A Treasure of Gold Page 3

  “If you’ll sit here, we can give you a lift up the hill.”

  “I wouldn’t want to get blood in your car.”

  “We can take the carriage.”

  “So I’ll jolt?”

  Adam seemed to change his mind. “Fine. But I’ll have to drop my family off at church first.”

  “Whatever, Doctor.”

  “That would include my sister-in-law.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll walk before I get in a car with her.”

  “What has Nettie ever done to you?”

  “Nettie. Sounds like a country faith healer.”

  “Yes. She has, as we in the family like to call it, a special kind of commune with the Lord.” Dr. Morson turned to mess with some of the instruments he had used on Jay. “She’s traveled all over as part of the revival service with Brother Carver and Sister Jane. Brother Carver died last Christmas and she decided to move up here to find some opportunities.”

  “And she’s been here before, traveling with that revival?”

  “Yes.” Adam turned to him. “What does that mean to you?”

  “She’s the very one who promised Clara that she was going to get better the night before she died.”

  The doctor faced him. “I told you, Clara was too far gone for help by the time she came to me. No one was going to save her.”

  “Not even God?” He struggled to stand. “Clara believed, Doctor. She really did. And that, that…”

  “Nettie.”

  “Nettie, came two years ago, right before Clara died and promised her that she would be well.”

  “You must be mistaken. Nettie doesn’t make promises like that.”

  “I remember her in my mind.” He gestured with his good arm. “I know what she told Clara and she died that night. She’s the angel of death. I wouldn’t have her living with me if I were a doctor.”

  The front door opened and closed, and they both startled to hear footsteps coming to the back of the house. Suddenly, there she was, the very topic of conversation, standing in front of him as if he had conjured her up. Great.

  Still, even better was the sight of Goldie, dressed in one of those bright-yellow dresses she liked to wear and her hair tied up in a ribbon, but not combed out right from the paper-bag curls that she had taken out. He struggled, so happy to see his little ray of sunshine, his most precious jewel. He reached out his good arm to her and she went into it, embracing him around his waist.

  “Daddy, are you all right?”

  “I am, my precious.” He loved the feel of his little girl in his arms. She was the best thing in his life—so sweet and good. It pained him often that he couldn’t take care of Goldie the way that he liked, but Jay had no other family to send her to. He did his best on his own.

  “I was afraid, but then this woman with the bad clothes came to the house to get me, to bring me to you.”

  Yeah. The storm-cloud, angel-of-death woman.

  He turned to stare at Nettie, and he could see the doctor did too. At least she had the grace to be slightly embarrassed. And clearly, her brother-in-law was not happy with her. Good. Let her know what it was like to be under someone’s scorn.

  “She told Eva to get lost, and she brought me here.”

  What? She was an angel of death and trouble too? “You got rid of my nanny?”

  Nettie did not shrink under his scorn, but she stood up to it and faced both him and her brother-in-law. “You left your child in your house with a drunken woman, is that correct?”

  Storm clouds invaded his mind. Had this woman, someone he didn’t even know, come into his home and told his nanny to leave? Is that what his Goldie was telling him? How did anyone who wasn’t in the game have that kind of nerve? He scrambled for an explanation. “People drink sometimes.” Naw, that wasn’t it. The nerve of this woman.

  “She was dressed as if she had gone out, similar to you.” Nettie gestured toward the beautifully tailored white suit, now in shreds due to his injury.

  “What does that mean?”

  “She might have left your daughter alone, neglected.”

  “Goldie was fine.”

  “That was not what I saw when I went into your home.”

  Somehow, he found the strength to stand on his feet and face her. He tucked Goldie firmly under his arm. “I’m gonna tell you once—just one time. And you,” he gestured to the doctor who still stood there, clearly stunned at these goings-on, “you make it happen. Stay the hell out of my life. Understand me?”

  Now he could see that inner light of righteousness that the doc had been talking about, and his stomach roiled. The emotions swirled about in his stomach as if he were riding a coaster out at West View Park—awe at the graceful way she held herself in front of him, sheer astonishment at her beauty, anger at her intrusions.

  What was the matter with Nettie? Many, many men knew enough to cow before him whenever he was angry that something hadn’t gone well in the enterprise. She did not. What was it that held her so rigid and strong? Nettie wasn’t his business. Jay didn’t need to figure it out just now.

  He stood there waiting for her to react. She did nothing but stand firm. Nettie just stared at him, unblinking, with big old coal eyes as if he were the crazy one.

  “Thank you for coming into the alley to get me. I appreciate that.” Jay could not believe he was talking on, backing down really, but Nettie should know he was glad she’d saved his life. “But you do not have the right to come and take apart my life, especially after what you did to Clara.”

  The anger won out and overwhelmed him. “No, not after that. I don’t want to see you ever again.” He lifted his arm from Goldie just long enough to take a fat wad of bills out of his pant pocket and peel off several of them, flinging them on the examining table for the doctor. “Thanks, Doc. Come on, Goldie.”

  With his arm around Goldie, and almost needing to use her for support, Jay walked out of the doctor’s office.

  “What did that lady do to Mama?” Goldie asked him as she held on to her father. “I ain’t ever seen her before.”

  “Nothing, baby.” He smoothed down Goldie’s rough plaits. “Let’s go out here and find us a ride up the hill.”

  “I think that we should wait, Daddy. I don’t like the way you look.”

  “We can go home, sunshine, and just sit still for a couple of days. That’s what some bad men want Daddy to do.”

  He opened the door and walked out with Goldie. He didn’t know where or how he would get home with his daughter in tow, but he would. That woman was nothing but trouble, and he knew it.

  He tried to walk a little bit more, but the sick feeling came into his stomach again. He leaned against one of the brownstones.

  “Daddy, Daddy!” Goldie screamed.

  Stay strong. Goldie was relying on him. He was her only parent. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, and he stopped, sitting on a stoop. No one else but that trouble woman had Christian charity toward him here on an early Sunday morning as he struggled. Jay was the most powerful man in the Hill District at night but during the day, he was sordid and no one wanted anything to do with him.

  A shaft of light appeared next to him. Goldie. Her little face was creased up and he hated her looking like that, all because of him.

  “I should get help, Daddy.”

  “I’ma be fine, Goldie. Just let me rest.”

  “Let’s help your father into the carriage,” a no nonsense voice told Goldie, and she obeyed.

  Remarkable—he wondered at it. As much as he loved his child, Goldie did not always listen to what she was told.

  But maybe it was because it was death woman speaking. She had come back outside to see where they were, and he couldn’t move fast enough to get away. Great.

  Nettie came under his arm and supported him into the carriage where he was sure to
bounce and jolt and die.

  Still, it felt good to sit down. He leaned back and reached up with his good hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. Goldie sat down next to him and held on to his hand, which was cold. The woman sat across from them, her beautiful features etched with worry.

  He tried to form words, words of chastisement, but something was creeping in on the edges of his consciousness. Darkness. Nettie personified the angel of death, and was here to kill him and take him away from his Goldie. Well, he had been right for once.

  He wanted to smile, but something stopped him because he was half-afraid of this woman who had come into his life and shaken up everything.

  Before he knew it, though, they were in front of his little house on the bluff, and he was grateful he didn’t have to walk even that little way. Nettie helped him down out of the wagon, inside the house and onto his large davenport. He heard her asking Goldie some questions about supplies that she needed, but his relief at getting to his couch overwhelmed him. If he was going to die, he didn’t have to die in the alleyway or in the street in front of the high-class brownstones. He could do it here on the big, overstuffed davenport that he and Clara had bought four years ago when they moved in.

  Leaning, he gave in to the darkness swallowing him. He didn’t want to fight anymore. The wet on his shoulder didn’t even alarm him. Jay could die happy, knowing he was at home.

  Chapter Three

  Nettie tried her best to ignore the rock-hard feel of Jay’s chest beneath her splayed fingers as she once again became a crutch for him to lean on as they went back into the beautiful, but neglected little house. She could only get him to the large davenport in the front room, but fortunately the couch was large enough to take his bulk.

  While Jay rested, she took off her hat and placed a palm on her narrow hip. She had always wished there were more padding there, but that was territory for her younger sisters—they had the womanly shapes. Well, at least her look was popular now. Just not her clothes—she remembered Goldie’s stinging insult.

  “Thank you, Miss Nettie. I’ll take it from here.” Goldie arranged her father’s arms to ensure, she guessed, that Jay was sleeping soundly. He was.

  Not seeing a place to hang her hat, she placed her hat on the piano bench, marveled at the fact that there was one—noticing it for the first time. She had seen a piano in a private home only in one place—at the Winslow mansion back home. How remarkable for a Negro to have one, sh thought, even as she tried to remember that it was ill-gotten gains used to purchase it.

  “Well, now what?” She did not want to usurp the little girl’s position, but genuinely needed to know.

  “I’ll take care of my daddy. I do it all the time. I know how.”

  She tried her best not to run a gloved finger on the edge of the piano bench, but sat down instead next to her hat, facing the little girl. The curls that the brown endpapers had made were far from tamed and her hand itched to smooth them out. She settled into a negotiating position. “I’m sure that you do. I just thought I would come in and help a little, that’s all.”

  “I know you have stuff to do. You look like a churchwoman.”

  Goldie’s comment did catch her unawares a bit. How would the people in the charity kitchen take her no-show status today? She might even miss church and she never missed church unless she was sick. Still, as she saw the dusty end tables, the piano in need of care, the child who needed guidance and food, her purpose was settled. No matter the man’s nonsense ravings about her, her work was to stay and take care of this man and his neglected daughter.

  That thought gave her a feeling of calm and peace whenever she prayed. She was right where he wanted her to be. She folded her hands, looking at Goldie with her father’s hazel eyes. “Your daddy needs some building up, some soup, and the house needs a little bit of attention,” she spoke to Goldie, woman to woman.

  When she straightened herself up, Nettie knew she had the little girl’s attention. “Do you want to help me? We’ll let your daddy rest a bit before we help him upstairs.”

  “Okay. It’s getting time for spring cleaning anyway.” Goldie shrugged.

  The gray, overcast day outside didn’t help her to see any sign of spring. She stood. “Let’s get to work.”

  Goldie told her where the cleaning supplies were and she showed her how to clean the floors. The brushes that she found were very old and worn out. Clearly they came from a different time, maybe when Clara was able clean her own home. The thought made Nettie sad, but then she brightened when she realized order would come as the house was put to rights.

  “The floor sure does look better, Miss Nettie.” Goldie regarded her. “And I can see wearing long skirts can be helpful ’cause when you scrub the floors, your knees don’t hurt as much. Even though I like the shorter skirts now. You would probably look pretty in one, and you can always change into it after the floor is clean.”

  “I’m wearing the clothes that my sister made for me. She’s a dressmaker.”

  Goldie had a faraway look in her eyes. “I would like a sister. You don’t mean Miss Ruby, do you?”

  She chuckled. “No, I do not. Ruby hates to sew. My sister Em who lives in Georgia.”

  “She only makes long skirts?”

  “No, Em made these some time ago and I want to make sure I get the wear out of them.” Not a very interesting response to a seven-year-old, but Goldie did ask. Children should always know the truth.

  “Oh. You mean you can’t afford new clothes.” Goldie went back to scrubbing her corner. “That’s easy. When Daddy wakes up, I’ll tell him we need to go shopping and get you some shorter skirts to wear on days when you aren’t scrubbing the floor.”

  She opened her mouth to respond and then shut it. Nettie just didn’t know where to start with all of the wrong ideas the child had, but she would take them at a time. She took a breath and sat back on her haunches to relax her knees again. “I appreciate your kindness, Goldie, but men should not buy clothes for ladies that they aren’t married to. It isn’t appropriate.”

  She didn’t want to burst the child’s bubble, but it was clear that she hadn’t had any home training, with rogue people in charge of her. Even if Nettie was going to just help out that morning, she should impart something of value to the child.

  Her statements made the child sad, but it had to be said. The little girl scrubbed at the floor some more. “Oh. Well, Daddy needs to remarry. I miss my mama and all, but I barely remember what she looked like—it was so long ago. I was young. It’s time he get married. You’ll do. I’ll talk to him about it.”

  Now, Nettie was really taken aback. This youngster’s candor had her beat. She said, stunned, “Goldie, I don’t think—”

  A shadow crossed the floor and, much to her embarrassment, Jay stood there, filling the doorway with his broad shoulders and body. Before she could wonder at how much he had heard, he came to the edge of the floor, not wanting to step on anything. Goldie had taken off his shoes and socks so his brown feet were bare.

  Kneeling, she was about eye level with his midsection and she didn’t think that she could have been any more shocked if he were standing there stark-naked.

  Or she might be. Red-hot blood rushed to her face.

  “Is there anything to eat?” Jay boomed before he gave her a slight smile. He had heard every word Goldie said.

  “Um…oh…no. Not yet. We were cleaning up in here and I was going to show Goldie how to make a soup, but since you are up,” She struggled to her feet, “please do not get blood on the clean floor.” She regained some of her authority, but she wondered briefly at how it was possible to lose her composure so easily in front of this man. Time to take charge.

  “Goldie, let’s get your father upstairs.”

  It took them both some time and struggle, but they got Jay into the master bedroom, which took up much of the second floor, which surprised
her. Given the space of the house, she would have thought that there were three bedrooms up here, but there were only two. His bed was just like what Ruby and Adam had—it was obnoxiously large and made of heavy oak.

  He still had on his cream pants and an undershirt.

  “I’ll leave you to undress yourself when you are feeling better.” She wiped her hands on her skirt once he was in bed.

  “You sure, little country girl? You ever undress a man before?”

  He seemed to delight in seeing her squirm, and so she would not give him what he wanted. Remembering how he’d achieved all of this, she stood up. “I do not think it’s appropriate to speak about this in front of a child.”

  “Daddy, she’s telling me about what is ’propriate.”

  “Good, sweetie, since Little Country knows everything.” Now his smile took on a deeper, darker meaning, confusing her for just a minute. “I’ll just rest up here and wait for the soup.”

  “Yes, and now that we cleaned the floor, we can get it started. Once the soup is cooked, I’ll leave. Come on, Goldie.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jay settle back into the pillows and his face took on a grimace that let her know he was in more pain than he appeared to be. The tug at her heart almost threatened to overwhelm her. Quickly, she left the room, with Goldie skipping in front of her.

  Still, the red heat came rushing into her cheeks again as she remembered how firm Jay’s chest had felt beneath her fingers as she helped him up the stairs.

  It had been a long time—too long—since Jay had seen a woman working in his home. Neither Eva nor the string of helpers he had hired since Clara’s death two years ago was exactly helpful. Nor did they always do good kitchen cleaning and cooking. So, even though there was a fist of something in his belly longing to throw Nettie out, Jay enjoyed watching her work.

  ’Sides, he couldn’t do anything else but just fill up his bed. Why did this have to happen now, just as he was deciding to leave the game? But would he have ever come across this death angel had he not been shot by that angry client?

  Funny thing, the dude apologized right after. Joe Griffiths knew he would not do him crooked, but still, the shooting made Jay come out looking like the bad guy, despite his best effort.