Obadiah

Two

Cedar Creek,
Delaware
1887

"Now, children, on Monday morning we will go over your vocabulary lists. Please have the first five memorized," Guinevere Klein announced to her students as they packed away their schoolbooks for the day.

"Yes, ma'am," Their voices rang simultaneously, making her smile.

There was something satisfying about teaching youth.

"Teacher Guinevere, my ma and pa want to talk with you," Joseph told her, lingering at his desk.

Guinevere held her face as she longed to grimace.

Joseph's parents were quite a pair.

His mother Annette despised her. His father John couldn't keep his sinful thoughts to himself.

Still, she nodded at the young boy.

It wasn't his fault.

"Of course, dear." She smiled as pleasantly as she could and turned her attention to the blackboard.

She prayed that only Annette would arrive.

The Lord knew how unsettled John left her.

He had no shame, speaking brazenly in the presence of his wife and son.

Unfortunately for Guinevere, it was common for the white men in Cedar Creek to speak to her sexually.

It was no secret that they only viewed her as exotic fanfare. Something to taste for a moment with no promise of a future.

Blessed be the Lord, she now was wise enough to shut down every advance.

But from her own kind, the negro men, they simply couldn't stomach the thought of loving a woman with a white father.

She was ostracized and it never hurt less to hear it.

"Is it a condition?"

She recalled being asked by a handsome negro who sought her hand.

"No, it is not. My mother is negro and my father is a white man."

His face contorted to one of disgust and betrayal.

He stepped away from her as if she were the plague and spat on the dirt.

"You temptress! You lying woman. May you never fool another, daughter of Beelzebub. Tainted wench,"

His words crushed her hopeful heart.

She couldn't choose the man who fathered her.

Guinevere cleared her throat to push away the emotions that threatened to arise from the memory.

That was only one instance.

At twenty-seven, she had grown wise to the truth that the Lord had marked her. No negro man wanted the daughter of a white man, no white man wanted the daughter of a negro woman.

It was settled, and the Lord supplied the desire of her heart.

She'd never marry, but she was still blessed.

"Guinevere,"

A voice sang, making her sigh.

John Kimpton.

She turned around and was met with the man wearing a wolfish grin.

Annette Kimpton stood staunch with daggers in her eyes.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kimpton, Joseph said you wanted to meet," She said politely and sat behind her desk.

John whistled as she sat, making Annette clench her fist.