Mama raised her eyebrows as if to say:How would that be bad?
‘Philippe and Celestine love each other! They’ve been together most of their lives! They have four beautiful children, and they love each of them just as?—’
‘Those children should never have been born.’
‘What?’
‘They are his slaves! Did your friend think about howselfishhe was being? The offspring of—couplings like that aren’t black, and they aren’t white! Where do they belong? They’re unnatural! I will not haveourchildren associating with?—’
“‘Unnatural’?” Papa echoed aloud as well, as if he’d misunderstood.
‘Blacks and whites aredifferent.’ Mama lingered on the sign: starting with two fists in front of her and then drawing them apart as far as her arms would reach. ‘God made them different for a reason. They do not belong together. Not like that.’
‘Many people say you and I don’t belong together. That I shouldn’t have married a deaf woman. That you shouldn’t have married at all.’
‘We are nothing like them!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you and Iaren’tdifferent! When I was born, I was like you! Our children are normal, not cursed. I praise God for that every day.’
‘I don’t want normal children! I didn’t want a normal wife! But sometimes, Anne, you are entirely too conventional!’
Mama’s breath caught, her hands trembled, and she turned away from Papa. She closed her eyes and made a sound that was halfway between a whimper and a sob.
Papa stepped forward quickly and took her by the shoulders till she opened her eyes. “I’m sorry!” he said with words as well as with his fists against his heart.
Tears still descended her cheeks, but she submitted to his embrace.
Papa kept speaking aloud, the way he would sometimes, even though he knew Mama couldn’t hear him. “The last thing I want is to hurt you, Anne.” Papa stood holding Mama near the pier glass, and he seemed to be examining their reflection. “But you call me ‘unnatural’…”
On the stair landing, Joseph scowled. No she hadn’t: Mama had calledmulattosunnatural. Joseph must have misunderstood some of their signs. He wasn’t used to reading hands and faces from such a high angle. This was why you shouldn’t spy on other people’s conversations.
As he turned away, Joseph heard Papa murmur below him: “You see what you want to see…”
CHAPTER 10
It is a melancholy fact that many hundreds of Catholics live for years without ever seeing a Priest and die without receiving the Last Sacraments…
— Father John McEncroe and James McDonald,Respectful Appeal of the Roman Catholics of the State of South Carolina(1827)
Before Joseph could serve at the altar, he had so much to learn: how to fill and swing a thurible; how to pour the cruets; how to hold a paten; how to hand the Priest his biretta; how to bow moderately and then profoundly. There were many wrong ways to do these things, and there was a proper way. It was like a mathematical formula: if they did everything right, the living God would come into their midst, would change the bread and wine into His own Body and Blood.
The other boys behaved as if serving were only a duty to be endured. How could they not see what an honor and blessing it was, to assist every day in a miracle! Father McEncroe was patient with all of them, and he praised Joseph’s pronunciation of Latin. “When you speak,” the Priest told them, “remember that you represent the entire congregation.”
Joseph supposed Father McEncroe meant the coloreds in the gallery too. Sometimes during Mass, when he was only standing or kneeling and waiting, Joseph would allow himself to look up. Noisette was not as easy to pick out as Joseph had thought; the Frenchman’s skin was tawny from the sun, so he was darker than a few of the colored people. Glance by glance, Mass by Mass, Joseph found the children who were also his slaves: Louis, his two older brothers, and a little girl with braided hair who often sucked her thumb. A colored woman sat with them—that must be Celestine. She and Noisette would sometimes lean their heads together and whisper.
“Celestine” was Latin for “heavenly.” There had been five Popes named Celestine. Joseph was thinking about this when Noisette’s Celestine approached the rail to receive Communion at Easter. Joseph realized she was expecting another child, and he nearly dropped the paten.
Mama spent weeks sewing Joseph a soutane and embroidering a surplice. The first time he wore them, she held his face in her hands and started weeping.
‘They fit me perfectly, Mama!’ Joseph assured her.
‘Yes, they do,’ she answered. ‘I am not crying because I am sad!’ Mama raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. ‘I have prayed for this since the day you were born.Thisis why Our Lord did not allow me to become a nun. I doubted Him then, but I understand now.’
Joseph did not think it was a good exchange. A nun’s vows were perpetual, and he would serve only a few years.
Sometimes, he was sorry to put on the soutane and surplice. He knew he should not mourn anyone who died in Christ. He should rejoice at such funerals. Still Joseph wished God had allowed Grandpapa to stay with them a little longer.
