Diary of a Wildflower (21 page)

“I’m
not very good,” I say to Luke.

He
holds out a hand to me.  “I saw you out there.  I think you’re
copacetic.”

I
place my hand in Luke’s then look at Brody again.  He nods his head at me,
as if to say it’s all right.  So I reluctantly go onto the dance floor
with Luke.  It’s another fox trot, and fairly easy to follow.

“May
I know your first name?” Luke asks.

“Lorelei.”

“Lorelei. 
That’s lovely.  Do you live here in Charlottesville?”

“I
am staying with the Myles.”  It’s not a lie.

“Oh,
I see.  Am I right in assuming that Brody is still engaged to Miss
Temple?”

“Of
course he is,” I say.

“Funny
thing, when I asked Brody that question, he didn’t respond,”  Luke says
and pulls me closer to him.  “Then the two of you really are just
friends?”

“Yes.” 
I pull away from him.

“Would
you think me impertinent if I asked to call on you?”

Again
I hesitate.  He is a gentleman, and a very handsome one at that.  I
look at Brody.  He is watching me with those gentle dark eyes.

“I’m
not sure, sir,” I say to Luke.

“Should
I ask Mr. Myles?” he says.

“Brody? 
Of course not.”

He
smiles.  “I meant Brody’s father.”

“Oh.”

The
music ends, and Luke clutches my arm.  “Please?”

I
look at Brody again.  Yes, he is engaged to be married, and yes, we are
playing charades, but…

“I’m
sorry, sir,” I say to Luke as we walk back to Brody.

“Thank
you, Miss Starr,” Luke says, as he seats me, then turns to Brody.  “And
thank you, sir.”

“Sure
thing,” Brody says.

There
is silence between us again, and this time I don’t know what it means.  We
watch the dancers.  When I sneak a peek at Brody, I find that he is doing
that odd search of my face again.

“What?”
I say.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You
don’t even get it, do you?” he says.

“What
don’t I get?”

“That
they are dazzled by you,” he says.  “All three of them.”

“Who?”
I say.  “Those fellas?”  I gesture toward the table.

“Yes,
those fellas.  Didn’t Luke ask to come calling?”

“There
you go again!” I tease him.  “Being a nosy old lady.”

“I
admit it,” he says.

“You
and Roman too,” I say.

“Roman
again?”

“Yeah. 
Roman was going through my outgoing mail the other day, trying to figure out if
I was sending a love letter.”

“Do
you see a lot of Roman?” he asks.

“No,
I rarely run into him.”

“You
should keep it that way,” he says.  “Still you didn’t answer my question.”

“Which
question is that?”

“You
know perfectly well – Luke.”

“Yes,
he’s a nice fella.”

“So
are you going to let him call?”

I
can see a pulse throbbing in his throat.

“No,
Brody.”

He
pats my hand where it rests on the table.  “Atta girl.”

“Why?”
I ask.  “Is he not reputable?”

“Perfectly
reputable,” he says, “and richer than god.  But I don’t like him.”

I
laugh out loud.  “That doesn’t mean that
I
can’t like him!”

“But
you don’t, do you?”

“Not
as a suitor.”

Brody
seems satisfied with that answer, and we get back to dancing.  More than
anything I want to waltz with him, for then he will hold me close.  But I
surmise, in a place like this, waltzes are not routinely played.  Even
with less romantic dances we can still touch hands without breaking the
rules.  We can still look into each other’s eyes – if only briefly. 
And going back to our table he can place a hand protectively around my waist.

Judy
comes over and says, “The fizz is still on ice.  If you’ve changed your
mind, I can bring you another glass.”

“No,thanks,”
Brody says.  “After we’re gone, take the rest of the bottle and give it to
Luke’s table.”

“That
bunch of saps?” Judy says.

“Yeah,”
Brody says with a mischievous grin.  “Tell them it’s the consolation
prize, and I hope it softens their disappointment.”

“Consolation
prize….softens disappointment,” Judy repeats.  “Will do.”

Then
Brody pays our bill and gives Judy a dollar.  She is impressed.

“Bring
Cinderella here anytime,” she says before she leaves us.

Brody
looks at his watch.  “It’s very late.”

“So
late that Cinderella might turn back into a drudge?” I ask.

He
gives me a sad smile.

“I’m
not complaining,” I add quickly.

He
guides me through the room, carefully avoiding Luke’s table again.  We
slip out the door, up the hallway, through the beaded curtains and into the
Last Supper, where we say goodnight to Fats.  Brody keeps his hand on my
back as we walk up the stairs to the street and to the car.  His touch is
warm.  He opens the door for me and I slide in.  He drives slowly
toward home.  The car is dark and we are no more than a foot away from
each other.  I
could
reach out and run my hand ever-so-gently up
the back of his brown neck.  But that would definitely be cheating.

As
we approach the Myles estate, he says to me, “I enjoy your company,
Lorelei.  You find simple things exciting, and that makes them exciting
for me as well.”

He
stops the car in front of the slave quarters.  He is gripping the steering
wheel and staring straight ahead.

“Thank
you for a wonderful day,” I whisper.

“The
pleasure was all mine,” he whispers also.

I
get out of the car and walk away without looking back.  Dixie is waiting
for me.  I apologize to her for being so late.  I snap on the light
and turn down the coverlet.  Dixie lies on the rug, thinking I am ready to
go to bed.  But not yet, Dixie my girl.  Not quite yet.

I
turn the light off again and sit on the floor by the window.  There I peep
through the crack of the curtain.  In about a minute I see the light come
on in Brody’s room.  He appears at his window and looks out toward the
slave quarters.  He stands there for a long time before closing the
curtain.

I
am reminded of the night I watched the flashlight beam moving down the
mountain.  What was I feeling then for Eddie Johns?  I can’t even
remember, but I know it was nothing compared to this chasm of yearning I feel
now.

Trula
says the prince and princess fell in love.  How far is that to fall? 
I think it is a long way. 

 
Twenty-Two

Friday, June 28
^th
, 1929
        
                                           

I
am part of the welcoming committee when Angel and her mother and father arrive
in a shiny blue Essex sedan.  They are here for Mr. Myles’ birthday party
tonight, and will be staying for the weekend.  Brody stands beside
me.  Where my arm barely touches his, I feel the fine blond hairs stand on
end.  Earlier in the week he left
The Bridge of San Luis Rey
in my
mailbox, but this is the first time I have seen him since our day out
together.  I watch him kiss Angel on the cheek.  Then he kisses Mrs.
Temple’s hand and shakes Mr. Temple’s.

“Lorie,
darling!” Angel greets me.  “I have missed you!  You spoiled me.”

“Welcome
back, Miss Angel,” say I.

Mr.
Myles greets everybody.  He is in a jolly mood, and Mrs. Myles pretends to
be, even though she has been in bed since Monday, until an hour
ago.       

“You
will want to go to your rooms and rest a bit, I’m sure,” she says to the
Temples, “before dinner and the grand event.”

Brett
and Jeff haul in all the suitcases, which are many.  Mrs. Myles
accompanies Mr. and Mrs. Temple to their room.  Brody disappears, and I
don’t see him again until evening, when I catch a glimpse of him in the dining
room where the Temples and the Myles prepare to enjoy a special dinner
together.  Ellie and Tootsie are assisted by Marge and Delia in serving,
so I slip away to have my own meal in the servants’ hall.

The
next time I see him he is entering the ballroom with Roman as the band is
warming up.  This time it’s a jazz band, per Mr. Myles’ request.  He
has also requested his fiftieth birthday party to be a flapper gala, and
everybody has dressed the part.  The women are wearing short flimsy frocks,
strings of long gaudy beads around their necks, headbands or feathers on their
heads, and high heeled shoes.  Even the maids wear beads and no
aprons.  Our uniform dresses are short enough to fit right in.  I am
allowed to let my hair flow freely without a net, and Mrs. Myles has ordered
frilly green head pieces for us instead of the usual maid’s cap.

It’s
the flapper rage to wear hose rolled down below the knee, but this is the one
fad Mrs. Myles decries as tacky.  Some of the guests display turned-down
hose anyway, and Mrs. Myles is gracious enough not to notice.

The
men wear their Oxford bags and striped shirts with loosened ties.  I am
glad to see Brody’s trousers are not quite as baggy as some of the
others.  He looks rakish as always.  Angel, of course, could pass for
a film star in her black flapper dress, and high heels with straps across the
top for easier dancing.  Her head piece sits smartly over her little blond
bob, sporting one black feather with a red tip.  On her right cheek she
has painted a black beauty mark.

Mr.
and Mrs. Myles meet the guests at the ballroom door, while Angel and Brody are
situated at the edge of the dance floor, greeting people and shaking
hands.  I stand a few feet behind them, at an angle which gives me a good
view of Brody.  I watch his face, loving every dip and curve of his
expressions.  Suddenly there is a lull in his duties as greeter, and I
find him looking back at me.  Our eyes lock, and he gives me a radiant
smile.

Before
I can react, Angel is saying to him, “Brody, darling, who is that dapper young
man?”

Brody
looks, and I look.  It’s Luke.  Brody and I glance at each other.

“His
name is Luke Wayne,” Brody says.  “His family and mine have been friends
for years.”

Wayne? 
Could he be related to Dr. Wayne?  I must remember to inquire.  Now
Luke Wayne is coming toward us – not to greet Brody and Angel.  No, he is
looking at me and walking toward
me
.

“Lorelei,”
he says, and takes my hand.  “I hoped I would see you here.”

I
remove my hand from his before he can kiss it.  Brody and Angel are
watching.

“If
you please, sir,” I say to Luke, “I’m on duty.”

“What!”
he says, confused.  “What do you mean?”

I
don’t respond.  Can’t he see I am a maid?  Maybe not – with the beads
and head piece and no apron.

Brody
steps in to save me.  “Lorelei is busy, Luke.”

Now
Luke is definitely confused.  “Busy?  What is this?”

Brody
takes Luke’s arm and pulls him aside where neither Angel nor I can hear what is
being said.  Shortly thereafter understanding crosses Luke’s face, and he
smiles.  He slaps Brody on the back and walks to me again without
acknowledging Angel.

“I’m
sorry if I placed you in an awkward position, Lorelei,” he says in a
whisper.  “I didn’t realize you are in the service of the Myles
family.  But it makes no difference to me.  I would like to call on
you if and when you change your mind.”

At
this point many people have arrived, and are buzzing around us so that I feel
less conspicuous.  Brody and Angel are involved again with welcoming the
partiers, but they both keep glancing at me and Luke.

“May
I have at least one dance with you tonight?” Luke says.

“I
am a maid, sir,” I say, as if that should put the matter to rest.

“I
happen to know,” he says, “that the Myles family will do whatever it takes to
make their guests happy.  I will ask permission.”

“Oh,
please don’t,” I plead with him.  “I would not be comfortable.”

“Why?”
he says with a grin.  “Because you would have to explain to them how you
know me?  Where you met me?  I won’t tell.”

I
feel a bit panicky.  “Please...” I say again.

I
think he finally understands my discomfort.  His demeanor changes, and he
says, “Of course, Lorelei.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Thank
you, Luke.”

“Lor…eee,”
comes Angel’s whine right at my elbow.  “Will you get me a coca-cola
plee..ze?”

I
wonder how long she has been standing there and how much she heard.

“Of
course, Miss Angel,” I say, and hurry away to do my duty.

When
I return, I find that she and Luke have apparently introduced themselves to one
another, and are now engaged in conversation.  I deliver her coca-cola,
then stand respectfully at a distance.  I look for Brody and find him
dancing the first dance of the evening with his beautiful cousin, Gloria
Lynch.  Then Luke leads Angel onto the dance floor.

After
several more dances, when many of his guests are pleasantly tipsy on the
contents of the blue glass, Mr. Myles steps onto the band platform and
announces, “Now it’s time for the IT girl contest.  I ordered it special
for my birthday.”

There
is much buzzing and smiling.  Everybody seems to know what an IT girl
contest is.  Something to do with Clara Bow, no doubt.

“Take
a look at all the lovely single girls in this room,” Mr. Myles goes on, “and
decide which one you think has IT.  You know what IT is, don’t you?”

The
gentlemen look at each other and laugh knowingly.  The ladies smile
indulgently.

“Each
gentleman has been given a scrap of paper and a pencil.  You are to write
– in secret if you please – this is not for ladies’ eyes – write your choice
for the girl who comes closest to the IT of the famous Clara Bow!”

The
people laugh good-naturedly.

“The
winner will have the honor of dancing with the lucky birthday boy – who happens
to be me, of course,” Mr. Myles goes on.  “After that she may dance with
the man of her choice.  And that could be me as well!”

More
laughter follows.  The men begin searching the room for the IT girl. 
The single women are nudged to the center of the floor, and the married women
stand around the edges.

“Look
her over carefully,” Mr. Myles cautions.  “Don’t make a hasty decision.”

The
young women blush and giggle nervously.  But one thing seems obvious to
me, and probably to everybody:  Angel will win.  Who wouldn’t vote
for her?  I glance at Brody and see that he is writing on his paper. 
He folds it up and drops it into a clear punch bowl which his mother is
carrying around.  The other men are also making their decisions.

When
the voting is finished, the band begins to play a low, cool crackling number I
have heard on the radio.  Mr. Myles begins pulling out the ballots, while
Mrs. Myles tallies up the votes.

“Angela
Temple!” he calls out the first vote, and everybody applauds.  “And again,
Angela Temple.”

The
next five are all for Angel.  Even if she were not the most gorgeous girl
in the room, the men would probably vote for her out of deference to their
hosts.  Angel is obviously excited.  She squeezes Brody’s arm, and
smiles up at him.  It appears she will win unanimously.

“Lorelei
Starr!” I hear my name called and I whirl around to face Mr. Myles.

“What!”
I gasp.

Mr.
Myles pauses and seems bewildered.  The guests are turning to each other
and mouthing WHO?  Oh, god, it has to be Luke.  I find his face among
the guests, and sure enough, there he is grinning at me.

Mrs.
Myles comes to me and places an arm around me.  “This is our Lorie. 
Isn’t she the berries?”

I
wish I could disappear.

“It’s
nice to have our
servants
noticed,” Mrs. Myles continues.

The
people say, “Oh, the maid.”

Or
they say, “Isn’t that swell?”

Or,
“Lovely girl.”       

“Continue
with the vote!” Mrs. Myles orders.

Mr.
Myles pulls out the next ballot.  “Angela Temple!”

The
party is back in the swing of things, the dear little maid forgotten, and I
stand there not knowing whether to run and hide, or to be happy.  No, not
happy.  I don’t know why, but I feel deflated again.

The
next dozen votes are for Angel.  Then there is one for cousin Gloria, who
gets a nice round of applause.

“Lorelei
Starr!” Mr. Myles bellows again.

This
time there is silence in the room for a moment, and all eyes turn to me once
more.  I could cry.  Did Luke vote twice?  There comes a burst
of applause and cheers.  Are they making fun of me?  My eyes meet
Brody’s.  He is smiling and clapping.  Did
he
vote for
me?  Then he walks to me and makes everything all right.

“Just
relax and enjoy it, sweetheart,” he whispers.  “They like you.”

I
want to throw my arms around him, give him a kiss and tell him I adore him, but
of course I don’t.  I simply smile.  He walks back to Angel’s
side.  Only then do I notice that she is
not
smiling.  She is
trying to keep a pleasant expression, but I have learned to read her
face.  She is annoyed.

In
the end Angel wins the IT girl contest, of course, but I am the one everybody
congratulates.  They come up to me politely, telling me what a pretty
little thing I am.  They have always been of the opinion that there is too
much class division in this great country.  It’s good to see a working
girl get noticed.  Or some such thing as that.

“I
would have voted for that comely maid,” I overhear one man saying, “if only I
had known that I could.”

“So
would I,” says another.

Then
Brody is by my side again.

“Come
on, Lorelei, it’s a Charleston,” he says, holding out a hand to me.

“Oh,
Brody, I shouldn’t!”

“Why
not?  Angel is dancing with the birthday boy, and Roman is dancing with
Gloria.  So you’re
my
prize.”

“Sure,
go ahead,” the people standing nearby, say to me.

“You
earned it, dear.”

“Dance
with the next master of the house.”

And
so we do the Charleston, Brody and I.  I am immediately so swept away with
the excitement of the moment that I forget who and where I am.  I don’t
care who the IT girl is, or who is watching us or what they are thinking. 
Brody and I flail our arms, kick up our heels, and knock our knees together. 
I twirl my beads like I’ve been doing it all my life, and we laugh so hard we
can hardly breathe.

When
the dance ends I become aware that we have an audience circled around us, and
they clap as we finish, red in the face from our efforts.

“You’re
a natural dancer,” Brody compliments me, as our fans make a path for us. 
“You simply absorb the music, and let it move you.”

“I
have a good teach…”

I
stop in mid-word because Angel is suddenly in front of me, smiling of course.

“Lor…eee,”
she coos.  “I was looking for you.  I need you.”

Only
then do I realize that Brody and I are holding hands.  I drop his hand and
fall back to Earth.  “Of course, Miss Angel.  What can I do for you?”

“I
need a minor adjustment, darling,” she says, still smiling.  She leans
over and whispers in my ear, “I think my brassiere has busted.”