“I imagine it’s like Arnold said. I also think that a lot of people do suspect what’s going on, but it’s easier to pretend it isn’t. It’s hard to support any cause when you have to face the less than pleasant aspects of it.”
“I guess. I just wish it wasn’t like that.”
“So do I, Jonathon. So do I.” Colby squeezed his shoulder in commiseration.
Chapter 10
Daniel rubbed his leg absently, waiting for the next batter to step up to the plate. He was glad that he’d been a pitcher before the accident because he knew there was no way he’d have been able to play a fielder’s position now. Just running the bases three times had caused an uncomfortable ache in his leg. It was good that this was the final inning and he wouldn’t get up to bat again. Unless a miracle occurred and the opposing team was finally able to catch up. Mostly due to Mr. McClelland’s surprising skill, they were ahead by three runs.
He walked the first player, but struck the second one out. The third batter hit a fly that Carl Bodell caught. Just one more out and the game would be over.
But it wasn’t meant to be. Not only did Wilson’s Wildcats score the three runs needed to catch up, they brought in another for good measure, leaving Bodell’s Bulldogs behind by one.
The game would continue. At least until they scored two more points. Mr. McClelland was third in line to bat. If just one of the men before him could get on base, there was a good chance the funeral director would hit a home run. He nearly always did, and this would be a good time to continue that trend.
If only he hadn’t tripped on the steps when he’d stopped to pick Nina up, for she always insisted on attending the games. But he had, and now suffered the consequences.
~~~
Jonathon was hurrying down the street, intent on meeting a couple of his friends for a lively game of- Well he wasn’t sure what they were going to play today now that he’d been put off by Trench Warfare. Knowing what life in the trenches was really like had taken all the fun out of the game. It made him feel things he didn’t like feeling, which kind of made him mad, and when he spotted Kathleen standing in front of them, hands on her hips, he was even madder. Now what, he wondered irritably. Couldn’t he ever be free of the babies?
Girls in fancy white dresses had no business playing games with boys. Sure as shooting if she got her clothes dirty, Mother would blame him. He quickened his pace until he reached them.
“Kathleen, go home now,” he snapped, brushing past her to stand by the other boys.
“They took Maggie!” she wailed, her eyes full of tears. Jonathon growled in frustration and looked to see that red headed, freckle-faced Steven Powers was the one who had the doll. Beside him stood Tommy Underwood, blond hair bleached almost white after spending most of the summer out in the sun. He was grinning wickedly.
“Give it back to her so we can go play.”
“Give her back this ugly doll?” Steven taunted, holding it almost within Kathleen’s reach and then dancing away with it.
“C’mon, Steven, give it back. We don’t have all day you know.”
“You mean this stupid doll?” Tommy asked, grabbing Maggie from Steven. The tallest one of their small group, he held the doll above his head. “Na. I don’t think so.”
“What? You wanna play with a doll instead?” Jonathon asked sarcastically.
“No. We just don’t want an ugly, stupid little girl to play with her ugly, stupid little dolly.”
“I’m not stupid!” Kathleen cried, stamping her foot. “And I want my baby back right this minute! You‘re scaring her!”
“Scaring her?” Tommy gasped, eyes wide. “If you think this is scaring her, I wonder how she’ll feel about this?” He waltzed over to a nearby tree and hit the dolls head on the trunk.
“No!” Kathleen screamed, running at Tommy, who stepped aside just before she reached him. Kathleen stumbled and fell on the ground, crying out as her knees scraped along the hard packed dirt.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Jonathon yelled, rushing to her side to help her up. Kathleen was holding the hem of her dress up to reveal her white hose stained and torn, and there was very definitely blood. He shot a furious glance at his friends.
“Look!” Steven cackled. “She’s crying like a baby! Poor ugly baby!”
“Leave her alone,” Jonathon shouted angrily, wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “And give her the doll back. Now!”
“Who’s gonna make us?” Steven sneered, catching the doll as Tommy threw it. He, too, hit the dolls head against the tree nearest him, causing Kathleen to howl.
“If you don’t give it back to my sister now, I’m gonna make you!”
“Oh, we’re so scared!” Steven hit the doll so hard this time that the head rolled right off the body, landing within inches of Kathleen’s foot. She snatched it up and began sobbing in earnest.
Jonathon took off at a run and tackled Steven. They both landed hard on the ground, which didn’t bother him at all, considering that Steven broke his fall. They wrestled viciously over the now decapitated doll, landing hits anywhere they could.
Jonathon felt a fist against his nose, the pain so sharp it brought tears to his eyes. He punched Steven in the eye. Steven punched Jonathon in the eye and Jonathon bit his ear.
They were pretty evenly matched until Tommy got in on the act, throwing himself to his knees and pounding Jonathon on the back. All the while Kathleen stood there sobbing and screaming at them to stop hurting her brother. But it wasn’t until the commotion drew the attention of a neighbor that the fight finally ended, Tommy and Steven running off like the cowards they’d proven themselves to be.
“Are you okay, Jonathon?” Kathleen wept, kneeling down beside him. “Your nose is bleeding!”
“Are you all right, Jonathon?” Mrs. Connors asked anxiously, also kneeling beside him. She pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and pressed it carefully against his nose. “Can you hold that there?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you,” he mumbled with as much courtesy as he could manage. Someone had split his lip and he could feel it swelling.
“Here. Let me help you up.”
Jonathon figured there wasn’t much on his body that didn’t hurt and he groaned mightily as he got to his feet.
“What happened?” Mrs. Connors asked gently, looking closely at what would probably turn into a black eye. He could feel that swelling, too.
“They stole my baby,” Kathleen cried piteously, “and Jonathon tried to get it back for me. They broke her!”
Mrs. Connors, he noted, looked outraged as she checked his arms and lifted the back of his shirt, gasping.
“You’re going to have some pretty bold bruises there, young man. Do you need me to help get you home?”
“No thank you,” he declined politely, or as politely as he was able given that he was now speaking around a lip the size of a football. Holding the handkerchief snugly on his nose didn’t help a whole lot either.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“All right then. You go on so your mother can tend to you. I’m calling those boys’ mothers this minute.”
Jonathon was glad. They deserved spankings, not only for teasing Kathleen, but for ganging up on him like that. Some friends they turned out to be. It was days like today that he really missed his best friend, Luke. And he hoped his father would come home from the war really soon so his family could move back to Charlotte.
“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, Jonathon,” Kathleen whispered, still crying. “I didn’t want those nasty boys to hurt you.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Kathleen,” he told her fiercely. “They’re just stupid.”
“But now they’re mad at you.”
“I don’t care. They’re not my friends anymore.” It was one thing to tease one of the babies, but Steven and Tommy had gone too far this time. They had been downright mean. Breaking her doll hadn’t been funny either. Sure he
thought that playing with dolls was a dumb pastime, but he wasn’t a girl, and Kathleen loved her dolls like they were real people.
“I’m glad. They’re mean!”
“Yes they are. Do your knees hurt bad, Kathleen?”
“A little. Mama’s probably gonna be mad about my hose.”
“I’ll tell her what happened. If she is mad, she’ll be mad at them, not you.”
And hopefully not at him either. Mama didn’t take too kindly to fighting. Although, from the look on her face as she hurried around the corner toward them, he didn’t think she was going to be mad at either one of them. Apparently Mrs. Connors had called her before the other boys’ mothers.
“Oh dear Lord in heaven!” she gasped, coming to a breathless stop beside them. “Oh, Jonathon!”
Margaret hurried them toward home, trying to comfort Kathleen as best she could, but most of her attention was given to Jonathon’s battered face.
~~~
Alerted by a telephone call from Edna Connors, Elliot hung the “Closed” sign in the window, locked the door and literally ran all the way home. Meg and the children were within two houses of theirs and he hurried to meet them, feeling a little nauseated when he saw Jonathon’s bruised and bloodied face.
“Steven and Tommy did this to you?” he demanded, squatting down in front of him to examine him more closely.
“Yes, sir.”
“Because you were trying to get Maggie back for Kathleen?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“What exactly then?” he asked, looking at his left eye, swollen nearly shut and turning a brilliant shade of purple.
“Elliot, can we get him back to the house please?” Margaret nearly begged. “We need to get something on that eye. And I need to check to see if his nose has stopped bleeding yet.”
“I- Yes, of course.” He hoisted Kathleen onto his hip and helped hurry them along.
“Papa, they didn’t start fighting until Steven broke Maggie’s head off and Jonathon got mad. They were so mean!” she said, beginning to cry again.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he soothed, holding the door open for his wife and son.
“First it was just Jonathon and Steven fighting. And then Tommy started hitting his back. Real hard, Papa. I couldn’t make them stop hurting Jonathon. Only Mrs. Connors could when she came out.”
Elliot felt like hitting someone. Or, specifically, two cruel young boys who needed a good thrashing!
He sat Kathleen in a kitchen chair then, at Meg’s request, ran upstairs to make sure that Charles was still napping. In a panic, she hadn’t thought to let Elizabeth, who was holed up in her room reading, know.
Seeing everything was as it should be, he hurried back down with a fistful of washcloths. Meg relieved him of them and told him to tend to Kathleen’s knees while she saw to Jonathon, who was now sitting at the table, shirtless, his back a colorful assortment of bruises.
Elliot couldn’t believe his ears when he heard his wife say,
“I hope you got in a few good licks of your own.”
“I think I broke Steven’s nose.”
“Good boy.”
~~~
“Daniel, please?” Nina implored him. “You might have fractured one of the breaks again. You need to let Dr. Garlington look at it.”
“I’m fine, Nina. It doesn’t feel broken, it just aches.”
“That’s why you’re so pale?”
“It’s really hot today,” he pointed out, wishing she’d let the subject of his leg go.
Maybe if she would distract him with news of the sanatorium, or something that happened at the boarding house, he could get his mind off just how much his leg really did hurt. So much so that he was afraid she might be right. But he couldn’t bear the thought of wearing a splint for another six weeks. Not with the days as hot as they had been, and promising to get nothing but worse as August drew to a close. Septembers were often just as bad, if not worse.
“I’ll worry all night if we don’t go and see him.”
“Nina-“
“Looks like you could use a lift,” Colby Thornton called out, pulling his buggy to a stop just ahead of them.
“Thank you for the offer, Reverend, but we’re fine.”
“I would love a ride home, Reverend Thornton,” Nina said defiantly. “It’s so hot today, after all.”
“Nina!” Daniel muttered. “Stop it.”
“No. If you won’t go see the doctor, then we at least need to get you off your feet. If you would just stop being so stubborn about it.”
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! You need to stop nagging about this.”
“Daniel?” she asked, clearly hurt at the harshness in his tone. She stepped away from him.
“Nina. I’m sorry!“ He reached out to pull her back to her side, but she continued to back away.
“No. No, you should let Reverend Thornton take you home,” she whispered, then turned away and hurried down the road. But not before he saw the tears that filled her eyes.
~~~
“Mr. Owens!” One of the young clerks from the post office rushed into the store shortly after Elliot had returned from dealing with the fight. He was red in the face and breathless, waving an envelope in Elliot’s face.
“Good afternoon, Milton. What’s that you’ve got there?”
“It’s from the White House, Mr. Owens! The postmaster thought you would want it right away!”
Stunned, he took the envelope and stared at it in awe. Sure enough, it was from the White House, and addressed to Master Jonathon Owens.
“Imagine that,” Milton said enthusiastically, adding almost reverently, “Someone from Charlotte has mail from the White House”
“Imagine that,” Elliot breathed, sitting hard in one of the red leather chairs usually reserved for his customers.
It hadn’t been all that long since he’d mailed the letter to the president for Jonathon and here was, he assumed, a reply. Not that he ever figured his son would receive a one but he had, and very promptly, too.
“Mr. Nelson was so excited he was almost beside himself. In fact, if it weren’t so hot out I think he’d have brought it to you himself.”
“Well give him my thanks,” Elliot said, getting to his feet and shaking the young man’s hand. “And thank you for bringing it, Milton. I think I’m going to take it home to Jonathon right now.”
With that decision, Elliot Owens locked the door to his store, earlier than he should have for the second time that day.
Despite the fact that he wore a suit, and that the day was another scorcher in a long string of exceptionally hot and humid summer days, he all but ran the three blocks home – again. He failed to notice the people he passed pointing and whispering because Milton and Mr. Nelson had told anyone who would listen that the Owens’ household had received a letter from the White House.
“Jonathon!” he shouted, rushing into the house. “Jonathon!”
“Mother went for a walk. Jonathon went with her to make sure she was all right,” Richard informed him as soon as he had come in the front door. Elliot watched his eldest son reading to his youngest and wondered what had happened this time. Meg often went for walks but it was usually in the evenings after supper, always with him, and often with one or more of their children tagging along. Given the fact that Richard wouldn’t meet his eyes, Elliot had a pretty good idea why his wife had gone. “Did she and Elizabeth have another argument?”
“Yes, sir,” Richard admitted reluctantly.
“Did your sister take a walk, too?”
“No. She’s in her room.”
“Thanks,” Elliot said, deciding that enough was enough. Tucking the letter in his jacket pocket, he turned on his heel and took the stairs, two at a time, rapping on her door in seconds.
“Go away!” came the terse order. Elliot turned the knob and strode into the room where he found Elizabeth at the window.
“We need to talk,” he said firmly,
walking to stand beside her.
“I’d rather not,” she told him, still looking at the backyard.
“That’s fine then. All you need to do is listen – without interruption.”
“More orders, I suppose?”
“I believe I said without interruption, young lady.” It wasn’t often that Elliot lost his temper with one of the children but Elizabeth had brought this upon herself, what with her attitude and ugly disposition.
“Yes, sir.” This was said through clenched teeth and Elliot felt his fingers clench into fists.
“I have tried to understand your position as far as the Woman’s Suffrage Movement, Elizabeth, but if this is what it’s turning you into, then I have to forbid any future involvement.” Her eyes flew to his, but a raised brow forestalled comment. He continued, “If this is what the movement encourages – insolence, rebellion, anger – then it’s a movement I cannot support. And neither will any member of my family.”
“That’s not fair!” Elizabeth wailed, folding her arms across her stomach, her eyes filling with tears.
“And it’s fair to treat your family this way? You are sixteen years old. You are not a woman, but a girl. As such, you are subject to the rules of this house. And one rule that you will obey is respecting your parents. Your mother in particular.”
“She won’t even try to understand, Papa.”
“Understand what, Elizabeth? I don’t understand. One day you are a sweet tempered young lady and the next you are impossible to get along with. You seem to go out of your way to make everyone around you as miserable as you appear to be.” He took hold of her shoulders and shook her gently. “Why, Elizabeth?”
“Because none of you understand how important this is!” she cried out, jerking away from him and flopping down on her bed.
“Important enough to alienate your family?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
“You made it this way,” he said in exasperation, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know many women involved with the movement and they haven’t turned into – into-” He couldn’t think of a word he’d care to use in the presence of his daughter. Especially not in reference to his daughter. None had passed through his lips in all of his thirty-seven years, and he didn’t intend to allow them to now. Or ever.
Enza Page 14