Chapter 28
Depth and Clarity
Mary Twilight Scott said good-bye to Garrison and William C. as she walked into Corks and Curls. She was followed by a young white man.
"Good day, Mrs. Scott," offered the bookstore clerk. "Its good to see you again.
"Perhaps, you can help me. I'm looking for a book for a friend, someone who enjoys colored history."
"Man or a woman?"
"Man, a committed abolitionist."
The bookstore clerk came from behind the desk and stepped down upon the floor level. "Have you heard of Rev. Lemuel Haynes?"
"Why yes. I grew up in Vermont. Rev . Haynes was my pastor for many years."
Mary took care not to mention William G.'s name. Beacon Hill was a small town and William G. was a married man. Not only was William G. married to Louise but he was the most influential colored abolitionist in Boston. What was she doing? What was she feeling? Book shopping for William G. She felt happy inside, that's all she knew right now and that was all that mattered in this moment.
"Rev. Timothy Mather Cooley published a book last year on the life of Rev. Haynes. It has been one of my bestsellers. It may be the first biography of a colored man. Let's see if I can find a copy," hoped the clerk as he thumbed through the biography section. There was a book on President Washington, President Adams, John Smith, and Roger Williams but no biography of Rev. Haynes. "I suspect I sold the last copy I had to a Mrs. Haynes out in Granville."
"If you will allow me a week or two, I will place an order with the publisher."
"Oh, would you do that for me? That would be wonderful." Mary imagined surprising William G. with this popular book about a larger than life colored hero, perhaps sharing thoughts and ideas over a brandy by the fireplace and resting her eyes on his chest and opening up her heart to William G. and loosing her herself in blessed feelings....
'You know that I needed to make you mine. It was only a matter of time...' And Mary banished the thoughts from her mind as quickly as she thought them.
The young white man kept a respectable distance as he took in Mary's conversation with the bookstore clerk. “Good things come to those who wait,” the young man thought. “Good things come to those who wait.”
"Tell me a little about your friend. What does he like to read? What draws his attention?"
"Well, he is a tad sentimental. He feels things deeply -- injustice, wrongs righted, the coming of a better time."
"I have just the author in mind. We might have Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral by Phyllis Wheatley."
"Phyllis Wheatley?"
"It's a rare book that doesn't circulate much. Follow me this way." The clerk walked with Mary towards the back of the bookstore where uncommon books were shelved. Wheatley's famous manuscript was not available. As before, the clerk offered to arrange to acquire the book which was acceptable to Mary.
The young white man turned and walked towards the front door.
"May I help you, mister?" asked the clerk."
"No, thank you. I will return another day."
As the young white man returned to the boardinghouse where his widowed mother worked as a maid, he felt a surge of schadenfreude. The pleasure was strong, overwhelming. His mother looked up from scrubbing the floors, her skin prematurely weathered and hair grayed from the loss of her husband.
"Where were you, Joseph King Jr.?"
"I was out at the bookstore Corks and Curls."
"Corks and Curls! We don't have money for books."
"Mother, I wasn't there to buy a book."
"Wasting your time? Idle hands are the devil's workshop."
"Have you ever been thirsty, mother? Have you ever been so thirsty that you can't think of anything else until you drink the tears of gods?"
"Well, you're a regular Phyllis Wheatley, aren't you? Grab a broom and help me clean this hallway."
And so the son of a murdered white stevedore swept the hallway of debris while remembering a time, the good times before the killing. He remembered how Senator Lynch had honored his slain father in the miscegenation debate last year..."Do we not grieve the cold-blooded murder of Joseph King?"