Page 34 of Junie

Chapter Thirty-Four

Junie storms down the stairs and out the side door, curling to her knees next to the bottom porch step. She hasn’t lost anything today—so why does it feel like she has? She rubs her tears and snot into the collar of her maid’s uniform.

“Something happen in there?”

She looks up, startled to see Caleb leaning on the other side of the wall. He takes a drag of his freshly lit cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. Junie looks back down at the ground, trying to avoid staring at his lips.

“Are you talking to me now? Or do you have some salt you’re ready to rub in my wounds? I got a few fresh ones from today if you want.”

“I came to check if you’re all right after what happened today.”

Warmth slides like butter through her body.

“Why do you care?” Junie says.

“Because, believe it or not, Junie, I ain’t a heartless monster, even if I do have to wait on one.”

Junie peeks up at Caleb. The last few months have carved the rings around his eyes dark and deep, a sign of many sleepless nights. It can’t be easy to spend so much time with the master.

She’d pushed Caleb away that night three months ago because she didn’t want him getting mixed up in her secret, what she’d done to McQueen. But the man has been in the ground for months now, and nobody has asked any questions about his death.

Maybe Junie is finally safe.

Caleb couldn’t possibly love her anymore, not after the things she said. But maybe he can be her friend. She nods toward the steps next to her, and Caleb sits down.

“I’m just figuring out how to live in our new world, is all,” Junie says. She thumbs a blade of grass between her fingers.

“With Taylor and Violet in charge?”

Junie nods. Even though she wants to hold back, the words trickle out like water through cracked glass.

“Violet asked me back as her maid. After everything that happened, everything she’s done, she still expected me to wait on her. To want to wait on her. I know she was never my friend, I really do now, but I still don’t know how to live without her.”

“Not surprised to hear she did that. Things haven’t been easy for her, you know, with Taylor.”

“What do you mean?” Junie says, pulling the grass out.

“You see what he’s like in front of the company. Imagine how he acts behind a closed door.”

Junie thinks back to what Violet looked like that morning. Purple circles underneath her eyes, the long sleeves, the high-necked black dress.

“Why?” Junie asks.

“Because she ain’t in the family way. Because she’s so friendly with his sister. Because he woke up on the wrong side of the bed and felt like it. There ain’t any real reason with men like Taylor.”

“Does her mother know? That he does… that to her?”

Caleb laughs.

“You know the old mistress better than I do. What do you think?”

“Good God,” Junie whispers.

“So, when do you start back with Mrs. Taylor?” Caleb asks.

“I told her no.”

“You what?” Caleb says, leaning.

“I told her I wouldn’t come back.”

“Damn,” he says with a chuckle. He picks up a pebble and tosses it into the distance.

“You probably think I’m a fool.”

“No, I think you’re brave.”

Junie bites down on her lip. If this were three months ago, she’d have reached out for his hand and kissed his palms. Instead, she tucks her hands between her thighs.

“Well, she wasn’t happy. I probably made life even worse for myself.”

“You made a decision for yourself. I don’t think you can ever make life worse for yourself when you’re doing that.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Junie says. “We ain’t hardly spoken in months.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” Caleb says. He stands up, extending his arm down to her on the ground. “Now get up, you’re sitting in mud.”

Junie smiles and takes his hand to stand.

“If you’re not careful,” she says, “I’ll yank you down here with me.”

—

Junie wakes up to a day that bakes like July before sunrise, though it’s only April. She’ll have to see them all again this morning: Mr. Taylor, Uncle Taylor, Miss Taylor, Bess. And worst of all, Violet.

Auntie Marilla shuns Junie all morning in the cookhouse, as though Mr. Taylor’s abuse is her own fault. Caleb and Junie do the serving, giving Bess the easier tasks of serving the tea and coffee. Her cuts and bruises are covered with a handkerchief tied over her eye.

The men chatter and debate politics through breakfast, as though the silent women that surround them aren’t beaten down and full of hate.

After breakfast, Junie tries to knead together biscuit dough, but butter melts out between her fingers. Granddaddy, Muh, Bess, and Auntie all hover around the room, eating their bowls of grits in silence. The door creaks open, and Caleb walks in, slicked with sweat.

“Mr. Taylor’s asked that we’re all present on the porch at one o’clock to say goodbye to Uncle Taylor,” Caleb announces. “His man is meant to come round with his carriage about then.”

“Why do we need to be there for that?” Muh asks. “We usually only got to be there to greet guests.”

“Beats me,” Caleb says.

—

When junie and her family line up off the porch, the sun hangs low and hot. The front doors swing open, and Mr. Taylor, Violet, Mrs. McQueen, Uncle Taylor, and Miss Taylor all step outside. Caleb follows behind, carrying Uncle Taylor’s case to the carriage and loading it in the back as the white folks say their goodbyes before standing next to Junie off the porch. Mr. Taylor’s face is stretched into a plastered grin, while his sister covers her black eye with a veiled hat.

“I don’t see why we ought to be here for this,” Muh says to Granddaddy, tapping her foot.

“Ain’t any use trying to understand a new master,” Granddaddy answers. Muh wrings her hands. Junie bites her lip.

The leaves in the woods are growing green again, the buds frying in the heat. Junie stares into the distance, imagining the smell of the freshly blooming honeysuckles, the purity of the blackberry blossoms lining the oak trees. Spring is her favorite time in the woods, when the forest renews itself. She starts to turn away, aching with nostalgia for the simple pleasures she used to have, when she spots the telltale flicker of gold at the forest edge.

Minnie slips between two tree trunks. Junie watches in awe as she steps beyond the edge of the forest, her glowing body now in the field and closer to Bellereine than ever before. Junie looks down at the single tally left on her wrist. Minnie’s stronger now, powered by the completion of the second task. She walks toward Junie until she is close enough to touch the house. She doesn’t call for Junie or beckon her forward. Instead, she sits on a cut tree trunk, watching as though she has been ordered to witness with the rest of the family.

“Before Uncle goes, we have an announcement,” Mr. Taylor calls. “Yesterday evening, Uncle was generous enough to offer to transport Miss Taylor back home to her beloved New Orleans. She’ll be leaving with him today.”

“Excuse me?” Miss Taylor says through her veil. Violet’s face turns white as a sheet.

“Yes, that’s right, Bea, you’ll be going back home with Uncle Taylor, by way of Selma for a day or two, of course.”

“Yes, I have some business with your father, so I’ll be chaperoning you back,” Uncle Taylor says, a waver in his voice.

“This isn’t necessary, Mr. Taylor. Your sister is welcome to stay with us as long as she’d like,” Violet says.

“It is necessary, Violet,” Mr. Taylor says, looking at her with a wolflike stare. “Absolutely necessary.”

“Please don’t do this, Beau,” Miss Taylor says.

“Bea, you hate Alabama, don’t you? I thought you’d be thrilled to be sent back to your city.”

“I don’t even have any of my things,” she says, pointing toward the house. “Why are you doing this?”

“We’ll send them along after you. Now off, into the carriage, sister.”

“I am not going until you tell me why you’re sending me away!”

“This is my house, too, Beau, and you ain’t gonna just send your sister away like this with no warning,” Violet says.

“Don’t talk back to your husband, Violet,” Mrs. McQueen says.

“Oh, like you never talked back to Daddy,” Violet says, her voice raising.

Mr. Taylor steps closer to Violet, clutching her arm.

“This is my house, and I’ll do exactly what I like, Mrs. Taylor.” Stony coldness flickers in his eyes. “I don’t see why my sister’s whereabouts would concern you so greatly. Besides, I don’t intend to send her away without a proper gift. A token of her time here at Bellereine. Bess, come on over here.”

Junie’s hands go numb. She looks back at Minnie, who watches unshaken.

Bess’s eyes widen. She steps forward to the base of the porch steps.

“Yes, Mr. Taylor?” Bess says, knees bending in curtsy.

“Bea, it’s high time you had a proper lady’s maid with you. Consider Bess my parting gift to you.”

Auntie screams and a trembling Muh scoops her in her arms, throwing her hand over her mouth to silence her. Granddaddy stands as still as a statue. Junie’s vision blurs; the earth turns to liquid beneath her feet. Caleb catches her hand and holds it.

“You can’t be serious, Beau. We don’t have enough help as it is!” Violet yells.

“I don’t want a damn maid, Beau, I want to stay!” Miss Taylor cries. “This is…It’s…my home now!”

“You think this nigger bitch is help?” Mr. Taylor says, ignoring his sister. “She hardly keeps the house and she spilt all those drinks on our guests yesterday. Besides, she’s got that lame ankle and now a bad eye, remember how she limped around our wedding? You’ve still got your precious ol’ darkie that I ought to put out in the field, and maybe without so much help you’ll learn how to be a proper wife and keep a home. And I beg you, kindly wife, not to question my decisions again.”

“I’ll question your decisions as much as I like if they are monstrous!” Violet yells.

“Aislinn Violet, stop it now,” Mrs. McQueen says, grabbing her daughter.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t tell me nothing!”

Junie hardly hears the arguing over the ringing in her ears. Caleb’s palm shakes violently in hers. Bess hasn’t moved, her arms crossed over her body, torso shivering in the heat.

Could they run now? Could they grab hands and go, run as fast as they can into the woods, away from here?

“We ought to be leaving,” Uncle Taylor says. “Come to the carriage now, Bea. You too, Bess.”

“I’m not going. I told you I’m not going, ” Miss Taylor screams.

“I hate to put it frankly to you, sister, but you ain’t welcome on my property no more. I won’t be humiliated in my own house.” Beau’s eyes narrow as he grabs Miss Taylor and throws her over his shoulder in one movement. She screams, kicking and pounding against him.

“No, no, stop! Violet!”

Violet runs off the porch, slapping her mother away.

“Bea!” she screams, chasing after, desperate to catch Beau.

It is no use. He carries Bea to the carriage, pushing her inside and slamming the door closed. Bea’s screams are muffled as Violet pounds against the locked carriage door, pressing her face to the glass.

“Bess,” Beau says, turning toward her. “Ain’t you see it’s time to go?”

Bess looks to her family.

“Momma?” she says shakily.

Auntie runs toward her, throwing her arms around Bess as sobs rock their bodies. Muh drops to her knees, and Granddaddy looks toward his feet.

“You be good now, Baby, you be good,” Auntie says.

“I know you’re lame, darkie, but you ain’t stupid,” Beau yells. “Don’t make me put you in that carriage!”

“I don’t want to, Momma. I don’t want to go,” Bess wails.

“You got to go, Baby, please, don’t fight it.”

“I don’t want to leave, Momma!”

“Baby, you got to go,” Auntie says, pushing Bess away.

When Bess looks at the family pleadingly, Junie’s tears break through. On her face is a look more terrible than Minnie’s cold, dead eyes on the straw mattress. It is the look of utter hopelessness.

“Go, Bess,” Auntie says. “I’ll always love you. Momma will always be with you, Baby.”

“C’mon now. Uncle Taylor’s waiting,” Beau says. He goes to grab her wrist, but Bess snatches her hand away.

“Go, Bess! Go. Please,” Auntie pleads.

Bess sniffles, then walks toward the carriage, not looking back. She sits on the bench next to the driver. Auntie falls to the ground. The carriage driver cracks the whip and the horses start to roll down the road. Violet runs to keep up, her hands pressed to the carriage.

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me,” Violet yells. The carriage picks up speed, and she trips on the edge of her dress. She lays on the earth, dirt-covered and sobbing until her husband reaches her. He catches her by the collar, beating her like an insolent dog as she screams.

Mrs. McQueen lingers on the porch, watching.

Time slows around Junie. She was the one to ask Bess for help. She was the reason Bess faked a hurt ankle. Remember how she limped around our wedding?

This is all her fault.

Minnie rises from the tree trunk and wanders back into the woods.

Junie tosses away Caleb’s hand, but he grips her again firmly. Tears hang on the edges of his eyes.

“I ain’t letting you run now,” he murmurs, low. “If you run right now, Delilah June, you’re gonna end up worse than Bess.”

Junie begins to sob. Caleb pulls her into his arms as her family remains side by side, watching the carriage disappear into the distance.