queen on her own color ♡ JFK

p.16 ivory

November 1942
Pascagoula, Mississippi

It wasn't a celebration, but it started to feel like one once they moved on to the venue.

It was so over the top. Trying hard to be a Greek renaissance building worthy of being compared to the Parthenon. Imitation vases and sculptures attempted to further that illusion.

The church service had been solemn, an acknowledgment of everything that was going on in the world. Now everyone was chatting, smiling, eating, and laughing.

It puzzled Diana. To her, it was complete incongruity. But maybe the problem laid within her. Sometimes she took things too seriously.

"Hey," said a deep and alluring voice.

It belonged to a young man who was approaching one of the tables—the one that was separated from the other two and had less amount and variety of food and refreshments.

Diana was standing in front of it, and was in the young man's way but she remained transfixed as he worked his way around her to reach for something on the table.

"Hi," she replied in a daze.

She recognized him. Diana had been looking at him during the whole service even despite the barrier that had been put in place between them. He'd turned his head in her direction a couple of times, and she hoped he hadn't noticed her stare.

"Sorry, just wanted to grab a Dr Pepper."

"That's fine." She looked at his impeccable uniform. The name tag on his chest read CLARK. "Are you under my daddy's command?"

He had the most powerful face, the strongest features she'd ever seen in a man, especially a young one like him. He held his head high, and walked with the same discipline as her dad. It was probably him who taught him that saunter.

"Is Captain Southgate your father?"

"Mm-hmm," the young girl confirmed before saying her name. "Diana Dolores Judith Southgate."

"Lowell. Lowell Milton Clark." His right hand twitched, but remained at his side, so Diana offered hers. Their skins made a stark but harmonious contrast while their hands joined amicably. "Well, I serve in the Negro branch, if that ain't obvious," he said and pointed at his face, dark as the moonless night. "but yes. We all answer to him."

"Do you live on base?" Diana asked, her feet leading her away from the banquet and him along with her.

Concentrated on his drink and on the conversation, Lowell didn't realize when they'd began to drift away from the ballroom, but something compelled him to seek an escape from the scenery.

"Not anymore. I got an apartment here, it's right next to the naval station. I stay at my parents' when I'm in Jackson, though."

Engrossed in each other, they soon exited the premises, and found themselves going down the stone steps on the back of the building. A meticulously planned garden stretched out before them. Paths of pale stone cut through hedges and rows of cipreses.

"Whereabouts in Jackson?"

The lamps shone orange on them both, evening out the tone of their complexions.

"By the edge, next to Pearl River."

Diana grinned.

"Oh, what a neat coincidence in the names; my house is between Pascagoula Street and Pearl Street."

"Neat coincidence, indeed."

Lowell smiled at her enthusiasm over it. That such a simple thing managed to bring her joy spoke fondly about her character. He didn't know many women like that.