Diary of a Wildflower (23 page)

“Sounds
like a good idea.”

“I
want to know what you think,” he says.  “I need a woman’s perspective.”

“Oh,
Brody, you know much more about houses than I ever will.  I’m accustomed
to the most humble, and I’ve seen only one of the grandest, which is yours.”

“I
will not live in that house,” he says emphatically.

“Why
not?  It’s a wonderful house.”

“For
one thing, I don’t want to maintain it, and for another, I don’t want
servants.  And I definitely don’t want to be known as the party
king.  That ballroom is so ostentatious, it’s embarrassing.”

“So
you’re thinking of living in a bungalow?” I ask.

“Just
thinking of it.”

“What
will your mother say about that?”

“Well,
let’s see now.  Changing my course of study from law to literature sent
her to bed for nearly a week,” he says.  “So if I just mention that I’m
even thinking of living in a bungalow we won’t see her for a month.”

The
bungalow is not fancy at all, but it’s brand new, neat, small and perfectly
adorable.  It’s built near a fairly decent road, and surrounded by
shrubbery and a green lawn.  There are lots of trees close enough to
spread shade around, a spacious back yard, and a carport attached to one side
of the house.  The front porch is large enough to hold a love seat. 
A couple could sit here in the evenings and call to the neighbors as they pass
by.  On the back porch there is room for a table where you could have a
private breakfast on warm mornings. 

Brody
unlocks the front door with a key he has acquired from the seller.  The
living room is large enough that two people could dance in it without bumping
into things.  There’s a double window overlooking the front lawn.  To
the left there’s a modern kitchen with a stone floor, an electric stove, a sink
with running hot and cold water, a Frigidaire, and a dining area.  A girl
would have fun here preparing meals for her love.  Down a short hallway
there are two bedrooms with a lovely white tile bathroom between them. 
The tub is large enough for two.

Brody
watches me as I look into cabinets and closets.  “Your eyes are shining.”

“I
love it,” I say.  “But what do I know?”

“You
know as much as anybody,” he says.“Isn’t it perfect for a small family? 
So snug and comfy.”

Of
course the small family I see living in this house is Brody and me, but I keep
that daydream to myself.  Out loud I say,  “You’ll have no trouble
selling this one.  Are they all alike?”

“Not
exactly, but close.  I’ve seen three of them.”

“I
would buy one,” I say, “if I could.”

“Do
you think you’d be happy in a house like this?” he says.

“Oh,
yes.”  For some reason I think of Mr. Harmon asking me if I wanted to go
to college, as if I had that choice. 
“It’s just one dream too many,”
I
had said to him.  And now I say it to Brody.  “It’s just one dream
too many.”

Brody
gives me a strange look.  It reminds me of the way Dixie cocks her head to
one side as she eyes me.

“What
about you, Brody?  Would you be happy in a house like this?”

“Why
not?  Do you think I’m too spoiled to appreciate a simple home?”

“No. 
You’re not spoiled at all.”  Then it just slips out.  “But what about
Angel?”

His
face immediately grows dark, and I bite my tongue.

“Sorry,”
I mumble, and walk to the front window where I look out at the green
lawn.  Here is a lovely view of rolling pastures.

“We’re
in the country,” Brody says, as he comes up behind me, “but we’re only a few
miles from the university.  It’s predicted that this area will explode in
growth during the coming years.  I am thinking of buying about a thousand
acres of land right around here.”

“Sounds
like a wise investment,” I say.

“I
think so.  I had another one of my dreams.”

“Oh? 
Tell me.”

“I
was running around frantically trying to hide my money because this giant black
monster was coming to get it.  I stuffed it in my mattress.  I hid it
in the attic.  I pushed it under the floor boards.  I buried it in
the ground.  And that’s when I felt it was safe – in the earth, in the
land.

“When
I woke up, I remembered something Grandfather said to me shortly before he
suffered the stroke.  He told me he no longer had faith in the stock
market.  He advised me to invest my inheritance in something solid, in the
event the big money institutions go bust.”

We
stand side by side looking at the view.

“The
land will always be here,” he says.

We
are silent, and I can hear him breathing.  It would be a perfect time to
get back to our interrupted kiss on the terrace, but I think I have spoiled the
moment by speaking of Angel.

“Lorelei, 
I have a serious problem to solve,” he says.

“Is
there anything I can do?” I ask.

“No,
I have to work it out for myself, and I can’t tell you about it.  You can
help just by being your usual sweet self.”

As
we walk around the yard, he grows quieter.  Finally he looks at his watch
and says, “I have to go.  My father…”

He
doesn’t finish that thought.  We climb back into the LaSalle and head
toward home.

“I’ve
finished reading
The Bridge of San Luis Rey,
” I say to him, trying to
elevate the mood.  “Shall we discuss it?”

We
have a brief conversation about the book and discover that neither of us really
loved it, but we agree on its merits.

“What’s
next?” I ask.  “I’m all out of reading material.”

“I
suggest two books,” he says.  “
My Antonia 
by Willa Cather –
you’ll love it – and
The Sun Also Rises
by Ernest Hemingway.  It’s
a favorite of mine.”

“Will
you put them in my mailbox?” I ask.

“No,
I want you to feel free to go into the library whenever you feel like it.”

“Are
you sure it’s okay?”

“Yes. 
If anybody inquires, you can tell them I gave you permission.”

Monday, July 1
^st
, 1929

The
other maids and I are usually making jokes when we come together at the end of
the day, but tonight in Tootsie’s room, nobody is laughing.  We quietly
position ourselves on her bed, and accept the Bit-O-Honey candies she has
brought us from town.

“You
shouldn’t have spent money on us today,” Jenny says.  “But thank you.”

“We
were thinking about you,” Marie says as she places a hand on Tootsie’s
arm.  “I was saying a little prayer.”

“How
did it go?” Ellie asks.  “Did you keep your nerve?”

“Yes,
I did,” she says, and gives us a brave smile.  “I surprised even
myself.  I managed to set aside my feelings for him, and I can’t tell you how
hard that was, but I did it.  I knew I had to be practical, like Marie
said – for the baby.”

“Good
for you,” Jenny says.

“I
told him if he’s not going to marry me, then I want child support,” Tootsie
goes on, “and if he doesn’t pay up, I will see him in court.  His face
went pale, and he accused me of hiring a two-bit lawyer.  I told him no, I
haven’t hired a lawyer yet, but it’s my next move, and he’ll have to pay for
that too.”

“I’m
proud of you, Tootsie!” I say.  “It took guts.”

“Then
what happened?” Ellie asks.

“He
said he’ll have to ask his old man for it.  So I said I don’t care who
gives it to me as long as I get it.”

“Good
for you!” says Marie.

“I
don’t like being mean,” Tootsie says.  “I would rather go away and let him
be, but I have to think of my baby.”

“Did
you tell him how much money you want?” Marie asks.

“Yes. 
Nine thousand clams.”

Our
mouths fall open.

“Holy
moley!” Jenny exclaims.

“Nine
thou….” Ellie says.  “That’s a lot of scratch.”

“How
on earth did you come up with that figure?” I ask.

“I
know my numbers,” Tootsie says confidently, “and I know how much things
cost.  So after I talked to y’all the other night, I went back to my room
and did some ciphering.  Five hundred a year for eighteen years is nine
thousand dollars.  Even with that, I’ll have to go on working, if I can
find another job.”

We
just look at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“What?”
Tootsie says, puzzled at our amusement.  “What?”

“No
wonder he turned white!” Jenny squeals.

“When
you go after a mac, you don’t fool around!” Marie says.

“I
thought you would come in here tonight and tell us you asked him for a couple
of hundred, or something ridiculous like that,” says Ellie.

“What
happened to that meek little girl who said she just hated to ask the man for
money?” I say.

Tootsie
smiles.  “I told him as plain and straight as I could.  I said, ‘I
don’t know about you, but for my part, this baby was conceived in love, and I’m
trying to do the best I can by it.’”

That
shuts us up, as I’m sure it shut him up too.  A nice breeze blows the
curtains at the windows.  It feels like hope drifting in.

“Does
he have that kind of money?” I ask.

“The
family does,” she says.  “They won’t even miss it.”

“When
will you know?” Jenny asks.

“Some
time this week.  He said he dreads telling his father, and I told him I
kinda dread having a baby too, without being married, you know?  But I
can’t back out of it now.”

“If
you don’t get the money, Tootsie, what will you do, really?” Marie asks.

She
doesn’t answer.  But we know Tootsie is not the kind of person to get
pushy.  If he doesn’t deliver,  she will fold her tent like the
Arabs, and as silently steal away.

Tuesday, July 2
^nd
, 1929

At
lunch time I slip down the hallway to the library with
The Bridge of San Luis
Rey
in my hand.  I will have to search for the two books Brody
recommended.  I am very quiet because I feel like an intruder.  As I
put my hand on the doorknob, I hear a muffled conversation from inside the
room.  I withdraw my hand.  I should leave.  I can do this
tomorrow or any time.  I listen for a moment, but I can’t distinguish any
words.  Then suddenly I hear Brody’s voice loud and clear booming above
the others.  He is obviously distraught.

“For
god’s sake, Father, let’s give the girl her nine thousand, and be done with
it!”

His
words ring in my ears and go on ringing and ringing. 
Let’s give the
girl her nine thousand.
 I waste no time getting back to work.

The
maids are meeting in Tootsie’s room again tonight, but I beg off with the
excuse that I have cramps, which is a lie.  I take a bath and go straight
to bed.

It
has to be Roman.  Of course it is.  Brody was speaking for
Roman.  Brody is twenty-one.  I’m pretty sure he has his own
money.  Still….there’s that incident of the man in Tootsie’s room on the
same night Brody arrived home late from Richmond.  How can I stop the
nagging voices in my head?

I
have a serious problem to solve.  I can’t tell you, and I have to work it
out by myself.

That’s
how the rich ones are.  They like to play.  But when the game’s over,
he’s gonna pick the orchid!

Men
like Brody have flings with girls like you all the time.  It doesn’t mean
anything.

Let’s
give the girl her nine thousand, and be done with it!

I
called Eddie Johns a fickle beau for trying to court me when he was Opal’s
boyfriend.  Now here is Brody, a man engaged to be married, playing with
my feelings, and maybe Tootsie’s as well, and who knows how many others?

Friday, July 5
^th
, 1929

The
whole place is like a tomb.  Independence Day passed by almost
unnoticed.  Mrs. Myles has gone to her room, maybe forever.  Mr.
Myles has been angry and gloomy.  I haven’t seen Brody or Roman at
all.  Early this morning Brody and his father left in the LaSalle to drive
to Richmond.  From there Mr. Myles and Mr. Temple are taking a train to
Washington, D.C. for the Hoover event.  Brody will spend the weekend with
Angel and drive back home with his father on Monday.

Tootsie
has not heard if her demands are being met, and she is on pins and needles
waiting.  The other maids are not hopeful for her, but I am.

I
have received letters from Opal and Jewel.  Opal writes that she is
happy.  She is planning for an October baby.  Rose and Vic are
married and living in Granger with his family.  Eddie sends his
love.  Jewel writes that she misses me awfully, Dad is doing strange
things, and Samuel is coughing all the time.  Dr. Wayne is looking after
him.

Oh,
god, Samuel, Samuel.  Please be well.  How I miss you!

I
perform my duties mechanically.  I know it will not be easy to get another
job, but I wonder if I can stay here.  It will become more and more
painful as Brody’s wedding day approaches.

I
am polishing the dining room table when Marie finds me and whispers in my ear,
“Tootsie got her money.”

“Good!”

“She
put in her two-weeks notice,” Marie goes on, “but Mrs. Myles has told her to be
out of here by four o’clock today.”

“Why
would she do that?” I ask, even though I believe I know why.

“There’s
only one reason I can think of,” Marie says.  “Mrs. Myles knows
everything, and one of her sons is involved.”

One
of her sons?  Yes, one of her sons.  Oh, god, Marie doesn’t know
which one it is either.

“Tootsie
is packing her things,” Marie continues, “and Chris is driving her to the train
station soon.  We are taking turns going to her room to tell her
goodbye.  When Jenny gets back, you can go.”

I
find Jill in the servants’ hall tying her apron.  Mrs. Myles has wasted no
time in replacing Tootsie.

“I’m
temporary,” Jill explains, “until Mrs. Myles can find someone permanent. 
I’m sorry to see Tootsie leave.  Did she find another job, or what?”

“I
have no idea,” I lie.  “We are all surprised.”

Later
I am able to slip out of the house and run to Tootsie’s room.  I find her
carefully folding items of clothing and placing them inside a suitcase. 
Her eyes are red and swollen again.

“I’m
going to miss you,” I say as I hug her.  “But I’m glad you got your
money.  It will make your life easier.”

She
clings to me.  “I was called into town to a law office,” she says,
sniffing.  “It was just me and the lawyer in the room, and I was so
intimidated by him.”

“He
sent you to his lawyer?” I say.  “He wasn’t man enough to speak for
himself?”

“Yeah. 
The lawyer delivered the money and made me sign a legal document.  He read
it to me as if I couldn’t read, and explained it to me as if I were a child!”

“I’m
so sorry it ended this way.  I know you loved him.”

“I’ll
get over him,” she says.  “I imagine I’ll even grow to hate him. 
Then I’ll come to realize I am the better person, no matter how much money he
has.  But right now I feel like dirt.”

“What
did he make you sign?” I ask.

“The
lawyer called it a confidentiality agreement.  I have to leave the state
and I must never tell anybody who the father of my child is, or contact him or
his family ever again.”

As
we sit side by side on her bed, I think of the first day I saw her.  She
looked like a pixie in her green uniform and bobbed red hair.  And she was
happy.  Now here she is the saddest little thing in the world, all because
she loved a man.

“Where
are you going?” I ask.

“To
Grandma’s in North Carolina.  We’ll take care of each other.  Most
girls in my situation are not so lucky, and I can understand why some of them
do desperate things.”

I
know I should get back to work now, but I may never see Tootsie again. 
She will leave here and I won’t know for sure if it was Brody or Roman. 
And she has signed a legal paper never to tell anybody.  I am suddenly
panic-stricken.  How can I let her go without knowing?

“Tootsie,”
I say, and I find that my voice is shaky.  “I have to know who the father
is.”

“Why
would you ask me that?” she says crossly.  “You know I can’t tell. 
That paper was legal and binding, and I signed my name to it.  I could
lose everything.”

“It’s
important, Tootsie.  You can trust me, and I have to know.  I
have
to.”

Now
I feel frantic, and she looks at me with a puzzled expression.

“What
are you saying?” she probes.

“I
know it’s one of them,” I say.

“One
of who?”

“The
Myles men.  I have to know which one.  Please?”

“What…what
makes you think it’s one of them?” she asks.

“It
didn’t take much to figure it out.  Marie thinks it too.”

“Lorie,
I took the money and signed the paper only this morning.  I’m not going
back on my word this afternoon.”

“Please,”
I say.  “I’m begging you.”

Now
there is concern on her face.  “What is it?” she says sweetly, and lifts
my chin to look into my eyes.  “What are you
not
saying?”

I
pounce on those words.  “Yes!  That’s it, Tootsie.  You don’t
have to say it either – not who it
is
.  Just tell me who it is
NOT.”

She
stares at me with those pretty blue eyes, wondering, puzzling.

“I
will never, ever breathe a word of who it is NOT,” I say.  “I swear it.”

“Oh,
honey, he will break your heart,” she says softly.

“I
know.”

Tootsie
sighs a deep long sigh.  “Listen,” she says.  “I am going to say two
words, no more, no less – just two words.  Then you must promise never to
speak of this again.”

“I
promise.”

“Not
Brody,” she says very clearly and distinctly, and shakes her head back and
forth at the same time.

I
burst into tears of relief.  “Goodbye, sweet girl,” I sob, then hug her
again and leave the room.

Not
Brody.  Not Brody.  Not Brody.