12.2 Four Corners of Law

Whiting was covered of snow and roads swept clean. Visibility in six miles and cloud cover, or perhaps, smoke from the refinery. And he was smoking inside the heated car with the window lowered. Vehicles parked by the roads covered of snow and the rooftops of the houses too. It was Christmas in Whiting before Halloween. Trees turned brown and the only colour visible besides the red tail lights of the vehicles.

He parked his car under the branches of a flaked tree in front of a narrow brick house with stairs to reach the floor level and a low wire mesh fence around the perimeter, single hung windows and mud-like walls; 96 Reese Avenue. He leaned uncomfortably inside the AMC Eagle to catch a sight out through the window, his mouth open and tongue dropped out. He noticed a metallic silver Ford Bronco pickup and a light beige Corvette convertible in the lawn. A Sauterne Gold Ford Country Squire parked on the road. He beeped three times.

A short short man stumbled down the stairs and a long tall man stepped out of the red car.

“Good Afternoon, Mr Quinn!” said the short guy taking of his brim hat. He wore a golden wristwatch.

“Good Afternoon!” he picked a brief case, “Is it all set?” He was still uncomfortable, standing seven feet tall, “Did you call the ladies?” He stubbed the butt on the ground.

Wellinois nodded. He ushered the tall man to the house and greeted by three ladies.

“Thanks,” said Jadon Quinn, his tongue dropped out, “I am not eating anything now. Introductions are not necessary, I have set the papers, all typed. You just sign these places under your names, here…here…here…”

Three women scribbled signatures. Those ladies were Sidney Martin Cyril, Laura Hudson and Cindy Lockwood – the latter two signed as witnesses.

“I have to go back to Chicago,” uttered Quinn.

A year and a half ago, Sidney Martin mentioned to her eldest son that she was holding a will to own the ancestorial property of 69 Church Street upon death of his stepfather. She didn’t reveal to Savon Martin that she was keeping a will. Anton Cyril didn’t get that chance to mention it to Savon Martin, his son, because they weren’t a matching pair. He was always out and Cyril fairly scarce in Whiting. They never talked on the telephone.

Months later, Wellinois began to insist restlessly to register a will alike, by Sidney Martin, his mother, who promised years ago to give all her belongings to him. His mother sighed and gestured a nod raising her eyebrows without a word. That nod remained a promise to protect his part to draw a will in the name of two sons; Noth and Savon. Then it was Wellinois who arranged a law office, from miles away in Madison, WI, to safeguard this will.

Noth Wellinois couldn’t always travel to Whiting to meet his mother but that year he came three times and made too many calls.

A few times he met his stepfather in Charleston, South Carolina, at 69 Church Street.

One day, Anton Cyril saw a short man standing in the garden at 69 Church Street. A golden watch, same old beige suit, it was Noth. He entered through the south side path seeing his car, a wide 1972 Ford Thunderbird, parked outside and walked in through the iron gate up the trail to the garden.

“Noth! What are you doing here?” uttered Anton, “When did you come to Charleston?”

He smiled showing white teeth.

Sinéad called from behind the island counter in the kitchen, “Who is it, Anton?”

“It’s Noth,” he called back, “one of my boys.”

“Call him to come and have lunch.”

“No, he won’t have lunch here,” he shouted back pulling his wallet. He took a hundred-dollar bill and gave to Wellinois.

“Thank you, sir!” returned Wellinois.

“When are you going to see your mother?” Anton Cyril asked walking towards the iron gate.

“Sir, I cannot go soon,” those words flowing slow and deep. He was gone.

Wellinois appeared in South Carolina but never entered 69 if he wasn’t sure that his stepfather wasn’t in. He maintained his distance and respect. Anton Cyril did always give him a hundred-dollar bill if they meet. They were never socially acquainted.

Dillon 1953 – high school members presented a mixed concert of band and choral music at 08:00 in the evening. After the show, Nora Jones, Sidney Martin, Fred Harrington and Rob Jensen were caught by the dean in the schoolyard behaving naughtily. He cautioned them to go home because it was getting late. He asked, “What are you reading?” Sidney Martin dropped her gaze and didn’t even twitch a muscle. “Show it to me!” He took the book from her hand, “The Second Sex,” he shook his head, “You ought not to read this! French, poorly translated. Do you know? It is unbefitting. Did you take this book from the library?” Sidney Martin said nothing. “Well, since you are doing a health-oriented course, I will excuse you.” Dean returned the book, “Happy Easter!”

This Easter, Sidney Martin fell in love with Fred Harrington. By the end of the year, Sidney gave birth to a baby boy with dark skin. Harrington tried to end her life with a knife. It was her uncle, Edward Crape, who grabbed the knife and kicked him out of the place. This baby born on 14^th December was called Noth Edwidge Wellinois.

A month before Easter, Brother Edmond spent a few months in Dillon, staying with Edward. He came with his eldest son, George, who was holding several criminal records at the age of twenty-six. For no particular reason, Edward asked them to leave shortly after Easter.

Edward was four years younger than Sophia; his eldest sister. Sophia left Baton Rouge in 1927 and came to Dillon where Edward Crape got married and worked as a plumber. He was raising six kids. Sophia married Myles Martin Jones, an old man and a factory cleaner. They gave birth to Sidney Martin in 1935. A year later, Myles died of diarrhoea. Sidney Martin never saw her father.

Edward Crape adopted Noth and set Sidney go free in search of a life at a better place. She was educated. If folks knew that Sidney gave birth to the coloured, she might not be accepted. Sidney found a job as a nursemaid in Cornelius, North Carolina. It was here she came across Anton Cyril in 1959.

Sophia Crape died in 1965 at her age of seventy. Sidney Martin demanded on Anton that she would attend the funeral of her mother. Anton agreed Sidney and the baby, Savon, to fly to South Carolina. He too attended the funeral with Sidney. It was here he learnt for the first time about a son of Sidney Martin; Noth Edwidge Wellinois – eleven years old and living with an uncle. It was in Dillon that he came to know of the Crape-Myrtle bloodline.

Dillon in the 50’s, accommodated a large black community. There were many black schools. At that time this matter was at surface in a motion towards an end to segregation. Perhaps, that was the reason Sidney Martin kept it secret from Anton Cyril.