In Deed and in Truth

By Embassie Susberry

Lillian Rose Atkins is tired. She's tired of picking cotton, serving as a maid in a hotel, and taking care of her younger cousins. So when she receives an invitation from the mother she hasn't seen in ten years to move to Chicago and take part in Chicago society, Lily jumps at the chance. This is her opportunity to finally have new things, be on the other side of service, and find a wealthy husband.

Rutledge "Rudy" Addison is tired. As an investigative journalist who reports on the facts of lynchings and race riots in the South, he's tired of dealing with the dregs of society. But when he is challenged to love those he is starting to hate, he begins to find that life is not as black-and-white as he always thought.

When Lily and Rudy are thrown together, will they realize that maybe the things they're tired of are more important than they could ever have fathomed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512726336

Embassie Susberry

Embassie Susberry is a practicing attorney in Chicago, but when she’s not doing her day job, she’s reading or writing what she wants to read.Code Name Butterfly is Embassie’s first traditionally published novel. She has over 2000 reviews for her self-published novels on Amazon with average ratings of 4.7 stars.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Rudy

There are times in my life where I have wondered if I was truly brave or incredibly stupid. This was one of those times. The stale, musty air in the general store- that also functioned as a part time soda fountain-was given a swift kick, sending floating dust mites into a tornado as the door opened letting in yet, another Clearwater Springs native. The warm draft moved across my face causing another bead of sweat to join the rest that gathered underneath my hair, underneath my arms, and between every crevice in my body. But I did my best to look as comfortable as I did not feel. My feet were crossed at the ankles, one hand on top of the other to hide any hints of emotion, and I leaned my body half way across the soda fountain counter to appear detached. It was too much to ask for this small town to have stools.

The slamming of a glass of beer against the counter and a loud belch almost had me jumping out of my skin.

Now son, you ain’t seen no good lynching in Georgia. Not like the one we had here last week, the man, Tom, said loudly, accruing the agreements and nods from all the men around him. Tom was an interesting fellow. He had a decent sized plot of land, a nice looking wife, a boy and a girl, but it appeared he needed the blessings of his fellow man to be happy. Noted. I mentally wrote this down.

I had found that the key to being a good investigative journalist was to act indifferent around people who liked to talk. The less you seemed to care, the more they wanted to make you care. But according to the social mores of the area, it was now my turn to talk.

I assure you as a Georgian, I have seen bigger and better, I drawled and studied the dripping wet glass of Coke that stood in front of me on the counter waiting to be drunk. It was not going to happen. Mother would say it was a sin to waste such a luxury, but mother had not heard stories like this told with such relish. Each swallow brought a stomach cramp, the likes of which compared only to the time in which I had eaten a bad steak. Not an experience I wanted to go through again.

I’m telling you Rudy, Georgia ain’t got nothing on Tennessee. See in Georgia, you got too many uppity Negros running around causing a ruckus. Why the things they do there would never be allowed here. That’s what started it all, my new friend Tom said leaning against the counter of the store. The rest of the white men hanging around nodded in agreement. If it was one thing I had learned about this town, there was very little dissension.

I do not know what you are talking about, I have never let none of them get uppity with me, I said. No one in my family would allow such a thing. I shook my head and looked down to hide the anger and disgust I had with them and not with these so called uppity Negroes. My hand clenched into a fist, turning even paler. I inhaled and released it. I was certainly not here to start a fight, and even if I did start a fight I would lose. Plain and simple. God had built me for many things, fighting was not one of them.

You might be from a good town, but I’m telling you I visited my cousin Little John, ya’ll remember Little John. Him from Atlanta and boy I tell you them Negros down there bout near run the place.

They don’t run Clearwater Springs, Tennessee! Judd interjected. I rolled my eyes. A bigger idiot I had not met. He was the man I had encountered first when I arrived in Clearwater Springs. He had some cotton land he had been trying to sell me since I stepped off the train. It was true. I had grown up in Georgia, but nowhere near a cotton farm or plantation or whatever the things were called. Fortunately for me, Judd did not notice my ignorance. Or plain did not care so long as I showed interest in buying his land. And since I came down to Tennessee solely to find out why Ben Carter was murdered so savagely, that was unlikely to happen.

Why the one we just killed had laid his hands on a white man, Bill said continuing Tom’s story. I looked at Bill and took his measure: small size, small eyes, small ears. And that was saying something since I would never get an award for height. He was probably king only in his own castle, and a peon in the rest of the world.

How come he did that? I shrugged to emphasize that there were more important things to talk about. Not that it matters. That was too much. I mentally cursed myself. I always said that one sentence too much. I sighed with relief when Bill kept going.

Aw he worked for them O’Brien’s. Ain’t never met a family I liked any less, Bill stated.

Piece of filthy trash, if you ask me. Another person added.

That Jack O’Brien, why he’ll beat a horse within an inch of its life for no other reason than it looked at him funny. I’m sure he found some reason that made no sense to try and whip Ben, Judd offered. That one had to be heard.

I raised the Coke to my lips and attempted another swig. Then why kill Ben Carter?

Any time a Negro hits a white man, he’s gotta be handled or else all the Negros will get out of hand, Bill said. It’s Biblical Georgia Boy. Remember Noah’s son Ham? He looked on his father’s nakedness and was cursed. A servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren. That there is talking about the Negro race. They at the bottom where God wants them to stay. We can’t let things get out of order. Everyone in the store made noises of agreement including me. Madness. I inhaled deeply to stop the acid from rising in my stomach. I had my answers. Now I needed to get on the first train out of this frightening town. I knew with certainty if they realized that I was in fact not a white man but a Negro passing, what they had done to Ben Carter would only be child’s play for me.

–-

Lily

I flipped my covers off me and did my best not to wrap them around Lula’s face. She snored like a man. A really fat man.

I shuddered as the sound of another nasal vibration filled the room. Yes, siree. It was time for me to go. I placed my feet on the worn wood that dipped and shined from being stepped on for so long and reached under the bed for my bag. I must have checked it ten times already. But I didn’t want to forget a thing. I had one task to complete in Chicago: find a husband. Preferably a wealthy one so I could send money back to Uncle Rufus.

Gentle tapping pulled me out of my valise. Lily Rose, that you? Uncle Rufus said in what he must have thought passed for a whisper. But Lula slept through tornadoes. No, really. The way that wind whipped up that one time last year, sent us all to the cellar. Except Lula. We surely would have left her behind if not for Uncle Rufus.

I slid the bag back under the bed, rolled my eyes at Lula’s shaking the room again and walked out of the room.

How come you always know when I’m awake? I said into the dark living room. I saw movement by the front door and then it swung open.

I always know when something is bothering my Lily Rose, he said, his voice deep and raspy, presiding over the cotton fields like a king over his subjects. Aunt Rachel said Uncle Rufus only had two tones: loud and loud. Come outside and sit with me a spell.

I waited till the door was shut behind me before I spoke again. I’m not bothered by anything.

Uncle Rufus took a seat in the rocking chair on the porch. But I couldn’t sit, not for nothing. I danced on the tips of my toes across the small porch.

Always were a bit of a lightning bug Lily Rose. What are we going to do without you?

Have peace and quiet I imagine, I said with a smile.

I didn’t have to see Uncle Rufus to know he smiled. Your aunt loves you.

Hmm, I said neither agreeing or disagreeing. She loved something alright: finding fault in me. I just wanted to look nice and sophisticated and it was my hard earned money. Don’t see why I couldn’t have bought me that fancy hat up in Little Rock. I looked down at my Uncle. Once upon a time it had just been us. Then he had gotten married.

I’ve been praying for you Lily Rose. I think you’ll do just fine. Got your stuff all packed up?

Yes, sir. That’s what I was doing when you knocked on my door. Checking one more time.

Don’t think I didn’t know it. You keep opening and shutting that bag and the handle will come clean off.

Unfortunately, that was probably true.

When you get up there now, things will probably be different.

Oh how I hoped so. Yes, sir.

I know I don’t have to tell you to mind your manners.

No sir.

I went down to Jim Baker’s store and brought some paper for letter writing and such. Don’t you forget about us down here.

I never would, Uncle Rufus. I’m not like-,

Not like Dolores? Well, I supposed it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were.

I stamped the bottom of my foot, hard against the wood, not sure if I was mad at what he said or how right he might be if I married me a fancy husband up north like her. But I wouldn’t be Dolores. I wouldn’t forget where I came from. I would be Uncle Rufus’s Lily Rose. And I would come back. Or at least write back. How can you say a thing like that?

I always admire a person who accomplished exactly what they set out to do. And make no beans about it child, Dolores has gotten everything she wanted. He said the last bit mournfully.

Well she ain’t got me.

She’s always had you.

You’ve always had me.

Dolores gave birth to you child. She’s always had you, he said gently. You make nice with your mama.

I’ll try, I said softly.

You’ll do, he said gruffly.

We were both silent, listening only to the sounds of the horned owls hooting at each other.

How was Mary?

I had gone over to Mary Wakefield’s house and said good-bye yesterday.

I shrugged. Same as always. She cried.

He made a funny noise between a snort and a grunt. But you didn’t?

No sir, there would be no tears from me. Not even for my closest friend here.

The McNeals?

Mr. McNeal gave me extra pay and Mrs. McNeal gave me a book, I said. I didn’t tell him it was on fancy manners. Uncle Rufus thought my manners was just fine, and maybe they were for this little town in Arkansas. But Mrs. McNeal knew I was probably going to be needing some help up in Chicago. I turned to Uncle Rufus to change the subject. Are you going to stay out of trouble sir?

He grunted.

Now, Uncle Rufus-,

Don’t Uncle Rufus me. I only ever do what’s best for this family. I looked away toward the night sky and watched stars slowly winking out. I didn’t like that Uncle Rufus was starting to get political. I couldn’t see any good coming of it. But I wouldn’t say anything more. It was the only thing me and Aunt Rachel agreed upon. I knew Aunt Rachel got on him all the time and if she couldn’t get through to him, I wouldn’t.

You know we’re going to miss you girl?

I know. But what I was doing was going to help this family. Just he wait and see. And maybe, if I was really lucky, it would help me too.

CHAPTER 2

Rudy

When the train pulled into the Atlanta station, I was quick to grab my bag and jump off the train. It was unlikely anyone I knew would be at the train station, but I did not want them seeing me coming off the white car anyway. I never passed at home.

Making a detour stop in Atlanta was not part of the plan. I was supposed to head back to Chicago with my completed article, but I did not know the next time I would get to see my family. I glanced up at shouts of excitement and embracing and watched as a returning soldier greeted his family. He looked happy in his sharp uniform and I fleetingly wondered where he had been stationed and what he had seen.

But I did not have time to focus on what never would be. I stamped down my envy, reached into my vest and pulled out my pocket watch. If I hurried I would be able to go with my father on his round.

A half an hour later I walked down the block that I had walked thousands of times before, to the house that never seemed to change. It was a two story home with an attic, a wraparound porch, a small yard in front and a large one in back for the horse. A small fence draped the entire property. I had white washed the fence a couple of months ago for my parents and I was glad to see it still showed well in the sunlight. Last time I came for a visit, father and I had repainted the outside of the house like we did every year just for mother. White, because she found the color classic. Personally, I thought it was because it reminded her of her childhood, but I would never say so as she was born a slave on a plantation fifty miles from here. Nevertheless, father and I painted the house white every May to keep it looking spic and span. Mother associated peeling paint with sinfulness. But then again, she associated just about everything she did not like with sinfulness.

I checked my pocket watch again. Unless father had a certain urge to be an eager beaver, he would still be at home. The door opened and my youngest sister, Sarah, came out onto the porch. Her blond curls were piled high on her head and I could see that Mother had finally allowed her to wear a dress that showed her ankles.

Rudy, is that you? Sarah said softly for once. I guess she was growing into a lady. I put a finger to my lips and took the porch steps two at a time before pulling her into my arms.

Sarah bear! I said softly.

I am almost 20 years old, Rudy. Sarah is fine.

Mother and father home?

Yes, they are drinking coffee in the kitchen.

The front door opened. Uncle Rudy’s home! my nephews yelled. So much for surprise. I braced myself as they threw their tiny bodies at my knees.

Eliza and Maggie are here with their children too.

Thank you for telling me that Sarah.

I try Rudy. I try.

Eliza and Maggie came up to the door. Rudy! Eliza, my favorite sister said. I pulled her into a hug.

Rudy what was the point in moving to Chicago if every time we look up you are here? Maggie asked, her arms folded across her chest.

I stuck my tongue out at her.

Real mature, Rudy, Maggie added.

Really, Rudy, behave, my mother’s soft tone wafted over my sisters heads. She stood behind the girls, smaller than all of her children. Her pale hair was pulled into the tight knot she always wore, her dress was still to the floor no matter that the girls complained that it was old-fashioned, but she had two spots of red on her cheeks indicating her pleasure.

I pushed the girls aside and wrapped mother in a bear hug, picking her up. She slapped my arm. Put me down Rutledge! I did not raise any animals in this house, she said. She could say all she wanted to say, but I knew she was pleased.

I looked passed her. Father, what do you say I go with you on your rounds?

He stood just behind mother in the shadows of the house. He nodded. That would be fine son.

–-

Princess, a name that unfortunately came into being when you had four sisters, trotted down the street at the same steady pace that she had been walking for almost 10 years, but instead of me driving the cart and dad getting in and out to pick up and drop off mail, I was the one hopping in and out, hopefully giving him a much deserved break. Father was not getting any younger.

Have you gotten any closer to that young lady? What was her name?

I fought the blush that crept up my cheeks. I loved my father and I considered us to be close. But rarely did we speak of women and courtship.

I cleared my throat. I have not spoken to her above basic politeness. On the one hand, I would like to court Adeline Fisher because she is quite the epitome of all that is good in the world, I said, no longer fighting the blush. On the other hand, my travels quite simply do not allow me the time to take a wife.

All that is good in the world? my father said. Even I could hear the smirk in his voice. But I could not help it. Adeline made me want to be a better man; to speak better, to write better, to be better.

Yes, I said hesitantly. She reminds me of mother. She did in the sense that no one was more elegant than mother. But that may or may not have been where the similarities ended.

Father cleared his throat. I am not saying your mother is not a reflection of all that is good in the world, but I will say, that when I was courting her, she lit a fire in me that had little to do with goodness in the world. I glanced up at the darkening sky. We were not having this conversation. It was simply not going to happen. All I am saying boy, is that life is hard. Make sure you marry a woman who wants to go through the hard things with you. Not some woman you have to put on the shelf and hide from the world.

Yes, sir. I would say anything to get him to not speak on this.

And your job? Are you enjoying what you are doing son? I felt his eyes on me and heard the amusement in his voice. I did not care.

Yes, I said, sighing. And I did, though it often left me feeling disgusted with humanity.

I am glad Rudy. Your mother and I are right proud of you. I gave him a look.

He laughed. So long as you keep writing your mother, she will not feel like the big city is corrupting your morals.

Father, my morals could just as easily be corrupted here.

Yes, but here, your mother could keep an eye on you and make sure you do not miss church.

I never miss church. Only because my landlady’s sister was friends with my mother. If I stopped going to church I would be reported. And grown man or not, I did not feel like making mother cry.

You do not want to go?

I should have known. He never missed anything.

My pale blue eyes met their mirror image in his face. I shrugged.

I watched him look away. No doubt he was wondering where he had gone wrong to get such a heathen for a son. I hopped off the cart, dropped off mail at a business and grabbed their outgoing mail before getting back in the wagon. I was probably committing a federal crime, touching peoples’ mail, but I had been helping my father out with his mail run since I could walk. Most everyone on his route would say they had a hand in raising me. I waved at Phil, the baker, across the street. He gave me a two finger salute.

Listen father, I just need a break.

A break? he said softly. From a relationship with your Lord and Savior? He shook his head.

I knew without a doubt that my father’s relationship with Jesus was the most important thing in his whole life. I had known since I was a little boy and he would have my sisters and I in the parlor every Sunday morning having devotions and prayer time. It had been painfully boring for me, but I could always see the peace on father’s face during that time.

Father, you know I investigate those lynchings and whatnot? And he did. He just did not know I passed to get the story. I was not sure how he would feel about that so I had never told anyone in my family. The religious ones are the worst offenders.

He was quiet for a moment. Religion does not equate to a relationship with Jesus.

I sighed. I know that. But still, it seems to be used to make these people feel better about themselves and when I hear them it just makes me disgusted with it all.

"Do you remember when you were a boy and we had that discussion about how if God is omnipotent why does He not just save all of us instead of spending so much time trying to get each individual saved?

Yes.

And do you remember what I said?

That God is omnipotent but he chooses to work through humans. That he needs our brains and heart to work his will.

That is right. He reached over and poked the center of my chest. Your heart, he said and then moved his finger to my head and your brains. All those people who use religion to justify killing people are not letting God use their hearts and brains. They are not letting God use them at all. Do not base your faith in God off of other’s actions, base it off of Jesus’ actions. Would Jesus lynch a man? I rolled my eyes, but made sure he could not see the action. Answer the question Rutledge.

No sir, I had forgotten that though my father gave great advice, it was usually at the expense of my feeling like an adult.

Would he kick a man when he is down?

No sir, I said dryly.

Do you think when we get to heaven there is going to be a Negro side and a white side?

I hesitated.

Rutledge!

No, I do not think God would segregate. I am just trying to wrap my mind around spending eternity with white folks, but continue.

Father frowned at me. I laughed. No matter how rude, how awful white folks had treated us, he never held it against them as a whole. And for the most part I did not. But every now and then, maybe because of my job, I could find bitterness creeping in.

None of those people you were talking about represent Jesus. They are not letting him use their hearts and minds. Your mother and I have given you the best education we could afford and have raised you by the Bible. You have been given, Rudy, chances most Negro children can never dream of and I, for one, could not be more proud that you are doing what you can to help our people. But, Rudy, do not forget that God is the one who has blessed you with the talents that you have and He wants you to use your heart and your brains to do His will. I know you think things are hard now, but life does not get easier and turning away from God will not make things better but worse. You will need the help of the Holy Spirit son, now more than ever, so now is not the time to be faltering and turning back.

CHAPTER 3

Lily

I stood on the train platform in my new blue dress, matching hat and sturdy black shoes since Aunt Rachel wouldn’t let me purchase new ones. I gripped my traveling bag tightly. We stood in the Negro section, waiting for the train.

This is what you’ve worked for Lily Atkins. I’ll not be held responsible for holding you back, Uncle Rufus told me. He stood tall and thin before me with his weathered straw hat held in his hands. His skin color was already dark, but the sun had polished in an extra layer of color and more than a few lines around his eyes.

I rocked back on my shoes. I could tell Uncle Rufus was holding back tears, but it was all I could do not to throw my hands in the air and squeal. No more working in the fields at daybreak, no more wiping snotty noses, no more catching an hour ride with the Smiths to work at the McNeal’s hotel. I was going to Chicago. I was going to do great things. Just the thought of it made a shiver run down my spine. I rocked again, barely holding my feet on the ground but nineteen year old women didn’t jump up and down with excitement.

I inhaled and looked down at the children standing round about us.

Connie take your thumb out of your mouth. I put my bag down and reached for her finger, but she removed the offending appendage before I could.

Lula be sure and help your mama now. You know how you daydream, I scolded.

Lily, Aunt Rachel began. I knew what she was thinking. She didn’t want me to go, but I was done being free labor, slaving away in someone else’s home, taking care of someone else’s children. I understand a girl needs her mama, Aunt Rachel began, she turned to Uncle Rufus, but I’ve heard strange things about folks who live in the big city so you be careful and don’t forget where you was raised.

Aunt Rachel’s admonition barely registered in my brain. She had been unhappy with the fact that I was going to stay with mama for so long I had long since begun to tune her out. I was sure, if there was one person I wouldn’t miss from this town, it would be her.

At least you’ll see your mama again, RJ’s little voice piped up.

Yes. I winked at RJ. He smiled. He knew how much this meant to me.

Dolores assured us that you won’t be staying anywhere near them race riot happenings, Uncle Rufus reiterated again.

I wasn’t worried. Times weren’t so great here in Elaine County. What with the tenant farmers and sharecropping issues, it felt like the whole county was just waiting for something to light the fuse and cause an explosion. Least they didn’t lynch folks up north. Regularly.

You just stay out of trouble Lily Rose.

I will Uncle Rufus. I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. I had been working around white folks

Reviews for In Deed and in Truth

[Heavenly · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Embassies Susberry has quickly become a favorite storyteller with her historical truth telling and even more so, that of the Word of God and what it means to not just know Him but to EXPERIENCE Him in big and small ways and incorporate the teaching of Christ into our daily lives. Seeing how far we have come (though much is still to be done) is all by the goodness and grace of God and leading with love is what everything calls for, for we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, and spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places (Ephesians 6). Therefore, may we pray even for our enemies to know and experience all of God's Grace and Mercy in Jesus' Name. This story brought out all the emotions with the love story of Lily and Rudy and the issues in both the North and South in 1920s U.S. Greatest yet, though, may it encourage one to pick up their Bible and start experiencing God for themself.