Diary of a Wildflower (5 page)

Nell
manages a scared smile for me and Roxie as she goes out the door.  Luther
is going to haul her down the mountain on the flat bed wagon with Barney
pulling.  In Deep Bottom they are to meet a strange man and woman who will
drive Nell in an automobile to Granger.  There they will put her on a
train to Roanoke all by herself.  We have been assured that somebody will
meet her at the other end of her trip.

When
Luther comes home, I ask him if Nell was upset being left with strangers.

“What
do you think?” Luther answers me in a grouchy voice, exactly like Dad’s. 
“Yeah, she was upset.  She cried and begged me to bring her back home.”

He
unloads supplies he has brought from Call’s, and doesn’t say another word about
it.

At
nightfall, when I lie down in bed beside Jewel, I see that last smile of Nell’s
before she left us.  I see it over and over again.  I know she is
probably safe at the sanitorium by this time, but she must be terrified out
there alone in the world with none of her family near for the first time in her
life.  I hear Roxie tossing in the other bed all night.

Samuel
gone.  Trula gone.  Nell gone.  How did we get so scattered to
the wind?

April, 1921

At
first we get heart-wrenching letters from Nell: 
Please don’t make me
stay here.  I hate this place.  They make me sleep outside.  I
want to go home.  I miss the mountains.  Please come and get me.

Roxie
and I write encouraging things back to her: 
Don’t give up.  Do
everything the doctors say.  It won’t be long.  You’ll come home to
us.  We love you.

More
hopeful letters follow: 
I feel better.  I have a friend. 
Her name is Helen.  We’re the same age.  We have a sleeping porch all
to ourselves where we can talk.  The sleeping porch is for cleaning out our
lungs in the night air.

Then
her tone turns almost happy. 
The food is good.  We have socials
on Saturday night.  They are lots of fun.  Me and Helen go
together.  We play games.  We laugh.  We sing.  Singing
strengthens the lungs.

May, 1921

Aunt
Clara who is married to Uncle Artemis, tells Mommie that cousin Pearl told her
that Mack and Trula came back from wherever they went off to, and Trula’s belly
is big.  Mack has let a house for Trula over at the mouth of Gordy’s
Branch, between Deep Bottom and Skylark, and he has gone back to live with his
wife and kids.  At least he lives with them part time and with Trula part
time.

Mommie
does not repeat this news to Dad, but I hear her telling Luther.

Luther
says, “I don’t care one way or the other.  Trula has shamed the family,
and she’s no longer my sister.”

Trula
is only fourteen months older than Luther, and she never did mother him like
she did me.  I know he would not talk that way if he had the memories I have
of Trula – of how she carried me out of the frozen forest, plaited my hair in
pigtails for school, told me fairy tales, gave up her orange to Grandpa so I
didn’t have to give him mine, and how she helped Mommie bring Daniel into the
world.  I know these and a million other memories will go on living
somewhere even after my body becomes an empty shell.

June, 1921

Mommie
is going to have another baby.  She’s not sure when.  Her belly is
starting to bulge, but her arms and legs are still like twigs.  She does
not feel like lifting a finger to do anything.  Roxie, Jewel and I carry
food to her and do all the work and take care of Daniel.

Dad
has brought home a new dog.  He calls him Mutt.  It’s the first dog
we’ve had since Dixie, and I don’t go near him.  I won’t even feed
him.  I make Jewel do it.  I don’t want to love him.

Our
meanest mule, Barney, is getting old and slow.  Back in the early spring
the younger mule Abe had to do all the plowing without Barney’s help, but he
got the job done.  Then Roxie and I had to stay out of school for a few
days to help Dad and Luther with the planting.  It’s hard work planting
and hoeing and weeding.  Your palms get grimy and rough like a boy’s.

The
things we canned last summer are nearly gone, but we are getting spring lettuce
now, and tiny cucumbers and green onions.  We mix them up as a salad and
put strips of fatback in it.  It is good to eat with soup beans.  I
pick the fatback out of my salad and give it to Jewel.  She’s so
tiny.  She will be six in August, and going to school in the fall. 
I’m afraid she’s not ready for it.  She spends all her time alone talking
to imaginary friends.  She tells me their names are Randal, Doris and
Willa, names I’ve never heard before.  If I don’t know people with those
names, how could she?  She draws pictures on used school paper that Roxie
and I save for her.  For a five-year-old she is pretty good.  I study
her pictures and look at her sad, perfect little face and wonder what is going
on in there behind those Starr blue eyes.

September, 1921

It’s
just me and Charles and Jewel going to school this year, and now I am in charge
of taking the eggs to Call’s and looking after the school supply money. 
I’m all the way up to the fifth grade, nearly grown up.  Miss Mays is my teacher
again because she has moved up to teach the top four grades.

I
can’t remember now why I was worried that Jewel might not be ready for
school.  It seems to be exactly what she needs.  She laughs and talks
more, and seems happier.  Her teacher, Mrs. Ratliff, calls me aside at
recess and asks me if I taught Jewel to read.

“Jewel
can’t
read!” I say back.

“She
certainly can.  I’ve never seen the beat,” Mrs. Ratliff says.  “If
she were better with numbers, I’d move her right on up to second grade.”

“Why
didn’t you tell me you could read, Jewel?” I say to her later.

She
shrugs her shoulders.  “You didn’t ask me.”

“When
did you learn?”

“I
could always read.”

“But
who taught you?”

“Doris.”

********************

When
we go to Call’s now we don’t see hide nor hair of Mack.  Seems like he
always has a reason to be someplace else.  We hear from gossip that Trula
had a little boy the end of July, and named him Ford.  I have a suspicion
it’s for the Ford automobile that Mack and Trula were riding in when they fell
in love.  I want to see that baby so bad, but I don’t dare ask Dad.

I
write a secret letter to Trula on a piece of school paper and take three cents
from the egg money to buy an envelope and a stamp at the post office in the
store.  I put Trula Starr, Gordy’s Branch, Virginia on the envelope. 
Next time I check the mail I see that my letter to Trula has come back to
me.  I ask Mrs. Call why my letter was returned.

“That
letter never went nowhere!” she answers in a loud, hateful voice.  “It’s been
right there in your mail box since you left it.”

“Why…why
didn’t you mail it?” I ask her.  “I put a stamp on it.”

“Cause
there’s no post office at Gordy’s Branch, you silly girl!  Don’t you
Starrs know nothin’?”

Besides
Charles and Jewel there are four other people in the store, and they stop what
they’re doing to listen.  I stand there with all these eyes on me feeling
like the dumbest person in

 the world.  No, I didn’t know there was no post
office at Gordy’s Branch, but does she have to be so mean about it?  I
want to ask her where is the closest post office to Trula.  It’s her job
to tell people things like that.  But I’m afraid to open my mouth
again.  Besides, she wouldn’t say.  She hates Trula and she hates me.

“And
another thing,” Mrs. Call says, poking her long, thin nose into the air, “we
don’t need your eggs no more.”

“Ethel!”
Mr. Call says her name, like he’s put out with her.  “You don’t have to do
that.”

“Yes,
I do have to do that!” she hollers.

           
“Why?” I ask her, even though I know the why of it is pretty plain.

“We’ve
found another supplier,” Mrs. Call says, and turns her back to me.

Somebody
in the store giggles.

Mr.
Call is looking at me with something like pity, but then he turns away too and pretends
to be busy.  The memory of my first trip to this store flashes into my
head.  I was a little bitty girl, and Mr. Call gave me a red ribbon for my
hair.

Who
are these little barefooted gals?

Without
another word, Charles, Jewel and I go outside.  The Calls’ house is at the
back of the store, and behind the house is a clothes line, where a big washing
has been hung out to dry.  At sight of it, Charles darts away from me and
Jewel, goes to the string of clothes, yanks a big pair of old-timey bloomers from
the line, and stomps them into the ground.  Instead of fussing, I act like
I don’t see a thing.

I
dread breaking the news to Dad that Mrs. Call does not want our eggs
anymore.  When I finally do it, he gets mad like I knew he would, and
almost blames Trula, but he stops the words just in time.  He will not
forget his vow to never mention her name again.

He
sits thinking for awhile, then says, “We don’t need Calls’ dadblamed money,
Lorie.  Now we got too many layin’ hens, we’ll sell us a chicken now and
then.  Will that take care of your school stuff?”

I
nod my head, thinking what a relief it is having a grown-up for a change solve
a problem for me.

October, 1921

When
Mommie goes into labor, things look real bad for her.  Aunt Sue finally
convinces Dad to send for a doctor.  Dr. Wayne is new to the hills, and a
very handsome man.  He arrives late in the evening on a fine black horse
named Raven that makes Luther and Charles and Daniel giddy.  They feed
Raven, pamper him, rub him down, and put him up in the barn like they are
tucking in a royal baby.

Clint
Starr is born at four a.m., and the doctor says all he can do for Mommie now is
to give her pain medicine to make her last hours easier.  At nine a.m. he
calls Dad and Roxie, Jewel and me up into the girls’ sleeping loft where he is
with Mommie and the baby.  Aunt Sue is there too.  The boys are
playing with the horse and we let them be.

Dad
sits on the side of the bed and takes Mommie’s hand.  Roxie asks her if
she needs anything, but she does not answer.  I know Mommie is only
thirty-eight years old, but when I look at her hands and face and hair, I think
she could be an old, old woman.  She turns her head on her favorite pillow
case, the one with the ocean waves on a far off shore, and looks at the open
window where the golden maple leaves are floating on the breeze under a perfect
blue October sky.

“I’m
glad it’s a boy,” she says and closes her eyes.  Then her face goes soft
and smooth like somebody has ironed all the wrinkles out.

“She’s
gone,” Dr. Wayne says, and Roxie begins to bawl.

Luther
goes down to Call’s and sends a telegram to Samuel and a letter to Nell. 
Of course Nell will not be allowed to come to the funeral.  He also sends
a letter to Mommie’s people over at Stormy Ridge.

I
beg Dad to let us notify Trula, and he roars.  “NO!  And she is not
welcome at the burial.”

The
next day Samuel comes home, all broken up.  Dad also cries, and my sisters
and brothers cry, and my aunts and uncles and cousins cry, but I don’t cry.

We
bury Mommie out there on the knob where Grandpa Wallace and all the other
Starrs from way back are buried, with their names scratched on the moldy
stones.  Mommie’s parents died when she was a girl, but her sisters and
brothers and cousins have come from Stormy Ridge.  They stand apart from
us and whisper to each other.  I have not seen them many times.  I
barely know their names.

I
stand with my arm around Samuel as the dirt is shoveled into the hole.  I
gaze out at the place where the sky touches a distant mountain top, and try to
remember a time when Mommie hugged and kissed me.  Maybe she did it when I
was a little baby, but I don’t recall.  She never had time for me.

You
are always in my way.

It
begins to rain.  The preacher rattles on, and I want to tell him to shut
up.

As
we are leaving the graveyard I see Trula standing down the hill holding her
little baby in her arms.  I start to run to her, but Roxie and Samuel grab
me.

“No,
Lorie.”

“Dad
won’t stand for it.”

So
we have to pretend she is not there.  And my body has to go with the rest
of the family back to the house while my heart goes with Trula and Ford in the
rain down to the holler where I hope Mack is waiting for them.

November, 1921

Roxie
takes charge of baby Clint, just as she has already done with Daniel.  I
can see that it’s hard on her.  She is fourteen, and I am reminded of
Trula at that age when she took care of us.  It’s no wonder she was glad
to get away at the first chance.  Being Mack’s part time woman is better
than what she had here.

I
walk home from school as fast as I can to help Roxie.  Poor little Jewel
struggles to keep up, and I threaten to leave her behind.  Then I remember
another day when I was the little one unable to walk as fast as the
others.  I slow down and take Jewel’s hand.

On
the way up Gospel Road we see some of our classmates playing in their yards or
in somebody else’s yard.  I tell Jewel and Charles that we will do that
one day after school.  We will stop and play with our friends and
cousins.  Jewel wants to know when can we do that?  But I can’t say
when.

********************

Dad
gets up on a cold clear Saturday morning and tells us he has business down the
mountain, and he will be back in one week.  Luther is to be in charge and
we have to mind him or else.  He dusts off his old black overcoat and
Sunday hat, and puts them on.  About the only time he ever goes off the
mountain is to church now and then, or to sell his precious calves at the
livestock auctions.  We have never known him to stay gone overnight. 
Now here he is all gussied up and telling us he will be gone for a week, and he
won’t say where he’s going to.  We are so puzzled, we just look at each
other.

“Well,
all right then,” Luther says to Dad.  “I’ll take care of things here.”

That
almost makes me laugh out loud.  Luther is sixteen now, and has a
sweetheart in Deep Bottom.  Her name is Sally Watkins.  I know very
well he will be down at her place more than he will be at home while Dad is
gone.

So
Charles, Jewel and I go to school while Roxie looks after Daniel and Clint, and
we don’t even miss Dad and Luther.  In one week Dad comes home like he
said  he would.  And hanging onto his arm is a short red-headed fat
woman grinning to beat all.

“I
want y’all to meet Beatrice,” Dad says to us.  “She’s my little woman,
your new  mommie.  You can call her Bea.  We tied the knot
today.”

“I
been dyin to meet y’all,” Bea says.  “Your daddy told me all about you.”

“What’s
for supper?” Dad says.  “Something good I hope?”

Roxie
just nods her head and burps Clint on her shoulder, all the while staring at
Bea.

“Ain’t
my sweet Rox the prettiest thang you ever seen?” Dad says to his little woman
as he nudges Roxie forward.

“She’s
a doll,” Bea says and pinches Roxie’s cheek.  Then she turns to me. 
“And this one too.”  She touches my hair.  “One dark and one
fair.  I’ll tell you what’s the truth, Willy, we’ll have to lock these
gals up when they’re a bit older.”

I
can’t think of one thing to say to Dad or to Bea.  It almost feels like
they are playing a big joke on us, and in a minute one of them is going to bust
out laughing and tell us they sure had us fooled, didn’t they?  And they
wished they had a picture of the expressions on our faces!  But that does
not happen.  Bea makes herself at home by settling her round body into the
best chair.  Dad hangs up his hat and coat, and sits on the bed to take
off his boots.

Roxie
hands Clint to Jewel, then goes into the kitchen with me to finish getting
supper on the table.  We stand by the cooking stove for a minute and look
at each other.

“So
she’s the reason for the mystery trip,” Roxie whispers.

“Wonder
how long he’s known her?” I whisper back.

“When
did he even have a chance to meet a woman?”

Good
questions.  We have no answers.

Supper
is fried pork, sour kraut, boiled potatoes and bread pudding with
molasses.  Bea has a healthy appetite.  Roxie, Luther, Charles,
Jewel, Daniel and I eat in silence while Dad and Bea carry on together like a
couple of kids.  This is a new Dad we are seeing.  Oh, sure he has
always had his moments of picking at us and joking around.  But it’s not
his usual mood.

Roxie
has Clint in a cradle beside her at the table.  She rocks it with her foot
while she eats.  Charles, Jewel and Daniel seem hypnotized by Dad and Bea.
 Luther, Roxie and I just keep looking at each other.  Every bowl on
the table is cleaned out, and I can see we’ll have to cook more food from now
on.

As
soon as darkness falls, Dad says, “Time to turn in.”

Going
to bed early is our habit, but not this early.  It’s only
six-thirty.  Roxie, Jewel and I usually do our all-over baths in the
kitchen at this time, but we don’t argue.  We’ll just have to turn in
dirty.  We scurry up to the loft so Dad can take his bride to bed in the
big room.  Jewel and I get into our bed, while Roxie takes Clint into her
bed with his bottle.  Luther, Charles and Daniel go to the other side of
the loft.  Jewel and Clint have no trouble falling asleep, but Roxie and I
lie awake whispering.

“I
hope we don’t hear anything,” she says.

“Roxie! 
Do you think he’ll do
that
to her right there in Mommie’s bed?”

“Why
do you think he married her?” she answers.