No Crystal Stair (12 page)

Ann Elizabeth knew those bases were adjacent to Tuskegee. Forgive me, God. It's wrong to wish for some unknown person's death—someone from another base.

It seemed forever that the four of them sat in the bar. Hoping. Praying. Scared. Actually it wasn't quite an hour later that Ann Elizabeth looked up to see Rob, closely followed by Randy.

Thank you, God. Thank you, God.
She rushed into Rob's arms. But their faces were grim.

“One of us?” She asked, holding her breath.

“Ted,” said Randy. “A slight miscalculation. Didn't quite make it under the bridge.”

Ted. Ann Elizabeth hid her face against Rob's shoulder, unable to hold back the tears.

 

 

There was no service at the base, hardly any recognition of Ted's death at all. His body was shipped back to his home in Atlanta for burial.

Because of an alert at the base, none of the pilots could get leave to attend But Ann Elizabeth, who'd known Ted all her life, returned to Atlanta for the service. She sat in the same church where her wedding had been held, remembering Ted as a young boy ... The time he'd raced through the Sunday-school chapel and knocked over one of the urns. The time he'd been Joseph in the Christmas pageant ... So many memories.

She felt a deep sympathy for Ted's sister and his grieving parents. Her own grief was almost as keen. She listened to Reverend Hawkins and others who spoke highly of Ted, but she couldn't see anything for the tears clouding her eyes.

In her mind she saw only Ted. Clearly, as he'd been that night at the club. Bragging, joking ...
I can fly the boxes the planes come in.
Ted ... flying under a bridge to prove it.

Funny, serious, brilliant Ted. That night it was Ted who'd explained what was really happening overseas. He should have been one of the strategists, planning the moves.

Again she thought of her father's words.
They'll take our best, and never know what they have.

She thought about life—so fragile.

About death—so sudden and unpredictable flying round and round over Tuskegee as in a dogfight over Germany.

April 1943

 

W
ith a leaden heart Ann Elizabeth realized it was happening. The troops were going to be moved. For real this time. Furloughs canceled. Combat training sped up.

On the morning of April 3, when Rob's troop boarded the train at the Cheehaw station, Ann Elizabeth wasn't there.

“I want you settled in Atlanta before I leave,” Rob had said, “where I know you and our baby will have the best of care.” She'd protested, but he'd insisted. So it was she who left him.

Seated in the stuffy jim crow car, her face against the window, she watched Rob, standing straight, tall and handsome, the creases in his cheeks deepening with his smile. The train pulled slowly away and she could no longer see him. She'd never felt so alone in her life.

She paid little attention to the other occupants of the car, but kept her face pressed to the window, watching the landscape slip past. Trees, rivers, farms. Cows grazing in a meadow. Houses. In the neat backyard of one small cottage she saw a child swinging, a woman holding a baby. She rested both hands against her stomach, holding her own unborn child. If only she and Rob could have a house like that. Peaceful. No separation. No killing or dying. No war.

Not even the antics of the jaunty little porter could lift her depression. The short slight brown man in the trim blue uniform was a familiar figure to her. On their frequent trips to Atlanta, she and Rob had always laughed at his cheerful banter
as he paraded through the car, never calling a station without a witty comment. “Opelika, Opelika. Come along, girl, don't be ‘shame! ... Notasulga, Notasulga, all out for Notasulga. Give me your hand and God your heart, and don't forget your parasol.” Today, as they pulled into the big city, he announced, “Atlanta. Atlanta now. You been long hearin' talk about it. Atlanta now!” Grinning widely, he took her baggage and helped her down. “Give me your hand and God your heart, but leave your pocketbook behind!” he added with a big guffaw.

Ann Elizabeth managed an answering smile, but her eyes brimmed with tears as she tumbled into her father's waiting arms.

 

 

As it turned out, Rob and Randy weren't immediately sent overseas. They went with some others to Oscoda, Michigan, for special combat training. When they did leave to join their squadron, they were put on a troop train and sent to Miami. From there they would board a plane for a circuitous route through Brazil to their destination.

The troop train was filled with soldiers, only four of them Negro. It didn't seem to matter. They were all U.S. soldiers, comrades.

However, when they arrived in Miami, they traveled by bus for an overnight stay in hotels, and there they were separated. The four Negroes were deposited at a small motel in the colored section of town.

Early, before breakfast the next morning, the bus returned to pick them up. The driver, a white corporal, greeted them cordially before preceding to a hotel by the beach where the white soldiers were waiting.

Rob stared at the plush hotel as the white soldiers filed into the bus. “Looks like the palefaces had better accommodations than we did,” he said, remembering the mosquito-infested room he'd shared with Randy.

“Wonder if they ate,”was Randy's only comment. “I'm hungry.”

They hadn't eaten yet. There was a table already set for them at Miami's International Airport dining room. The men, laughing and talking, eagerly seated themselves.

However, before they could be served, a colored waiter rapidly removed all the place settings in front of the four Negroes.

“Wait a minute!” One of white officers jumped up. “What's going on here?”

“What's going on is discrimination.” Rob said quietly.

The officer turned to the waiter, who looked embarrassed. “I was told to ... that is, they're not supposed to eat in here,” he said.

The white officer was now turning red. “Call the manager,” he bellowed. “I want to speak to him.” When a man who said he was the assistant manager appeared, the officer accosted him. “Why can't these men be served?”

“They're colored. And coloreds eat in that room over there. Didn't you see the sign?” He pointed. The sign proclaimed in several languages: COLORED DINING ROOM. “Coloreds eat over there.”

“I'm not going in there,” Rob declared.

Randy tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, man. Don't be so touchy. I'm hungry.”

“I'm not eating in there,” Rob repeated.

The assistant manager shrugged. “Suit yourself. You're not eating in here.”

“Why the hell not?” Another white officer stood up. “These are officers in the United States Army,” he said. “On their way to fight for this country. May lose their lives.”

“Don't matter to me. I don't give a damn if they never come back. They ain't eating in here.” His voice was smug as he added, “It's against the law. They can't eat in here.”

Meanwhile the waiter, though obviously curious about these proceedings, was carrying out his duties. Plates loaded with steak, eggs and fried potatoes were being placed on the table.

Randy transferred his gaze from the appetizing food to the waiter. “Hey, we getting the same food in there?”

The waiter nodded vigorously, giving him an I'll-take-care-of you sign.

Randy turned to Rob, who had been joined by more white officers and was still arguing with the assistant manager. “Look, man, I'm hungry. Think I'll just go along in there and eat while you, er, discuss this matter.”

“I'm going with you,” said Bo Martin, one of the other black pilots.

The fourth Negro, Charlie, remained with Rob, both staunchly insisting they wouldn't eat in the segregated dining room.

Though a few of the white pilots had begun to eat, ignoring the altercation, a number had stood up to argue with the assistant manager, who stoutly refused to serve the black men.

Finally the corporal who had driven the bus approached Rob. “Look, you don't have to eat here. I'll take you back to the hotel.”

Rob looked at him and hesitated. He was mad as hell and he sure wanted no food in that flea-ridden motel. But the situation was getting out of hand. These white guys were rallying to his cause, but their food was growing cold.

The corporal, noting his indecision, persisted. “Look, we don't want to cause a scene. Come on. I'll take you back. I'll get you some food.”

“Go ahead and eat your breakfast, fellows,” Rob said to the others. He nodded toward the corporal. “He's gonna take care of us.”Then he and Charlie quietly left with the corporal.

To their surprise, he drove them back to the plush hotel by the beach. After the corporal briefly conferred with someone, they were admitted to a coffee shop where they were seated and served hot coffee and sandwiches.

“White folks sure are funny,” Charlie whispered to Rob. “First they wouldn't let us stay here. Now they're feeding us.”

Well, Rob thought to himself, it's some kind of victory.

But he was thoroughly disgusted with the two who'd deserted. “Ratfink!” he said to Randy when they were seated on the plane.

Randy only laughed. “Did you get fed in nice proper style at a nice proper place?” He gaped when Rob named the plush hotel. “Well that's sure enough a proper place. I'm right sorry I couldn't join you guys. But I was too hungry to wait. What did you eat?'

“We had coffee and sandwiches.”

“Coffee and sandwiches, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Randy's lips twitched. “Well, now, you know, I wasn't quite eating in the proper place, but I sure was eating good while you was fighting the black war. I'm might glad you won, though. I'm mighty glad you won!”

“Oh shut up!” Rob pulled his cap over his eyes, slid back in his seat and went to sleep as the plane roared on toward another war.

August 1943

 

T
he kitchen door slammed and Aunt Sophie came across the driveway. The glider shifted as she settled her ample form beside Ann Elizabeth.

“Ann Elizabeth, do you mind? Would it be all right if Helen Rose wore you wedding gown?”

“Why, of course.” Ann Elizabeth put down her book and smiled at her aunt. “You know I'd be glad to have her wear it.”

“Good. You're both the same size, or at least you were. And heaven knows, you both picked the hottest time of the year to get married in.” She took a magazine from the nearby table and began to fan herself. “I declare it's a real bother in all this heat.”

“Now, Aunt Sophie,” Ann Elizabeth chided, “you know you're happy. You like Clyde.” Helen Rose's sojourn at Fisk University had indeed been successful. She'd gotten her doctor. A dentist, really and just graduating. But he had the title and the potential. Aunt Sophie couldn't have been more pleased.

“You're right Ann Elizabeth. Such a nice young man. And I do want Helen Rose to have a nice wedding. I guess it's worth all the trouble. Oh, honey, I do wish you could be matron of honor.”

“Wouldn't I look great, floating down the aisle like an oversize balloon! Besides, my baby might decide to arrive in the middle of the ceremony.” She patted her stomach proudly as Rob had often done.

“Rob. She missed him. Without him, nothing was the same. Yet, everything
was
the same, here in Atlanta. The city hadn't
changed. Well, not much. Her friend Delia and Jump Hawkins had married very quietly. Delia was attending the Atlanta School of Social Work, and Jump was working at the bank. During vacation from her elementary-school classes, Millie had started on her Master's degree at Atlanta University's summer session. Jennie Lou, like Millie, taught in the public schools and, if rumor could be trusted, was chasing Dan Trent like crazy. Many of the Atlanta boys were away at war or at camp, and there was meat and gas rationing. But for the most part, life went on as before. Luncheons and bridge parties, and lazy afternoons in the glider under the magnolia tree. Ann Elizabeth attended a few plays on the campus. If she hadn't been pregnant, she probably would have worked with the Atlanta University Players herself. The parties had sped up with Helen Rose's engagement. Ann Elizabeth and Julia Belle were planning a linen shower for her.

The screen door slammed again and Julia Belle came out carrying a tray with three tall glasses of iced tea. Ann Elizabeth glanced at her mother's still-youthful figure with something like ... well, if not envy, at least a fervent hope that her own figure would return to normal after the baby's birth. Julia Belle's dark hair was piled high on her head, and she looked cool and crisp in the blue linen dress that matched her eyes. She set the tray of iced tea on the wrought-iron table that surrounded the magnolia tree, then turned to Ann Elizabeth. “Another letter from Rob.”

Ann Elizabeth beamed as she reached for the envelop that signaled he was still alive and well, wherever he was—a military secret, but somewhere in Italy, she thought.

“Let me know what he says about Randy,”Julia Belle said. “I declare that boy hardly writes.”

Ann Elizabeth, devouring her letter, only nodded. She lived for these letters, written in Rob's large irregular scrawl. As tender and ardent as Rob himself, they brought him closer to her and made the war seem far away. “The only thing that matters
is that you are there and I am here without you,” she read. “I think about the way you smile, I recall your touch ...” the words seeped into her heart and warmed her, and he always ended with the message, “Take care of my baby.”

That was the hardest part. He wouldn't be here when the baby was born.

“Well—”Julia Belle could contain herself no longer—what did he say about Randy?”

“Oh, that he's still clowning around. Says he can mimic everybody in the whole squadron and keeps them in stitches.”

“Now, isn't that just like Randy?” Aunt Sophie chuckled. “Clowning through the war. I declare, that boy ought to be in show business.”

“He ought not.”Julia Belle's voice was firm. “He's going to be a doctor.”

“Well, he's got the bedside manner, all right. He could charm the ...” their voices faded as Ann Elizabeth disappeared into the house. Upstairs in her room, she read Rob's letter over and over again.

 

 

The luncheon shower for Helen Rose, arranged with Julia Belle's usual painstaking precision, was a beautiful affair. Ann Elizabeth conducted the games and handed out the prizes, prettily packaged in green paper and tied with yellow ribbon. She had also fashioned the centerpiece for the dining table—a a lovely arrangement of magnolia leaves, baby's breath and yellow roses. After feasting on shrimp salad, lime sherbet and lemon-frosted cakes, the guests retuned to the living room to watch Helen Rose open her gifts.

Ann Elizabeth, busily recording—for Helen Ross's thank-you notes—the donor of each gift as it was opened, at first ignored the dull ache that had started in the small of her back. But it became more intense, recurring at more frequent
intervals. By the time she saw Millie and Delia, the last of the departing guests, out the door, she could ignore it no longer.

“The baby's not due for couple of weeks,” she said. “But these pains ...”

Julia Belle immediately picked up the phone and a couple of minutes later, sent Helen Rose upstairs to get Ann Elizabeth's overnight bag, which was already packed. Within ten minutes she was helping Ann Elizabeth into the car and instructing Sophie and Helen Rose not to bother cleaning up. “Call Lynn to come in from the garage. He'll do the dishes and put everything back in place.”As they pulled out of the driveway, she said to Ann Elizabeth, “don't fret, honey. Everything's going to be all right. Dan will meet us at the hospital.”

Ann Elizabeth wasn't fretting. Of course everything would be all right. Wasn't she going to her own father's hospital? He and her mother would be with her. And Dan. Where she'd arrived home from Tuskegee, she'd thought that Dr. Fox, who'd removed her tonsils years before, would deliver the baby.

“Not on you life!” her father had said. “None of us old fogies. You'll have Dan Trent.”

“Do you think that's wise, Will?” her mother had asked. “He's a personal friend and—”

“Do you know any doctor in town who's not a personal friend?” he'd responded. “Anyway, Dan's the best. Keeps up with the latest developments. Always off to some seminar while the rest of these new youngsters are sitting on their backsides.”

So Dan it was. The first time she'd gone to his office she'd felt awkward. She hadn't seen him since her wedding day and she thought of the letter ... Now here she was, all out of shape, her feet swollen, her face puffy. She'd hated letting him see her like this.

“Dr. Trent is ready for you, Mrs. Metcalf.”The nurse had led her into his office and left, shutting the door.

Dan had come straight to her, taken both her hands in his and looked down at her as if he could devour her. His voice had been a fervent whisper. “Oh, Ann Elizabeth, Ann Elizabeth, you cheated me! You should have married me.”

She was so relieved she almost laughed. But seeing his ardent expression, she reached up and touched his cheek. “Bless you, Dan. Here I am looking like a big fat cow, and you ... Never mind that you shouldn't have said it. You made my day.”

He'd laughed with her then, and the tension had disappeared. But the ardent look was still on his face as he'd added, “Silly woman! You never realized how much I love you.”

“Don't. Dan. Please, if I'm to be your patient. And I do want to be. Dad says you're the best doctor in town.”

“Of course you're going to be my patient. I couldn't trust anyone else to take care of you.”

“Then you'll have to behave yourself, Dan. I'm a happily, married woman. I really am,” she'd said. “And I want you to be happy too. Maybe if you let yourself get caught by one of those ladies who are chasing you. Jennie Lou—”She stopped.
I didn't say I wouldn't marry him. Just that I can't stand him,
Jeanie Lou had said. Okay, not her. Ann Elizabeth swallowed. “Someday you'll find just the right person for you, Dan. Someone who'll love you for the fine person you are. You just have to keep looking.”

He'd shrugged. “Guess I'm too busy to look. Sit here, Ann Elizabeth. I need to ask you a few questions before I call the nurse in and examine you.”

It was as if the air between them had been cleared that day and both could relax. From then on he was the perfect doctor, as well as a good friend, never once going beyond that.

Today—coming here to deliver her baby—was the first time since her tonsillectomy that she'd been in her father's hospital as a patient. But it was all so familiar, the place and the people. Leanne Collins, behind the reception desk, greeted
her immediately. “Hi, Ann Elizabeth. It's time, huh? Dr. Trent phoned instructions to get you ready.”

Emma Watkins, who'd known Ann Elizabeth since she was a baby, took complete charge. “Might have known you'd be early. Always was one to get ahead of the game. Come along I'm going to put you in the back room. Nice and cool.”

Before she was settled in bed, Sadie came in. looking very professional in her starched uniform and cap. “How about this?” she grinned. “I'm going to help deliver my own niece or nephew! I can't wait to tell Randy.” She and Ann Elizabeth began to compare news from their letters. Despite the increasing pain, Ann Elizabeth felt contented. She and her baby were secure, in the care of old and competent friends.

Dr. Carter and Dan arrived, agreed that, yes, the baby was on the way and left. Julia Belle and the nurses fussed over her during the long hot afternoon. When Dan returned, late in the evening, he advised Dr. Carter to take his wife home.

“Nothing's going to happen before morning,” he said. “And I'll be right here.”

So it was Dan who sat with her throughout the night, laughing and joking, bathing her face when the hard pains came. “Don't hold your breath, Ann Elizabeth. Just relax. Go with it. That's right. You're doing just fine.

He surely doesn't do this for all his patients, she thought feeling a little guilty. But she was glad he was there.

And it was Dan who gave her the happy news at 3:35 a.m.

“A boy. Six and a half pounds.”

A boy. She smiled. “Rob will be please,” she murmured before falling into a deep sleep.

In the nursery Sadie watched Dan carefully enclose the tiny baby in the oxygen tent. He turned a ravaged face to her. “He's just not getting enough air and, and ... Oh, God, we're so limited, Sadie, and he's so tiny. I don't dare try a tracheotomy. But he can't survive long like this. I'm going to contact Grady Hospital.”

“No.” She shook her head, detaining him. “Children's Hospital. They're specially equipped.”

“They'd never take him,” Dan said, reaching for the phone. “And we can't waste time.”

She took the phone from him. “Let me try. If I can get hold of Dr. Benson ...”

“Benson?”

“A pediatric surgeon, I've seen him work miracles. He was teaching at Grady. Transferred to Children's just before I left. She dialed as she talked, her head in turmoil. Ann Elizabeth's baby, Randy's nephew. Please, God. She stiffened when the phone was answered. ”Nurse Clayton here,” she said with a ring of authority. No way would they know who she was. ”Dr. Benson, please. Urgent.” She covered the mouthpiece and spoke to Dan, who looked doubtful. ”He'll come. He's not only skilled. He cares.

 

 

She had not yet seen her baby. Something is wrong. Ann Elizabeth felt it, even before Dan came in, looking haggard and worn. He must have been up all night. Her heart gave an anxious lurch, and she tried to focus on what he was saying. “We've called in a specialist.”

“A specialist? What's wrong?” she whispered.

Dan took her hand and gently explained. “His vocal cords are a little too close together. This limits his breathing. We've got him on oxygen, which helps. But the problem has to be corrected, surgically.”

She tried to keep down the panic, forced herself to remain calm, speak rationally. “Is it safe? He's so tiny. Can you do it without ... without harm?”

“Not I.” Dan gave a wan smile. “But we're lucky, Ann Elizabeth. Dr. Benson, one of the few pediatric surgeons in the country who could perform that kind of surgery, is right
here in Atlanta. At Children's Hospital. She remembered a gracious brick building, she'd seen it through the spokes of the wrought-iron fence that enclosed its grounds. One of the many for-white only structures viewed from the outside, like the big hotels downtown.

Dan's voice seemed far away, muffled by the cloud of anxiety that engulfed her. “Sadie called him. She worked with him at Grady. She says he's fantastic.”

He's white.
“Will he come?” she asked.

“He'll come,” Dan said. But the uncertainty in his voice pricked like a knife, and her fears that the doctor wouldn't come mounted.

Dr. Benson did come. He sat beside Ann Elizabeth's bed, a slight pale man with pale hair, thinning on top, keen gray eyes peering at her though horn-rimmed glasses, saying what Dan had already said. “It's fortunate that Dr. Trent diagnosed the problem and got him into an oxygen tent immediately. But I'll have to go in to correct the problem so he can breathe naturally, and I'll have to do it now.”

She stared at him through wide frightened eyes. His smile was reassuring. He took her hand in his long slim surgeon's fingers. “Don't worry. Babies are my specialty.”

“What will you need?” Dr. Carter asked.