Jobyna's Blues Read online

  Also by Jane Alden

  Across A Crowded Room

  Jobyna’s Blues

  By Jane Alden

  ©2019 Jane Alden

  ISBN (book): 9781948327381

  ISBN (epub): 9781948327398

  ISBN (pdf): 9781948327404

  This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Desert Palm Press

  1961 Main St, Suite 220

  Watsonville, CA 95076

  Editor: Heather Flourney

  Cover Design: TreeHouse Studio

  Blurb

  Jobyna’s Blues is a multi-generational love story, set in post-WWI American South and flashing forward to the mid-1960’s in New York City and London.

  In 1924, Jobyna, the Empress of the Blues, and Lily, a dancer in her chorus line, fall in love as they travel in a custom train car and play to adoring crowds in theaters from Nashville to New Orleans to Mobile. Life is both exciting and dangerous in the young country, only sixty years past the Civil War.

  Looking forward to the mid-1960’s, Jobie Greene, a folk singer in Greenwich Village, meets the charismatic English pop star, Deedee. They struggle to manage their long-distance relationship and their careers against a backdrop of social change.

  The connections between the love stories and the women’s challenges and triumphs, as they echo through time, keep us surprised and challenged and rooting for their happy endings.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Jobyna’s Blues started, by another name, as a story about a folk singer who becomes involved with an English pop singer in the halcyon days of the early 1960s. Jobyna and Lily showed up, took over the narrative, and steered things back to 1924 and wouldn’t let go. They wanted to tell how women performers, especially women of color, paved the way for their sisters who came after.

  Having been born and raised in the south, I felt I could write authentically about their travels through Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Alabama, but I’m forever grateful for the generous support and careful reading and commentary of diverse beta readers whom I contacted through Golden Crown Literary Society. They set me straight on several plot and culture points.

  Members of my writers’ group provided inspiration and helpful criticism along the way, and my partner encouraged me to question assumptions and avoid clichés. She was always ready to make time to let me read parts aloud, an exercise that never fails to sharpen things up.

  Lee Fitzsimmons at Desert Palm Press provides just the right touch of support and collaborative encouragement to me and I suspect to all the authors at DPP. Heather Flournoy has many wonderful attributes as an editor. Most importantly, she’s kind. What an honor to have a cover by Ann McMan.

  PROLOGUE

  2004

  LILY FELT THE SUN warm on her eyelids, before she was fully awake. She always asked the night aide to leave the venetian blinds open so that the morning light would wake her.

  “Aren’t you afraid of Peeping Toms?” The young man liked to tease her, thinking she enjoyed it. She didn’t.

  “No, honey. I’m long past being peeped at.” She bantered with the aide to be polite, but she didn’t like him much. He halfway did his job, trying to get by with as little effort as possible. Still, it was best to stay on people’s good side at Shady Rest.

  Her favorite one was Sondra, a candy striper who came in to wake her every weekday morning. Sondra had spunk. She also had a ring in her nose. Lily wanted the sun to wake her so she wouldn’t miss any of Sondra’s quick, early morning visits. Lily heard the swish of the red-and-white striped starched cotton apron Sondra always wore and opened her eyes.

  “Good morning, Miz Lily,” Sondra said. “You already awake? I don’t wonder because you must be excited. Today is a very special day, isn’t it? Your ninety-seventh birthday.”

  Sondra lifted Lily up to lean against the headboard of her single bed and stuffed two pillows behind her back. “You got to eat more, Miz Lily. I can feel every knob in your backbone. Wish I had that problem. Look at these thighs. Do you want to go to the dining room for breakfast this morning or do you want me to spoil you with breakfast in bed for your birthday?”

  “I want to eat here if you’ll sit with me and talk. You always run off too fast.” Lily heard the whiny tone in her voice. “If you have time, that is.” She really could use Sondra’s company this morning. She was feeling a little down in the dumps. Sondra brought what often was the only bright spot in Lily’s day. Precious few of the other residents at Shady Rest had enough of their marbles left to be any kind of company at all.

  “Let me go tell Mrs. Posey that you and me are going to have a nice long visit this morning to celebrate. I’ll be right back with your breakfast and some coffee for me.” She patted Lily’s face. This was one of the things Lily liked about Sondra—she wasn’t afraid to touch her.

  Sondra came back carrying a breakfast tray, settled it on Lily’s lap, and pulled a chair up close to the bed. “I got oatmeal for you. I think that’s one of your favorites. It’s the made kind this morning for a change, not the instant kind. Do you want me to help you fix it?” Sondra sprinkled the hot cereal with sugar, added a pat of butter, and covered it all with milk.

  Lily noticed the blue tint of the milk. They served only that awful skim stuff in the nursing home. She thought it foolish to limit all these old people’s fat intake. What difference could it make at this point? “Aren’t you going to have some breakfast, too?”

  “No, Miz Lily. I told you, I need to lose me some weight.” Sondra smoothed the apron over her ample lap.

  “I think you look just fine. You remind me of someone very special to me a long time ago.”

  Sondra picked up one of the framed photographs from Lily’s bedside table. She turned the picture around and held it close to Lily’s face. “Who’s this?”

  Lily squinted at the old picture of eight young black women lined up on a stage, their long legs bare and their midriffs covered by huge ostrich feather fans. “That’s me. The second from the left.”

  “You were a dancer?” Sondra’s eyes grew big, looking back and forth between the photograph and Lily’s face.

  “It was a long time ago, child. That picture was taken in 1924. Truth be told, I never was much of a dancer, no matter how hard my cousin Ruth tried to teach me. That’s her on the end.”

  “Is one of these the girl I remind you of?” Sondra brought the picture close to her own face.

  “No, honey. You remind me of the star of the show back then, Jobyna Jones. Do you know who she was?”

  Sondra nodded. “Wasn’t she a singer? I read about her. Is that the way you say it? Jobyna? I was never sure.”

  Lily smiled. “Yes. She always said, ‘Rhymes with Carolina.’ When I knew her, though, she was already so famous that no one had to ask how to say her name. Empress of the Blues, they called her. And us dancers, we were the Tennessee Toe-Tappers. We traveled all over the South, Memphis and New Orleans and Nashville. Back then, black folks had their own theaters. White folks couldn’t come except on special nights. When they did, they had to sit in the balcony. But they came every time they could just to hear Jobyna sing the blues. She was a big, pretty girl like you, and she had the most beautiful voice you
ever heard. Like an angel.”

  Lily settled back against her pillows and closed her eyes. She could hear Jobyna singing when things were still and quiet like this. It seemed the older she got the easier it was to call up Jobyna’s voice in her memory.

  “Miz Lily, are you asleep? Do you want me to take this tray away?”

  “No, honey, I’m not sleeping. I’m just remembering.”

  “You should write a book, Miz Lily. Just think of the things you’ve seen. Or you could tell it to me, and I’ll write it down.”

  “Oh, honey, I’ve always been more likely to read books than write them, until my eyes got so bad.” Lily saw an opportunity to encourage Sondra’s spending time with her. “But we’ll see.”

  “When my mama says, ‘We’ll see,’ it usually means ‘No way.’”

  Lily laughed. “I wouldn’t dare tell most of it, even though almost all of them must be gone now.”

  Sondra held up another framed picture, this one a more contemporary photo of a young woman perched on a stool playing a guitar and highlighted by a spotlight. Her dark hair was long and straight, parted in the middle, the reflected light creating a halo effect. “And who’s this, Miz Lily?”

  “That’s my granddaughter. Her name’s Jobyna, too, named after the original, but she calls herself Jobie.” Lily took the picture from Sondra and ran her finger gently across it. “Her mother was my daughter, my only child. She died when Jobie was born, and my husband and I raised her like our own. Jobie was a singer, too, used to be. Now she’s an artist, in New York City.”

  Lily looked up at Sondra. “The Bible says, ‘Pride goeth before a fall,’ but I don’t believe they were saying I can’t be proud of my Jobie, do you?”

  Sondra patted her hand. “No’m, I’m sure that’s not what the Bible means.”

  A middle-aged woman in a pink polyester aide’s uniform bustled in the door. “Are you done with your breakfast, sweetheart? I need Sondra to come help me pass morning meds.”

  Lily didn’t like most of the help, but she flat hated this woman, the pushy and disrespectful Mrs. Posey, the Aide Supervisor. Lily especially despised that the woman called her “sweetheart.” It was too familiar and condescending, and she suspected she called everyone by pet names because it was too much trouble to remember what their real names were.

  Sondra picked up the breakfast tray. “I’m sorry. Are you done?”

  Lily nodded.

  Sondra turned on her way out the door. “I’ll come back at the end of my shift, okay? Maybe we can start writing your book.”

  “We’ll see, honey. Pull the door to on your way out, please.”

  “Yes’m.” Sondra paused again on the threshold. “Happy birthday, Miz Lily.”

  Lily settled back on her pillows and closed her eyes again. Her thoughts drifted back to 1924, the first time she laid eyes on Jobyna Jones.

  PART ONE

  1924

  LILY

  Chapter One

  LILY WASN’T SURE BEING there was a good idea. She could change her mind now, turn and walk out of the apartment house through the big double front doors the way she came in. She wouldn’t have to talk to Jobyna Jones, the famous blues singer, let alone try out in her living room for the chorus line in her traveling show.

  Ruth gave Lily a push from behind. “Don’t embarrass me by backing out now. She’s doing me a big favor because my mama used to be her dresser. If you really want to get out of Chattanooga, like you say a thousand times a day, now’s your chance to get your nose out of a book and start living your life.”

  Lily bit the inside of her cheek. “But I don’t have any talent. I can’t sing, that’s for sure.”

  “All the talent you need is in your looks. Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror? They want light-skinned girls like you for the chorus. You’ve always had good hair.” Ruth reached to smooth a stray curl at Lily’s forehead. “Besides, how hard do you think it is to dance in a line with seven other girls and practically no clothes on? You can shuffle from foot to foot, right? If Jobyna likes your looks, you’re in.” Ruth put her hand on the small of Lily’s back and pushed again. “Just get up the stairs.”

  Lily hung back and let Ruth knock on the door of Apartment 202. Both girls jumped as the door jerked open. A small, fierce-looking man with a wiry goatee and eyes that glowed with alert anger glared at the women. He held the door only halfway open with his left hand and blocked the doorway with his body. Lily watched his right hand go to his waistband behind his back. Is he reaching for a gun?

  Ruth took a step back, bumping into Lily. “Little T, it’s me, Ruth. Remember, I was supposed to bring my cousin Lily around to see Jobyna?”

  The man straightened the lapels of his pinstriped suit jacket. He opened the door wider, stepped back to let the two girls in and gestured toward an open door across the living room. “She’s in the bedroom.”

  This time even Ruth, who was never one to be shy, hesitated. “Do you want us to go on in there?” She touched Lily’s arm. Lily couldn’t tell whether the touch was for support or to hold her back.

  “Go on.” He slammed the door and shot the lock bolt into place.

  Ruth gave Lily’s arm a tug. The two young women crossed the living room to stand in the doorway of the bedroom. The room was almost bare, more impersonal than a hotel room would be. Lily reasoned that the apartment must be a temporary stopover for Jobyna between tour dates. The floral pattern on the wallpaper was faded to a blurry beige, and the rug that covered the middle of the floor was clean but worn thin in places. A plain maple bureau and dressing table had nothing on them—no makeup, powder, pictures. Nothing.

  Jobyna was a spot of color in the otherwise drab room. She was propped against the headboard with a notebook in her lap, wearing a scarlet silk dressing gown and turban. As Lily gazed at her, the rest of the room and Ruth disappeared. There was a circle drawn around Jobyna, in sharp focus, with everything else fuzzy and blotted out.

  She looked younger and softer than Lily expected. When Jobyna looked up from the notebook in her lap, Lily saw sadness or fatigue in her eyes.

  Her eyebrows went up when she saw Lily. “Who you got here, Ruth?”

  “This is Lily, my cousin I told you about, Jobyna. You know Gladys is leaving the show because of her baby coming, and Lily is a real good dancer. You can see she has the looks. She’d love to go on the road with us. You remember, you said I could bring her by.”

  Jobyna smiled. “Uh-huh. So, you’re a dancer, baby?”

  Ruth jumped in before Lily could answer. “I’ve been showing her some steps. She catches on real fast.”

  “Where you from, Lily?”

  “I was raised in Jasper, but now I stay here, in Chattanooga, with my sister.”

  “What does your mama say about you going with my show?”

  “My mama passed.” Lily felt a catch in her throat. She was afraid she might start to cry from nervousness. She balled her fists behind her back and dug her fingernails into her palms.

  “How old are you?”

  Ruth had coached Lily to be ready for this question. Lily was surprised by how easily the lie came out of her mouth. “Eighteen.”

  Jobyna smiled and nodded. “Eighteen. Uh-huh. Turn around, Lily.”

  Lily turned halfway around to face the open bedroom door. Across the living room, she could see the man still standing guard by the front door. He scowled at her. Lily closed her eyes tightly to keep from fidgeting under Jobyna’s gaze.

  “Little T, she’s going to come by the theater this afternoon. Tell Max.”

  “Tell him what?”

  “Tell him she’s going to try out for the chorus, what do you think?”

  Lily glanced back over her shoulder at Jobyna for some sign of what she was expected to do next, but Jobyna’s attention had already gone back to the notebook. Reading upside down, Lily could tell that she was writing poetry or lyrics to a song. “Thank you, Miss Jones. I promise you won’t regret this.”

/>   “Call me Jobyna, baby,” she said without looking up. “Don’t let her get lost on the way, Ruth.”

  “Oh, I won’t, Jobyna.” Ruth grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her across the living room and out the front door. It slammed behind them.

  “Who was that man? Why is he guarding Jobyna? Do you think he had a gun?”

  “Oh, that’s Little T. He’s just trying to make himself useful and important. Stay out of his way and you’ll be fine. Never mind him, what about Jobyna? Isn’t she amazing?”

  “She’s beautiful, but why is she so sad?”

  “She’s happy when she’s on the stage. Wait till you see her sing in front of an audience. Someday I’m going to be a singer just like her.” She grabbed Lily’s hand again. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Two

  ON THE SIDEWALK IN front of the Chattanooga Tivoli Theatre, Lily paced back and forth between the two glass-framed posters on either side of the fancy box office. She stopped to read the poster again—Jobyna Jones, Empress of The Blues, Live On Stage Tonight With The Fletcher Henderson Orchestra Featuring Louis Armstrong. She checked her reflection in the poster glass, smoothed her hair, and straightened the slim skirt of her cotton dress. She walked out to the busy street and glanced up and down it for Ruth. Even though the sun hadn’t set, the thousand lights that surrounded the theater’s red, black, and white marquee were lit and chasing each other around the ten-foot-tall letters that spelled out TIVOLI.

  Lily heard the clicking of tap shoes from the side of the building. Ruth appeared around the corner. “Where you been, girl? I’ve been waiting for you. I thought you backed out. Remember, Jobyna told me to not let you get lost.” Ruth wore a black leotard with a brightly colored scarf tied around her hips. She eyed Lily’s dress and shoes. “We have to get you in some rehearsal clothes. Come on, girl. Performers don’t go in the public entrance. The stage door is around here.”