everyone always joked about married men becoming docile and obedient, but if he got that kind of treatment every day he’d be obedient too. Already all he could think about was returning for more.
His mind cleared when he reached Daybreak and saw a small, red-haired man, wrapped in an overcoat far too heavy for the weather, sitting on his doorstep with an expectant look.
“Hello,” Newton said.
The man sprang to his feet. “You Newton Turner?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God. Every old biddy in town has been by here three times to look me over. My name is Reuben Pierce. Your mother down the road says you’re the man to talk to around here.” He extended his hand.
“I don’t know about that,” Newton said, shaking his hand. “But come on inside.”
Pierce surveyed Newton’s bare front room as they sat in his chairs. “You’re a man who leads the simple life, I see.”
“I suppose so. I don’t think too much about my house. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
“First, I need to know if you can keep a confidence. You’ll hear this from your mother, but I want you to hear it from me.”
“All right. I’ll hold this to myself.”
“I’m here to see about organizing the workers for the American Lumber and Minerals Company. Our union has picked them out as a company that’s ripe for organization.”
Newton had to smile at the thought. Smug Mr. Bridges, hanging around Daybreak when he should be tending to his own affairs. His East Coast masters would not be pleased to learn that a union had formed while he was gathering posies. “All right. I can’t say that it would be easy, but I think it’s possible.”
“Glad to hear it. My idea is to get on as a worker and organize from the inside.”
“That shouldn’t be hard. Both the mine and the mill always need men.”
“But I’ll need a place to live while I do it, and that’s why I came here. I’ve read about Daybreak as a place that values the workingman, so I thought you folks might help me out. Have you got a room?”
Newton hesitated. It was one thing to enjoy the discomfort a union campaign would bring the company, another to participate in it. “I don’t know,” he said. “We don’t usually involve ourselves in the disputes of others.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Pierce said, a little disputatious. “I hear you all took a brave stand during the Civil War.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not to mention that you and this company are already at cross purposes.”
“Maybe. They’re willing to pay a lot of money for land that we’re not using. We might just take them up on it.”
“A people’s commune being courted by a banker’s combine. Ain’t that something for the archives.”
The remark stung. “You have an odd way of making friends with the people you come seeking charity from.”
Pierce’s face flushed and he closed his eyes briefly to compose himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “My mouth gets ahead of my head sometimes. I didn’t mean to offend. Just remember that I’ve been fighting the money boys every day of my life, so quarreling is my habit.”
Newton saw the truth in it. “All right,” he said. “You can stay here, as my guest. That keeps the community out of it, and if anyone has to answer for it, it’ll be me.”
“Bully, brother!” Pierce cried. “You needn’t worry. I won’t draw you into anything you’re not ready for.”
Newton smiled and shook his hand again, wishing he believed the man’s words. “We’ll not have violence,” he said. “The community won’t tolerate it.”
“Do I look like a violent man?” Pierce said with a grin. “I’m the boy the violent men always picked on. That’s how I learned the power of collective action.”
“All right. We may have more in common that I imagined.” Inwardly, he chastised himself for agreeing so quickly to let the man stay. He should have thought this through. Was his judgment failing? Too late to change now. “We eat in common most days, supper at least, so you’ll need to have a story ready if you want to keep your work under wraps. It probably won’t stay under wraps for long anyway.”
Pierce nodded. “I know. Word always gets around eventually. That’s when they bring out the thugs. If I’ve got men on my side by then, we’ll have a chance. Otherwise I’ll have to skedaddle in the night.”
“You’ve done this before, then.”
“Oh yeah. I’ve slept in my share of stables. Jail cells too.”
“Doesn’t that frighten you?”
“Hell, yes. But what’s the alternative? Grind away for a dollar a day for the rest of my life? That frightens me, too.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Both men jumped, but then Newton, embarrassed by his nerves, opened the door to find Josephine Mercadier standing on the step. She began talking before he had the door fully open.
“Newton, I think the time has come for us to take that vote on the timber company,” she said. “Putting it off any longer just prolongs the disagreement and plants the seeds for future conflict. Let’s settle it and—” She noticed Pierce. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”
“That’s all right,” Newton said. “Come in, let me introduce you. Miss Mercadier, this is Reuben Pierce. He’s visiting and looking for work around here. Mr. Pierce, Josephine Mercadier, one of our community members.”
After their greeting, she returned to her subject. “So you see my point?”
“I do.”
“Very well, I’ll introduce the motion at next week’s meeting and we can vote on it the week after that.” She turned to leave. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Pierce.”
Pierce made a gesture that looked like tipping his hat, but he wasn’t wearing one so it ended up as a scalp rub. And then she was gone, with her usual abruptness that felt one step away from rude.
“That was interesting,” Pierce said. “All this talk of motions and voting, like a little legislature.”
“It’s our way,” Newton said.
“Women vote too? I didn’t think that was legal.”
“They vote in our community, same as men. County and state elections, they’re shut out.”
“My. You folks are more radical than I am.” Pierce peeked out the window, but Newton knew that Josephine would be long gone. “You’re a lucky man,” Pierce said.
“What do you mean?”
“To have a sweetheart like—” He waved toward the door. “I mean, she’s quite the good-looker.”
“She’s not my sweetheart,” Newton blurted, not wanting to go into details.
“She called you ‘Newton.’”
“We grew up together. She’s always called me that.”
“So no suitor?”
“Many admirers, no beau.”
Pierce’s expression grew thoughtful. “I may enjoy my time here more than I thought.” Newton, feeling a little sour, didn’t reply. Pierce paid no notice. “What a fine figure! And it’s hard to judge by an ankle, but I’d say that ankle leads to a fine calf.”
“Mr. Pierce, please. Keep your comments civil. This is a valued community member you’re talking about.”
Pierce shrugged. “Sorry. Again, I didn’t mean to offend.”
“I’m not offended, I’m just . . . “
“One of the admirers?”
Newton felt the heat in his face as he blushed. “No. Not at all.”
“Then you won’t be jealous if I try my luck.”
Newton didn’t know what to say. Of course he couldn’t be jealous. He had neither right nor reason for jealousy. But this man’s easy assertion of interest struck him wrong. There was a proper way to go about courting a woman and—
He stopped himself. If ever a greater hypocrite existed in this world, he had never heard of him. “Jealous?” he said. “Last thing on my mind. Many men have tried to win her, all have failed. Maybe you’ll be the lucky exception.” He took his hat from its peg. “Make yourself at home. I need to get up to the fields and work a while. I’ll be back in time for us to walk together to the Temple for supper.” He paused in the doorway. “And you’re right. She’s got a damn fine ankle, and I venture to say a fine calf to match, and the rest to match that.”