Diary of a Wildflower (8 page)

December, 1927

I
have become quite the reader.  Mr. Harmon sends me home with two books,
and the next week I ask him for two more.  He says I absorb them through
osmosis.  That’s a word we learned in Biology.  The first year he
brought me juvenile stuff –
Little Women, Treasure Island, Alice in
Wonderland
.  Jewel was more interested in those books than I was, so
she would read them out loud to me.

The
second year we concentrated on American Literature –
The Scarlet Letter,
Last of the Mohicans, Moby Dick,
the works of Edgar Allan Poe, the essays
of Thoreau and Emerson, the poetry of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  That
was more like it. 

Now,
in my junior year, I am discovering a whole other world in English
Literature.  Mr. Harmon started me with
David Copperfield
and
Silas
Marner. 
The next week it was
Oliver Twist
and
Return of the
Native
.  I get so absorbed in these stories I walk around in a
trance.  I don’t hear other people talking to me.

When
Jewel tells me I’m acting like a half wit, I say to her, “Here, smarty pants,
read this and see what it does to
you
.”

I
place
Great Expectations
into her hands
.
  She’s only twelve,
but she can read anything I can read.  In no time she’s in a trance
too.  From there we go to
Tess of the d’Urbervilles,
which is
simply too tragic for words.  We read it aloud to each other, and cry our
eyes out.

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

As
I go into Call’s on a Saturday after school, I hear my name from someone who is
coming out and politely holding the door for me.

“Lorelei?”

It’s
a face more handsome than the average one, but I can’t quite place it.

“Is
it you, child?”

Child? 
”Let me take you back to your house, child.  You have had a bad shock.”

“Oh,
it’s Dr. Wayne.  Hello.”

His
face breaks into a huge grin like he’s really glad to see me.  “Look at
you!”  He takes my free hand between his two large ones.  “When I saw
that lovely head of hair I knew it could be none other than the pretty little
Lorelei all grown up into a real beauty.”

I
feel myself  blushing, not because of what he said, but because of the
memory of the last time he saw me.  Me in my petticoat.

“I’ve
been away, but I have thought of you often, Lorelei.  I have worried about
your welfare.”  He is staring earnestly into my eyes.

“I’m
fine,” I say.  “Where...where have you been?”

“In
my home town of Charlottesville furthering my education at the university.”

“That’s
exciting,” I say.  And I really mean it.

“And
what about you, Lorelei?”

“I’m
in highschool!  Eleventh grade.  I want to go away too when I’ve
finished school.”

“Where
are you going?” he asks.

“I
don’t know yet.  Anywhere away from here.”

Again
he gives me that penetrating look, and I hear an echo.  I wonder if he
hears it too.

“Take
me away from here.”

He
is still holding my hand.  I know he can feel the callouses on my knuckles
from scrubbing clothes, and on my palm from working in the garden.  I ease
away from his grip.

“Lorelei,
child,” he says, “if you are ever in need, I hope you will come to me.”

“Thank
you, but I’m in good health, sir,” I say.

He
smiles.  “I’m not speaking of medical needs.  I have felt guilty that
I did nothing to help you that morning when you were clearly in distress.”

My
eyes are beginning to sting, so I walk away from him.  He must think me
rude.

“I
mean it,” he calls after me.  “You can count on me.”

I
hurry to the counter.  “I need some black ink,” I say to Mr. Call.

Through
the window I watch Dr. Wayne mount Raven and ride away.  When I turn my
attention back to the counter Mrs. Call is standing there watching me with a
funny smile on her face.

“The
doctor’s a good-looking man, ain’t he?” she says to me.

Of
course people still gossip about Mack and Trula, and Mrs. Call still takes it
out on me.  I hardly ever see Mack in the store anymore.  He stocks
the shelves and keeps the books, but is more often out driving people here and
there in his dad’s car for pay.  He would be far easier to deal with than
his mother, but this being the only store in Deep Bottom, I can’t avoid coming
in here no matter how nasty she gets.

“He
seems to like you,” she goes on.  “I saw him holding your hand.”

I
concentrate on a jar of sorghum on a high shelf, way above her head, because I
don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me with my head down, and
seeming ashamed.

“Too
bad he’s married,” she says, still with that smile.

Mr.
Call brings the ink to me and takes my money.

“Oh,
I forgot,” Mrs. Call says.  “You Starr girls favor the married ones, don’t
you?”

“Ethel!”
Mr. Call scolds her.  “Leave the girl alone!”

February, 1928

As
snow comes, I lose myself in the romance of
Jane Eyre
and
Wuthering
Heights. 
In spite of the cold, white stillness on the mountain, I can
smell the arrival of spring on the moors, taste the bitterness of strong
English tea, hear the wind whistling through the gorse.

Finally
Mr. Harmon introduces me to Jane Austen.  At first I find it hard to get
past the fancy language of
Pride and Prejudice
, but once I do, I’m
sucked into this world of beautiful, elegant ladies and proud, high-bred
gentlemen.  I love the way Jane Austen can make fun of it all, and still
stir up in me an emotion akin to homesickness for that time and place. 
When I mention this feeling to Mr. Harmon, he actually understands what I’m
talking about.

“Some
people might compare it to the longing for a return to Eden,” says he.

As
soon as I have waded through
Pride and Prejudice
, I’m able to breeze
through
Sense and Sensibility
and
Mansfield Park
.  Then I
read them all again.

March, 1928

Samuel
is with me in the kitchen after supper as I give Lawrence a bath.

“Beyond
the mountains,” he says, “the people have a real smart way of talking, and I
want you to learn it, so that when you go away you won’t sound like a
hillbilly.”

“But
I am a hillbilly,” I say.

“Not
really,” he says.  “Caroline remarked that you are one of the few people
she knows who actually uses the rules of grammar we all were supposed to learn
in school.  I’m proud of you for that.  But in spite of your good
grammar, people who live elsewhere will notice your accent, and they
will
make
fun.  I won’t have them laughing at my little sissy.”

He
seems so sad and serious that I wonder if someone laughed at him when he was in
Richmond.  I ask him as much, and he finally tells me the truth about
Lucille.

“Yeah,
I was made fun of.  I pretended it didn’t bother me, but it did.  A
lot, in fact, when Lucille was around.”

“Well,
she didn’t bust up with you on account of your accent, did she?” I ask.

“No,
but it didn’t help.  She was from a family that saw themselves as
up-and-coming in the social world, know what I mean?”

Thanks
to Jane Austen I do know what he means.

“Her
dad owned a business there in Richmond.  Her brother went all the way
through college, and Lucille went all the way through highschool.  They
were big on education.”

“But
you are
self
-educated, Samuel.  I remember how you used to read,
and you would tell me all about the stars and planets.  You are probably
better educated than any of them.”

“I
have read only three books in my life,” Samuel says.

“What!”

“All
were astronomy books that my eighth grade teacher loaned me.”

Where
did I get the idea that Samuel read tons of books in school, and knew more than
anybody about everything?

“That
can’t be true.”

“Afraid
so,” he continues.  “Lucille loved me anyway.  It was her mom and dad
and brother who considered me unfit to be in their highfalutin’ family.”

“Nobody
is too good for you, Samuel.  If they don’t see that, then they are just
dumb!  Besides, you have Caroline, and she’s prettier and smarter than
anybody.  Are you ever going to propose to her?”

“I
don’t know.  I’ve told her I’m not sure I will ever get married.”

“But
she still wants you.”

“Yes,
she loves me, and I love her too, but it’s different from what I felt for
Lucille.”

“Different? 
How?”

“I
love Caroline as I love you and as I loved Mommie.”

“It’s
not the same as being
in
love?”

“Yes. 
Once you’ve loved in that way,” he says, “with your whole body and soul, you
can never marry anybody else.  Your heart’s not in it.”

Samuel
has never made a secret of the fact that I am his favorite sibling, and he has
always communicated his thoughts and feelings to me, even when I was a little
girl.  Still, he has never opened up like this before.

“But
don’t you get lonely, Samuel, for someone to share your life with?”

“I
share my life with Caroline, with you and the young’uns.”

“That’s
not the same as having a family of your own.”

“I’ve
seen too many babies born.  I don’t want to see any more.”

I
take Lawrence out of the bath and start drying him.

“Don’t
worry about me, Lorelei,” Samuel says.  “I’m happy enough with my
life.  Now, we’re going to concentrate on yours.”

That’s
how it happens that a few days later Samuel comes up the mountain with Abe the
mule pulling the flat bed wagon, and hauling something in a wooden crate. 
Charles helps him carry the crate into the kitchen and set it on the table.
 Samuel opens it up.  Of course we have heard of radios and seen
pictures, but this is the real deal.  It’s almost as big as the dresser in
the big room, and it’s made of a nice dark wood, with an arch of sturdy gray
fabric in front where the sound comes out.  Samuel places the crate in a
corner of the kitchen, throws an oil cloth over it and hoists the radio on top.

“We
don’t got juice for that thang,” Daniel says.

“The
juice is in the batteries,” Samuel explains.  We watch as he twists the
on/off knob, then uses a second knob to search for a signal.  “The salesman
said we should get good reception up here on top of this mountain.”

At
that moment we hear a high-pitched screech that hurts our ears, a squeal, a lot
of static, and finally a man’s voice.  We all gasp at the same time.

That’s
when Dad walks in.  “What is this dadlamed thang?”

“It’s
a radio,” Samuel says very calmly.  “I bought it for the kids to help with
their education.”

Dad
slams his fist on the table, and Jewel shrinks into the corner behind the
stove.  “You can’t even ask before you bring this modern contraption into
my house?”

“I
knew you wouldn’t mind,” Samuel says, still calm.  “I know you want what’s
best for your family.”

Dad
and Samuel stare at each other for the longest time, and I feel there is
something going on between them that the rest of us know nothing about.

Suddenly
music fills the room.  Not the church piano or the banjo, or the Jew’s
harp.  Real music.  I can’t even identify what the instruments
are.  I only know that waves and waves of achingly beautiful music manage
to override this undercurrent of dark emotions, and Dad abruptly leaves the
room.

As
Bea, Jewel and I prepare supper, everybody else except for Dad sits at the
table listening.  Nobody speaks.  When supper is ready, we turn the
radio off, and call Dad to eat.  Our meal begins as the quietest one we’ve
ever had.

Finally,
without looking up from his plate, Dad growls, “Well, if we have to have one of
them thangs, I wouldn’t mind hearing some more of that music.”

Excitement
breaks out as Charles, Daniel and Clint clamor to turn the radio back on.

“Hey! 
Sit down, all of you,” Samuel commands.  They do as they are told. 
“Lorelei is in charge of the radio,” he goes on.  “It’s her radio until
the next one goes to highschool, whoever that might be.”

Jewel
grins.  She knows she’s the only other person here who is interested in
highschool.  Now they are all looking at me like I’ve just been elected
president of the United States.  I get up and turn the radio on. 
This time I can’t find any music, but what I do find is a show called
Sam
and Henry. 
It’s about two colored men who own a taxi.  We try to
finish our supper while listening, but soon give up, because all of us,
including Dad, are laughing so hard, tears stream down our faces.  Even
baby Lawrence, who can’t possibly understand the humor, laughs with us.