Papa Joe

August 12, 1952.  It was a date she would never forget.  It was the day she buried the man who had been a father to her for over twenty years.  It seemed so surreal.  Papa Joe was gone.  She stood there alone in her grief, shivering although it was a hot and muggy day.

She stared at the ground where Papa Joe lay.  The tears rolled down her cheeks as she cradled his worn Bible, remembering how he used to read it to her when she was a child. When her parents had died he took her in and raised her as his own. She had grown to love the old man as if he were her very own blood.  Many of the townspeople had a problem with the widower raising a black girl and didn’t hide their displeasure but Papa Joe ignored them.  His business began to suffer.  Papa Joe was a tailor.  He knew that business would pick up again if he got rid of Cassandra but he refused to do so.  Even if he went bankrupt, he would never part with her.  He vowed that only death would separate them.

It was Papa Joe whom she shared her dreams with.  It was Papa Joe who comforted her when she went home crying because of the racial slurs and taunts.  Papa Joe was the only one who knew that she loved a man she had no right to love.  She had known Dr. Baker since she was a child.  He used to stop by and see Papa Joe.   He was always kind to her and brought her treats.  As she grew older, the visits became more frequent.  Papa Joe was no fool.  He could see that feelings were developing between them and he warned her, “You and the doctor have to be careful, Cassie.  This town will not take kindly to a relationship between a black girl and a white man.”

One night when Dr. Baker visited, Papa Joe excused himself and went to his room.  As soon as they were alone, the doctor took Cassandra into his arms and kissed her.  “I have wanted to do that all day,” he whispered when he raised his head to gaze down into her face.  “I know that there is a considerable age difference between us but I love you, Cassandra.  I tried to stay away when I realized that I had fallen in love with you but I couldn’t.  I had to see you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m leaving for Paris in three weeks and I would like you to come with me.”

“Paris?” she exclaimed.  “Why there?”

“I have always wanted to go there and set up a practice.  My mother was French and your family was from Haiti.  So the language won’t be a barrier for us.”

“I can’t go to Paris with you, Robert.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t leave Papa Joe.  He has been so good to me.”

“Joe would want you to be happy and you won’t be as long as you remain in this town.”

“I can’t be happy knowing that he is here all alone.”  She could see the distress on Robert’s face and she reached up and touched his face.  “I love you for wanting to take me away with you, but I can’t.  I hope you understand.”

“I do,” he sighed.  “Well, I better be going.  Please say goodnight to Joe for me.”  They kissed and then she walked with him to the door.

“Goodbye, Cassandra.  Write me and let me know how you are doing.”  He gave her a piece of paper with an address on it.  She took it.  After a lingering look, he was gone–perhaps out of her life for good.

That was three months ago.  They had exchanged letters since and when Papa Joe died, she had written and told Robert.  She stood now at the grave, the tears falling.  Papa Joe had left the house to her and all the money he earned from his tailoring.  She had the money locked away in a box.  She didn’t want to go back to the empty house.

She had no idea of how long she stood there but the biting cold prompted her to start making her way back to the house.  She had just reached the front porch when she saw a car pull up and Robert got out.  He walked over to her and taking her arm he led her up the steps.  “I’m sorry I didn’t make it on time for the funeral,” he apologized as she unlocked the door and they went inside.

Once inside and the door was shut, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.  She sobbed, letting out the pent up grief that had closed around her heart like a fist.  Robert stood there, holding her until the sobs subsided and then ceased.

When she was spent from all that crying, Robert took her over to the sofa and sat her down.  “Joe wrote me this note,” he said, handing it to her.  “I think you should read it.”

She wiped away the tears before she reached for the note.  Frowning, she slowly unfolded the paper and read it.  Dear Robert, I know that you love my Cassie and that you wanted to take her away from this cursed place.  If I know my dear girl she will not want to leave me.  She feels a sense of obligation to stay and take care of me as I have taken care of her all these years.  I don’t want to be a burden to her.  She is young and deserves to live her life.  There’s no future for her here.  I know that she loves you and that it broke her heart to be separated from you.  She thought I wasn’t aware, but I could see the unhappiness in her sweet face and I could hear her crying in the night.  She had sacrificed her chance for happiness for me.  I haven’t told her but I don’t have much longer to live.  When I pass on, which should be any time soon, please come and take Cassie away from here.  Take her to Paris where you and she will be free to love each other.  She can use the money from the sale of the house to pay for her fare.  I am sorry that I won’t be there for your wedding but know that I wish you both all the happiness in the world.  Please take good care of my precious girl.

Yours sincerely,

Joe

Fresh tears fell.  “I had no idea that he was dying.  He was tired more but I just thought that it was to do with age.  I am thankful that I was here for him.”

“Now, you can get on with your life.  We have his blessing.  Let me take you to Paris.”  He reached out and took her hands in his.  “Cassandra, I want to marry you.  Let me take you to Paris.”

She nodded.  “I will go to Paris with you,” she said.  Her life here was over.  There was nothing to keep her here.  Her future was with Robert now.  She would sell this house filled with so many wonderful memories and leave this town which had been the source of her unhappiness.  Yes, she will go to Paris and marry the man she loved.

 

crying african american woman in the 1950s

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The Attention

Rose could feel the townspeople watching her and Victor Ashdown as they left the local church.  It was raining and Victor was holding the umbrella over her.

The tongues had been wagging since they showed up for the Sunday morning service.   No doubt they were wondering why Victor Ashdown was there with Rose instead of his grandmother, Lady Ashdown.

Rose was the elder woman’s companion.  She had placed to an ad in the newspaper and received a reply.  After providing references which were satisfactory, she was accepted to the post and a week later she was on her way to Langley Hall.  It was the first time she had left the society of London and her friends to come to the countryside.  She fell in love with Langley Hall the moment she saw it.  The stunning, historic home surrounded by lush and idyllic countryside with its romantic interior of wood paneling and ornate chandeliers took her breath away.   Her family cottage seemed dull compared to this splendid home.  And the room she occupied was very charming.

Lady Ashdown was very amiable and Rose soon developed a deep affection for her.  Life at Langley Hall was pleasant.   Then she met Victor whom she found to be very agreeable, engaging and irresistible.  When she was not engaged by his grandmother, they spent time together in the garden where they had stimulating conversations.  It was only a matter of time before they fell in love.  Of course, it was no surprise to Lady Ashdown who raised no objections.  Victor went to London to see her father who gave his consent.  Rose had written several letters, telling her family about him.

“Good morning, Miss Haversham,” the greeting brought her back to the present and she met the curious gaze of Mrs. Lambton.  The older woman’s eyes were sharp with curiosity as she looked first at Rose and then at Victor.

Rose feigned a smile.  Busybody.  She thought.  “Good morning, Mrs. Lambton.”  And she continued walking, giving the woman no opportunity to engage her in any further dialogue.  “Horrible woman,” she muttered under her breath.

Victor seemed amused rather than annoyed at the attention they were getting.  “They will have plenty to talk about when you and I get married,” he said.

“Yes, indeed.  It will be quite the story–Victor Ashdown marries a city girl when he should have married a girl from Darbyshire.”

“I am marrying the girl I love and that’s that.  Let’s not talk about this anymore.  We have more important matters to talk about.”

“Such as?”

“Such as where would you like to go for your honeymoon?”

Rose smiled, her eyes sparkled as she met his gaze.  “You’re right, where we honeymoon is of great importance.”

victorian couple walking in the rain

Source:  Victorian Contexts; Country Living