A Matter of Pride Read online

  A Matter of Pride

  Jane Gill

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  A

  Scenery Hill, Pennsylvania

  Selection

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  Double Edge Press

  Ebook ISBN: 9781938002335

  A Matter of Pride

  Copyright © 2010 Jane Gill

  Cover Artwork: Original artwork design by Double Edge Press.

  Elements contained within the original design included the following images in its composition:

  Florida Map © Marcio Silva | Dreamstime.com – a royalty was paid for use of this image.

  Mississippi Sunset (car mirror) © Jessica Priemer | Dreamstime.com – a royalty was paid for use of this image.

  Original photograph of Turpentine House located at the Barberville Pioneer Settlement © Jane Gill – used with permission.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Double Edge Press, 72 Ellview Road, Scenery Hill, PA 15360

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  For Deb, Teri, and Isabella

  With God all things are possible.

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  A Matter of Pride

  Jane Gill

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  Acknowledgements

  Every writer knows that sometimes we write things and sometimes we write things down. So it has been with this book, which is to me simply, Luella’s Story. That is why upon publication of this work, I shout, To God be the glory, for it was first His idea.

  Let me begin by pointing out that there is a vast difference between encouragement and support. Those who encouraged me, incited me, believed in the vision, and led with their hearts must be mentioned here. My life coach, Rev. Rick Howell, for whom I wish ten thousand blessings. Without his encouragement I surely would never have been open to the possibilities that lay before me. My good friend, LaJuana Pruitt, who traveled the back roads with me, picked guitar, and sang silly songs along the way. My friends, Al and Lynda Wrisley, who believed in me even before I did. My family, Deb, Teri, and John, who dutifully read the rough stuff early on. David Steves, for his infinite patience, encouragement, and for sharing his legal expertise. Dona Lee Gould of Sarasota Fiction Writers who critiqued the manuscript early on and helped me better express my vision. My friends and co-sojourners along this path of life, Phyllis and Bernie Reading, and all the wonderful writers of the Suncoast Writers Guild. And, of course, Larry Parr, my stupendous editor and new friend who reminded me of little things like gerunds and who made me dance and shout, whoo hoo. My publisher, Rebecca Melvin, who has the amazing ability to listen to people and read between the lines. All of these friends believed in what I saw and in me. Frankly, that has made all the difference.

  Traveling Florida’s roads brought me into contact with wonderful folks who do more than just their job. They deserve to be thanked in print: Genette H. McKnight, VP, Flagler County Abstract Company, Bunnell, FL; Vanessa McKnight Navarette, now of Chicago, IL; Bruce Piatek, Executive Director, FL Agricultural Museum, Palm Coast, FL; Terry Redman and Nancy Edmondson, FL Cooperative Extension, Sarasota, FL; Mark Warren, Extension Agent, University of Florida, Bunnell, FL; and Rev. Lance S. Williams, Saint Lawrence A.M.E. Church, Eatonville, FL.

  Fortunately for me, we live in the 21st century. The internet has enabled me to touch hands and hearts with so many people who provided information to support the details of this story. They are: Suzanne Antonetti, St. Lucie County arts and cultural programs; Jeff Cannon, for information on the Freedmen’s Bureau; Sisco Deen and Bill Morgan for information on Florida and Flagler County cemeteries.

  Resources for this book include the Flagler County Historical Society; Flagler County Chamber of Commerce; Holden House Museum, Bunnell, FL; Flagler Beach Historical Museum; The Association to Preserve the Eatonville Community, Inc., Eatonville, FL; Zora Neale Hurston Florida Foundation, Eatonville, FL; Pioneer Settlement for the Creative Arts, Inc., Barberville, FL; St. Petersburg Times.

  Publications researched included: Jim Crow Guide – The Way It Was, Stetson Kennedy, FL Atlantic University Press, 1959; The History of Flagler County by John A. Clegg, Hall Publishing Co., 1976; Spirits of Turpentine, Robert S. Blount, FL Agricultural Museum, Inc., 1993; FL Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’ Project 1936-1938; Dust Tracks On A Road, Zora Neale Hurston, J.B. Lippincott, 1942; Zora in Florida, University of Central Florida Press, 1991; Before the Timber was Cut, Gilbert Tucker, Rockledge, FL; Lumbermen and Log Sawyers, Jeffrey A. Drobney, Mercer University Press, 1997, and websites too numerous to mention.

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  Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

  ~ Martin Luther King

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  Elijah Stovall

  1850-1916

  Nathaniel Stovall Mayetta Stovall

  1898 – 1965 1903 – 1985

  Sebastian Stovall Livinia Stovall

  1933 – 2009 1938 – 1976

  Luella Stovall Martin Stovall

  1963 - 1966 -

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  Pearl Jackson

  1926 –

  Reverend Josiah Parker

  1920 -

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  Prologue

  The late months of summer in Florida are the most dangerous. The air hangs heavy beneath skies that belie the best forecast. Without warning the clouds gather and move in low, the wind picks up, and far-off thunder hums a deep and muffled warning.

  When the school bus let Luella and Martin off at the end of their road, the dark clouds were already moving in, heavy and menacing.

  “It’s comin’!” Luella said to her brother.

  “Yeah,” Martin replied, already taking off at a run. “I bet I can beat’cha.”

  Luella knew, with her arms full of school books, there was no way could she beat him, so she didn’t try. She walked as fast as she could. Lightning flashed so close the crack of thunder was right on its heels. She knew it was dangerously close because the hair on her arms stood straight up. By the time she got to the yard, she could see Grammy Mayetta standing with the screen door wide open. Lu pounded up the steps amid the deafening thunder, hail stinging her scalp and back. Martin, already in the house, hadn’t even gotten wet.

  “If you weren’t trying to be such a brain with all those books,” he taunted “you coulda’ been here five minutes ago.”

  Luella stuck her tongue out at him as she passed him and set her wet books on the kitchen table.

  The house was dark inside. Grammy was afraid of storms and whenever one approached, which was daily during the rainy season, she hurried around the house and unplugged everything she could find. She said when she was a child she saw a fireball come right into the house and race around the room, like the devil himself, looking for a way out. She wouldn’t go near the sink or turn any lights on until the storm had passed.

  Grammy slammed the front door against the wind and hail. Martin poured himself a glass of milk at the counter. Luella went into the living room where Grammy sat on the couch twisting the corners of her apron in her lap. Her gaze was glued to the window which rattled with each roll of thunder. Luella quietly sat in the chair across from her. “Where’s Mom?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Your Daddy had to take her to the hospital,” Grammy said. The hail stopped and Luella heard the rain falling s
teadily. “She’s pretty bad sick this time. I don’t know when they’ll be back, but probably late,” Grammy added.

  “Is Mom gonna’ be okay?” Martin asked, standing in the doorway, his milk in his hand.

  “Martin, don’t bring your milk in the living room,” Grammy scolded, but Martin didn’t move from the doorway.

  “What happened?” Luella asked.

  “You know she hasn’t been herself lately, and your daddy’s been real worried about that cough of hers,” Grammy said. “So he finally managed to get through to her that she had to go back to the doctor. She was fussin’ and sayin’ how she’d be fine. She wanted to change her dress first. Then she just got weak in the knees and fell across the bed. The sweat was just a-pourin’ off her. So he got on the phone to the doctor’s office, and they sent an ambulance out here to take her right to the hospital. Your daddy followed them in the truck.”

  “When was this?” Luella asked.

  “Just about lunchtime,” Grammy replied. “Your daddy had come in for lunch.”

  “Did he call yet?” Martin asked, worry in his voice.

  “Not yet,” Grammy said. “But, there’s no need to get all riled up. I’m sure your momma’s gonna be just fine.” She continued as she stood up, “She just needs to be where there’s peace and quiet so she can get some rest, poor thing. I was just worried what with the rain and all…” She didn’t finish her sentence but headed for the kitchen.

  “Now, Martin, you get busy on that homework, and Luella, I’m gonna need you in the kitchen. We might as well start workin’ on supper,” she ordered. “Leastwise, that way when your daddy gets back, we’ll have something ready for him.”

  “But, Grammy,” Luella protested. “Can’t we call Miss Pearl and see if Jerome can take us in to the hospital to see Momma? Please.”

  “Oh, now, stop!” Grammy snapped. “She’s gonna’ be just fine. They’ll probably be home by dark anyway.”

  They didn’t come home by dark. It was after nine that night when the phone rang. Grammy snatched it up and just kept saying “Uh huh, uh huh,” into the receiver. Luella knew it was her father calling, and she tried to get Grammy to hand her the phone but Grammy waved her away with a scowl.

  “Well,” she said when she hung up. “Your father’s gonna’ stay there with her. He says they got her in an oxygen tent and she’s breathin’ easy now, but he’s gonna’ stay until she’s feelin’ a little stronger.”

  Luella felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh, now, stop that,” Grammy said. “I told you, she’s gonna’ be just fine. You always expectin’ the worst, Luella! I just don’t’ know how this family is gonna’ survive all these bills though, that’s for sure. Now, go on to bed, both of you.”

  Martin dutifully shut the television off and kissed Grammy lightly on the cheek.”G’night Grammy,” he said.

  “Good night, child. Don’t forget to say your prayers,” she replied. “You, too, Luella.”

  Luella kissed her forehead. “We won’t,” she said.

  It was not yet light outside when Luella heard her father’s truck pull into the yard. She lay in bed listening to his footsteps as he walked slowly toward the kitchen. He didn’t turn the kitchen light on, and she knew in her heart that something was dreadfully wrong. She grabbed up her bathrobe and tiptoed into the doorway of the kitchen. Her father sat bent over at the table, his head in his hands. Even in the half-light, he looked exhausted. Luella stood frozen as Grammy pushed past her and shuffled over to him.

  “What is it, Sebastian?” Grammy whispered, as if she herself was afraid to speak. Luella’s father raised his head slightly but did not sit up. His shoulders began to shake. He started to speak, but he was blubbering.

  “She’s gone,” he finally said. “Oh God, oh God, Momma. My Lovie’s gone.” Once again he buried his head in his hands. Grammy Mayetta stood behind him, both her hands resting gently on his shoulders as his strong back bent beneath his sobs. She looked toward Luella.

  “The Lord knows best,” she said. “All these things, the Lord knows best.” Outside, the first orange rays of dawn ushered in a new day.

  Luella’s head began to pound. Somewhere, as though outside herself, she heard herself screaming, “No, no, no!” Her knees collapsed beneath her. She crumbled to the floor in the doorway. “The Lord doesn’t know best! No, he doesn’t! He can’t have Momma! I won’t let him take my mother,” she cried…

  Chapter One

  Lu opened her eyes and looked at the clock: 7:00 a.m. Low thunder rumbled in the distance. She heard the rain begin, turned toward her husband’s warmth and snuggled close.

  The ringing telephone startled her. “Good God,” she breathed, reaching for the receiver on the nightstand. She muttered a groggy, “Hello.”

  “Luella Sue?” the woman on the other end asked. “I’m so sorry to have to trouble you, honey, especially so early in the mornin’.”

  Southern voice. Very Southern, and old, Lu thought. She pushed herself up on one elbow. No one called her Luella any more. Carelessly she waved her brown hair away from her cheek and sat up against the pillow. The soft voice, the quiet drawl rang familiar, but it was far too early and the call too unexpected for her to place who she was speaking with.

  “Darlin’, this here is Miz Pearl, and, ah, I’m so sorry, Honey.” She hesitated. “Luella Sue, you got to come home, Chile. Your daddy’s done gone.” Lu remembered now, Miss Pearl, her father’s neighbor. “My son, Jerome?” Miss Pearl continued. “Well, see he went over there early this mornin’ and, uh, well, he found him. Guess he passed in his sleep, nice and peaceful like. I called your brother right away, and he said I should call you. He’s the one what give me your number.”

  Wide awake, Lu swung her feet to the floor, her pulse rapid. She cleared her throat and thanked Miss Pearl, whose warm manner she remembered from her childhood. “I’ll call Martin,” Lu assured her as she stood. “We’ll take care of things. Thank you so much for calling. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Lu hung up the phone. “Shit!” she said.

  She stared out the window, her hand over her heart as if she could stop the pounding. Cold rain beat against the glass.

  Her husband, Zach, awakened by the ringing phone, came around the bed and reached for her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She opened the blinds and stared out the dormer window into the rain. “My father’s dead. I’m going to have to go to Florida.” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. We’ll go right away,” Zach came up behind her. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, and she turned to face him.

  “No, that’s not necessary,” she replied. “I need to do this by myself.”

  “What?” he exclaimed. “You can’t go down to Florida by yourself. Families do these things together.” She held herself stiff in his arms.

  “We can’t take the entire family down there,” she said into his shoulder. “Taking Susan and William out of school—it’s not necessary, really.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” she demanded, stepping back.

  “Aw, c’mon, you know.” Zach sighed. “Try to do everything yourself—the kids can miss a little school. We’ll drive down and be back in a few days. You can’t go to your daddy’s funeral by yourself.”

  Lu bristled. “Well, he was my father,” she said, turning toward the bathroom, “And it’s my problem. I’ll handle it.”

  He followed her. “Hey, this is not open for discussion. We’re going to Florida, all of us, as a family.”

  “Don’t you hear me?” she snapped.

  “I hear you fine,” he shot back. “But we had this argument years ago when we went down to Disneyworld with the kids. And, baby, I’m too old now to have it again.”

  Lu raised an eyebrow. “Right,” she said sarcastically. “You were there. You saw what a wonderful reunion that was.”

  “No, Lu, I didn’t see a reunion,” Zach said, softening his voi
ce. “What I saw were two people who could barely look at each other.”

  Lu glared at him, remembering how she felt when their visit to her father had been such a disappointment. She had brought photographs of her brick colonial home in Maryland on that trip, hoping to share them with him. She wanted him to be proud of her, of the life she made for herself and her family. Instead of being glad to see her, he never asked about her life. He talked about the crops, about the weather. In their brief visit, there on the porch, they spoke of everything that was nothing, and nothing of what was everything. She never showed him the pictures.

  Zach took a breath before continuing, “Just hold on a minute, okay? Suppose you go down there by yourself, huh?” he asked. “What am I supposed to tell the kids? ‘Oh, Mom will be back in a couple of days. She had to go to Florida to bury your grandfather.’ Think about it, Lu.”

  She turned away, tears blurring her vision. She walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Chapter Two

  Once she finished her shower and dressed, she headed downstairs to the kitchen. She heard Zach on the phone with his brother.