Galveston (70 page)

“I did better than that. I'd received a letter from Trinity, offering me this job, just before the birth. It was still on my desk unanswered. I'd been mulling over it, disconsolate that I was to be kept by Serena from realizing my greatest dream. For how could I take her back there? What was I to do with them both, once the baby was born? It seemed ghastly unfair. I kept reading the letter over and over, was reading it, I think, when I heard Serena whimper with the first pains of childbirth.”

“Did she suffer very much?” I asked softly.

“Of course she did. Women suffer with childbirth, don't they? Look, all was done. She just couldn't take it, that's all.”

“Then?” said James.

“After she died and we buried her up there, I answered the letter to Trinity, in the affirmative. Then I wrote to a home for orphans here in Galveston, and asked them to take the child—you. They were very nice about it, and I paid transportation for them to bring you here when you were old enough to travel. Of course, I had to go along and fill my new position, else I would have lost it. Until then, a lady at the church where I played in Ohio took care of you. She was the only one up there we confided in except—”

“Except who?” I asked, with an odd instinct for what was coming.

“The Fraziers. Mr. Frazier and my father worked together at Standard. The two couples were good friends by the time Serena and I got to Ohio. In fact, my parents got the Fraziers going to the Episcopal church.

“Anyway, they wouldn't have known anything of the story, except that once when Mrs. Frazier was visiting at our house, and had gone upstairs to the bathroom, she saw Serena just making the corner on the way to her room. By that time the pregnancy was obvious. My mother told Mrs. Frazier everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything that was known. Mrs. Frazier herself was pregnant at the time, and her child was born shortly after you. Let me see, I came on down in May of 1900, and the Galveston home brought Willa down in about July, I think. They notified me they were transporting you here.

“Then in the following year, sometime in the fall of 1901, I got a letter from my mother that the Fraziers' child had died of some strange liver ailment unknown to science, and they were considering moving here so Mr. Frazier could begin his own oil business. They remembered about Serena and her child, and wanted to try and adopt you when they arrived here. I sent them all the information I had, and they wrote to the home, and eventually adopted you.”

“Did they name me?”

“No, your real mother named you, Willa Katherine Cruz. I don't think she ever chose a boy's name … some foolishness about her intuition telling her she was going to have a girl.”

“I see. Did you ever come to see me?”

“No. You can understand that I wanted to put it all out of my mind.”

“I was here in Galveston, then, during the 1900 storm?”

“Yes.”

“Did you check on her then?” James asked.

“No, I read in the papers that the home, which was near downtown Galveston, was not destroyed, none of the kids or the staff were hurt. I remember reading they had water up to the top floor and had to move everything up to safety, and in the paper a staff member was quoted as saying, ‘We got our feet wet, but, Thank God, that's about all.'”

I looked at James in sudden realization. “The bag. It must have been on the floor somewhere, that would explain the bottom deteriorating.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Anyway,” Nick continued, “I had my own worries. Do you realize how much damage Trinity suffered? I was there from the time the weather turned bad till the thing was over. My own apartment was destroyed. We salvaged what we could at the church, but … Anyway, you can see that I did right by you, Willa. Certainly, I did more than could have been expected under the circumstances.”

I could read the pleading in his eyes. “I'll certainly give you credit for that,” I said, and thought, What you were really trying to do was to buy my mother's affections. Then, finding they weren't up for sale, you had no more regard for her. I looked across at James, and knew his thoughts followed with my own.

“Tell you what, Nick,” I said. “I want to repay you for everything you did—”

“Oh no, that's not necessary at this point.”

“Yes. All the money you spent on transportation, her boarding at your parents' home all those months, the food, and so forth. Would you try and figure out what would be fair? I'll contact you within a few days for your answer, and see you are paid.”

“But, it's really—”

“I insist.”

“Very well. There was quite a bit, if you want to know. I guess there's no reason why I shouldn't receive something in return.”

“You're very deserving,” I said, and he cleared his throat and took a sip of water.

“Well, from what I understand the Frazier oil interests made it possible for you to grow up in luxury, all right. You certainly had it softer than I ever did.”

“That's right. I only wish they would have told me what they knew. It would have saved all of us so many years of torment if they had just told the truth.”

“The truth? That your real mother was an easy woman who took up with some band player, carried on with him and got herself pregnant? Humph. Looks to me like they spared you a lot of grief.”

“Yes, I suppose that's the way they looked at it,” I told him, and thought then of the day I'd told Mother I planned to marry Rodney Younger. She'd inferred I might be expecting his child. I guess she always wondered if I'd inherited a bad streak from my real mother.

“Was it my adoptive parents who swore you to secrecy?”

“Actually, it was Mrs. Frazier. She was only trying to protect you. Anyone would have done the same in her place.

“Oh, by the way, something else just came to mind. You seem convinced your mother died alone and bereft, regardless of what I did for her. But she wasn't so alone, kept an admirer along the way from somewhere.”

“Who?”

“I don't know. Someone kept flowers on her grave from the time she died, at least until I left there. I never found out who it was, but she did talk with various kids around the neighborhood—from her upstairs window, you know—delivery boys, kids selling things, so forth. A good many of the neighborhood boys would speak to her as they passed below, and often stop to chat. I'm sure it was one of them that put the flowers on her grave.”

“What's the name of the cemetery where she's buried?”

“Cleveland Memorial, just outside of town.”

“What kind of marker was put up for her?”

“Marker? Look here, now, I'm not made of money like you, Willa. I did have a little plate with her name and dates of birth and death written on it. But it was all I could afford.”

“I'm not holding it against you, Nick, I just want to know. Be sure to add that expense to your statement,” I said, my mind leaping ahead to the next train ride I'd be taking. I must see her grave, and must have it marked with an appropriate stone, and I must do it alone …

“That's all I know,” Nick said now. “I'd best be getting back to the church to close up. It's getting too late to practice any more.”

“By the way,” said James, “Serena kept a diary that summer, yet we didn't find it in her carpetbag. Would you know—?”

“No, I never saw a diary, didn't know she kept one—not that she'd have told me about it.”

“I see.”

“Sorry we kept you from your work,” I said. “I'll contact you within a few days about those expenses.”

“Yes, I'll have something ready for you. And it's all right about the practice time. It's just that one must take the utmost care all the time to be at his best. There is always someone around only too ready to win the position of organist for himself.”

“Yes, one couldn't afford to be toppled at the pinnacle of his career,” James said, and I think the sarcasm managed to register with Nick. He made no reply and didn't look my way again, but pulled on his coat, set his hat acock on his head, and strolled out of the diner as though he'd just finished a cup of coffee on a regular day.

I rose from my chair. “Wait up a moment,” James said. “Let's talk, all right?”

“Sure. And I'm suddenly famished. Could we order a sandwich?”

He ordered for both of us, then said, “You look different, as though you'd just had a weight lifted from your shoulders.”

“In a way, that expresses my feelings just now. The puzzle is complete. I only regret Mother wasn't alive. I'd hoped against hope.”

“Yes. If she had been, though, and had never tried to find you or contact you, it would have proven her to be less a person than you had imagined, right?”

“I suppose.”

“What will you do now?”

“Heaven only knows. I've left an intolerable mess in Houston. It's going to be damned hard facing up to it.”

“But you're determined to, aren't you?”

“I guess I always knew I would, sooner or later.”

“You know, we always have openings at the school. You could go back with me, be a librarian, something, a clerk in the office. Nothing I'd love better than to think we could be close to each other after all these years.”

I paused a moment, full of gratitude, almost wishing I could take him up on his offer … live in the world of isolation and simple pleasures which seemed to make him so content. Yet I knew even then it wouldn't work for me. “It's tempting, but if I can put the pieces together again, I've got a life in Houston,” I said. “To go home with you would be to go on running. I can't do that forever, can I?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Will you be going back right away?”

“I may meander around here for a couple of days, see a few places, call forth a few memories. I may even look up old Tommy Driscoll. Wonder if he's here.”

“Let me warn you, you aren't going to find many things the same as you left them. Avenue L is a street full of houses built since the storm. Nothing of the old days exists there any longer.”

“There might be something—a feeling, a mood. Are you anxious to be gone? Want to browse with me, stay the night or something, before going back?”

“No, I have no memories here. Odd, isn't it? My past surrounds me here, yet my memory is like a blank chalkboard.”

“Well, then, we'll go to the station and see about getting you on a train.”

As we left the diner, it was hard to tell whether the dark was falling so swiftly, or the sky was readying itself for snow. “Looks like snow, doesn't it?” said James. “Unusual for down here.”

“It's been an unusual day—week.”

He looked across at me then, and put an arm around my shoulder. It was the first time I had ever been touched by a member of my family, and it seemed an easy, natural gesture. We walked that way, back to the car, and when we got in I said, “You know, for the first time in my life I feel like a whole person, not two people dangling from both ends, but a whole human being.”

“Human beings are forgiving creatures,” he said, “or should be. You won't hold anything against the Fraziers for not telling the truth, will you? I think Nick was right on that point. Your mother meant only to spare you. Her intentions were well founded, if a little misguided.”

“Yes, she, like everyone else, was a victim of her era, I guess. Poor Mother.”

“And your father?”

“I believe he would have told me long ago, had she let him.”

“Probably. Men are generally more flexible on that subject, except for Nick Weaver.…”

It is but a short drive between Trinity Church and Union Depot, and we soon pulled up near the front entrance to say our good-bys. “Here, let me write down my name and address at the school, in case you ever need me.”

“As you did so long ago—for my mother?”

He laughed. “Yes, I guess so. Some things never change.”

“And to play the game of ‘what if' again, what if you hadn't been the efficient type you are, and hadn't thought to give my mother those addresses?”

“Then the last few days would never have happened. I'd still be tormented by guilt, and you'd be hounded by unanswered questions.… Here it is.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Here's your picture.”

He took it from me, and gave it a long look, as though he'd have it stamped on his memory, then said, “It really should be yours, not mine, for she would have wanted you to have it.”

“But it's all you have of her.”

“And I'll know it's in your safekeeping in case I ever want to look at it again. Let's just say we'll share it. And by the way, be sure to send me your address when you do settle down. I'll be anxious to hear how things turn out.”

“I've a feeling I'll know pretty soon, one way or another.”

“I'm glad. It's a good feeling, having some idea where you're going.”

When the big Packard had disappeared around the corner, I thought of James, reading his books on snowy nights, and wondered if the students and teachers would continue to be his only companions. Or, knowing now that he had not let my mother down after all, would he trust himself to a closer, more enduring relationship? I hoped he would. He had so much to give.

In the depot I went directly to the newspaper stand for a Houston
Post
. Christmas Day wouldn't be big for real estate ads, but I was suddenly curious as to whether Rodney had put the Heights house up for sale. If he had, his mind might not be open to reconciliation, in case I decided to try.…

It wasn't in there, and I only regretted it proved so little. He probably wouldn't run a large ad on the Heights house every day, only on Sundays. A bit edgy now without really knowing why, I folded the paper and visited the ticket agent, then went to the phone and called home.