The Mandie Collection (37 page)

Mandie sprang up from the settee. “No!” she protested. “No one is to have my father's name. He's not my father's son!”

Elizabeth looked at her in alarm. “But dear, we all loved your father so much that—”

“Nobody loved my father as much as I did,” Mandie insisted. She quickly turned away. “I need a drink of water,” she said in a shaky voice, running from the room.

When Mandie entered the kitchen, no one was there. She reached for a glass in the cupboard and then burst into tears.
Nobody understands how I feel
, she thought.
Nobody cares about me. All they care about is that squalling baby
!

Aunt Lou opened the door and stopped in the doorway. She walked over and put her strong arms around the girl's shoulders. “What fo' you be cryin', my chile?” she asked.

Mandie buried her face against Aunt Lou's ample bosom and cried uncontrollably.

Aunt Lou patted the girl's blond head. “Now you listen to me,” she said. “You jes' got to quit dis heah cryin'. You're gwine ruin dem pretty blue eyes. 'Sides, cryin' ain't gwine change nuthin'. Dat baby done got bawn, and he be heah to stay. So you might as well git used to it. Now hush up dat cryin', dis heah instant!”

Mandie caught her breath and looked up into the old Negro woman's stern face. She had never seen Aunt Lou look so cross. She tried to control the sobs as Aunt Lou lifted the skirt of her big white apron and dried the girl's tears.

“I be surprised at you actin' like dis,” the housekeeper scolded. “Yo' po' ma ain't none too well, and she doin' huh best to straighten out dat cryin' baby. You oughta be ashamed of yo'self.”

Mandie looked up into the woman's black face. “Is my mother sick, Aunt Lou?” she asked anxiously.

“Not exactly whut you calls sick 'cept she done wore out wid dat baby cryin' all day and all night,” the housekeeper explained. “She cain't git no rest. She need yo' help.”

“My help?” Mandie frowned. “I don't know anything about babies. I've never even been around one before.”

“Well, you'se 'round one now, and it be time fo' you to learn,” Aunt Lou told her. “Den when you gits grown and married, you'll know how to tend to yo' own babies.”

“I may get grown. I can't stop that,” Mandie said. “But I may
never
get married, not if it means having crying babies like that one.”

Aunt Lou smiled. “We'll see, my chile, when dat time comes. Now you wash dat face and march right back in dat parlor. Right now.” She handed Mandie a towel from a nearby rack.

Mandie meekly turned and splattered water onto her face from the faucet in the sink. Then she dried off with the towel.

As she left the kitchen, Aunt Lou followed her to be sure she went back into the parlor. Mandie knew the old woman was standing in the hallway where Elizabeth couldn't see her. Aunt Lou was going to make sure that Mandie behaved.

Dr. Woodard had also returned to the parlor, and he and Elizabeth were talking, so Mandie silently slumped into a chair nearby.

“I was hoping you could stay until John gets back,” Elizabeth told the doctor. “He'll be sorry he missed you.”

“I have to leave tomorrow, unfortunately,” the doctor replied. “But I'll be back this way soon.” Turning to look at Mandie, he added, “I'll probably bring that son of mine with me next trip.”

Mandie sat up. “Oh, please do, Dr. Woodard,” she said. “I have lots of things to tell Joe about what's been going on at school and all.”

Dr. Woodard smiled. “And I'm sure Joe will bring you up to date on happenings back at Charley Gap,” he answered.

Elizabeth looked over at her daughter. “You and I have lots of things to talk about, too, Amanda,” she said. “I want to hear all about your visit with President McKinley as soon as we have time to talk awhile without the baby interrupting.”

There it was again! The baby was always getting in the way. Mandie took a deep breath to control her anger. She remained silent, afraid her voice would betray her feelings.

Dr. Woodard tried to break the tension. “Joe told us y'all had quite an adventure there in the White House.”

Mandie brightened. “We did,” she agreed. “President and Mrs. McKinley are both such nice people. And they never did find out about the mystery we solved.”

Suddenly Aunt Lou stepped out of the shadows in the hallway, where she'd been keeping an eye on Mandie. She cleared her throat noisily. “Miz 'Lizbeth,” she spoke up, “would you and de doctuh be carin' fo' some coffee maybe?”

Elizabeth looked up, surprised. “Why, Aunt Lou, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Aunt Lou grinned broadly and beckoned to Mandie. “You come he'p me, my chile. We git dis coffee fixed in no time.”

Relieved to get out of the room, Mandie hurried after Aunt Lou. But once they were inside the kitchen, the old housekeeper scolded her again.

“Now you listen heah, and listen good, my chile,” the big Negro woman began, bending to look directly into Mandie's blue eyes. “You quit dat cold attitude toward yo' ma'. And I means it.”

Mandie was beginning to wish she had stayed in the parlor.

“Yo' ma loves you, and I knows you loves her, so jus' cut out all dat silent, unfrien'ly way you be actin'. What be de mattuh wid you? Jealousy don't never do nuthin' but cause trouble. It have a way of eatin' a person up inside and messin' up his whole life. And you be headin' down dat troublesome lane, de way you'se doin'.”

Mandie silently stared back at the dark eyes focused on her. She clasped her hands together behind her and stood on one side of her right foot.

“I'm tellin' you,” Aunt Lou continued as she took the dishes down from the cupboard, “dat baby ain't gwine go 'way.”

“I know that,” Mandie admitted.

Aunt Lou put the dishes on a tray and went to the big iron cookstove where the coffeepot waited, steaming hot.

The old housekeeper filled a china pot with coffee. “Den why don't you be actin' like you knows it?” she growled.

“Aunt Lou, did you want me to come with you to get the coffee just so you could fuss at me?” Mandie sulked.

“Dat's 'zackly right,” the old woman said, her eyes twinkling. “I been standin' there in de hallway listenin', and what I hears don't set good on my old ears.” As she finished arranging some cookies on the tray, she turned to Mandie. “Just you wait till yo' Uncle John git home. He'll straighten you out. You'll see.”

Mandie followed as the old woman carried the tray out of the kitchen. “There's nothing to straighten out, Aunt Lou,” she insisted.

“You'll be seein'. Dis be
his
brand new baby. You jes' his niece. Remember dat,” the old woman said as they walked toward the parlor.

Mandie tugged at the housekeeper's sleeve. They both stopped in the hallway. “You mean, Uncle John loves the baby more than he loves me?” she asked.

“Now, I didn't say dat, my chile,” Aunt Lou said quickly. “What I means is dat he be proud of dat baby, and he gwine want you to be proud of it, too. You's gwine hurt his feelin's if you don't watch out.”

Aunt Lou walked on down the hall as she continued. “Dat man been good to you,” she reminded Mandie. “You come heah wid no place to call home and he give you a home. You gotta quit dis selfish way you been actin'. De good Lawd say we's to love one 'nuther. Now git on in de parlor and behave yo'self.”

Mandie said nothing. She was tired of everyone telling her how she was supposed to feel. She couldn't stand that baby. Nobody was going to make her love it.

Mandie didn't want her mother angry with her. She just wanted some time with her without any talk about the baby. But she said nothing and silently followed Aunt Lou back into the parlor. All the while she could hear that baby's muffled cries from upstairs.

As Aunt Lou set the tray in front of Elizabeth, Mandie sat down beside her mother.

Dr. Woodard whiffed the coffee aroma. “That smells like a right good pot of coffee, Aunt Lou,” he said.

The old Negro smiled. “It be dat, it sho' is,” she replied as she left the room.

Mandie thought things over quickly and decided to try to smooth over the tension between her and her mother. “It does smell delicious,” she said, trying to smile, “and look at all those little cookies Aunt Lou put on the tray.”

“Help yourself to those, dear,” Elizabeth said. “I'd rather you didn't drink coffee at night, though.”

“Thanks, Mother. I'll just take a couple of these.” Mandie took a napkin off the tray and picked up two cookies. “I don't want any coffee anyway. But I'm worried about you. Everybody says you don't get much sleep because of the baby crying. Maybe you'd sleep better if you didn't drink coffee at night.”

Elizabeth smiled as she poured some of the steamy black liquid for herself and the doctor. “Amanda, dear, I appreciate your concern, but you know this good coffee sort of peps up us older folks when we're tired.”

Dr. Woodard tilted his head, listening. “Why, I do believe Liza has got that baby quiet,” he said. “I don't hear him crying, do you?”

Elizabeth sipped the coffee from her cup. “She's probably rocking him and singing to him.” She laughed. “Liza loves to sing to that baby.” She set her cup down and turned to Mandie. “Why don't we go see how she got him quiet,” she suggested. “You haven't really seen him yet, dear.”

In spite of her good intentions, Mandie put her mother off. “I will tomorrow, Mother. I promise I'll go see him tomorrow.”

Dr. Woodard nonchalantly sipped his coffee. “You know, he may be asleep, and you certainly don't want to wake him,” he said.

Elizabeth picked up her coffee cup again. “You're right, Dr. Woodard.” She smiled at Mandie. “We'll wait until tomorrow for your visit, dear.”

“Thanks, Mother,” Mandie said with a sigh of relief.

Elizabeth soon sent Mandie upstairs to go to bed. “You've had a long journey today,” she said. “I want you to get a good night's rest now.”

Mandie kissed her mother, then turned to the doctor. “Good night, Dr. Woodard,” she said. “I'll see you at breakfast.”

As she hurried up the steps, Snowball came running down the long hallway and followed her up to her room. He always seemed to know when it was eating or sleeping time.

Just as Mandie got to the top of the stairs, the baby started screaming again. Snatching up Snowball, Mandie raced down the hallway to her room and slammed the door. When she walked over to sit by the window, the cries seemed to drift in from outside.

The baby's probably by the open window in Mother's sitting room
, she decided. It was too warm to close the window. Nervous and frustrated, Mandie walked around her room with her hands over her ears. Snowball followed his mistress from one side of the room to the other.

Suddenly Mandie stopped and picked up her kitten. “Come on, Snowball. Let's go outside away from that screaming.”

She quietly crept down the hallway to the corner where it turned by the servants' stairs. Knowing her mother would hear the screaming and come up, Mandie slipped down the steps in the corner.

Arriving downstairs in a back hallway, Mandie softly opened the side door and hurried out into the yard. She rubbed her hand over her kitten's soft fur. “Let's go to the summerhouse,” Mandie whispered.

Holding Snowball tightly, Mandie raced across the lawn in the shadow of the trees and made it to the summerhouse without anyone seeing her. She sat on one of the benches that encircled the inside of the structure and held Snowball in her lap. “You can't get down, Snowball. You'll run away. And if I have to go chasing after you, someone will see me in the moonlight.”

Snowball finally quit squirming and curled up in Mandie's lap. Mandie leaned her head back to look at the moon and stars through the latticework of the summerhouse.
The moon's full tonight
, she thought.

Mandie heard a soft, familiar birdlike whistle. She jumped up and looked around. “Uncle Ned!” she cried as he came toward her in the shadows. “How did you know I was out here?” As her old Indian friend sat down, she dropped onto the bench beside him.

“I know Papoose come home today,” the old Indian said, smiling at her. “And I see Papoose walk here when I go to door in house.”

“Did you talk to my mother?”

“I see Papoose, so I not knock on door of house. I come here,” Uncle Ned explained. “Why Papoose come here in dark?”

“That new baby just cries and cries,” Mandie complained. “Even in my room with the door shut I could still hear him screaming.”

“New papoose stop crying soon,” Uncle Ned assured her.

“I sure hope so,” Mandie said. Then she looked up into the old Indian's tanned, wrinkled face. “Do you want to go inside the house, Uncle Ned? My mother and Dr. Woodard are drinking coffee in the parlor.”

“No, Papoose,” he said. “I come see Papoose. Come see how Papoose like new papoose.”

“You came all the way here just to ask how I like the new baby?” Mandie questioned.

“No. I visit friends up mountain over there. This on way,” Uncle Ned said. “How Papoose like new brother?”

“He's not my brother,” Mandie replied quickly. “Not my whole brother, that is. He's only my half brother.”

Snowball jumped down to chase a lightning bug nearby.

Mandie watched the kitten for a moment. “He's really my cousin, too,” she said. “Oh, it's all so confusing and aggravating. That baby interferes with everything. I can't even stay in the house because he cries so loud. I'll be glad to go to Europe with my grandmother in July. I wish I could stay with her all summer.”

“Remember, Papoose, Big Book say must love brother. Papoose love mother. Papoose love Uncle John,” the old Indian tried to explain. “Papoose must love everybody.”