Page 76 of Queen

to leave, but Queen knew she was an additional small strain on their meager

  resources. Nor did she want to live the rest of her life as part of their

  family. She wanted a family of her own.

  Joyce found the job for her, through the Preacher, who had contacts with

  some of the white missionaries in town. At the appointed hour, Queen,

  soberly dressed, went with Joyce to a sprawling, gracious house with a large

  and untidy garden. A tall, frail woman of late middle years, her hair pulled

  back in a fierce bun, answered the door to them, and introduced herself as

  Miss Gippy. She looked at Queen appraisingly and then led them to the

  sitting room.

  Her sister, Miss Mandy, conducted the interview, for she

  QUEEN 627

  ran the house, but Miss Gippy frequently chimed in, usually with a

  quotation from the Bible that had some relevance to what was being said.

  Queen, who was in a happy frame of mind, even though neither she nor Joyce

  was invited to sit, almost giggled at one interruption, and thought that

  Miss Gippy must know the Good Book backward.

  Miss Mandy was rounder and less frail than her sister, of similar years

  and sterner stuff. She listened to Queen's qualifications, and explained

  their circumstances. Originally from New Hampshire, they had come South

  after the war to minister to the souls of the newly freed blacks. They

  had lived here for a year, and were in need of a housekeeper. The several

  girls they had employed had been either flighty or lazy, and all had

  left. Miss Mandy admitted they were strict taskmasters, but were fair,

  and Queen would get her pay, her board and her keep, and one afternoon

  off a week. In return she was to run the house to the sisters'

  instructions.

  "If any would not work, neither should he eat," Miss Gippy droned

  sanctimoniously.

  Queen said the conditions were acceptable, and waited while Miss Mandy

  walked around her, inspecting her as if she were a slave on the block.

  A tiny smile fought its way to Queen's lips, and she dared not look at

  Joyce. But she did look at Miss Gippy, and the smile disappeared to where

  it had come from.

  Finally, Miss Mandy pronounced herself satisfied. "Excellent. And lovely

  teeth," she said. "When can you begin, Queen? Such an odd name."

  It was agreed that Queen could begin immediately. She would collect her

  few belongings from Joyce, and return to prepare supper. They were about

  to depart, when Miss Gippy coughed.

  "We should say a little prayer first," Miss Mandy said, and knelt. Miss

  Gippy knelt beside her, and Queen and Joyce followed suit.

  "Man goeth forth unto his work, unto his labor," Miss Gippy prayed. "0

  Lord, how manifold are Thy works. In wisdom hast Thou made them all."

  The wretched smile that Queen had fought so hard to subdue struggled to

  her lips again.

  628 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  It was hard work, for the sisters had not had help for several weeks, and

  there was much to catch up on, but slowly Queen brought it all under

  control. She was provided with two black dresses, white aprons and caps,

  the cost of which was deducted from her wages, and she worked from early

  morning till late at night, but usually took some hours off in the

  afternoon, or didn't hurry home when she went shopping. Miss Mandy had been

  honest with her-both sisters were strict taskmasters, but very fair, and

  frequently helped in the kitchen. They seldom went out, and Queen saw

  little evidence of their missionary work, other than their mild

  discouragement of her continuing friendship with Joyce.

  "Obviously," Miss Mandy said to Queen, "you have had a good education.

  Women like Joyce have not, and are only a few steps from the jungle. That

  is why we have a mission to them. "

  Queen bit her lip and didn't answer back, didn't defend Joyce, because she

  had come to understand that what the sisters called their mission was an

  excuse, a rationale for what otherwise would be an empty existence. They

  were deeply religious, and Queen's day was punctuated by calls to pray with

  the sisters, or hymns sung to a pounding accompaniment by Miss Gippy on the

  pump organ.

  "They're a pair of dragons," she told Joyce, as they walked together to

  church. "But their fire is pretty old now."

  Sunday was not Queen's day off, but she was expected to attend church in

  the morning. To the sisters' chagrin, she always went with Joyce to the

  black church, because it marked an important turning point in her life, and

  she loved the rousing sermons and hearty, heartfelt hymns. Sometimes it all

  got so exciting she would get carried away, and chant and shout with the

  best of them, and sometimes she was sure the Spirit moved within her, and

  she went into a trancelike state of ecstasy-

 

  She was baptized one late fall day, just before the cold weather of winter

  set in. The service was held at the riverbank, where the congregation

  gathered and sang their joy in Jesus. A number of whites collected nearby,

  to watch the niggers have their fun, for it was a colorful occasion.

  QUEEN 629

  The Preacher stood up to his waist in the chilly water, with some deacons

  and Joyce beside him. Three or four celebrants stood in a line before

  them, teeth chattering with fervor and cold. The Preacher put his arm

  around Queen and roared to heaven.

  "0 Lord, we beseech Thee, receive now this child, Queen, that she may be

  bom again, into Thy sweet grace. Just as Saint John baptized Thee, we now

  wash away her sins in the water of love, and dedicate her to Thy glory

  fo'ever."

  He held his hand over Queen's mouth and nose, and dunked her in the

  river. The choir was at fever pitch. When Queen bobbed up, her eyes

  shining, her spirit vibrant, there was clapping and cheering.

  "I know it! I know the Lord now!" Queen shouted to the world. "I feel his

  great love!"

  Truly, she felt wonderful, and even if it was only by contrast to her

  earlier misery, that was enough, for she genuinely believed that God was

  directing her life.

  The sisters strongly disapproved of the way blacks worshiped the Lord,

  and every Sunday they told her she should come with them to their own

  church, and contemplate the wonder of His works in calm and quiet.

  "Those rowdy sermons, 'The earth am flat, the sun do move,' " Miss Gippy

  sniffed. "Dangerous stuff, Queen."

  "Clapping and dancing and singing, and dunking people at baptism," Miss

  Mandy agreed. "This is heathen behavior, idolatry! "

  "Voodoo and African ritual," Miss Gippy went further. "You are not in the

  jungle now. You have to be civilized, even in worship. Especially in

  worship."

  Queen nodded her head seriously, for she had become quite fond of the old

  biddies.

  "Maybe the Lord moves in mysterious ways, m'm," she said. They sighed,

  and nodded sadly, and agreed with her, and sen
t her off to prepare their

  dinner. Just as Queen had become fond of them, they felt surprisingly

  affectionate to her, both for herself and for what she represented to

  them.

  Miss Gippy had been christened Gypsophilia, a tiny flower, by sober

  Lutheran parents, merchants in New Hampshire, who

  630 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  had hoped that the good Lord would send them a son. It was not to be. They

  named their second daughter Amanda, and even though they prayed with all

  their hearts and worked strenuously at their physical union, they were not

  blessed with any more children. They raised their daughters with

  discipline tempered by as much love as their austere religion allowed them

  to show, and prayed for good husbands for both of them. Again, their

  prayers were not answered, and the parents began to believe they had

  offended the Lord in some way. Materially they prospered, and could

  provide a good dowry if any young man had the sense to take either

  daughter in wedlock, but no one took the opportunity.

  Both girls were plain, each loved the other, and both were devoted to

  their church. Occasionally, men crossed their paths, and both had mild

  and inconclusive flirtations, but by the time she was twenty-five, Gippy

  understood that she had been left on the shelf, and ceased to be anxious

  about men, because she had Jesus. Mandy, who had a more rebellious

  spirit, was not so accepting of potential spinsterhood. As Gippy's

  interest in men declined, Mandy's became avid, and she sought out the

  company of any eligible bachelor with increasing desperation. As a child

  she adored her dolls, and as she grew up she transferred that affection

  to other people's children. It wasn't so much that she wanted to be

  married; it was that she wanted children of her own, to love, and to

  mother and protect, and she could not bear the prospect of being barren.

  She became something of a joke, and then an embarrassment, among the

  young men of the town, for she sought them out and threw herself at them,

  but when they asked for more than she was prepared to give outside of

  marriage, they rejected her, and she became hysterical.

  She met a young man, a shady salesman from Boston, who learned of her

  financial security, but not her reputation, and, to secure his own

  prospects, asked for her hand in marriage. Mandy overwhelmed him with her

  gratitude, and he began to have doubts about his neurotic fianc6e. Her

  parents had larger doubts about the union, for he was not religious, and

  inquiries in Boston told them that the salesman was not to be trusted

  with money, and was out for what he could get. Mandy would hear nothing

  against her love, and so her parents offered the

  QUEEN 631

  salesman a sum of money to remove himself from the district. He left for

  California the next day, to make his fortune in gold.

  It broke Mandy's heart. She took to her room, and when she came down a

  few days later, she had donned a chaste composure, and settled to a life

  of loneliness with her sister, Gippy, and devotion to charity. They

  became pillars of the local church and espoused all the liberal causes,

  especially abolition, although neither had ever met a black person. Their

  parents died and left them well provided, and they continued to live

  together, for they could not imagine a life apart from each other.

  Humorless, austere, and devout, they were their only friends. As they

  grew older, the northern winters became harder for them, and they talked

  of moving to a more temperate climate, but would not live in a slave

  state. During the war, they dedicated themselves to the cause of the

  Union. They attended recruitment meetings and handed out flags and

  patriotic pamphlets to those who enlisted, wrote countless letters to the

  newspapers protesting the latest Southern outrages, and made a few, very

  small donations to those missionaries who were helping runaway slaves.

  They heard lectures from those same missionaries about the appalling

  plight of the blacks, slave and free, their passionate faith in a form

  of God, and their curious style of worship.

  It gave them the cause that they needed. Their hearts were appalled,

  although their actions were limited to supplying their church with fresh

  flowers. At the end of the war, they would move South, and by example and

  patient instruction, by simply living as good Christians, they would

  bring the newly freed slaves to their unforgiving God. They sought a

  quiet city for their gentle lives, and settled on Huntsville, where they

  bought a splendid house at a bargain price with their good Yankee

  dollars. They found a quiet church that suited them, with a minister of

  ascetic authority, and looked forward to their new lives with some

  anticipation.

  Almost immediately, they realized that persuading blacks from their wild

  forms of worship was an impossible task, and as immediately, they became

  intolerant of most black people, whom they thought primitive,

  irresponsible, and immoral. And, in the case of their maids, lazy. They

  despaired of their

  632 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  rambling house, and closed off most of the rooms. Miss Mandy struggled

  with the garden, but the verdant, unpredictable Southern horticulture

  defeated her, and no gardener would tolerate her imperious directions. The

  only reason they didn't sell up and go back home was because the weather

  suited them both beautifully, and they could not face the prospect of a

  long, dark winter again.

  Then a young woman came to work for them who suited their purposes

  exactly. She was nigra but pale, and obviously her white blood had calmed

  her pagan genes. She was the product of a fall from grace by her father

  and her mother, and so was ripe to be saved. She was an excellent worker,

  who seldom complained. And she was young, and brought some sunshine into

  their crimped lives, just as the lovely Southern weather eased their

  rheumatic bones. That she gently resisted their attempts to bring her to

  their purifying, Protestant angst did not concern them. She was

  malleable, and they had nothing else to do. For the rest of their lives.

  It was a healing time for Queen. Her new church gave her friends and

  unbounded joy, the sisters gave her companionship and something to

  complain about, and the community who had so lovingly adopted her gave her

  a sense of place. That Christmas was the happiest she could remember. She

  made presents, silly, sweet things, for all her friends, and gave Miss

  Mandy and Miss Gippy little lavender bags that she had stitched and filled

  herself. They, in turn, gave her prayer books and a new Bible. She spent

  a cheery Christmas morning at her church, singing the joy of Christ reborn

  as lustily as anyone present. She served an excellent dinner of ham,

  gravy, and creamed potatoes to the sisters, and ate her own food alone in

  the kitchen, where she took all her meals. A few days later, in that same
/>
  kitchen, she wished herself a very happy New Year, and had every reason

  to believe it might be true.

  Thursday afternoons were her own. With the nudging of spring, she would

  stroll in the park, or shop with Joyce, and they would go to a little

  caf6 and have big slices of fich peach pie, covered in cream. It pleased

  Joyce to see Queen so happy, and she told her so.

  Queen laughed. "I love being me," she said. "I tried being

  QUEEN 633

  on the other side, and now I love being black."

  "But you white as snow," Joyce laughed.

  Queen shook her head. "This black blood must be a powerful thing. One

  little drop of it, and you can't be white. It's all or nothing for them."

  She looked down and fiddled with her pie, remembering the bad times, the

  white times. Joyce took her hand.

  "Seems to me there's only one thing you need to make yo' life complete,"

  she said, her meaning perfectly clear, for she said this to Queen every

  time they met. Part of Queen agreed with her. She wanted very much to

  have a man in her life, but the awful memory of Digby still lingered, and

  she was too suspicious of men to feel comfortable with them if they

  showed any romantic interest in her. Her caution was easing with time,

  and she was trying to convince herself that Digby was exceptional, but

  she was not ready to test the theory.

  Men who made her laugh, and who represented no serious threat to her

  heart or her body, were different, like the smart young man loping toward

  them, his eyes glinting with delight at Queen.

  "Charles real sweet on you," Joyce hinted.

  "He isn't for me," Queen said.

  "Yo' need a man in yo' life," Joyce insisted.

  Charles joined them, dapper, dandy, and colorfully clad. He doffed his

  hat.

  "Miss Queen, Miss Joyce," he greeted them, but hardly looking at Joyce.

  He was real sweet on Queen. "What a very sublime pleasure."

  Joyce got to her feet. "Sit here and talk to Queen," she told Charles.

  "I see a friend over there."

  Queen laughed out loud at the unsubtlety of it, and Charles slid into

  Joyce's seat.

  "Yo're looking radiant, Miss Queen," he beamed, on his very best

  behavior. "An' what a fine big dish o' pie. But then you just a little

  ol' itty-bitty thing, and yo' need feedin' up."

  Queen laughed again, and hid her face in her hands. If nothing else,

  Charles was funny.

  Charles knew people laughed at him, and used that to his advantage. Tall,

  thin and scrawny, and a bom survivor, he had

  634 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  an unthreatening impudence and a cheeky personality and a silver tongue.

  He made the most of every opportunity, and created opportunity where none

  existed. No one was exactly sure how he made his living, because he made

  his living at so many things, but he was obviously doing well for himself.

  A house nigger before the war, freedom saw him flower. In the ill-supplied

  South, Charles could usually supply anything anyone wanted, given enough

  notice and if the price was right. His customers ranged from a Union

  general who was collecting fine antiques from impoverished mansions, to

  a Confederate colonel who liked to drink imported brandy at domestic

  prices, and scores of simple people, black and white, who knew that

  Charles could provide a few simple luxuries and more necessities, at

  unmatched prices. If an ex-slave needed a cheap plow for his few

  sharecropping acres, Charles could find it. If a Federal soldier wanted

  souvenirs of the war, Charles would talk a veteran Rebel into parting with

  his promotion orders signed by Robert E. Lee. If a Southern woman wished

  to sell, discreetly, a piece of jewelry to pay her bills, Charles was her

  man. The only thing Charles would not do was trade in human flesh. Asked

  by drunken youths if he could find them female companionship for a few

  hours, Charles would smile, shake his head, and extricate himself from

  their company. The concept of a human being selling her body to another,