Diary of a Wildflower (7 page)

Later
Samuel comes again and brings me a plate with ham and peas, fresh bread and
butter.  On another plate there is apple pie and vanilla cake.  I sit
up and begin to nibble at the food.  It tastes like nothing, the way
things taste in dreams.

“Won’t
you come downstairs now and tell your kin goodnight?” Samuel says.

“No,
I’m too tired.”

“But
you’ve slept most of the day.”

After
a while he leaves me alone, and I go into my head again.

Roxie
says sissy, poor sissy, and a tear rolls down her rosy cheek.

April, 1922

It’s
a week into April and Samuel has not returned to Richmond.  I don’t know
why.  Today he is sitting at the kitchen table watching me churn butter.

“Your
teacher is worried about you, Lorelei,” he says.

“Miss
Mays is worried about me?  Why?”

“For
the same reason I am worried.  You seem to be absent from your own body.”

“That’s
silly, Samuel.  I’m in here like I’ve always been.”

“Yes,
but you’re not acting right.”

“How
am I acting?”

“Like
it never happened.”

I
concentrate on my churning.  The butter will come soon.

“Miss
Mays says you have done no school work at all.  Your mind seems to be
somewhere else.”

Yes,
my mind
is
somewhere else.  But it’s not something I can explain.

“I
went to see Dr. Wayne,” he says.

“Why? 
Are you sick?”

“No. 
I asked his advice about what to do for you.”

I
have a vision of sitting there on a stump in my petticoat in the chill of March
begging Dr. Wayne to take me with him.  Did that really happen?  If
it did, would he tell Samuel?  I don’t want him to tell that to anybody.

“And
what did Dr. Wayne say?” I ask.

“He
said first of all that it was wrong to make you take care of Roxie when she was
that sick.  You do so many things for us, we forget that you are only a
little girl.”

“You
are saying it was my fault.”

“No! 
Absolutely not.  It was
not
your fault.”

“Then
what are you saying?”

“I’m
saying that nobody was looking after
you
, sweet girl.  You need
looking after too.”

“There’s
nothing wrong with me, Samuel.”

“But
you sleep and sleep.  Sometimes we can’t wake you up.”

“It’s
just that I’m wore out.  I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“That’s
what I mean.  You are using all of your energy fighting the pain.”

“What
pain?”

“Dr.
Wayne says you need to grieve.  You need to spill it all out.  You
need to cry.”

“I
don’t feel like crying.”

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

I
am in my bed in the loft at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning.

“Lorelei,
I have a surprise for you,” Samuel says.

“I
don’t want a surprise.”

“Do
you remember when you were a very little girl and the two of us would walk together
down to the creek on Gospel Road?”

The
creek that runs sparkling over the rocks.  Nearby the high tree branches
break the sun into pieces and spills them on the floor of the woods
. 

“Yes,
I remember.”

“Well,
I would like you to walk down there with me today.”

“I
don’t want to.  I’m too tired.”

“Please
come with me.  I promise you will not be sorry.”

“I
can’t, Samuel.  I need to sleep some more.”

“We’ll
take Jewel with us.  She needs this.  Think of Jewel.”

“Is
something wrong with Jewel?”

“She
misses you.”

“But
I’m right here.  How can she miss me?”

“Please,
Lorelei.  Do it for Jewel if not for yourself.”

So
I roll over and place my feet on the floor.  “I’ll get dressed.”

The
three of us walk down Willy’s Road.  The bright sunlight hurts my eyes. 
I’m not at all curious about Samuel’s surprise.  It does not much matter
what it is.  But Jewel is excited.  She holds Samuel’s hand on one
side and mine on the other.  She is dressed in a little boy’s sailor suit
today.  She found it in the charity bag.  She looks cute.

We
come to Gospel Road and walk down over the side of the hill to the creek. 
There is a fresh spread of new grass on the bank, and buttercups blooming all
over the place.  It’s real pretty.  We walk to the edge of the
creek.  There are wide flat rocks here where the boys come sometimes to
fish.  We have had a hard rain, and the creek runs fast over the rocks.

“Ready
for your surprise?” Samuel asks me.

I
nod my head without much interest.  That’s when Trula steps out of the
woods, holding her little boy in her arms.  She is smiling at me. 
Jewel starts to run to her, but Samuel holds her back.

“Wait
a minute, little Jewel,” he says.  “Let Lorie have her first.”

I
fall to my knees.  “Trula!”

She
hands the baby to Samuel and walks to me.  She lifts me to my feet and
takes me into her arms.  My chest opens up and my broken heart spills out
of me.

“Oh,
Trula!  Our Roxie is dead!”

She
holds me close as I cry.  She rocks me in her arms, and cries with me.

“I
couldn’t keep her alive, Trula!  I tried, but I couldn’t.”

“Shh…shh,”
she hushes me.  “You did everything you could.”

We
cling to each other.  We sob out loud.  But a million tears cannot
wash away the pain.  Not even a billion.  In awhile I become aware
that Jewel and Samuel with the baby have come into our hug, and I don’t know
how long we all stand there in this bittersweet reunion, comforting and healing
each other.

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

More
time has passed when I feel little Ford playing with my hair.  I look at
him and smile through my tears.  He gives me a big toothy grin, and I can
see Mack Call all over him, but he has the square chin and blue eyes of the
Starrs.  He is chubby and has dimples. 

“Ford,
this is your Aunt Lorelei,” Trula says, “and your Aunt Jewel.”

Ford
is only nine months old and does not understand a bit of this.  I take him
from Samuel and sit on the grass. 

“Come,
Jewel,” Trula says, “let’s spread our picnic on this rock.”

“A
picnic!” Jewel says, and claps her hands together.

I
watch Trula as she tosses a cloth over one of the rocks, and starts unpacking
food from a box.  She looks good.  She has on a dress that I’m sure
is not homemade, and did not come out of a charity bag.  It has long,
flowing sleeves.  The hem hits her legs about the middle of her calves,
and it is long-waisted.  It’s stylish.  I’ve seen ones like it in a
magazine.  She’s got on new shoes too, and thin spring stockings.  I
know it can’t be so, but she looks younger than she did when I saw her last.

“Are
you happy, Trula?” I ask her.

She
turns and gives me a sad kind of smile.  “Yes, Lorie.  I’m happy.”

“And
does Mack take good care of you?”

“Yes
he does.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

So
the four of us while away this blue April day together, loving each other’s
company.  We talk about Mommie and a lot of things, but mostly about
Roxie.  We share special memories of her, and more than once I fall to
pieces all over again, but I feel the heaviness lifting from my heart.

We
eat fried chicken, pickled green beans that Trula put up last summer, potato
salad, and Trula’s homemade biscuits with black raspberry jam.  We wash it
down with the cold creek water.

“How
did you carry all this stuff?” I ask Trula, “and the baby too?”

“I
had help,” she says.  “Mack brought me as far as he could go in the car up
Gospel Road, and Samuel met me there.  He carried Ford and I carried the
picnic.”

The
baby makes us laugh out loud, and it feels so good to laugh.  Late in the
afternoon, Trula looks at the sun and says she needs to go.  Mack will be
waiting for her in the car.  Jewel and I kiss her and Ford goodbye, and we
all promise to do this again and again.  Samuel walks her down the holler
to meet Mack.  She turns once to wave.  I watch her until she is out
of sight.

October
19
^th
, 1927

It’s
my sixteenth birthday.  I am in the loft in the early hours before dawn,
sleeping and dreaming of Mommie.  She is shelling butter beans, and I am
kneeling in front of her.

“
Look
at me, Mommie.  I am here.  See me.”

But
she goes on with her work and does not look at me.

I
say, “
There’s a big hollow place in my chest, and I wonder if it will always
be this empty.”

She
says, “
It’s awful to be borned a female and don’t you forgit it.  It’s
a cross to bear.”

I
wake up in the chill and dark of night.  I can still sense her presence
.

I’m
in highschool, Mommie.  It’s something you never even dreamed of for
yourself.  I’m sorry that your life was all up a hill.  But it’s my
turn now.

Yes,
it’s Lorelei’s turn, and I learned a long time ago that this house is not going
to leave me, so I will leave
it
,
as soon as I am old
enough.  Somehow, I have to get away from Willy’s house, Willy’s Road,
Willy’s Mountain – Willy.  And I need all the education I can get.

At
first a lone teacher came from Granger to teach highschool classes at Deep
Bottom on Saturdays.  His name is Mr. Harmon.  He is about thirty and
really nice-looking, but he’s married.  His wife is also a teacher, and
they have two little boys.  Mr. Harmon teaches at Granger High School five
days a week, and the county loaned him a car to make the eighteen-mile drive to
Deep Bottom one day a week.  We heard that he was coming just about the
time I was finishing eighth grade.  So the news seemed like a good omen to
me, like the bluebird Samuel always had me looking for.

When
I told Dad what I wanted to do, he grumbled so loud and so long I felt all my
hopes go crashing down around me.  He said a person does not need all that
dadblamed education, especially a girl.

Then
Samuel had a private talk with him, and Dad came out of it saying to me, “It
don’t matter to me what you do as long as you don’t neglect your woman’s work
at the house.”

There
were nine of us signed up for Mr. Harmon’s class that first day, and he told us
if we attend every Saturday, do our homework faithfully, successfully complete
seventeen units required by the state, and pass a standard test at the end of
four years, we can earn a diploma the same as Granger High School
students.  We have a lot of homework, but we have a whole week to do it,
and I love it, so I don’t find it hard at all.  Mr. Harmon is proud of
me.  (I think I’m his pet.)

Two
of our nine dropped out the first year and two more last year, so there are
only five of us left in the junior class.  Of my cousins, Uncle Green’s
boy, Vic, is in the class, and Uncle Ben’s girl, Opal.  The other two are
the Cole twins, Larry and Gary, from Cole Hollow.     
 

There
are now six sophomores behind us, taught by Miss Lester.  Coming up behind
them is the freshman class of seven with Mrs. Owens in charge.

Charles
could have joined the freshman class this year, but he decided he didn’t need
“no more dadblamed education”.  Wonder where he got that?  Jewel is in
the seventh grade now, Daniel the third, and Clint is just starting.  He
seems too small to walk up and down this mountain every day, but I have to
remind myself that all the rest of us did it at his age.  Some days I walk
with them to the school house, where my classmates and I meet and help each
other with our assignments.

After
my dream of Mommie, it’s hard to get back to sleep, and I think of all kinds of
things.  From the boys’ loft I can hear Samuel coughing.  He has done
that a lot lately.  He never did go back to Richmond once he was home for
Roxie’s funeral.  When I asked him about Lucille, he told me not to say
anything else about her.  Then I knew that on top of his other heartbreak
with losing Mommie and Roxie, he had also lost Lucille.  He spent some of
his Richmond money drilling a well for us.  Then he put screens over all
the windows to keep out the flies.  Dad had nothing to say about it.

About
the time I started tenth grade, Samuel went to work in a new coal mine up the
river from Deep Bottom.  I begged him not to do it.  I didn’t want
him working under the ground in the dark with all that coal dust, but I
couldn’t talk him out of it.  He said he would not work there for long,
only until he could save a bit.  He’s making three dollars and forty cents
a day.  I know that’s a lot of money, and he gives me a dollar now and
then to add to my savings.  He also gives Dad and Bea money.  He has
put on a new roof, made a lot of repairs to the house, and bought furniture for
the big room.  The place looks nicer, but I still don’t want Samuel in the
mines.  He comes home worn out and black with coal dust from head to toe.

Samuel
and Miss Mays have been courting for nearly two years now, and I wonder why
they don’t get married.  He is by far the best catch in these hills, and
she is the prettiest little thing you ever saw, not as big as a minute. 
Samuel doesn’t seem to mind that she is thirty and he is only twenty-six. 
Miss Mays gives me and the kids permission, away from school, to call her

by her first name, Caroline.

As
soon as Luther turned eighteen, he married Sally Watkins and went to work for
her daddy in his sawmill.  They built themselves a house on the Watkins
property in Deep Bottom, and now they have two little girls, Madge and
Christine. 

When
I was thirteen, I had another chance to go to Skylark, this time with Bea and
Jewel.  Bea’s cousin Buddy drove us.  That day Jewel and I had our
first ice cream, and saw
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
starring
Rudolph Valentino.  We also met a woman named Sylvia who was begging in
the streets.  Jewel is so tender-hearted, she broke down and cried. 
She gave Sylvia all the money she had, which was only a bit of change. 
After we got home, she drew pictures of Sylvia, and of Rudolph Valentino dancing
the tango.

We
haven’t been anywhere since, and this mountain gets more and more
lonesome.  The Old Thing still lives and hides in the woods. 
Sometimes at dawn or at twilight – the two saddest moments of the day – I think
I get a glimpse of it.  But maybe it’s just a shadow or a patch of mist
floating up through the hollow.

The
doctors finally let Nell come home for a visit when she was sixteen.  I
was fourteen.  She was about a head taller than me, skinny as a blade of
grass, neatly dressed, wearing glasses, and obsessed with germs.  The only
things that seemed to please her during her visit were the new window screens
and the well.

“Thank
goodness!” she said.  “No more flies, and no more frog eggs or bird poop
in the drinking water.”

In
the loft, Nell delighted in telling me and Jewel about her daily routine at the
sanitorium, and her plans for the future.  She wanted us to be envious,
and I don’t know about Jewel, but I
was
envious.

“I
take my highschool classes first thing after breakfast, along with Helen and a
few other young people,” she chirped.  “Then we all go to lunch together
in the cafeteria.  In the afternoons, I work as an assistant to the
janitors.  I’m paid a small salary for my work.  It’s just enough to
pay for personal things, a few clothes and the like.  But in another year,
Helen and I will be able to train as nurse’s aides.  Then, we’ll have
enough money to live on.  After our training, if the doctors will release
us, we’re going to rent something near the sanitorium.  You know, just a
couple of cheap rooms.”

She
will be free.  She will be able to come and go as she pleases in the city
of Roanoke, and she will have her own money.  Maybe getting sick was the
best thing that ever happened to Nell.  Still, I couldn’t help remembering
how she used to make us laugh.  Now, she’s the worst sour puss you ever
saw.  I wondered if T.B. takes away your sense of humor.

“Jewel
and I love to have secret meetings with Trula and Ford and the new baby,
Arnold, every chance we get,” I confided in Nell.  “Would you want to see
them while you’re here?”

“Why
would I want to see
her
and her illigitimate children?” she said.

I
felt Jewel tense up in the bed beside me, and I almost choked in trying not to
raise my voice.  “Because she’s your sister.  She took care of us
when we were babies.  She practically

raised us.  And she’s a good person.”

“Good?”
Nell snorted.  “She has carnal knowledge of a married man!”

On
the third day she said she was “homesick” for the sanitorium.  Even though
she had planned to stay with us for two weeks, she wanted to leave the next
morning.  Nobody gave her an argument.

Before
going to sleep on the last night, I asked Nell what she thought of my joining
her in Roanoke when I’m old enough, and also train to be a nurse’s aid.

“Not
a good idea,” she said.  “Work at the sanitorium is no place for a healthy
person.  You would be exposed to cases of full-blown T.B.”

“Well,
I could try to find work at another place, and maybe I could stay with you and
Helen while I’m looking.”

“I
don’t think so.”   Then she turned her back to me and said,
“Goodnight.”

I
could almost hear her gloating in the dark.  My own sister!  Slamming
a door in my face like that, when she knew I couldn’t open it by myself. 
I still love Nell, but I don’t think I
like
her anymore.  Maybe I
never did.

But
there is somebody I do like now more than I did at first, and that’s Bea. 
I started feeling kindly toward her when it occurred to me that she must have
married Dad out of sheer desperation.  Why else would anybody marry a mean
old fart like Willy Starr?  She had no home and no income, and she was
fixing to end up like poor Sylvia, begging in the streets of Skylark.  She
must have felt so forlorn when she first came here to live.  Now she acts
more like the woman of the house instead of an unwanted visitor.  She does
a lot of the housework and tends the little ones too.  More important, she
seems happy as she putters around like a lil’ole bird tending its nest, and
that rubs off on the rest of us.

I
think giving birth was the turning point for Bea.  The baby surprised
everybody.  One day in early summer of this year, when Dad and Charles had
gone to Deep Bottom, and Samuel was at work, Bea started having really bad
cramps.  By the time we figured out she was in labor, it was too late to
get help.  I told Jewel to run as fast as her two little feet could carry
her to fetch Aunt Sue, and the rest was up to me.

By
the time Aunt Sue got here, Bea and I had delivered a big boy, probably around
eight pounds.  Some people consider it a thrilling event to witness a
birth.  I am not one of those people.  But there were no
complications, and Aunt Sue told me I had done as well as she could have.

Bea
was more than surprised.  She was flabbergasted.  She babbled like a
mad woman, repeating that she had no idea, no idea whatsoever, NO idea. 
But she was so..oo happy.  Once she quit babbling, she started
giggling.  She giggled for days.  Dad, being an old hand at making
babies, seemed bored with it all.

He
just looked at the boy and grunted.  “Call him Lawrence, after my
grandpappy.”

As
for me, when the shock wore off, I began to think of what this might mean for
my plans.  If this was the beginning of another string of stair-step babies,
would I be expected to hang around here and help raise them?  One more
reason to get out of here.

It’s
nearly daylight now, and I am looking forward to my special day.  Samuel
has teased me for a week with saying, “Sweet sixteen, and never been kissed.”

He’s
right.  I haven’t been kissed – yet.