Beyond the Veil of Destiny

There had been a flurry of gossiping tongues when Miranda suddenly appeared in Centerville after making her way for a number of years in New York City. She had not returned alone. Josie was with her. All Centerville soon learned that Miranda White’s new baby was a half-breed. Neighbors didn’t drop in to tickle her baby under the chin, or leave behind “a little something for the dear child.” Mother and child were shunned by the “better colored folk” of the community. Even Miranda’s own sharped-tongued sister, Bess, to whom she had returned to live with, continuously chided Miranda for her indiscretion. Bess considered the child’s taint of white blood a disgrace to the family. Among the colored people who lived in Centerville at that time, miscegenation—the mixing of the races—was frowned upon. The child of such a union was treated as an outcast. Miranda had also made no claims to marriage and because she maintained her silence her neighbors judged her harshly. Miranda and her child lived in her sister Bess’ crowded house in Centerville for five long years. Miranda’s deepening love for her child fortified her against Bess’ constant vicious verbal attacks. However, those were not idle years for Miranda. Besides caring for Josie, Miranda helped Bess through three births, cared for her sister during illness; did most of the housework; and took charge of Bess’ oldest daughter, Dinah. Big Jim, Bess husband and Miranda’s brother-in-law, worked as a miner. He had to labor long hours down in the damp, unventilated mines in order to provide for his ever-growing family. Big Jim’s meager paycheck was never sufficient enough for his own family never mind supporting Miranda’s little family and so Miranda had to address the question of supporting herself and her little girl. Miranda did what she could to help lighten the family’s financial burden. She took in washing and advertised her business in the Journal, the local newspaper. Miranda soon developed a thriving business because of the “extras” she performed for her customers “as needed”—rips were mended, buttons replaced, and sometimes even collars were “turned” on well-worn shirts. Miranda did this “extra” work at no additional charge to her clientele. So clean, mended, and neatly-pressed were the laundered clothes that Miranda’s completely satisfied customers recommended her to their friends. In no time Miranda had more business than she could handle—but “handle” it she did. Because of the success of her laundry business Miranda was able to pay her own way at Bess’ house. She even managed to open up a savings account and earmarked the money she was saving for a little house that she hoped to buy one day for her and Josie. Miranda had no intention of raising her child in the sordid environment where they now lived, a neighborhood over-crowded with unpainted shacks, one leaning against the other with their rickety old outhouses smelling in the hot summer air—flea-infested dogs, cats, and chickens, as well as naked, dusty, black babies basking in the sun. Miranda had returned to Centerville to live in the town only until she had raised her daughter. Not that there was less discrimination, less race intolerance, or less humiliating segregation in Centerville, but at least there was not more. Centerville had been Miranda’s home as she was growing up. She had survived despite the many harsh injustices that existed at that time. It seemed natural to Miranda that she should bring up her child in familiar territory where she would be free to develop her “special plan”—the one she had in mind for her daughter’s future. After Bess’s ninth child was born, Miranda made her decision. It was time to look for a place to live so that she and little Josie could get away from the ever-increasingly overcrowded and noisy conditions in her sister’s house. Big Jim protested. He didn’t want them to leave. He told Miranda how much he appreciated all the help she had given him and Bess throughout the years that she and Josie had been living with them. He also told her that he would miss little Josie to whom he was as devoted as much as he was to his own children. Big Jim, though often discouraged and fatigued, was always benevolent, kind, and gentle to his family. He was his children’s companion, friend, and confidant, someone to whom they could come with all their difficulties. Whenever the boys got into scrapes Big Jim helped them out, whether it was a broken window or a stolen melon. He did not lecture them. Instead he pointed out the consequences of their errors. As a result, Big Jim’s boys loved and respected him. They were ashamed whenever they betrayed their father’s confidence in them and so they tried very hard to avoid getting into trouble—more on their father’s account than their own. There was often labor trouble at the mine and Big Jim would be out of work. During these times, Big Jim would get out his fishing gear and tackles, which also included willow poles for each of his boys. He would pile his sons into his old Model T and away they would go, laughing, and singing out loud over the rattling and knocking of the old engine. Often they would return home tired, hungry, and empty-handed—sheepishly grumbling that the fish were not biting at the Old Paper Mill that day. To Bess this fishing expedition was a waste of valuable time. While Big Jim was out lying in the sun, asleep with a pole in his hand, Bess felt that he could have at least been fixing that broken cupboard in the kitchen that she had been asking him to repair over and over again, or he could have at least mowed the lot next to the old shed. Instead of helping her, Bess felt that Big Jim “just wasted the day away out there in the woods like an overgrown boy.” Big Jim did not agree with his wife’s opinion of his outing with his sons. He believed that he was doing a job, a very important job, one that he was performing to the best of his ability: that of being a good father to a group of growing boys. Big Jim taught his boys how to fish, fight, wrestle, box, and to be strong, tough; and unafraid. Big Jim also possessed a gentle touch when it came to his little girls. He was unabashed to be caught dressing their dolls for which he made all the clothes. He could sew as well as any woman and he taught his daughters how to cut dress patterns for their dolls and how to fashion clothing in the gayest fineries. Big Jim also made toy furniture for his daughters: small model pieces of furniture just like those displayed in the mail-order catalogues. For little Josie one Christmas, Big Jim made a huge dollhouse complete with furniture, and he wired the dollhouse with electric lights. Next to her mother, Big Jim came first in little Josie’s affections. Miranda felt deep gratitude for all the kindnesses Big Jim bestowed on her fatherless child. Of course Miranda knew that little Josie would be lonely away from this big, kindly, man who had been like a father to her. But Miranda was thinking .of the future now. Josie was five and not so little anymore. In another year she would be starting her education. In the district where they now lived Josie would have to attend a school where the majority of children were from the Negro families that had clustered together and had formed their own small community. Oh, there were whites in the school, too, children from the poor miners who had been unable to afford better dwellings in other sections of Centerville. The school was a small, ill-heated, and badly-ventilated wooden structure with overcrowded classes and too few teachers for the number of pupils in attendance. In order to develop her plan for Josie’s future, Miranda knew it would be best if they could move to a better section of town where Josie could go to a school where she would have better educational advantages.