“There were several more arrests that day.” Mrs. Claxton nodded solemnly. “They dragged one couple out of their beds despite the woman insisting she was Negro. Forced a blood test on her. Later they found a teenage boy carrying around pictures of white girls. Took him directly to the can and tried to round up the girls who gave him the photographs to arrest them too.”
“I’m dating a man who’s of the Mongolian race,” Susan whispered, her eyes growing frightened. “Though Eric and I have never gone out in public.” She looked at her aunt.
Mrs. Claxton drew in a sharp breath, the surprise lifting across her brow. “Susan, you must keep safe, chile. You never know when the government’s going to come knocking. We need to always keep our houses in order and protect ourselves from sharp tongues that utter hollow words and make nonsensical laws that burden the burdened.”
I studied Susan and wondered if they were now tracking the unmarried, tricking the people to sign pledges so the governmentcould keep a better eye on who was loving who. Who they thought shouldn’t be loving.
Both women moved over to the bed. Susan sat down beside me and took my hand while Mrs. Claxton pulled her chair closer.
“How did this all happen, Cussy?” Susan’s worried voice dropped lower.
I collared my tongue and looked to Mrs. Claxton, seeking permission.
“Go ahead, you’re safe. Tell us everything,” the librarian coaxed.
“We married in the fall of ’36. When we left the courthouse with our marriage license, the law approached us and tried to arrest Jackson. Three months earlier, I’d adopted my patron’s infant after she passed in childbirth. Before she died, I promised her mama, Angeline, I would raise her.”
“Your Honey?” Mrs. Claxton said.
I nodded. “The law accused us of fornicating. Threatened to send my babe to the House of the Idiots in Frankfort. The sheriff ripped up our marriage license.” I felt the words tremble on my lips.
Susan grabbed the cup by the bed and poured water from the small pitcher, passing it to me.
I took several sips before handing it back. “They beat my dear Jackson senseless and dragged his body over to the jail.” I balled the anguish in my fist and swallowed the sadness knocking at my throat.
“And you?” Susan weakly asked, as if she was afraid to hear more.
“The law didn’t arrest me.That time.The sheriff told the crowd how easy it was for Jackson to trick a simple-minded Blue.” I worried my fingers over the sheet. “I took Honey and left. There weren’t really nothing more to be said. The sheriff, God, and Kentucky had said it for me.”
Mrs. Claxton hissed.
“When the law finally found us together again this past March, they arrested both of us. They broke my arm and just about killed Jackson. The judge sentenced us to prison and banned Jackson from living in Kentucky for twenty-five years after he’s released. I was given a pregnancy test when I arrived at the prison, but it was too early to show anything. And then, when the warden found out I was childing, she made an appointment with the doctor for an abortion and to perform a sterilization.”
Susan’s eyes filled, and Mrs. Claxton shook her head, disgusted, and uttered, “They’ve been sterilizing young girls and women for years.Law, it’s a crime if women have an abortion, yet the stuff-coats force eugenical sterilizing. Hmph.”
The nurse dipped her head. “It’s true. There’s been so many who’ve been sterilized under the eugenics laws. Several were performed just a few weeks ago. Two on white girls the doctors declared imbeciles. One of those said to have fits of uncontrolled hysteria. The third had been declared anidiotand was a colored teen with bouts of disobedience reported by her father.”
“They give lobotomies to the inmates who are struck with such illnesses and airs of defiance,” I said.
“Defiance,” Mrs. Claxton stole a glance at Susan and raised a brow before pulling a handkerchief from her pocketbook to dab at her forehead. “The wretched woman denied my request for another week. I’m sorry, Cussy.”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, but the gut-wrenching sob was mine, a cold terror like none other draping over me. “I would rather be dead than let them kill my babe,” I spat before I could harness my anger.
Susan patted my shoulder. A buzzer sounded, and she sighed loudly. “That’s my patient in 209. I’ll be back shortly. You just rest.” She left the room.
Mrs. Claxton fumbled for my hand, lacing her bony fingers into my cold ones. “Chile, you shouldn’t speak such foolish words.”
I rubbed my head, the ache getting worse. “My pa always saidthe fight never seems to rest—it’s always there waiting for the next round.”
A tiredness pinched her face.
“I’ve been foolish,” I said quietly.
Mrs. Claxton took a deep breath. “We’ve got to believe that the baby will be spared and you’ll soon be united with your family. I know a few important people. Good people in government, like our mayor. I’m going to use the telephone,” she said.
“My baby won’t make it in time for answers.” I curled up on the bed as the truth gutted me.
“Rest now.” She pulled the hospital cover over me and then shuffled her weary frame out the door. I knotted the scratchy fabric closer to my chin. Drowning in worry, I slipped out of bed.
