When MacGregan’s little girl was brought to Gloria to nurse and be cared for, she called on me more than ever to help. Now, though, when I held either of the squirming infants, I imagined it might be mine. Something with his nose and my eyes named after one of my parents.
The second time he kissed me was an afternoon when I was hanging out the wash. After that there was an evening when our eyes met in Jewell’s parlor. With a silent agreement, we met outside at the smoldering firepit and took another walk in the woods. I found myself constantly on the verge of smiling, and when I was alone, I’d say his name out loud, just to hear the sound of it.
I missed Phoebe terribly. We would have lain in bed at night, meticulously creating a future for me and Buck. How he would whisk me off to Virginia, where we’d live out our days on his grandfather’s tobacco plantation or some such nonsense. As it was, I had to make up the vision myself, because he never spoke of anything beyond the moments we were together. Even then, he seemed far more interested in kissing me than anything else.
Things changed the day the piano arrived and with it, two new girls.
The piano itself had been long anticipated. Jewell had sent word back with the last supply wagon that she was looking for something to liven up her house, and the next month here it came, sounding out great crashing notes as it bounced over the rough trail in the back of the wagon. Right behind it was a sleek black carriage, and when it stopped in the clearing in front of Jewell’s house, two women practically slithered out of it.
They were like nothing I’d ever seen—nothing I’d ever been allowed to see, anyway. Everything about them was dark—their hair, their skin, their eyes—which made the bright colors of their dresses all the more stunning. My mother would have been appalled enough at their brazen display of bare shoulders in the middle of the afternoon, but that their exposure continued halfway down their bosom would have sent her into an absolute fit.
“Jewell, darling!” one of them called out, waving a long, gloved hand. “We’re here, sugar. It took a few years, but we found you!”
Jewell gave each of the girls a hearty kiss on the cheek and ushered them straight into the parlor.
“Girls,” she said to all of us gathered in the room, “this here is Yolanda and that’s Donna. They’re gonna see if they can’t get things stirred up a little around here.”
And stir things up they did. Our quiet little parlor became a bona fide saloon, where every evening music poured from the piano and drinks were poured into glasses raised high to make loud toasts about almost anything. Gloria insisted they raised such a ruckus that the babies would never get any sleep, and with uncharacteristic generosity, Jewel agreed. Of course, that meant I was forced to move back into Sadie’s room, where I cringed at the thought of the new girls’ sinful antics in my pretty bed.
“Why can’t they go out to Gloria’s cabin?” I whined to Jewell when she announced the move.
“You think I want them babies in this house? Listen, girl, there’s all kinds of noise I can put up with, but babies ain’t one of ’em.”
Just three nights after Yolanda and Donna arrived, I walked into the parlor only to see Buck sitting on the sofa with Yolanda perched on his lap.
“Sing me a song, chico,” she said, her words thick with a Spanish accent.
“I don’t think I know any Mexican songs,” he said, his own southern accent more pronounced than it ever was when he talked to me.
“Maybe then we go upstairs and I teach you some?”
She was running her finger along the length of his nose, and though he showed no sign of backing away, he did have the decency to scramble to his feet once he saw me.
“Hey there, Biddy.” He turned his hat in his hand. “You want to go for a walk with me?”
Something in the pit of my stomach told me if I didn’t say yes, he’d soon be walking in the woods with someone else.
One day, Sadie came down to breakfast brimming with news. MacGregan was leaving in less than a week, and he was taking Gloria and the babies to start a new life in Oregon.
The night before Gloria was to leave, we all gathered together in her cabin. The coziness of the kitchen had long disappeared with the introduction of loud music and wild girls. The sound of it carried across the clearing and through the windows open to the late spring breeze.
Even Jewell was drawn out to us, though at first she simply leaned in through the cabin window and berated us for ignoring the guests in the house.
“Oh, they are fine,” Sadie said. “Let them drink and play cards.”
“They don’t pay to play cards,” Jewell said.
We had all worked very hard to get Gloria ready to go, cutting up any spare garment we could find to make diapers for the babies. Mae had thrown herself into the task of making more suitable clothes for Gloria’s new life as a pioneer, and we were all a bit amused to see her buttoned into a plain calico skirt and blouse. As much as we admired her new style, all Mae could see was an urgent need for alterations, so she gathered the garments and ran back to the house, promising to have them hemmed and pressed for the morning.
“All you need now is a sunbonnet and a hunched back.” Sadie laughed through a mouthful of a molasses cookie Mae had baked.
“Don’t think I’m going to turn into any farmer’s wife,” Gloria said.
“Oh now, ain’t that every woman’s dream?” Jewell had come inside the minute Mae left and immediately took up too much space. “You know,” Jewell continued, taking a sip from her flask and speaking with a slight slur, “I sure ain’t gonna miss listenin’ to them kids wailin’ at all hours.”
“Not much of a mother type, are you?” Sadie said.
“No more’n you are. I’m the mama to all my girls. That’s enough for me.”
The thought of Jewell even knowing my mother made me shudder.
Jewell leaned forward in her chair and pointed with her flask. “And from what I know, your mamas weren’t no different from me.” With that, she sat back and took another triumphant swig.
“You’re not like my mother,” I said quietly. “You’re not like her at all.”
“Well, listen, little missy,” Jewell said. “You’re more than welcome to head on out and make a life on your own. Like our little friend here.”
Gloria held Danny closer. “Stop it, Jewell.”
“But Gloria really isn’t on her own, is she? No ma’am. She’s living every whore’s dream.”
“And just what dream is that?” Sadie asked. “Getting stuck with some man’s baby? Or getting hauled off to some godforsaken wilderness to churn butter and tend crops?”
“I’m not going to churn butter,” Gloria said.
“It’s the dream,” Jewell said, “of some man comin’ along and takin’ you to be the little wife.”
“That is not everybody’s dream, Jewell,” Sadie said, though something in her eyes told me it might have been, a long time ago.
I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life here, becoming one of Jewell’s girls. Not as beautiful as Gloria, not as smart as Sadie. I didn’t have Mae’s fun, gentle spirit or the new girls’ shameless air. Since Donna and Yolanda arrived, some of the men had been looking at me too. Not the way Buck did—he’d never been anything but chivalrous and kind—but the way Hiram did the minute he walked into Laurent’s cabin.
“It’s my dream,” I said.
Jewell shot me a look that made me too terrified to elaborate.
“Well then,” Gloria said, “if it will help with the cause …”
She took a dress from its hook on the wall and draped it over my lap. It was the green one trimmed with black velvet that I had admired so much.
“You’ll have to get Mae to do some alterations, but I think the color would be lovely on you.”
The conversation continued on around me, but it blurred behind my thoughts as I ran my finger over the soft velvet lining of the dress. It was beautiful, more stylish than anything I
had ever owned. But it was a prostitute’s dress. Not nearly as vulgar as the gowns Yolanda and Donna wore, but rich in detail and cut to emphasize a womanly figure, which I despaired of ever having.
I stood up, still holding the dress, and went to the window. Across the clearing I could see Buck standing at the door, as if deciding whether or not to go inside.
“Look!” I interrupted the other women. “Buck Danglars is coming to visit. I—I think he really fancies me.”
All three of the women stopped to stare at me.
“Go talk to him,” Sadie said softly, her voice full of protective affection. “Just talk to him. Don’t go upstairs.”
Well, of course I wouldn’t go upstairs; Buck had never even hinted at such a thing. Just the question of it haunted me as I made my way back to the house, my new dress draped over my arm.
Buck met me in the middle of the clearing and looked down at me with that lanky, shy manner he always seemed to have.
“You ladies having a nice talk?” he asked, inclining his head toward Gloria’s cabin.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go out for a walk with me tonight?”
The moon was shining full and bright, and when I looked up I could see his eyes as clear and blue as ever. His smile was broad; I knew his lips would be warm and soft, and the thought of them set my heart thudding with the same intensity it had the first time he kissed me.
“Let me ask you something.” I tore my eyes away from his face so I could gather my thoughts. “What do you think of me? Do you think that—Do you think I’m like the other girls here?”
He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and stared down at the ground where he was working his boot into a little hole.
“Well,” he said finally, “you sure aren’t like the girls back home.”
“But that first night. You said I was a nice girl. You said you could tell I was a nice girl. Do you still think I am?”
“Compared with those others—”
“No. Not compared to the others. Just me.”
He took my face in his hands and leaned down. “Well, you’ve always been real nice to me.”
His lips were on mine, kissing me out in the moonlight, like a dozen other kisses we’d shared before, and I gave into him as we both knew I would. He pulled me close against him, crushing Gloria’s dress between us, and for an instant I forgot all about it. Forgot about all my fears. It wasn’t until he pulled away and said, “Now, how about taking that walk with me?” that they came crashing back.
I touched my hand to my lips. “I don’t think so.”
28
I woke up early the morning Gloria left so I could tell her good-bye. I’d never had much to do with Mr. MacGregan, and when I saw him that morning I was struck by what a massive man he was. He lifted Gloria into his wagon as if she were a tiny, prized possession. The rest of us stood and stared. At that point even Jewell would have knocked Gloria clean out of the seat and jumped in that wagon herself had Mr. MacGregan given the slightest invitation.
Watching Gloria drive away put Jewell in a foul mood, and she imposed a state of sobriety for her house, even though the rest of the camp took it as a holiday. When Donna and Yolanda finally roused themselves at noon, Jewell informed them that if they wanted to spend a day carousing, they would have to take themselves to the mountains. They obeyed, gladly, taking more than an evening’s supply of whiskey with them.
Once they were gone, the first order of business was to move them out to Gloria’s vacated cabin, and I spent the afternoon reclaiming my room. I stripped the sheets, scoured them clean, and hung them out to dry on the wash line in the yard. I wiped off the traces of powder and paint left behind on my bureau, and I thought I would never see the end to the colorful tufts of fur and feathers scattered in the corners.
As far as Jewell was concerned, we could have thrown the whole lot of their stuff in the yard. She stood on the porch, watching us parade their belongings, and shook her head muttering something about gettin’ too old for this mess.
“Admit it, you old crank,” Sadie said, “you are going to miss Gloria. And those babies.”
“I ain’t goin’ to be missin’ nothin’.” But for all Jewell’s bluster, there was a hint of sadness in her deep-set little eyes.
Mae and I worked together unpacking their things. It was a fascinating collection of stockings and perfume, jewels and paint. I’d never seen so much silk in my life, and the sheer number of hats could have stocked a small boutique back home. I ran my hands along everything, fascinated by the myriad textures. Everything was lush and rich; my fingers remembered the feel of the black velvet trimming on my new green dress. I wondered if this collection started with a single special garment.
“Well, it looks like it is just the four of us again, at least for tonight,” Sadie said that evening as we sat around the kitchen table together.
“Just think,” Mae said with the ever-present giggle in her voice, “it wasn’t that long ago that it was just the three of us. And now we have our Biddy!”
I smiled at Mae, knowing her heart to be true despite the trepidation her words caused.
“Oh, I hope not for long,” Sadie said. “Our next responsibility is to get Biddy home.”
“But what about her young beau?” Mae winked.
“I wouldn’t worry ’bout that if I was you,” Jewell said. “Sadie’s been talkin’ ’bout goin’ home since the day I met her. Ain’t happened yet.”
“We are not talking about me, Jewell. We are talking about Biddy.”
“An’ it seems the only one not talkin’ is Biddy. Maybe we need to let her decide what she wants.”
All eyes fell on me.
“I can’t make that decision for myself.” I chose to look at the grain in the tabletop. “God will take me where He wants me to go.”
Jewell let out her deep, whiskey laugh. “Well, that just tears it then. Guess I’ll just have to keep my eyes peeled to see you flyin’ outta here someday.”
Mae giggled, and even Sadie smiled. I just stared at my folded hands and said, “Unless He decides I should stay.”
Although it was still early, we all decided to head for bed, and I was eager to be back in my own room. The sheets on my bed smelled like mountain sunshine, and the open window let in a cooling breeze that carried with it the scent of pine. I quickly changed into my nightgown before letting down my hair and brushing it, replaying the conversation from downstairs. Just the four of us. The wonderful sense of safety and protection I’d felt when I first arrived had turned, and now I had the distinct feeling that I was on the verge of drowning.
My Sunday school teacher was fond of saying that sin was a slippery slope. At the time it was just a silly phrase, something we used to mimic when his back was turned, scrunching up our faces and pinching imaginary glasses on our noses as we intoned, “Sin is a slippery slope.” Phoebe was especially adept at imitation, and if she ever suspected I was on the verge of doing something wrong, she would come up behind me and sneer, “Sin is a slippery, slippery slope.”
But now I knew it was true, like so many of the aphorisms and proverbs of my youth. How had I come to see this place as my home? When did I lose the desire to find my brother? The memory of my parents was fading, and every moment spent with Laurent seemed little more than a dream. Even my prayers had slipped in my zeal to ingratiate myself to this household. As it grew in bawdiness and transgression, I’d grown right along with it.
I picked up my candle and ventured out into the dark hallway. I knocked softly once, then opened the door to Sadie’s room. It was dark—she was already in bed—but she sat up the minute I walked in.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, scooting over and patting the mattress beside her. “You have your own room now. Do not tell me you have grown afraid of the dark.”
“No.” I set the candle on the table by the bed and crawled under the covers. “I was just thinking; then I got a little sad.”
�
�What were you thinking about?”
“Would you ever want to leave this place, Sadie?”
“Yes.”
“Where would you go?”
“I have not given it that much thought, but I think I would like to go back to New York. I have a daughter there, you know.”
“That sounds wonderful. I wish my mother could come back to me.”
“I do not know if my daughter even knows that I am alive,” Sadie said, “or what she thinks of me. But I need to find out.”
“Do you want to get married?”
She laughed. “Not any time soon.”
“Why did you become a prostitute?”
“Ha! That is a very good question. And one with a very long answer. Too long for this late hour.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
I looked at her in the candlelight, and the look on her face told me she was taking a journey back to a day she’d vowed never to revisit.
“I was not much older than you, dear. And I felt I didn’t have any choice.”
“Do you … do you think I’ll have a choice?”
“Of course you will.” Sadie grasped my hands. “Do not get into this life, Biddy. You will never be able to leave it behind if you do.”
“There’s that boy, Buck Danglars—”
“Be careful. My life was ruined by a boy like that.”
My first instinct was to protest and tell her that he seemed to be a nice young man, but the charm of talking about him had worn thin. We talked late into the night, but I didn’t leave with the reassurance I sought. I’d hoped Sadie would tell me that her life could never be mine, that because of some great right given at birth or rebirth, I could never become what she was. Instead, I learned how quickly one simple step could lead a girl to slide away from everything she’d ever known.
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