Gettin’ Merry

by CATHY L. CLAMP; FRANCIS RAY; BEVERLY JENKINS; MONICA JACKSON; GERI GUILLAUME

  An awkward silence followed. Lydia turned back to the countryside. What happened to his dreams of attending college and becoming a doctor? she wondered. Had his parents blessed his enlistment into the military, or were they as taken aback by his decision as Lydia herself? She wanted to question him about why he’d made such a choice, but she no longer had the right to ask him anything so personal. Not anymore.

  Gray had enlisted in the cavalry in order to get away from everyone and everything he knew. The marriage to Anna Mae had been disastrous. For the sake of the baby, Gray had tried to make a go of it at first, but the only thing Anna Mae seemed intent upon was spending him into the poorhouse. Her greediness was exceeded only by the greediness of her relatives. After she lost the baby, Gray had allowed her to recover, then instructed his barrister to draw up the divorce papers. Two weeks after the decree from the judge became official, Gray headed west. He drifted for a while, taking odd jobs here and there to keep money in his pockets, then enlisted with the Tenth Cavalry at Fort Davis, Texas. When he first arrived at the isolated fort, the bleak barren landscape and the cold faces of the mountains mirrored how he felt inside. The marriage had left him bitter, angry. Over the years, the hard life of a pony soldier molded him into the man he’d become, but he’d never forgotten Lydia.

  Lydia and Gray were mainly silent for the remainder of the journey. Mrs. Harrison had graciously filled a canteen with steaming hot tea, and the sips Lydia and Gray shared kept them warm.

  As they finally turned off the main road and onto the track that led into town, the familiar surroundings pulled at Lydia’s heart. She and Gray had climbed the trees here, hunted frogs in the creeks, and caught fireflies. They’d taken long silent walks during the rustling season of autumn, raced horses down to the Huron River, and fallen in love with the richness of their lives and each other. Back then, Gray’s father had enough wealth to employ a cook and a housekeeper. In the small clean cottage where Lydia resided with her mother, Miriam, Lydia did those jobs. Gray’s parents were active, well-known Republicans; Lydia’s father was dead, and her mother did laundry and any other domestic work she could find. There had been no time for balls or political rallies at the Cooper household; Lydia and her mother were too busy putting food on the table.

  Lydia now gave Gray a sidelong glance from beneath her lashes. Back then, he hadn’t cared that the Coopers were poor as church mice. Prominent young women from all over the state had set their caps for him, but he’d chosen her, Lydia, the daughter of a washerwoman. In reality, Lydia had no idea if she would have become Gray’s wife had Anna Mae never come into their lives; maybe they would have simply drifted apart as young sweethearts ofttimes do, but because of Gray’s actions they would never know, and that was what hurt her the most.

  When Gray pulled the team to a halt in front of the small cottage belonging to Lydia’s mother, he didn’t immediately move to go around and help her down. Instead he sat there a moment, thinking about the past, the present, and all the empty years in between. He said, finally, “Welcome home, Lydia.”

  His tone touched her. “Thanks, Gray. It’s good to be here.”

  Gray searched her eyes and savored the face that had once been his whole world. Why haven’t I been able to forget you? It seemed as if he’d spent his entire adult life trying to resurrect Lydia’s radiance in every woman he encountered.

  Lydia could feel the ties that had once bound them trying to reconnect themselves, and she fought to keep her barriers up. One betrayal was enough. She knew the incident had happened over a decade ago and that maybe she should have set it aside by now, but she couldn’t; she’d loved him that much. By keeping her heart under lock and key, she’d never be vulnerable to Gray, Burton, or anyone else again. She was too old for heartbreak. “Thank you very much for the ride home.”

  “I’ll get your trunks,” Gray said, but instead of putting actions to words, he stayed seated. He found he didn’t want to leave her, not yet, not after just finding her again. And in the silence that rose, their eyes met. Gray, moved by all she’d meant to him, reached out and stroked a fleeting finger down her soft, cold cheek.

  The sweet jolt tore through Lydia with such force her eyes shuttered in response.

  He whispered, “I’ve missed you, Lydie. . . .”

  Lydie had been his name for her before they’d been forced to part. Hearing him address her that way after the passage of so much time filled her with such powerful memories she couldn’t find her breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen! She wasn’t supposed to be this moved by him, not after all this time. Lord help her, she still loved him; in reality, she’d never stopped. Not sure where that admission might lead, Lydia drew back and said, her voice husky with emotion, “I have to go in. . . .”

  He studied her for a moment more, noting that she refused to meet his eyes. “I’ll come around and help you down.”

  Lydia nodded her agreement, hoping to regather herself in the interim, but when he appeared at her side, all she could think about was his fleeting caress, the softly whispered words, and how rattled she’d been by both.

  Gray politely handled her down. When she moved to step away, he gently held onto her gloved fingers, making her stay. “We need to talk.”

  Lydia didn’t want to for myriad reasons. Putting her heart at risk was the obvious one. The others had to do with the anger she knew was buried deep inside, an anger directed solely at him for treating their love so lightly.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  Lydia slowly disengaged her hand, then shook her head. “There’s no reason, Gray. What’s done is done.”

  Gray wanted to press her into agreeing to talk but didn’t. His pride wouldn’t permit him to beg, so his mask descended again.

  Without a further word, he went around to the back of the wagon and took her two trunks out of the bed. Lydia headed up the snowy path that led to her mother’s door.

  Miriam Cooper’s brown face lit up with joy when she saw Lydia on the other side of the door. “Oh my goodness!”

  Mother and child embraced in a long rocking hug, and both had happy tears on their cheeks when they finally drew apart. It had been so long since they’d been together.

  When Miriam saw Gray coming up, she asked, her tone curious, “What’s he doing with you?”

  “He was at the boardinghouse where I spent last night. I’ll explain later.”

  Gray joined them and said distantly but politely, “Good morning, Mrs. Cooper.”

  “Morning, Gray.” Miriam smiled softly. “Thanks for seeing Lydia home. Just set those trunks inside the door.”

  He did as instructed. He left again in order to retrieve Lydia’s carpetbag and a hatbox. Once those items joined the trunks, he said to Mrs. Cooper, “I’ll drop off that wagon wheel you wanted as soon as it arrives.”

  “Thanks, Gray.”

  Lydia noted the ease with which her mother and Gray dealt with each other, and it gave her pause.

  Gray said, “I’ll get going.”

  Lydia looked up into his face, and her heart began thumping all over again. “Thanks again.” Then she and her mother turned and went inside the house.

  Gray headed back to his wagon and drove away.

  Lydia was so happy to see her mother that Gray was immediately put out of her mind. Miriam looked older and because of her ankle injury moved around a bit slower, but the dark eyes were still clear and intelligent. “How’s the ankle?” Lydia asked.

  “A bit stiff. The cast came off last Thursday, but it’s getting stronger every day. You want some tea?”

  “Oh, that would be lovely.”

  While her mother busied herself with the tea making, Lydia took a seat on one of the worn but comfortable overstuffed chairs and looked around. Memories rose. The place hadn’t grown any larger, but it was home. The small bedroom she and her mother had shared was through the door there, and this outer space served as both the parlor and dining room. The tiny kitchen, built onto the back of the cotta
ge when Lydia was ten, was accessed through an alcove and constituted the rest of the interior. No one would ever mistake the place for a mansion, but she had been happy here. Growing up, Lydia hadn’t had much materially, but she’d never gone hungry and her secondhand clothes had always been clean. There had been cakes for her birthdays, cookies at Christmastime, and more love than her heart could hold.

  Her reminiscing was interrupted by her mother’s return. The hot, sweet brew warmed away the chill of the morning ride.

  Lydia’s mother said genuinely, “The money you’ve been sending me has been a blessing. The school must be doing well.”

  “It is, Mama. Much better than I ever dreamed. I’ve almost thirty girls taking studies with me.”

  “That’s wonderful, but are you sure you can afford to keep sending me bank drafts every month?”

  “Yes, I can, and even if I couldn’t, I’d find the coin. I know how hard you worked raising me. Now, it’s time for me to return the favor.”

  Her mother nodded her understanding. “OK. I’ll take your word for it, but if your funds start running low, I want to know.”

  Lydia offered a dutiful daughterly, “Yes, ma’am,” knowing all the while she had no intentions of telling her mother any such thing. Lydia would do whatever necessary to keep Miriam Cooper from ever again having to work from sunup to sundown.

  Miriam asked then, “How was the train ride over?”

  Lydia described the trip and they both laughed over her description of the howling infant.

  Lydia’s mother then asked, “How’d you and Gray get along?”

  “We didn’t fight or argue, if that’s what you meant.”

  Miriam shook her head sadly. “What a mess that was. Broke my heart, because I loved him, too.”

  Their eyes met. Lydia placed a consoling hand atop her mother’s. “I know, Mama, but what’s done is done. It can’t be changed and we can’t go back.”

  “But you loved him very much. Everyone knew that.”

  “Yes, I did. Very much.” She paused a moment to remember her sixteen-year-old self and how it felt to be in love. Lydia shook off the memory. “Well, he and I aren’t in love anymore. I doubt I’ll see him again while I’m here, anyway.” Lydia added then, “What was that about a wagon wheel?”

  “I needed a new one and Gray said he’d take care of getting me one. He stops over every now and again to see how I am.”

  “Oh, really?” Lydia asked.

  “Yes, really. He’s grown into a fine man, but enough about Gray. The holidays are for making merry, not dredging up sad acts of the past.” Miriam then raised her cup to her daughter in salute. “Welcome home, child.”

  A smiling Lydia raised her own. “Thank you, Mama.”

  Chapter 3

  Unlike the Coopers, Grayson Dane’s family did not live in a small three-room cottage. Gray had grown up in a large Victorian home accented with turrets, gingerbread trim, and expensive glass windows. The Danes also owned the land for as far as one could see. The lumber and coal business Titus Dane had carved out during his son Gray’s younger years had passed down to Gray upon Titus’s death unattached by creditors and solidly structured. Because of the nature of the Dane business, the increasing rise of Jim Crow had not affected their operations as much as it had other businessmen of the race, because everyone needed coal and lumber and most suppliers didn’t care who sold it to them as long as the price was fair and the product sound.

  But profits and Jim Crow weren’t on Gray’s mind as he entered his mother’s home; Lydia was. He found his mother having tea in the well-furnished parlor. From her perfectly coiffed graying hair to her expensive gowns, the fifty-five-year-old Elizabeth Dane was a study in good taste. Born free, she relished being a ruling member of the state’s Black representative society and wielding the power that went with such a position. Her ivory face brightened upon seeing him. He’d been gone for three days. “You’re back. Did the shipment get off all right?”

  “Yes. Everything’s fine. Bumped into someone at the boardinghouse, though.”

  “An old friend?”

  “Yes. Lydia Cooper.”

  His mother’s green eyes widened with delight. “Really? How is she? Is she well? Is—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” he said, laughing softly. “One question at a time. She’s well, and is here to visit her mother for the holiday season. I happened upon her at Mrs. Harrison’s boardinghouse.”

  Mrs. Dane sighed. “I do hope she will stop in and see me while she’s here. I was in Philadelphia the last time she visited Miriam. Better yet, I will go and see her.” Mrs. Dane thought for a moment. “You do think she will see me if I go?”

  “You? Of course. Me? No.”

  His mother said to him, “Well, darling, what did you expect? You broke her heart, my heart, her mother’s heart. Personally, I’d make you walk to the moon and back before even considering forgiving you.”

  Slightly amused, he shook his head. “The moon?”

  “Maybe Mars. Which is farther?”

  “Mars.”

  “Then Mars.”

  He took her ribbing good-naturedly. “Maybe going to Mars would have helped me forget her. Texas sure wasn’t far enough.” In his mind’s eye, Gray could see Lydia sitting across the table from him last night, could remember the way her eyes had slid shut when he stroked her cheek, just now. “She’s still beautiful.”

  His mother sighed. “I’ve missed her.”

  Gray had, too, but he had no idea how fiercely until she walked into Mrs. Harrison’s dining room.

  “So what are you going to do?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I’d like to try and make amends, but she refuses to talk about it.”

  “Then you have a mountain to climb.” Mrs. Dane added softly, “Gray, I love you with all of my heart, but fifteen years ago you made a randy, stupid mistake that cost you the most precious thing in your world, and a darkness has walked with you ever since.”

  Gray didn’t disagree. His life had held little light.

  Elizabeth asked quietly, “Has she married?”

  “No.”

  A pleased smile slowly surfaced on her face. “Well,” was all she said, and in a very pleased tone.

  Gray read her mind. “We aren’t going to pick up where we left off. It’s plain she doesn’t want that.” He again remembered the way Lydia’s eyes had closed when he touched her.

  “It’s the Christmas season, dear. Miracles happen.”

  He chuckled lightly, “My mother—ever the optimist.”

  “Someone around here has to be,” she responded with a smile. She then asked him, “Do you wish to attend the ball with me, tomorrow night? We’ll be raising money for relief.”

  “You know I’m not high on balls.”

  “Neither am I, but the hostess is Edwina Franklin and she’s the ball organizer. Since I am on the committee, I must attend. I saw her yesterday at Bible study and she asked if you were coming.”

  “Why?”

  “She said her daughter Blanche is so looking forward to seeing you again.”

  “Blanche is a twit.”

  “I agree, but come anyway. If you can’t abide it you can duck out discreetly.”

  “I’ll think about it. Tomorrow night?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll let you know in the morning. Is there anything to eat?”

  His mother laughed. “Gray, you are thirty-three years old and still sniffing out food like an adolescent.”

  He had the decency to look embarrassed.

  “There should be some of last night’s leftovers in the cold box. Help yourself, but don’t eat it all. The cook is off this evening and I’ll want to eat later.”

  He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What are your plans for the evening?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Only to get some real sleep in my own bed.”

  His mother studied his face. “Well, come back over if you want company or wish to talk.”

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sp; He nodded.

  “And, Gray?”

  “Yes?”

  “Give Lydia time.”

  He didn’t respond to that, but came over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

  She cupped his strong jaw. “You go on home and get some rest.”

  Never one to disobey his mother, Gray did just that.

  Much later that evening, Gray poured a jigger of cognac into a snifter, then sat before the fire roaring in the fireplace. He was supposed to be looking over the Dane business accounts, but he’d sat at his desk for over an hour unable to focus on the task because visions of Lydia Cooper kept rising to distract him. No matter where he set his mind she was there, shimmering, beckoning, tempting, so he’d pushed the ledgers aside and left his study. For fifteen years he’d wondered about her, worried about her, never stopped thinking about her, and now she’d returned, beautiful, polished, and encased in steel. Convincing her to talk with him was going to be tougher than fighting Rebs in Texas.

  Gray took a small sip of the French spirit and let his mind drift back to the past. At the age of eighteen, he’d been the only son of a prominent family, well traveled, well educated, and well dressed. He’d had friends, status, and an underlying layer of arrogance that grew out of all that he was, but he had also been respectful, churchgoing, and honest; his parents would not have tolerated less. He wasn’t entirely truthful, however, and that fault precipitated his downfall. Admittedly, society encouraged a young man to sow his oats, and when Anna Mae Dexter let him know she was willing to help him do that, Gray had taken the boon willingly. Looking back, Anna Mae hadn’t been particularly good at it, although at the time he hadn’t known that; neither had he for that matter, but when you’re eighteen and a girl offers to show you the way . . . ?

  Gray took another small sip. In his mind, he’d justified laying with Anna Mae as a way of showing his respect for Lydia. Lydia was a good girl. Although the two of them had engaged in some pretty serious kissing, he’d never touched her in any way that could be seen as compromising because one: Lydia wouldn’t have allowed it, and two: if his parents had ever gotten wind of such carrying on, they would have killed him and turned his dead body over to Lydia’s mother to burn and bury. So, he’d gone with Anna Mae.