Midnight Without a Moon(62)

A hearty “aye” rose from the congregation.

“All opposed, say nay,” said Reverend Jenkins.

My heart beat faster with the silence, but no one opposed my baptism.

“It has been motioned and approved by a unanimous vote of yes from the saints that our sister Rose become a candidate for baptism,” Reverend Jenkins said. When he smiled and hugged me right in front of all those people, my body melted into sobs.

I stumbled almost blindly back to my seat, feeling free and happy. Surprisingly, Ma Pearl gave me a gentle pat on the knee. Her approval. It didn’t bother me one bit that she felt she had something to do with my conversion. I would no longer cut off my nose to spite my face. I would allow her to be proud of what she thought she had accomplished.

I smiled as the church sang, “‘None but the righteous, none but the righteous, none but the righteous shall see God, shall see God. Take me to the water to be baptized. I know I got religion. Yes, I do.’”

I, Rose Lee Carter, was a candidate for baptism. And when I died, wherever or whatever heaven was, I would be there with Papa and a man named Jesus, who was so important that his words were printed in red in my Bible.

“‘Come, we that love the Lord,’” the choir sang out, “‘and let our joys be known; join in a song with sweet accord, join in a song with sweet accord and thus surround the throne, and thus surround the throne. We’re marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion; we’re marching upward to Zion, the beautiful city of God.’”

Though the choir sang, my mind wandered back to the Scripture Papa had read: “I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.”

I knew the Scripture was about Jesus going to heaven to prepare a place for his disciples, but I couldn’t help but think of Aunt Belle and Monty, who were on their way to Saint Louis—?to prepare a place for me. And they would come again in November, and not just receive me, but relieve me from the misery of Mississippi. I couldn’t contain my smile. Not only had I “gotten religion” on my own terms as opposed to Ma Pearl’s, but I had also finally gotten my chance to fly away, as so many others had done before me.





Chapter Thirty-One


MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 26


A SCREAM JOLTED ME FROM SLEEP. Moonlight gleamed through the thinly curtained window. The sunlight of Monday morning had not yet arrived. So why was Ma Pearl in our room? And why was she standing next to Queen’s bed, yelling for her to get up?

“You ain’t ’sleep!” she said. “No sense pretending you is. Wadn’t two minutes ago that I just saw you crawl in here.”

When a second scream filled the bedroom, my eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and spotted the black strap of terror. In a perfect arch, it swung and landed whap against Queen’s curled-up body. And then whap . . . whap . . . whap . . . , it lashed Queen, as if it had a mind of its own.

Queen’s hands moved in every direction in an attempt to block it. “Ma Pearl, please!” she screamed. “Please, stop!”

“I’m go’n kill you!” Ma Pearl yelled. “I’m go’n kill you!”

I sat straight up in my bed, stunned, only half believing it had taken the changing of the season and nearly a month of watching Queen run outside and vomit every morning for Ma Pearl to realize there was a baby inside her and not a summer flu.

When Queen noticed me sitting up, she cried, “Help me! Make her stop!”

“Cain’t nobody help you but Jesus,” Ma Pearl said, pointing toward heaven with one hand while wielding that strap with the other. Her arm rose so high with the strap that it seemed to touch the ceiling. She brought it down with a WHAP against Queen’s back. “I told y’all I didn’t want to bring up no mo’ babies in my house.”

When Ma Pearl paused for a moment to catch her breath, Queen uncoiled her body and—?still on her bed—?fell on her knees. With her hands clasped in a prayer position, she begged Ma Pearl for mercy.

“I ain’t the one to forgive you,” Ma Pearl said. “That’s God’s bizness. My bizness is to beat the devil outta you for bringing mo’ shame in my house. Sneaking outta here at night like a common tramp.”

Dazed by the drama, I hadn’t noticed that Queen was fully dressed in a yellow pantsuit.

“Ma Pearl, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said, her head bowed, her body rocking back and forth.

“You ain’t sorry,” Ma Pearl said, her teeth clenched. “You in trouble. And cain’t nobody undo that.”

Before Queen could get her hands up to shield her face, the black strap of terror slashed across it. Queen’s cry was so loud, it’s a wonder it didn’t wake the Robinsons up the road.

But it did wake Papa. He came rushing into the room, struggling to pull his britches over his underwear.

“What?” was all he said as his eyes adjusted to the moonlit room.

Ma Pearl turned swiftly toward him. “This gal done gone out and got herself in trouble.”

“Queen?” Papa said. His countenance fell as he stared at the sobbing figure on the bed.

Queen lay on her side, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head shielded by her arms, her body worn from Ma Pearl’s lashes. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she said, whimpering.