by Ruth White
Opal and I, along with the Coleman twins, pass the state exam with flying colors. Mr. Harmon is about to bust with pride. The last Saturday of school falls on the twenty-fifth. We four seniors are the first highschool graduating class ever in Deep Bottom. I don’t complain out loud, but I am disappointed that nobody bothers to give us a small reception or even a graduation ceremony. I guess I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself, especially after working so hard for so long, and now we get nothing but a piece of paper and a fare-thee-well?
As Mr. Harmon and I part, he grips both my hands tightly between his, and holds on. “Please drop me a line once in a while and let me know what’s happening,” he says.
“I promise.”
I give him a peck on the cheek, then move on to the next phase of my life. Outside, the sun is shining brightly, but once again I feel that big hollow place in my chest. Now what?
I go into Call’s to check the mail, and there it is – the letter from Mrs. Broderick Myles of Charlottesville. She begins by apologizing for not responding sooner, but she and Mr. Myles have been in Italy for nearly eight weeks. She found my delightful letter upon her return. She tells me the pay is a dollar and twenty-five cents per day, plus room and board and uniforms. If I am still interested in the job, please come as quickly as possible, as she would like me to be well-trained before the summer parties begin. I should let her know when my train is arriving, and she will have a car pick me up.
What part of her letter thrills me the most? Italy? Delightful letter? As quickly as possible? Summer parties? A car will pick me up? I can’t say. I can’t think. But I have to think. First things first – train schedule. There’s one tacked to the wall of the post office in the store. I run to it. The Sunday timetable is the best one. Tomorrow? No, can’t make arrangements by then. Next Sunday, the second of June? It will have to do.
“Three post cards, please,” I say to Mr. Call, and pull an ink pen from my bookbag.
I address the first card to Mrs. Myles and inform her of the date and time of my arrival by train. The second one goes to Dr. Wayne, thanking him for his help, telling him that I have corresponded with Mrs. Myles and will be leaving for Charlottesville next Sunday. The third one goes to Trula.
I slip the cards into the outgoing mail slot, run out into the bright sunshine, and practically leap up the mountain toward home. I soon have the whole house in an uproar with my news, all except Dad. He pretends to be oblivious to what’s going on.
At bedtime in our room Jewel cries, as I knew she would. She’s sorry for it, but she is going to miss me so much, she’s not sure she can stand it.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she blubbers. “I want you to go because I love you and I want you to have all the good things in life you dream of, but...”
I promise her that, as soon as she is old enough, she will be joining me wherever I happen to be.
“Think of it, Jewel, you and me living on our own in a city somewhere, maybe Charlottesville, working, earning our own money, living together, reading books together, going to the picture show. No more cooking three meals a day and washing overalls on a scrub board. No more garden work and blisters on our hands. No more babies to mind. So that’s what you can dream of for the next four years while you are going to highschool. We have a lot to look forward to, and this is the first step.”
“Yeah, I guess so, but...Lorie, who are you kidding? Some sheik is gonna come along and dazzle you, and you’ll be married so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
We have a good laugh over that before I say, “No, Jewel. I am not getting married.”
She scoffs. “I’ll give you one year!”
The next day Caroline comes up for Sunday dinner.
“You’ll need a new dress,” she says when she hears the news.
“No. I get to wear a uniform.”
“But what are you going to wear on the train?”
“I don’t know. I have a few dresses.”
“Dresses somebody else threw out?” she says.
“There’s nothing wrong with them.”
“Lorie, I have watched you come and go all these years wearing clothes from the charity bag, and thought how sad it is that a pretty girl like you has to wear cast-offs. It’s a shame you have never in your life had the pleasure of going into a store and choosing a dress for yourself.”
“I don’t need a new dress, Caroline. The ones I have are fine.”
Caroline turns to Samuel. “This will not do. Lorie cannot go to Charolttesville wearing one of those wretched dresses from a charity bag. I will take her to Skylark myself and buy her a new one.”
“I never think of things like that,” Samuel says, “but if Lorelei needs a new dress, then I’ll buy one for her. You don’t have to spend your money.”
“I have saved twenty dollars,” I say. “I can buy my own dress, but I don’t really think…”
“No but’s,” Caroline says. “Wednesday is the last day of school. On Thursday you and I will hire a ride to Skylark.”
“I’d like to go,” Bea says, “and my cousin Buddy will take us for free.”
“It’s settled then,” Caroline says with a smile. “The three of us will go.”
I glance at Jewel who is quietly looking from one of us to the other with pleading eyes.
I smile at her. “Four of us,” I say. “I can’t buy a new dress without Jewel.”
“Of course you can’t!” Caroline is apologetic. “I didn’t think.”
“Oh, thank you!” Jewel says, her eyes shining.
********************
As it turns out there are five of us going to Skylark on Thursday. Lawrence, being a bit spoiled, throws a temper fit if he’s left with anybody other than Bea, Jewel or me. It’s easier to take him with us than to create a crisis.
We meet Buddy Ward at Uncle Ben’s trail at eight in the morning. The trip to Skylark seems shorter than it did the first time we went those years ago. Maybe it’s because the road is better. Maybe it’s because I’m older, and minutes no longer seem like hours.
Once in town we go straight to the clothing store. As I look at the pretty summer fashions, I picture myself in this or that dress stepping off the train, or perhaps strolling down the street in Charlottesville on my day off.
“This one is sweet,” Caroline says and holds up a soft, green crepe. “And look, it has a little hat to match.”
It’s the kind of outfit I have seen in magazines and only dreamed of having for my own.
“Yes, it is sweet,” I say. “It has a sweet price tag too. The ones on that other rack over there are cheaper.”
“Of course they’re cheaper,” Caroline says. “They’re ugly!”
I go behind a curtain and try on the dress and hat. When I look at myself in a full-length mirror, I am astonished. There I am. All of me. It’s the first time I’ve ever in my life seen myself from head to toe. Is that girl really Lorelei Starr? It’s not the way I pictured her. I can agree with Caroline now – every girl needs to pick out her own new dress from a store once in a while.
This dress is long-waisted like most modern dresses, similar to the one Dad ordered me never to wear again, and which is hidden away in the loft to be taken to Charlottesville with me. But this one is solid green with a white collar, and hits slightly below the knees. The hat is no more than a narrow green headband with a white feather drooping over my left ear.
Caroline, Jewel, Bea, and even Lawrence look at me with admiration, oo..ing and ah…ing.
“You must have it,” Caroline says.
“Yeah, Lorie, you look like a princess,” Jewel says.
“When I remember the first time I saw you, Lorie,” Bea says, with a faraway look in her eyes. “That hillbilly, Jim Earl Rollins, had kicked me out and said I was only half a woman cause I didn’t give him any children. He made me feel so bad, I wanted to kill myself. Then there you were, you and Roxie and Jewel. I thought you were the prettiest little girls I ever saw, and you made me feel better
.”
“Oh, Bea,” I say, and put a hand on her arm. “I remember that night.”
“And now look at you,” she says, and smiles. Her eyes are misty. “All growed up and still shining like a new dime. I’m gonna miss you, Lorie.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I say. “You’ve been good to us.”
The sales clerk interrupts our moment by stepping to my side and scrutinizing my reflection up and down.
“This dress was made for you, dear,” she says. “Only one thing is missing.” She looks at my feet. “What size shoes do you wear?”
“I...I don’t know,” I say.
She leaves us for a moment and comes back with a pair of classy white high heels with open toes. “Try these.”
“I can’t wear high heels!” I sputter, though I am dying to see them on my feet.
“They’re only two inches,” the saleslady says. “Try them.”
As it turns out we wind up with the dress and hat, the high heels and a pair of silk stockings as well, split three ways between Samuel’s money, Caroline’s money, and mine. I can’t bear to see Jewel leaving the store empty-handed, so I buy her a pretty school dress. We are both absolutely giddy.
Afterwards we are browsing the shelves of a small variety store when a bright red and gold paisley carpet bag catches my eye. It’s just the thing I need to carry my belongings on the train. It costs a dollar and a quarter. A day’s pay, I am thinking as I hand over the cash to the store clerk.
Then we go to eat at a genuine luncheonette counter, where we splurge again. Lawrence eats two bowls of ice cream, and we start calling him Little Piggy. By this time everything is hilarious, and as we go out to meet Buddy at a designated spot, we have the silly giggles, even Caroline the school marm.
Suddenly Bea stops still on the street and hollers, “Why, look who’s here!”
A big, burly man in overalls with a bib, is coming toward us.
“Jim Earl Rollins!” Bea calls. “How in the world are you?”
The man stops and looks down at Bea. She comes almost up to his chest.
“Hidy, Bea,” he says.
“Jim Earl, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Bea goes on. “These are my step-daughters, Lorie and Jewel Starr, and this is our friend, Caroline Mays. Ain’t they pretty girls?”
Jim Earl glances at us and mumbles a howdy-do. Then he looks at Lawrence.
“And this one,” Bea says proudly, placing her hand on Lawrence’s head. “This is my own little boy, Lawrence Starr, almost two years old. He was quite the surprise.”
“You didn’t have this boy yoursef?” Jim Earl says skeptically.
“I shore did,” Bea says. “Just ask Lorie, here. She helped deliver him.”
“Yes, sir..eee, I’m an eye witness,” I say. “And look at that red hair.”
“You left me for that painted-up Polly,” Bea says to Jim Earl. “Kicked me out cause I didn’t give you any children.”
Jim Earl stares at Lawrence with disbelief on his face.
“How many young’uns you and Polly got now?” Bea asks.
She is grinning like the Cheshire cat. He does not answer.
Bea cups a hand over her ear. “What’s that you say, Jim Earl?”
He glares at her.
“Oh, did you say ‘none’?” she goes on. “None? Does that mean zero? Not even one tiny lil’ole young’un? And you ain’t kicked Polly out yet?”
Jim Earl stalks away.
Bea calls after him, “Maybe it wadn’t me after all, Jim Earl. Never thought of that, didja? Maybe it was you all the time. Maybe it’s still you!”
We laugh so hard, we can hardly walk. What a wonderful day!
********************
On Friday I make a special trip to Call’s to pick up the mail. I find a small package from Dr. and Mrs. Wayne. Inside is a set of four striking barrettes for my hair, each a different color. Mrs. Wayne encloses a note sending her best wishes. She asks me to pass along a message to her friend, Mrs. Myles. I am to tell her that Blake and Lydia Wayne certainly do miss her wonderful parties.
Dr. Wayne’s note says it gives him pleasure to at last be able to help that sad little girl who once begged him to take her away from here. Trula’s letter says she and Mack will pick me up at eight a.m. on Sunday morning on Gospel Road, and drive me to the train station in Granger.
At home I lay aside the new dress, hat, heels and silk stockings to wear on the train, and begin choosing what I will take to Charlottesville. I have a lifetime to drag along with me, and yet there is so little to pack. The first items to go into the new carpet bag are a pair of every day shoes and sturdy stockings. Next goes the short blue dress and a yellow summer dress which also came out of the charity bag, but is decent enough. I pack my underwear, the bluebell brush and mirror which are battered and bruised with years of use, the fancy hair barrettes, Jewel’s portrait of Roxie and one of Samuel, my highschool diploma, a fountain pen and stationery.
Even after shopping in Skylark, I still have the tidy sum of fifteen dollars which I tuck securely into an inside pocket of my bag. The train ticket will be two dollars. Last, but most important I pack a tiny doll made of cloth, and stuffed with goose feathers, with embroidered eyes, nose and mouth, and hair made of fur from an old coat. It’s Beth Ann – Roxie’s gift to me on that long-ago Christmas. Barely holding together after all these years, she’s still the prettiest doll I ever had. She’s the onliest doll I ever had.
Sunday, June 2nd, 1929
Bea has made a big breakfast, but I have difficulty swallowing. I finally lay aside my fork, and give her a hug and each one of the boys a kiss on the cheek.
Then I turn to Dad and say, “I’m leaving now, Dad, so this is goodbye.”
He lifts his coffee cup to his lips and slurps without looking at me, or acknowledging that I have spoken.
I put on a pair of old shoes for my walk down Willy’s Road to Gospel Road. Samuel and Jewel go with me.
“Whatever you do,” Samuel says to me, “have a good time. You never had a chance to be a little girl. You never had time to play.”
“I played games at school,” I say.
“You had too many responsibilities for a child. So when you’re not working, remember it’s time to have fun.”
At the car I kiss Samuel and Jewel and tell them to take care of each other. Then I change into the white heels, hand the old shoes to Samuel to carry back home, and leave the two of them standing there in the road with their arms around each other, both crying.
We are running late, and the train station is on the edge of Granger, so I barely see the town. It’s the county seat, and yet in all these years I have never seen it. At the station I give Trula, Mack and the boys a hasty farewell, and the next thing I know I am on the train and it is moving. I am on my way to Charlottesville, more than half way across this wide state. I have to pinch myself. I am on a train. This is not a dream. I am on a train.
I look at the other passengers. They are well-dressed, but no better than I am. My car is not full, so I have a seat to myself. I sit watching the green landscape go by. Small towns, large towns, coal yards, freight yards, loading docks, tracks going in all directions. Yes, I am really on a train. The mountains fall behind me. At one station I see three dark-skinned people climbing into another car on my train. It’s my first sight ever of colored folks.
Hours into the day I eat the sandwich Bea has prepared for me. Then I look toward the east and think about the people I am going to meet. I know nothing about them except they are rich and they have just returned from Italy and they throw a lot of parties.
I don’t know what time I will get to bed tonight, so maybe I should try to nap. I rest my head on the back of the seat and close my eyes. A woman across the aisle from me is eating strawberries. I can smell them.
I am in that lucid place between waking and sleeping.
A sweet wind moves across the mountaintop, and I can smell strawberries in it. They are ripe out there near t
he pasture. I sit in the new grass, feeling apart from my body. It is a funny way to feel. I know every moment what will come next. Just for a split second before it happens, I know what's coming. I am watching me from the outside of myself. Now Lorelei is going to put her hand there on the grass. It all took place this same way before. There is a cardinal going to light on that branch yonder, and he does it.
Here I see Roxie leaning out the window of our sleeping loft, with her golden hair hanging down like Rapunzel’s. She calls to me in in her pretty little voice to go in the kitchen and fetch a bucket. She says we have to pick the strawberries before the birds steal’em all. Yes, it was like this once before. But when?
I go into the kitchen and Mommie is there like the other time. Only now I am as tall as she is. This time she takes the bread out of the oven and looks at me with sad soft eyes and her face has that peaceful look it wore the moment she left her body.
I go to her and put my arms around her. She puts her arms around me.
We hold each other for a long time.
Part III: Charlottesville: Chapter Fifteen
Sunday evening, June 2nd, 1929
With more than a dozen stops across the state, my train arrives in Charlottesville around six-thirty. On the station platform a young man dressed in knickers and a newsboy cap, is holding a small sign that reads L. Starr.
“I’m Lorelei Starr, sir. Are you here for me?”
“You’re the new maid?”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiles and tips his hat.
“Are you one of the Myles?” I ask him.
“No. I’m just another servant. I look after the horses and the cars. My name is Chris. Where are your things?”
I clutch my carpet bag to my waist with both hands. “This is it, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me sir. Chris will do.” He throws the cardboard sign in the gutter and says, “This way.”