Fair and Tender Ladies

by Lee Smith

  She looked at me and I looked at her.

  Then I put my arm around Lonnie and we walked along like that together, out of sight.

  You be good while Im gone now girl, Lonnie said. He squeezed me. We will get maried first thing when I get back. Oh Silvaney, I did not have the heart to tell him, I did not! For Lonnie is an orphan like Jane Eyre. Even though I remember so well what Mister Brown taught me and Molly so long ago, that truth is more precious than rubies, more dear than gold. But since that time I have learned a lot, believe you me, and now I wonder if Mrs. Brown had not been so honnest herself, if she had not told Mister Brown that she was pregnant with Revels baby, would he ever of found out that it wasnt his? For I can not see how. And I wonder, Must we always tell the truth, even if it hurts another very much? So I bit my tonge. For I thought, Lonnie is going to war, he does not need to feel bad. I can tell him when he gets back, that will be plenty of time. Silvaney, do you think this is awful? It is either awful or grown up, I am not sure which.

  We walked through the town of Majestic which used to be mine, past stores and houses and the Methodist Church, gray stone, its steeple gray in the blue-blue sky. Everywhere, people were running in the street and yelling, and down by the lumberyard you could hear the whine of the circular saw. The new spring air was wet and clean. We got to the bridge. Lonnie set his cloth bag down. Then he put his arms around me, those arms which have been around me so much before. The river was up and the water went rushing past, it was hard to hear anything. Or see anything either—the sun came jumping out of a cloud right then and shone in my eyes, I couldnt see Lonnies face. I couldnt see his face, I dont know him, I never knew Lonnie really which seems so sad. He kissed me on the lips and I let him, I didnt care who happened by or what they thought. For I am compromised! I said to myself over the roar of the water, compromised! When he kissed me I felt that firey hand as always and kissed him back harder. I have always liked kissing Lonnie Rash.

  Ivy, he said in my ear. I want you to have this. Ive got something I want you to have. And he reached in his breast-pocket and came up with a little box.

  Oh no, I thought, I can not wear a ring. What is it? I said.

  Open it and see, said Lonnie, I asked my sister Bonnie to send it and she did, it came in the mail yesterday, just in time.

  In time for what, I said.

  For you, Lonnie said. For me to give to you.

  Lonnies sister Bonnie is a whole lot older than him. You will love Bonnie, he has told me many times, and I have not had the nerve to say, I will never know her.

  Lonnie opened the little box and there was a round gold locket with flowers carved all over it. It is so pretty. Looky here, Lonnie said. He pressed a tiny spring and the locket popped open and there in one side was a picture of a kind of flat-faced woman with her hair piled on top of her head, and on the other side, a lock of the hair, brown, like Lonnies. This is my mothers hair, he said. This is my mothers locket. Then he closed it up and unclasped the chain and put it around my neck.

  Thank you, I said.

  I kissed him some more and then he left. I watched him walk across the bridge and check in with the soldier on the other side. He will look good in a uniform. He looked back once. I waved. He got smaller and smaller as he walked off into the bottom, into the bustling camp. Then he was gone.

  The river roared and leaped, muddy brown but shining in the sun, about three yards below the bridge. Downstream, I knew, boys were waiting to ride the logs down to Kentucky, waiting for the great spring tide that would carry them clear to Catlettsburg, hunkered down on the riverbank watching the river and waiting to go. The water beneath the bridge spewed and whirled, it made me dizzy. Lonnie will cross the ocean and go to Europe. The water went around and around in little eddies, little whirlpools, and all of a sudden in my mind I saw Lonnie Rash walk away from me again and again and again, getting littler and littler as he went. Then he was gone. I blinked. Well, I thought, thats that, and with him gone it was like my whole self came rushing back to me again and I looked at the water and thought, Oh I do want to go to Boston, I do want to go after all!

  And I recalled Miss Torringtons letter, how she said that there are kinds and kinds of love and that sometimes we confuse them being only mortal as we are, and how she said that she would never be other than my good true friend if I would reconsider coming.

  So I will go! I will! I thought. My mind was as rambunctious and wild as the river. All the poems I ever knew came rushing and tumbling into my head, and the thought of losing Lonnie—for I have lost him, Silvaney, I know it—this thought put me in mind of the saddest lovelyest poem I ever knew which was Rose Aylmer whom these wakeful eyes may weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee. I thought oh yes for I have lost him now as surely as I have lost those others, Danny and Daddy and you, Silvaney, my lost one, my heart, and I thought

  They are all gone into the world of light!

  And I alone sit lingering here;

  Their very memory is fair and bright,

  And my sad thoughts doth clear.

  Oh yes, I decided, watching the river, I will go, I will go, and if I do not like it there I can come back, I can always do that for I am grown up now even though I am compromised and no lady, nevermind I thought, I will go. And I felt then as if I had jumped the logs and ridden them clear to Kentucky! I am glad I am no lady now.

  So picture me Silvaney, if you will. I want you to see me plain. It is spring and a skittery sunshiny day, I stand on the river bridge already missing my sweetie whose gone to the war, the river spews and boils like Genevas coffee, the wind blows hard and a bugle call comes across the river from the Army camp. I wear a dead womans pretty locket, I am free to come and go as I please. I will go to Boston and see what there is to see. Yet always I will be bound to you my love and my heart and I will come back for you one day soon and take you back to the mountain. I remain your loving sister,

  IVY ROWE.

  Dear Miss Torrington,

  I know you are surprised to hear from me but, I have changed my mind! I would like to come to Boston after all, if you will still have me. You know I do not have the fare, but I will repay you bye and bye when I am a teacher out in the world and earning my keep. So, do you still want me? And when should I come? I am too exited to write down here the steps which I have taken to arrive at this decision. Let us say instead, may be I have learned some perspective at last, and I rema

  Oh Silvaney, Silvaney,

  All is lost.

  For I can not go to Boston, or have a new life, or do anything ever again.

  This is what happened. I do not know if I said or not that I have been poorly lately from being upset I thought, what with everybody trying to mary me off, and from exitment and the war. Well right after Lonnie left, I was writing to Miss Torrington when I got to feeling sick at my stomach and when I came back from the bathroom, there was Geneva in her big blue satin robe looking serious.

  Now Ivy, she said, we must have a talk. And she took my hand and led me back to the kitchen where she gave me a cup of coffee in one of my favorite cups, the white china one with the golden edges that we never use.

  I sat at the table feeling puny while Geneva put sugar and cream in my coffee exactly the way I like it, looking at me. Then she got a cup of coffee for herself and made us some cinamon toast.

  Thank you Geneva, I said, but then I had to get up and run out the back door and get sick again, this has been happening to me lately. When I came back in the door Geneva hugged me and sat me back down in the chair, and pulled her own chair up close so she could hold my hands.

  Honey, how far along are you? she asked.

  What do you mean, I said, for I did not know.

  Oh merciful Jesus, Geneva said. She got up then and got herself another cup of coffee and got me another piece of cinamon toast.

  I dont know if I can eat that or not, I said.

  Eat it, said Geneva. You need to get your strength.


  Why? I said, and Geneva said, Ivy honey, you are going to have a baby.

  Her words exploded like a gunshot in my head, and then the whole kitchen whirled and then stood still. I can see it, smell it, feel it, yet—the kitchen so warm with the fires already going in the stoves, the coffee smell, the red and white checkered linolium cloth on the kitchen table, the salt and pepper shakers that look like little Dutch girls, the pale pearly light outside the kitchen window, Genevas fat kind wrinkled face above her satin gown. Oh yes, I thought, I have not bled for a long time, but I never did bleed too reglar anyway.

  A baby, I said. Are you sure?

  She hugged me then, I could smell her fancy perfume so strong I like to of got sick again.

  Oh Ivy, Ivy, she said. I am pretty sure. You cant just rush into things the way you do honey, without them catching up with you sometimes. You have got to slow down, and not put yourself out so much, or you will frazzle your nerves before you are twenty.

  I smelled Genevas strong perfume. Upstairs I heard people moving around, getting up. I heard Ludies baby going LA-LA-LA real loud. That was Little Geneva. Big Geneva drew back and smiled.

  Well Ivy, she said, Let me think on this awhile. You go on now, and get cleaned up and dressed, and dont you tell a soul what we have said. You hear me? Not any one.

  And I said, Yes.

  I will talk to you after supper then, Geneva said. She kissed me on the hair and stood up and I stood up too and left. I went back up to my room and got dressed and went back down and served at breakfast and then slipped out. I walked by the river awhile, the bottom looked so funny all trampled down and muddy and trashy, and Louis Judds Army gone. It was funny how a place so bustling could be so empty now I thought, and I thought of the world of light. Then I went over to Stoney Branhams store to see Ethel who said I looked sick. I am, I said to Ethel. I am real sick. And then I went back to the boardinghouse and upstairs to my room and laid down in my bed and starred up at the ladies marching hand in hand along my walls, and kind of lost track of the time.

  I felt of my stomach which still feels just as flat as ever beneath my skirt. At first I could not immagine the baby inside and then I could, you know I do have a good immagination. And I could see that baby as clear as day, tiny and pink and all curled up, and then it started beating with its little fists against my stomach, trying to escape. It hurt me. And then, I cannot explain it Silvaney, I was that little baby caught inside of my own self and dying to escape. But I could not. I could never ever get out, I was caught for ever and ever inside myself.

  And then I felt I was all caught up in a cloud or a fog, like the fog that hangs on the top of Hell Mountain of a morning, you know we used to could see it from Sugar Fork. Then that changed and I felt I was riding a log raft down to Catlettsburg but the river got wilder, and Silvaney you were on the raft with me too in this dream but you fell off, and Granny Rowe was there holding out her hand but she was too far away and then she was gone too and I fell off, I went down and down in the muddy water and could not see. It was so dark. Then a beam of light came in the dark and crossed my bed and I sat up with my eyes itching. I guess I had been asleep. I guess I had slept all day long. I was real hungry. It was Geneva and old Doc Trout.

  Geneva lit my lamp.

  Ivy, she said, Doctor Trout is going to examine you now and then we will decide what to do.

  I sat up. Is it night? I said, and Geneva said, Yes. Then Doc Trout came over and told me to lay out straight and put up my knees and hike up my skirt and I did so, but I could not stand to think of what he was doing so I looked at my ladies all in a row and thought about the play-parties we used to have and the flowers in our red hair. Beulah said we look good in green, with our red hair. Then he was done and I could put my knees down.

  Well Geneva, Doc Trout said. You are right of course but she is not so far along that we cant take care of it.

  Oh thank god, Geneva said.

  Bring her over to the office tomorrow after supper, Doc Trout said. Then he leaned way down and pinched my cheek. Ivy honey, wheres your spunk? Where is that redheaded hellion I am so fond of?

  I started crying. I dont know, I said.

  Well you find her, he said. You get up with her and bring her on over to my office tomorrow night, you hear me? I will fix her up.

  No you will not, another voice said from the door and we all looked up, and it was Momma. She stood there shaking all over like a leaf in the wind, in a long white gown with her long gray hair floating out around her.

  For gods sake, said Doc Trout.

  Now Maude, Geneva said.

  Momma took one step closer. She looked real little. Ivy, you listen to me, she said. I am your mother.

  But she looked more like the ghost of our mother. And the way she looked put me in mind of how she used to look up on Sugar Fork, how she went up on Pilgrim Knob and stood out in the snow and said, I am a fool for love.

  She turned to Doc Trout. We will not be needing your services, she said. Thank you anyway. She said it real formal. Her face was pinched and white. She turned back to me.

  Momma I am not going to get maried, I dont care what you say, I told her. I am not going to mary Lonnie Rash.

  Well then we will raise this baby ourselves, Momma said. We will keep this child.

  And though Geneva pitched a fit and Doc Trout talked till he was blue in the face, she would not change her mind and I could not go against her, Silvaney, Momma has been through so much.

  You dont have to say for sure right now anyway, Doc Trout said. Theres plenty of time yet. But he is wrong. For I know already, the time is gone. Its gone. But Silvaney even though I am going to have a baby I will still remain your devoted sister,

  IVY ROWE.

  Dear Beulah,

  It is all I can do to write this sad letter.

  Momma died in her sleep last Friday. When she did not come down for breakfast I started to go up there and get her but Geneva said No, wait a minute, Ivy, let me go. You stay here. And so I served at breakfast thinking no more of it until Geneva came back to the top of the stairs and called for Ludie and Mrs. Crouse. Then in a minute Ludie went running out the front door and everybody knew something was wrong. I believe I knew what it was right away. A great heavyness came over me, I had to sit down, I was so heavy that I couldnt even raise my head to nod to Doc Trout when he came back with Ludie. Johnny knew too. He came over to me and said, Is it Momma? and I said yes, and hugged him. It is a funny thing to me how you can know things without knowing them.

  Beulah, I can not write too much of this. Momma looked so small in death, like a little child. All the lines in her face disappeared. Ethel and Geneva did her hair up so neat that she looked pretty too, and then you could see how she used to be a beutiful girl and how she had had such a big romance. Early Cook made her the prettiest white pine coffin, you know I think he was sweet on Momma always, and Geneva laid her out in the front parlor of the boardinghouse which upset Miss Maynard so much that she has had a sick headache for three days running. I dont care, as I hate her. But Beulah, people came from all over town even though we did not send for a one since you are so big now and it is so hard to get word to Tenessee and Granny. But the word got out someway to the folks from Home Creek and they all come, and men that Daddy used to know, and friends of Geneva who has so many friends. Sad as I am I was still glad to see Delphi Rolette and Mister and Mrs. Fox and all of them, and kissed them, I am not showing bad yet so they could not tell. Every one had something good to say about Momma the way you do when somebody dies but I wonder, Now how does anybody ever know relly what a person is like? Nobody ever did know Momma I think except Daddy, and that so many years ago before she was burdened by all her cares. You know I used to think all the time about love and it seems to me now that this was a great love Beulah, great and strange. I did not tell Ethel this as she would say, Poppycock. But there laid Momma with Daddy in death at last, surrounded by strangers. I think we were all of us strangers. I believ
e she went to join Daddy not God. She never cared for God. I said as much to Sam Russell Sage who came in trying to run things. Dont preach, I said, and dont pray, but then I got sick and I had to lay down and he did it anyway, I guess it does not matter much as she is gone.

  I guess it does not matter how she looked, either. But Geneva and Ethel had dressed her up in a lacy blue dress that Ethel had bought at Sharps—Stoney Branham paid, and wasnt that nice?—and she looked real pretty, I have to say. But she would never of worn that dress in life. She did not look a thing like herself. She looked like a real lady, like somebody elses momma laying there. She did not look one bit desperate which she was dont you remember, all those years. But she looked like she died at peace. She died in her bed dreaming of Daddy and Sugar Fork, this is what I believe.

  And we had all agreed that she would be berried on Blue Star Mountain with Daddy, and the men from Home Creek were going to carry her back up there directly but I was not to go Geneva said, it is true I cant hardly stand to ride anyplace it makes me so sick. Beulah, I do not see how you have stood it once already. I know I am not suppose to say this, but I do not.

  Anyway there come a big rainstorm that next afternoon when they were fixing to leave, and so they all walked down the hill to Hazels Entertainment to wait for it to pass over, and I sat in the corner by myself, in the red wing chair by Mommas coffin, and thought about Lonnie Rash. Do you think this is awful Beulah? It is true. I could not get my mind off of him right then and I wondered, Where is he now? and, What is he up to? And I was thinking so hard that I failed to hear the knock at the door and I jumped when Ludie came running down the steps to let the old man in.