Jezebel (2 page)

June 1970
Mayville, Georgia

E
ighteen-year-old Jessie Belle Holt knew that her laughter sounded like sweet music to the ears of that ol' nasty Ezra Josiah Jones.

All she had to do was giggle at his stupid jokes, bend down low enough to give him a glimpse of her youthful, full, round breasts and show off her shapely legs to have the pervert exactly where she wanted him. He was a beady-eyed mouse of a man itching to sample her goods and was always trying to get her on that cot he kept in the storeroom of his dress shop.

“Deacon Jones, you so funny,” Jessie Belle cooed, making a conscious effort to lick her full lips. She'd read in one of her many fashion magazines that men found the act sexy.

He wiped away beads of perspiration from his face with a dingy white handkerchief. Ezra Jones glanced quickly over his shoulder, then back at Jessie Belle, mumbling, “Gal…you do things to me. I could just sop you up with a biscuit.”

She giggled. “What on earth are you talking about, Deacon? I'm not doing a thing.”

“Why don't you come by the store tomorrow? Tell your parents that I need you to help out with the inventory,” he suggested. “Let me show you….”

Jessie Belle pretended to be coy. “Deacon Jones, you still have that cute lil' dress—the pink one with the green and white flowers? I sho' like that dress.” If the dress was gone, there was no need for her to continue this disgusting ruse.

He nodded furiously. “Uh-huh. It's still there. Somethin' like that would sho' look mighty pretty on you.”

Leaning forward so that her breast touched his arm, she whispered in his ear, “I
really
like that dress, Deacon Jones. That mean ol' wife of yours—she told me it was too expensive for the likes of me.” She stuck out her lips in a pout. “She really hurt my feelings when she told me that.”

At the mention of his wife, Ezra's expression soured. “You don't worry your pretty little head about Agnes. She always been a spiteful wench. I'll take care of everything. You just come by the store tomorrow.” Grinning, he added, “Work a few hours doing some inventory for me.”

“Will she be there?” Jessie Belle questioned. She and Mrs. Jones didn't care for each other.
She knows her man has the hots for me. Ain't no point in being mad with me, though. It's not my fault if she can't hold on to her man or keep him happy
.

“Naw. She gon' be visiting with her kin down in Albany for a couple of days. You come on by the store. Okay?”

Before Jessie Belle could respond, she heard a noise coming from behind Ezra. She peeked around the nasty-minded deacon to find her mother glaring at them.

Pushing him away, she straightened her dress and said, “Ma…Deacon Jones was just telling me another one of his jokes.”

“The deacon needs to tend to his wife,” her mother stated coldly. “Agnes is looking for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Anabeth.” He brushed past her, walking as fast as he could, but not before Jessie Belle's mother saw the evidence of his arousal.

Bristling, Anabeth walked up to Jessie Belle, pinching her hard on the arm. “What are you thinking, gal? Your daddy could've been the one walking back here instead of me.”

Straightening her dress, Jessie Belle said, “I wasn't gon' do nothing with him. All we was doing is talking.”

“Humph,” Anabeth grunted. “I know what Ezra was after and it weren't no conversation. He used to try and get me into corners. Jessie Belle, you've got to be careful if you want to marry well. You're only eighteen years old and already been pregnant twice. No God-fearing man will want you. If you'd listen to me and keep those long legs of yours closed…”

Running her fingers through her naturally curly, medium brown hair, Jessie Belle responded, “I'm beautiful and I'm smart, Ma. I really don't think I'll ever have to worry about being without a man.”

Anabeth Holt patted her own brown hair, which was lightly sprinkled with gray throughout. “Well, if it's a good husband you're wanting—we can only pray for some kind stranger to come to town and marry you. And we'll have to trick him on your wedding night, I'm ashamed to say. How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to give up the goodies to get what you want?”

Practically dragging Jessie Belle along, Anabeth stated, “Your father's waiting for us. C'mon.”

A couple of church members glanced in their direction and began whispering as they walked by.

Jessie Belle knew they were talking about her, but she didn't care. Anybody who couldn't do anything for her was nothing more than a blot occupying space needlessly as far as she was concerned.

“I wouldn't be looking so hard in this direction,” Anabeth told the women. “You need to be watching your own fast-tail daughters. You so busy trying to stir my grits—your own pot boiling over.”

Jessie Belle broke into a short laugh.

Pinching her arm, Anabeth uttered, “Shush, gal. It ain't funny. Hearing the things people saying about you nearly breaks your daddy heart. He don't like people gossiping about you like that.”

“And you think I do?”

“Then stop giving them stuff to talk about,” Anabeth advised. “Save yourself for somebody worth something and not just taking up space on God's green earth. Find a man worthy of you.”

Slowing her pace, Anabeth asked, “Are you listening to me, Jessie Belle?”

“Yeah, Ma. I heard you.”

“
I mean it
. We've already had to get rid of that one baby…. God, forgive me, but I couldn't let you keep shaming your daddy. At least the good Lawd took the second one naturally.”

Her father never knew about her babies—her mother made sure of that. She took Jessie Belle to Atlanta, where some back-alley doctor eliminated her burden the first time. The second time, she miscarried. The father of both babies turned out to be a jerk, so everything happened for the best.

Living the rest of her life in Mayville, Georgia, was not on Jessie Belle Holt's agenda. She felt she deserved better—that's what her mother always told her.

“Marry a man that's got something, Jessie Belle, even if you don't love him.” Anabeth pulled a thin compact mirror out of her purse and checked her face. “Love will come later, if he a good man.”

Satisfied with her appearance, she put it away. “You know I coulda married a doctor. He came through town when your daddy was courting me. He came from a wealthy family and was a real handsome man. Had a nice big car. All your daddy had was that old truck—the same one rusting in the backyard now. That doctor sho' nuff wanted me, but instead I married for love and look where it got me.”

“Aren't you happy with Papa?” Jessie Belle wanted to know.

Anabeth nodded. “I love your daddy, but the truth of it is that I could've been just as happy if we'd lived in a nice big house somewhere in a big city or had some money.” Anabeth's gaze met her daughter's. “Never settle for less than what you deserve.”

A flash of regret shone brightly in Anabeth's eyes, but was gone.

“I won't,” Jessie Belle vowed.

Jessie Belle hid in her bedroom from the moment they arrived home. She didn't feel like helping her mother with the cooking. Normally she loved being in the kitchen, but today Jessie Belle just wanted to relax and fantasize about her future.

She primped and posed in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of her bedroom, studying her reflection, mimicking the models in the latest fashion magazine.

Jessie Belle was extremely proud of her tawny skin color, her dark gray eyes and her full lips, but hated the tiny mole painted in the corner of her top lip. To Jessie Belle, it marred her otherwise perfect complexion.

Smiling, Jessie Belle ran her fingers through her warm chocolate curls. She heard her father calling her name and sighed.

“Gal, c'mon out that room. Help your ma in the kitchen.”

She groaned.
Once I'm gone—I'm never coming back here to this old shack of a house
.

Jessie Belle couldn't stand the smell of her home. It smelled old and no amount of air fresheners or deodorizers could rid the house of its natural odor.

Jessie Belle muttered a curse, strolled out of her room and headed down the hall to the kitchen. Her mother didn't glance up from what she was doing, but said, “You make the potato salad, gal. Your daddy likes the way you make it. He thinks I put way too much mustard in it.”

Jessie Belle bit back a smile. She could tell from her mother's tone that she felt more than a little put off.

“Anabeth, you're a wonderful cook, sugar,” her father stated. “I just don't have the stomach I used to have. I—”

“Elias, just quit while you're ahead,” Anabeth interjected. “Your daughter's making the potato salad, so just leave it be.”

Chuckling, Jessie Belle washed her hands in the sink and immediately set out to peel the potatoes.

Seated at the small dining table off the kitchen, her father said, “Your mama was just telling me that Ezra Jones has been sniffing around you a lot lately.”

She sat down across from her father. “He wants me to come by the store tomorrow to help with some inventory.”

Jessie Belle picked up a raw potato.

“Why he need you to help?” her father asked. “Agnes is his wife. Don't she help him out in the store? What he need you for?”

“I don't think she's all that good with math, Papa,” Jessie Belle uttered. She sliced off the skin and tossed the potato back into the bowl. “Deacon Jones called her a dumb cluck.”

“He shouldn't be confiding in you,” her mother stated with a frown. “He don't need to be involving you in married-folk business. It's not right.”

Jessie Belle finished her task and she rose to her feet. “It was a chance to make some money. That's all.”

She carried the potatoes over to the kitchen sink and washed them once more before placing them into a large pot of boiling water. “I didn't think it would become a federal case.”

Her father shook his head. “I don't want you working there.”

Anabeth agreed as she dropped a drumstick into a pan of hot grease, then another and another.

“You were the one that said I needed to get a job, Papa. You told me that if I wasn't gonna go to college, I had to work.” Pointing to the bowl of cooked macaroni, Jessie Belle asked, “Do you want me to make the macaroni and cheese?”

Anabeth nodded. “Thanks.”

Jessie Belle glanced over to where her father sat, and said, “Papa, I'm just trying to make a few dollars. There's a dress that I want and Deacon Jones said I could get it by doing the inventory and being a salesgirl, since his wife is gonna be gone for a few days.”

“Oh no…,” Anabeth uttered. “His wife ain't gon' be there. I don't know about you, Elias, but I don't like the smell of this. Humph. I sho' don't like the smell of this.”

Jessie Belle continued to plead her case. “Papa, I promise you that if Deacon Jones gets fresh with me, I'll come straight home and tell you.”

“Jessie Belle, your mama and I both have had some concerns about you and some of the men in this town. I hear all the rumors about you. I'll not have a child of mine walking around giving her goods to Tom, Dick and Harry.”

“People have nothing better to do than to stay in folks' business. They tell a lot of lies just to have something to talk about,” she uttered. “I'm your daughter—Papa, you should know me better than that.”

“I
do
know you, Jessie Belle,” he stated. “And if you don't change your ways, I'm afraid they gon' lead you straight to trouble. Mark my words….”

Elias stood up slowly. “I think I'ma go take a little nap until supper's ready.”

When he walked out of the kitchen, Anabeth turned to face her daughter. “You lie so easy—it's scary.”

“I'm not gon' be the one to break my daddy's heart,” Jessie Belle responded as she shredded two cups of sharp cheddar cheese. “I'm just trying to protect him.”

Anabeth woke Jessie Belle up at the crack of dawn the next day. “C'mon, gal. We need to get a head start on the chores.”

Pulling the covers over her head, she complained, “Ma…I didn't get to bed until one. I'm tired.”

“I didn't tell you to stay up half the night on the telephone. Your daddy's expecting that guest preacher this afternoon. The one who's preaching during tent revival. We got to get this house in order, so get on up. The day is passing us by.”

Jessie Belle had planned on sneaking down to the store to see Deacon Jones and get the dress she wanted so badly. She didn't care what her parents said when it came to something she desired. She searched through the fog clouding her memory. “I forgot all about Reverend Deveraux coming. He the one y'all so excited about.”