Descendants of Hagar Read online

  DESCENDANTS OF

  HAGAR

  OTHER BOOKS

  BY

  NIK NICHOLSON

  EVEN DEITIES EVOLVE:

  When Me And God Were Atheists

  2017

  SEEKING SEX WITHOUT ARMOR

  2016

  DAUGHTER OF ZION

  (coming soon 2018)

  DESCENDANTS

  OF

  HAGAR

  Nik Nicholson

  APPLE AND PEAR PUBLISHING LLC

  www.appleandpearpublishing.com

  © 2013 Nik Nicholson.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the writer’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Every word written here is strictly for entertainment purposes.

  Editor: Claudia Moss

  Beta Readers: Angela Burgess, Dorian Moreno, Koweta Burgess, Shirley Lavoile, Tammy James

  Cover Painting: Lam Lu

  Book Format: Nik Nicholson

  Second edition:

  Published by Apple and Pear Publishing LLC

  5/1/2017

  First Edition:

  Published by AuthorHouse

  7/23/2013

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3

  This book is dedicated to my maternal grandmother, Shirley Bell Nicholson. She fought to live. Which taught me not to waste my breath.

  Acknowledgments

  First, I thank all of the Clark County librarians who assisted my research. The majority of my research came from local library books. I pray technology does not make libraries extinct.

  Second, I thank all of the masculine-centered women who graciously answered my long questionnaire and added questions they felt were critical. Your responses assisted me in imagining Linny’s character. I am grateful for your openness and honesty regarding the complexities of being masculine-centered. Thank you for sharing your frustrations about how you are portrayed and the lack of portrayals. I pray you know I attempted to create an honest expression of how much you must overcome to love yourselves and others. This is my love letter to you. I pray you receive it well.

  Next, I thank Keith Brantley, also known as “The Griot” in poetry circles, for creating “The Poet’s Corner.” As a result of “The Poet’s Corner,” I found an artist family at the West Las Vegas Art Center. I thank all there---the poets, artists, actors, dancers and drummers, who taught me about community.

  I wish Kianga Palacio was here in the flesh, to witness this dream realized.

  I thank Dorian Moreno for offering to read me, unpublished. It was Dorian who introduced me to reader feedback as an integral part of the editing process. As a result, I also thank my additional readers: Angela Burgess, Koweta Burgess, Tammy James and Shirley Lavoile. Your input was an invaluable part of my journey in the self-publishing process, which, I’ve learned isn’t wholly about “the self.”

  Finally, I’d like to thank Ms. Claudia Moss, also known as “The Siren” in poetry circles. Early on, Claudia became my writing mentor and encouraged me to self-publish. Claudia held my hand through this long process; by being motivation when I was lethargic after so many edits. More than a friend, she has been a one-woman support system. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for her presence as a safe space for my spirit.

  I am also grateful for late night conversations where we talked shit, laughed ourselves silly and brainstormed about taking over the world, one book at a time. I am honored to witness how courageously and fully Claudia lives life. Her light gives me courage; she is one of my main inspirations.

  As with all things, I thank God. I also thank God for everyone mentioned here, and so many others who have been lessons or blessings.

  Love Is Life, Live.

  Nik 4/7/2016

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  THE WORD

  Chapter Two

  Doctor Visit

  Chapter Three

  Ain Dead Yet

  Chapter Four

  Lawyer

  Chapter Five

  Quilting Circle

  Chapter Six

  The Past

  Chapter Seven

  Have You Read The Word

  Chapter Eight

  Miemay’s New House

  Chapter Nine

  The Walk Home

  Chapter Ten

  Promises

  Chapter Eleven

  The Stand Off

  Chapter Twelve

  The Perfect Wife

  Chapter Thirteen

  Womanhood

  Chapter Fourteen

  Worried

  Chapter Fifteen

  Under One Roof

  Chapter Sixteen

  Naming

  Chapter Seventeen

  A Proper Lady

  Chapter Eighteen

  Entertaining Strangers

  Chapter Nineteen

  Northern School Teacher

  Chapter Twenty

  Hair

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dinner with the Harpers

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Council

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Church

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Work

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Zion Field Day

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Learning Her Place

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sisters

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Accepting the Truth

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Beautiful

  Chapter Thirty

  Good Night

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Store

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Unspoken Truths

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Impossible

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Morning Baths

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Family Business

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Recruitor

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Some of Her Words

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  An Appeal

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Fear

  Chapter Forty

  Worried

  Chapter Forty-One

  Women Vote

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Getting Ready

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Juke Joint

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Rituals

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Guilt

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Following My Heart

  Daughter Of Zion

  TAILORED TO FIT

  Author Bio

  The spiritual man makes judgments about all things, but he himself is not subject to any man’s judgment. 1 Corinthians 2:15

  (BSB) Berean Study Bible

  Chapter One

  THE WORD

  “Say dat gin,” Miemay say squinting ‘a eyes like it’s too much sun in ‘a face, leaning into ‘a cane and spitting.

  We both sitting on ‘a porch. I’m on the big seat right outside the front door, she at the edge sitting on a stool. I’m reading ‘a the Bible, this her seventh or eighth time going through this whole book I know bout.

  Use to always have one of us grandkids reading it to ‘a, til folks start saying she corrupting they children, by explaining the Bible and answering our questions. Zion ain’t the kind of place where you can talk about the Bible like it’s any other book and not be called crazy or hell bound. Miemay marked for all that, then some. A hellbound crazy
witch what they call ‘a, when they mad at ‘a and she ain around.

  I use to take up reading it to ‘a, wherever the other grandkids left off. Now I’m the only one old enough to read it to ‘a and not be corrupted. That’s how I come to read this whole book almost four times myself. If we ain’t reading the Bible, I’m reading books the Belangers loaned ‘a, since she told ’em she like for ‘a grandbabies to read to ‘a.

  I read ‘a Oliver Optic’s stories for boys, James Fenimore Cooper, Charlotte Bronte, Louisa May Alcott, Washington Irving and Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney. Two of Miemay’s favorites are Bronte’s, Jane Eyre and Cooper’s, Last of the Mohicans. I think Last of the Mohicans is too wordy, I like Whitney’s writing more, don’t need no dictionary to understand it.

  Feels like I’m reading this scripture wrong. So I point to the passage with my finger, and follow that finger with my eyes. “John 19:30,” I announce, then wait for Miemay to tell me what’s wrong.

  When she don’t speak, I repeat the scripture, “When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, ‘It is finished:’ then he bowed his head, and gave up the ghos-”

  “Wouldn’t have to read the Bible so much if ya come to church,” Reverend Patrick shouts, interrupting, coming long side the house from the back and on up to the porch.

  Rest of the men behind Miemay house, working in the clearing, building ‘a new house. It’s gone have electricity and plumbing.

  He frown at Miemay chewing tabbaca. When she spit, he cringe. He don’t chew, and think it ain’t ladylike for women.

  Reverend Patrick a big black man with jet black cotton hair patted close to his head. He look like an outsider cause his Daddy married a dark-skinned woman from Alabama. Now he and all his kin done had it hard. Most of ’em had to marry folks outside of Zion. Everybody here light skinned. Some of us look white, like Miemay. They ain’t trying to get darker or have dark children. In Zion, marrying darker is marrying down.

  “Cain’t git ta hebin one day a week, few hours a Sunday. Wouldn’t hafta red it maself if ya red what it relly say. Cut all dat shoutin and goin on. Stop sayin what white folk tell ya say.”

  “Now you listen here-”

  “Nall you. You the one gone listen,” Miemay cut ’im off glancing at ’im, adjusting ‘aself on ‘a cane then looking off ahead. “Don’t fagit cho place. I dah mama. Talk ta ya wife like dat. Truf hurt.” She chew deep for his displeasure then scowl at ’im. “Nah what chu wont, boy?”

  He fumble for the words then say, “What chu need two bafrooms in one house for? Don’t make no sense. You just one woman, and all ya kids grown. Ain’t got nobody stayin whicha,” he protests, looking over at me. “I’m gone just build ya one. And ya ain’t gittin no two story cause ya too old to be climbing steps. What chu need four bedrooms for? You ain’t rich.”

  “It's five, ain neva been foe, since ya smart. It’s what I wont, it’s what I done paid fa. Nah do what I say, and git.”

  He look at ‘a hard, his fist balled up, but Miemay don’t even look at ’im. She said what she had to, and her word is “The Word” round Zion, even when nobody agree. They have to respect ‘a, she the oldest person in Zion and own the most land. Miemay act like he ain even there, put some more tabbaca in ‘a mouth.

  After he standing there for a while, Miemay spit again then say, “Go on readin, chile.”

  When I pick up the Bible again, he storm off. I want to ask Miemay why she don’t go to church, but it don’t seem like it’s my place to ask bout ‘a relationship with the lord.

  Chapter Two

  DOCTOR VISIT

  “What ee say?” Miemay’s voice cry out, breaking the silence of us waiting in the front room. Sound like this ain’t the first time she done asked, cause she ain’t never been one to holla outside a ritual. “It mah body! It mah body!” she scream, pleading, which push me to my feet and on to ‘a bedroom.

  I hear ‘a door close, then the white doctor the Belangers sent tilt his hat at me as we pass each other in the hallway. I nod back, then come toe to toe with my daddy.

  He guarding Miemay closed bedroom door. We squared up, he fold his arms like a warrior or something, rock on his heels, like I come to fight.

  I stay relaxed, look down at the ground. Don’t want him to think wrong of me, don’t want him to see no disrespect. “This ain’t no challenge. I just feel like I need to be in there with ‘a.”

  “We done agreed not to tell ‘a,” he say sternly, “Nah, GIT!”

  I don’t flinch, just keep my eyes to the ground and wait.

  “Let ‘a in hur!” Miemay cry louder.

  Daddy face sour then he move slowly out the way breathing hard. If he say git, I got to git, but if Miemay say he got to git, he got to git. She his great grandmother. I’m in the fifth generation. Sometimes seem like Miemay only my great-great grandmother, way my cousins and nem treat ‘a.

  Most folks in Zion treat ‘a like a stranger even though she all our mama some kinda way. She just don’t do what everybody else do, or say what everybody else say. But when you see what happen, after what she do, you know why. Or when you stop and listen, think about what she saying, it always fall into place.

  People don’t listen to Miemay til somebody sick, bout to die, or having a baby. She birth more babies than any other woman here in Zion. Always mixing some herb potion for ailments and things, folks say she learned from being a slave. Miemay always tell me, what she know ain’t come from being no slave. She say her mama was a root woman, and her mama’s mama was a root woman. People swear Miemay stopped yellow fever fore it could move in Zion good, when doctors couldn’t even figure it out. That’s why, it’s a big deal a real doctor done come to see about ‘a.

  When I open the door she crying, chest heaving and ‘a hair ain’t pinned up, it’s all over the place. She look like a white lady with long, white hair. It start off straight from the scalp, get wavy, then curl on the ends where its laying on ‘a stomach, and below ‘a elbows. Four of ‘a seven daughters in the room, all of ’em looking like ‘a and each other. They all over ‘a bed, and the youngest standing by the dresser looking at ‘a like she already dead. Miemay got ‘a lip poked out, wiping ‘a eyes, and throwing ‘a hair like something bout to happen.

  “Woe nah. Ain gone be no spells tonight,” I tease, hurt deep in my soul she upset. Make me sick to see ‘a crying, but I don’t let on it’s bothering me. Iain seen ‘a cry since my uncle was lynched, long with them strangers, and I was a child then. I’m trying to talk ‘a down, outta meanness. Might not be no spell, but she been known to cuss ‘a children when they done worked ‘a last nerve.

  “Linay?” Miemay say sweetly, but stern. Everybody else call me Linny, but she make my name sound almost like hers. Maybe cause I got ‘a name. We both named Madelyn, she Madelyn Belanger, I’m Madelyn Remington. They call me Linny, cause her old masters, the Belangers, still call ‘a Maddy.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say real proper like, standing tall, cause that’s how we play and it’s my way of letting ‘a know I’m at ‘a service.

  “Tell ya Miemay what the docta say nah.”

  “Well, Iain the one he talk to, Miemay.” I smile, coming out the door way and taking my hat off so she can see my eyes. Ima have to dance with this ol girl, she ain’t giving up that easy and I ain’t neither.

  “Dat ain what I ax ya, Linay.” She stare at me, reading my soul. Never taking ‘a eyes off mine, she moving slow cross the bed like a cat bout to pounce a bird, but Iain no bird.

  When ‘a daughter Matilda reach to help ‘a, she heavy paw her like a wild animal. Iain never seen this part of ‘a.

  “Don’t woncha hep, don’t need it,” she breathe hard then hiss at ’em. Now, I know she bout to show out.

  Still Iain gone answer, she always be getting me in trouble with everybody. Zion ain’t the type of place where you think for yourself. We all decide, well, they decide, Iain old enough to have a word in edgewise. I’m a woman, Iain got no house of my own, and Iain got no man
to speak my piece in meetings.

  “Know how many folk I den walked home? Know how many I brang the message it’s dey time? How many come ta me afta dey out dis worl’ ta tell dey people thangs? I speaks ta folk Iain neva knowed, bout thangs Iain neva heard of.”

  “Aw, Miemay!” Ondrea chastises ‘a, standing and twisting ‘a face. “You know it’s the devil to be talking bout spirits and such.”

  “Aw, git on nah wit dat deva bidnis,” Miemay snap back still looking at me, and they know she gone know what the doctor say. He ain say it to me, but I heard ’im. They really trying to break ‘a focus, but what she got a mind to do, she got a mind to do. “How long I got, Linay?” she ask, turning ‘a head and looking round at ‘a daughters, disappointed and betrayed.

  “Nobody but God know that, Miemay,” I answer, sad and confident that that’s the truth. Hating she asking me and I’m doing what they did to get ‘a all upset by not just telling ‘a what the doctor said.

  “See! Dat’s why you ain’t pose to be in here!” Matilda screams, stomping ‘a foot at me fussing.

  I hear the folks in the hall sigh on the other side of the closed door, then slowly walk out the hall like I told ‘a.

  I don’t feel like I just said, “He said in a few months you gone die.” Plus, I think she already know. She could always tell when other folks gone die. Why she wouldn’t know her time coming?

  “You too young to be on somebody walk home,” Ondrea say shaking ‘a head at me and scowling.

  “So, I on the walk home?” Miemay smile, almost satisfied.

  Ondrea shake ‘a head sadly, trying to catch a lip from trembling, realizing what she done said. The air so thick you could stab the tension with a knife. If Ondrea lip poke out, Miemay got ‘a. Looking at ‘a other sisters, they all looking back shaking they head at ‘a, for ‘a to hold it in, but she cain’t. A single tear stream down ‘a face.

  Then Miemay slap ‘a bed knowing.