Ruby Lee Hagens

By Marilyn Jones

"There was never a saint with red hair". Russian Proverb

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796063691

Marilyn Jones

author will not provide bio

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Ruby Lee Hagens

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Marilyn Jones

Copyright © 2019 by Marilyn Jones.

ISBN:                  Softcover                        978-1-7960-6370-7

                            eBook                             978-1-7960-6369-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/04/2020

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

I thank and praise YAH for all he has done for me.

Marilyn Jones

There was never a saint with red hair.

Russian Proverb

______________

This book is dedicated to the late Goldie Lee Moore.

(I love you, Ma!)

Chapter 1

It was a hot and humid July day in 1915. As Willie Mosby’s boat crossed Batchelor Bay, Frances wiped sweat from her brow and pulled Mary closer to her. Frances was sitting in the bottom of the boat on the damp and dirty boat floor with her four children sleeping nearby. Frances’ older children—Richard, Rosie, and Ruby—were so tired that they slept soundly on a thin quilt (as close to Frances as possible) in spite of the hardness of the floor. Four-year-old Mary was resting on Frances’ lap until sleep had found her eyes just five minutes after the boat had left the dock. Frances was grateful that Mr. Mosby allowed Frances and her children to ride on his boat. Frances only gave Mr. Mosby two of her delicious sweet potato pies and half of the saved money Charlie had left her for the trip.

Frances wondered about the people in Edenton. Charlie said that they were always looking for lots of laborers, for Negroes and even poor White folks to work their farms and in their houses. Thanks to Victor Witherspoon and his positive feelings and training for Charlie, Charlie knew a lot and had skills as a stone mason, brick layer, and plasterer in addition to his farming skills. Charlie said that he would go ahead to Edenton, meet with his cousin Ben, get the job Ben promised he was sure of, and get a place for himself and Frances and the children. Charlie planned to talk to the Edenton folks there and get everything set for him and his family and even search for people for Frances to work for (taking care of children or working as a maid). At first, Frances was so scared to move away from the home she had known for so long; but after Jack was killed, Frances knew that she had to trust Charlie, that she had to leave Roper, North Carolina. (Frances wanted to take Eve and little Edward with her, but Eve wanted to stay in Roper near Eve’s mother and grandma.) Frances originally wanted Charlie to return to Roper and travel with her and the children back to Edenton; but Charlie said that it would make no sense to do that. He left money for his family to follow him to Edenton. He went ahead and told Frances that she and the children could meet him there as soon as he would send Frances a letter to tell her when and how to come.

When Charlie wrote to Frances telling her the plans and schedule for her and the children to join him in Edenton, Frances began to sell almost everything she could from their little cabin house to have even more money than Charlie had left for her journey to and settlement in Edenton. She was anxious to go and resettle. She was anxious to see her man.

Frances remembered how wonderful it was a long time before when Frances and Jack had been raised up in the Turk home in Roper. After Mr. Turk died, his wife Ethel had been very good to Frances and Jack, better almost than any other White woman Frances had ever known or heard of. By the time Mr. Turk died, Frances was fourteen, and Jack was fifteen. (Their mother Rachel died when they had not yet reached puberty. Frances and Jack never knew who their fathers were.) They were so grateful that the Turks kept them and that they had not been separated or just put out or sent separately to work for other people.

Frances was always more humble than Jack. Jack always grinned around the Turks but said outrageous stuff about the Turks and their family and visitors when he was away from the Turks. Although Jack would speak wrongly about those White people secretly, Frances watched how Ethel Turk looked at Jack from time to time and guessed that Ethel Turk could sense Jack’s jesting mixed with defiance.

Frances Lee met Charlie Hagens at Mr. Turk’s funeral. Charlie was a stocky, red-headed, happy-acting young Negro man. At the time, Charlie worked for Ed Turk’s cousin, Victor Witherspoon. (A lot of the colored folks that worked for Victor Witherspoon gossiped that Charlie was kin to the Witherspoons because Charlie’s mother, Helen Hagens, was a favorite maid for the Witherspoons. Helen was a pretty dark Nigerian woman and didn’t have a special Negro boyfriend or husband when she became pregnant with Charlie. And Charlie was born a very light-skinned Negro boy with freckles and bushy red hair. Victor Witherspoon’s father, Harlan Witherspoon, was pale white with lots of freckles and curly red hair.) A few years had gone by before Charlie made it known to Frances that he had eyes for her. Then after a short courtship, Frances became Charlie’s woman and was married to Charlie in the old Negro way (jumping the broom and a scripture wedding) and bore four children.

Jack fell in love with a pretty woman, and her name was Eve. He loved Eve deeply, and everyone knew how much Jack loved Eve. That is why everyone was so worried that day when Jack went off to run an errand for Ethel Turk and never returned. Eve was seven months pregnant. No—Jack would have never just run off and left her. Something was wrong.

Victor Witherspoon and his family visited Ethel Turk on the Easter Sunday after Jack’s disappearance; and during the visit, Victor Witherspoon’s evil youngest son, Mark, chased Richard and Ruby off very far into the woods. That’s when they could smell something terrible. That’s when they saw Jack. By then Jack had been hanging from that tall oak tree for awhile. Both Richard and Ruby abruptly stopped running from Mark and stood frozen below the grotesque corpse of their rotting Uncle Jack. When Mark finally caught up with Richard and Ruby, he too stood still in complete silent fright as he stared at what remained of Jack’s rotting body. Then, as though some unseen force had blown a horn to signal a time for flight, all three children dashed away from the hanging Jack and raced to the house where the Witherspoons and Ethel Turk were.

Somebody had killed Frances’ dear brother Jack—had hanged him—left him to decay in the hot woods at the end of a rope. Ethel Turk seemed sympathetic and seemed somewhat angry too when the children frantically rushed to her with Frances with the horrible news. Poor Eve slid to the ground from a wash tub in loud grief when Frances went in grieving cold softness to Eve, telling her that Jack was dead. (If Eve had not been a tiny woman, Frances could not have grabbed Eve before Eve had hurt the child in her womb by her fall.) Mark just sat alone on Ethel Turk’s porch while he watched some of the niggers ride out with a carriage to get dead Jack’s body for burial. He saw Ruby and Richard looking scared to death while they sat in the carriage with the nigger men. Mark heard his aunt say that Frances’ two children would tell the men where Jack’s body was. Mark’s mother wanted to pamper Mark after the awful discovery; but Mark would have no part of her babying him. He insisted that he wanted to sit alone on the porch. Mark was a little scared, in awe, and a touch excited that he had actually seen a dead body hanging. He had heard his father talk about lynching before to a couple of old men; but he had never seen a dead body hanging before.

Frances thought a lot about her dear brother Jack. No one knew for sure who killed Jack. Everyone speculated about what probably had happened. Jack had probably been caught alone by some White boys seeking fun—and fun to them was lynching a helpless alone black man. It had happened times before—would probably happen again. No justice for Jack’s death. No penalty for Jack’s murderer or murderers. Frances had to go.

Now on the boat, as her children slept, Frances softly rubbed their nappy heads. Her daughters had thick kinky hair that Frances had combed and fixed into thick braids. Rosie and Richard had dusty-looking reddish-brown hair. Ruby was the only one of Frances’ children who had Charlie’s fiery red hair. Charlie had named all of his children and had decided to name his slightly-freckled red-headed girl Ruby.

Frances scratched her scalp and rubbed her own hair. Her black hair was in thick braids too. Frances thought about how pretty folks used to say she was when she was a young woman. She had smooth dark chocolate brown skin, a heart-shaped face, and big soft eyes with heavy lashes and thick arched brows. Charlie always seemed proud to have such a pretty wife with such broad hips and big pretty legs. Having three children had changed Frances’ pretty looks just a little. But not much. She had gained a little weight, but not much. And that’s why George Mason always slyly looked at Frances and eventually couldn’t leave Frances alone. (George Mason was a big dark Negro man who worked with Charlie and the Turk sons sometimes, but he was always considered to be somewhat lazy. That’s why he hadn’t been asked to go with Charlie and Andrew Turk that day.) He should have left Frances alone. Frances rubbed Mary’s head and thought about George Mason as she thought about him a thousand times before. No good thoughts, though. George Mason was a no-good dog! He was a nasty, no-good dog. Frances was glad that George Mason was dead. Frances continued to softly rub Mary’s black hair. Mary was sweet, and Charlie called her his blackberry baby. He called her that because she was the darkest of the children and was so sweet. Mary was big and very dark and precious … and looked just like George Mason. Frances never told Charlie anything about what George Mason had done because she knew that Charlie would kill George Mason if he knew the thing that happened—if he knew that Frances conceived little sweet Mary on the night after Ethel Turk sent Charlie with Ethel’s son Andrew to go to town to take care of some loading business. Andrew Turk and Charlie left early in the morning that day. That night, a tired Frances had finished her chores at the Turk mansion for the day, returned to her house, and had fed her three children. After they were all asleep, she gratefully fell asleep herself as she thought about Charlie. She was shocked that night when she was suddenly awakened and raped at knife-point by a drunken George Mason … shocked and afraid to scream or to move too much … afraid to awaken her children … afraid because George promised to kill her and her children if she tried to scream. So she let George Mason do what he did until he was done. When he finished, he left quietly as though nothing had happened at all. A frightened and angry Frances laid on her bed and cried and then went outside and got water and cleaned herself inside and out as much as she could over and over again. Before that night, George had been watching and flirting with Frances for a long time; but he was a little afraid of Charlie (who was stronger and younger than George Mason). But George knew that Charlie wasn’t going to be with his family that night. George had been drinking corn liquor … had been constantly thinking about pretty Frances.

Charlie never talked to Frances about how Mary looked so different from his other children. He never questioned Frances about how much Mary looked like George Mason. And when George Mason died of the heart attack, Charlie paid his respects to George’s wife Annie and offered to help her family whenever he could. Frances was sure that Charlie had to know that Mary wasn’t his child. He had to know … just like it was obvious that everyone else knew. (Frances knew of the whispering and the cruel gossiping after Mary was born.) Frances was grateful that Charlie was a special and loving and forgiving kind of man. She loved Charlie from the day he first kissed her. She loved him always.

Frances looked at Richard who was fourteen-years-old. He was sleeping deeply in spite of the hard floor. He was getting big and would be able to work when they got to Edenton. Richard was anxious and happy to go to Edenton to see Charlie. He missed his father and longed to work with his father to prove that he was a man.

Rosie was a pretty thirteen-year-old who was the only one of Frances’ children who looked just like Frances—except, of course, that Rosie was light-brown-skinned like Charlie. After George Mason had raped Frances, Frances often thought about and feared anyone who may try to do such a thing to Rosie someday. Frances could tell that Rosie was going to be a pretty young woman. Frances hoped that Rosie would grow up and marry well and prosper.

Ruby was the most mischievous of Frances’ children. The stories about the defiance of red-headed people held true about little Ruby. From a small child, Ruby had no problem defending herself or her family. Once when Richard had gotten into a fight with another boy at the schoolhouse, it was Ruby who joined Richard in the brawl. Ruby was rough and spunky; and at the same time, Ethel Turk said that Ruby had a warm smile that could melt a glacier.

Frances wanted to hurry up and get to Edenton. She was tired, wanted to get her children settled, and wanted to see her man.

But Frances didn’t know about Clara LeBlanc. However, Charlie knew her. He met her through Ben on only his third night in Edenton. Ben and a woman named Eliza had a party in the old house back in the woods about a quarter of a mile from Edenton. There were only ten people in attendance at the party; and Clara LeBlanc was one of them. Clara was a tall, very light-skinned colored woman with crimpy brown hair and a gap in her front teeth that she didn’t bother to hide when she smiled. She was about ten years older than Charlie, but it was quite apparent that she liked him. On the one time Clara went outside of the house to pee, Ben whispered to Charlie, She’s Creole and from Louisiana. Got them big pretty red legs! Be careful if you get some of her though ’cause you don’t want her to work a root on you or somethin’. She could be cunji. I don’t mess with them Creoles.

Charlie just grinned at Ben because he had no intentions of messing with Clara LeBlanc.

And that’s what Charlie thought about on the fifth night he was lying in Clara LeBlanc’s bed. Clara made Charlie feel so good, so much better than any woman had ever made him feel, even better than Frances made him feel. But Frances was a good woman, the mother of his children. Frances would be with him in Edenton soon. Charlie grunted when Clara moved in his arm and then rubbed his penis with her sweet hand. Frances would be in Edenton soon.

Chapter 2

In his best preaching raspy loud voice, Reverend Bethea shouted the name of Jesus one, two, three times at the end of his sermon before the choir stood and began to sing. The choir was mostly women crying and wiping tears and sweat from their brown brows and eyes. On Sundays, the choir women and the church ushers all wore white. The only two men on the choir wore black pants and white shirts. Brotha’ Pearson, who played the piano, wore the same black pants and the much-too-small-for-his-fat-frame white shirt that he wore every Sunday, as he rocked and played the piano, which he could play very well. The choir, Reverend Bethea, and Brotha’ Pearson all began to sing, Precious Lord, take my hand.

Frances stood with Mary and Ruby and the rest of the nineteen members of Reverend Bethea’s church and sang the song too. Mary and Ruby didn’t know the words by heart, but they pretended to know the words to the song as they moved their lips mocking those church-goers around them.

At the end of the song, everyone in the small congregation sat and readied themselves for Reverend Bethea’s closing remarks. (Many were waving fans and hoped that the remainder of what the Reverend would say would be short on that hot July day.)

Mary wasn’t really paying attention at all when Reverend Bethea was preaching. Instead, she was thinking about the party that her mother said would take place after church. That day was Ruby’s birthday. Frances had told Ruby and Mary that she was having some neighbors and their children come over to celebrate Ruby’s thirteenth birthday. Frances would fry chicken and have corn and cabbage and cake. Children would have a chance to run and play in the field behind Frances’ house. Mary was excited.

Ruby was excited too; but deep down inside, she hoped that Richard and Rosie would surprise her by coming to Baltimore to her party. It seemed like it had been such a long time since Ruby had seen her older sister and her brother. They had both gone up north to a place called New York; and Ruby had not seen them since.

Frances got plenty of letters from both Rosie and Richard. Rosie was working with a White seamstress in a part of New York called Brooklyn. She was also living in a rented room in a colored boarding house where her friend Hilda Dixon also lived. (Hilda had been Rosie’s friend in Edenton and had influenced Rosie to move with her to New York. Rosie and Hilda had talked Richard into moving to New York too. They said that Richard could make good money there instead of staying in Edenton.)

Ruby looked over at her mother. Frances appeared to be paying good attention to Reverend Bethea’s preaching. Then Ruby began to think about her father. She knew that she wouldn’t see him that day. Charlie hadn’t been around for any of her birthdays or any day for many years. Ruby looked down in her lap and thought about her father, and her heart ached. Then she looked up again at her mother.

Ruby hadn’t heard Frances cry about Charlie in a long time. In fact, it seemed that Frances had forgotten about Charlie Hagens. Ruby remembered that for the first year or so after Charlie left them, it seemed that Frances cried every day. Back then, Frances never cried in front of her children though. Instead, Ruby could hear her mother crying quietly at night sometimes and would see Frances’ swollen eyelids on many mornings thereafter. Sometimes, Frances would sit for hours saying nothing … with a deep longing stare in her eyes as she would hum a tune softly. Ruby and Frances’ other children wanted Frances to snap out of being so dead to them, dead to herself, dead to most that was all around her. Eventually after about a year after Charlie left and after Frances became a member of Reverend Bethea’s church, Frances began to show life again. She became good friends with some church ladies like Miss Rebecca Sutter and Mother Marian Smith.

As Reverend Bethea preached, Frances caught Ruby staring at her, and she smiled slightly. She would have a nice birthday celebration for Ruby after church. Thank goodness Frances had made good money that week. The money she made and the money she had saved enabled her to get a good amount of food for the birthday party. Frances hoped that Ruby would be very happy. Frances wished too that Richard and Rosie could surprise her, Ruby, and Mary by a surprise visit that day; but Frances knew deep down inside that they wouldn’t. And Frances thought about Charlie.

In fact, Frances thought about Charlie every day. But it wasn’t the real hurtful thoughts as they were when he first left. She often thought and wondered where Charlie was and even if he was still living. She wondered when and if he ever thought about their children, if he remembered their sweet faces, their personalities, their birthdays, their voices, their love. Frances remembered the day before Charlie left, how he was extremely quiet and how he just kept staring at her. The morning after that day, Charlie got up and said he and Ben had a special job to do for some old White man in Edenton named Philip Joyner. Charlie never came back home after that morning. When he was gone for three days, Frances went to Ben’s house to find Ben and inquire about the job and Charlie’s whereabouts. That’s when Ben told Frances that Charlie had left town with a light-skinned fancy Creole woman named Clara LeBlanc. Ben said that Charlie and Clara LeBlanc hadn’t told him for sure exactly where they were headed, only that they would be going to somewhere near Louisiana before traveling on.

When Frances returned to her home that day, she just sat on her porch step for a very long time and cried. How was she going to make it? She had the children! What was she going to do? She felt like somebody had cut into her chest and cut into her heart! A small part of her didn’t want to believe that Charlie would just up and walk away from her and the children. How far was Louisiana? Maybe after a few days, he would change his mind and come back. She hoped he would, but she doubted it and somewhere deep inside of her she knew better. And that’s the part of her that would tear Frances up the most late at night on all of those hundreds of nights that she would cry in her bed alone aching for and missing the only man she ever loved. She missed the late-night talks. She missed his light brown body stretched out next to hers, twirling his nappy red hair around her fingertips, his flat nose, his wide grin, his thick shoulders and arms, his slightly bowed legs, his sweet personality, and his loving, his sweet loving. Charlie had been a good husband, a wonderful father. Frances couldn’t understand how he could just up and leave. (Could he have held a grudge about Mary all of those years? Probably not.) Ben said that that Clara woman might have worked a root on Charlie, might have wanted Charlie so bad that she had fixed him. Frances didn’t know. She just hoped and prayed that Charlie would wake up from whatever spell Clara LeBlanc had put on him and come back to her. But after Frances joined Reverend Bethea’s church, she began to understand that sometimes people don’t get all that they asked for, and that maybe unanswered prayer is best. That wicked Clara that Charlie had fallen for