by L. E. Waters
“Good afternoon. My name’s Edgar, and this is my brother Henry.”
The other girls pull tighter around her, either in protection or in hopes of attention.
Her lips shine and bring the moment in the tobacco barn back to me.
“Nice to meet you both.” She pretends. “How do you know Rosalie?”
Henry speaks, “She’s our little sister.”
Elmira looks utterly confused.
Just then Rosalie is brought out, still holding a teddy bear while all the other girls her age have left toys long behind. Most of the girls gather near to Rosalie, but not near enough to be considered close friends. Henry grabs my hand and brings me right behind Rosalie. Mrs. Mackenzie carries out the cake, full of candles, and Rosalie smiles when Henry puts his arm around her shoulder. He waves his hand for me to partake, and I put my arm around her shoulder as well as she blows out the candles. She brays happily as everyone claps, and we sit down to eat cake at her table full of presents.
After yet another party guest asks who we are, Rosalie clearly doesn’t notice the confused faces upon disclosure.
Henry asks as soon as they leave, “Do you remember our ma, Rosalie?”
“My first ma?”
Henry nods, though I can tell he fights other words back.
“No, I saw a picture of her in a newspaper though. She was so beautiful.” She grabs a present with a pink silk ribbon and tears it open like a toddler.
Henry turns to me and whispers, “Maybe she’s better off this way. It’s a blessing really.” He drops his fork. “How has it helped us?”
I don’t feel like being sullen though. “What do you think about Elmira?”
He glances over his shoulder at her, sitting at another table. I see an empty seat I consider sitting in.
“She’s nice looking at least,” he says.
“At least?” I stop eating.
“There’s something I don’t trust about her.”
I scoff loudly. “You hardly talked to her.”
“How long have you known her?”
The question bothers me because I know the answer will amuse him. “I’ve met with her three times.”
Snicker.
“But I feel like I’ve known her much longer.”
He stops laughing and gets serious. “Her family looks wealthy. The kind of money that doesn’t welcome un-adopted theater offspring with open arms.”
His words begin to sting, and I try to sweeten his sour mood. “Are you thinking of going to university next year?”
He shakes his head. “I’m off to the Navy in three weeks.”
“Navy?” The thought of him being shipped out around the world squeezes the cake in my stomach. “Wouldn’t you rather go to college?”
He scoffs. “You greatly overestimate our late grandfather’s funds and generosity. Nope, it’s the Navy for me.”
“Maybe I should go too.”
“I’m sure if you ask ole big nose in a verry nice way, he’ll send you on.”
“I doubt that.”
He points to Elmira as she’s brushing the crumbs off her dress and two older boys walk up to talk to her, smiling too big. “They’ll never let you have her hand if you’re off to the Navy. And if you think you can leave without a promise, she’ll have a ring on her hand by the time you return.”
“I’m sure if I make my case to her father he’ll see my intentions and support—“
He starts laughing again. “It’s all very sweet, Edgar, but I’m telling you, fathers promise their beautiful daughters to older, more established men. He’s going to need to see that you are well on your way.” Henry stands up, pointing to each finger with great exaggeration. “Fortitude. Correctness. Obedience. Industry. Self-control. Perseverance.” I throw a biscuit at his head as he rolls on the grass in laughter.
The rest of the party is a busy whirl of thoughts and planned words. Even though I know it’s the last time I’ll see Henry for a while, my mind is fixed on a more critical matter. I need to meet with Elmira’s father and soon.
Chapter 12
I call at Elmira’s house the following week. Their mansion is much more intimidating when I stand on its porch. I knock on the door and her brothers answer eagerly, the oldest one’s fish-face pinched in suspicion.
He asks, “Why are you here?”
“Edgar?” Elmira cuts in and pushes them out of the way. “Is that any way of answering the door?”
She closes the door slightly behind her for privacy. She whispers, “Why are you here?” Her hair is still damp and wafts a cloud of gardenia. It’s her hair wash after all.
I straighten up and hold my chin level. “I’m calling to speak with your father. Is he home?”
She blanches. “I don’t think—”
The door widens and her father stands there, stiff. “Who is calling?”
I bring my chin higher, even though I wish to run. “Edgar Allan Poe, sir.” I know I need the help of a local name. “I’ve come to speak with you, privately.”
Elmira twists her hands, but her father demands, “Sara, go up to your room with the boys.”
She hesitates on the first step, but then rushes up the stairs, her hard shoes sending a clamor through the heart of the house.
“Mr. Poe.” He gives a quick bow and waves a hand for me to follow him into the parlor.
I sit down on the red, velvet settee, perched on its edge, as Mr. Royster leans back comfortably in his large matching chair. “What matters have you come to discuss?”
I clear my throat, which threatens to close. “Sir, I came to discuss my intentions of courting your daughter, Elmira.”
The statement does not surprise him. He lets the sentence hang there for too long a moment then slowly responds, as if he chooses his words carefully. “And how old are you, Mr. Poe?”
“I am sixteen, sir, but I’m far ahead in all my studies.”
“What career do you intend to pursue?”
I think about this question and repeat the only acceptable, yet truthful, answer. “I have yet to settle on a career at this moment, but rest assured that whatever it is, I will aspire to the highest position. I am a hard worker and an adept student.”
The answer doesn’t go over as well as I hoped by the twitch in his waxed mustache. “Mr. Poe, while I respect your character for coming to discuss this issue with me, you must understand that matters of choosing the most competent suitor are not so easy. Though you seem like a fine young man, I worry you are too young for making this commitment while you are still so undecided and unemployed.”
“Sir, I will prove to you that I am not so young and undecided—”
He stands up. “I take faith, not in words but in actions, Edgar.”
He waves his hands for me to rise and walks to the door.
I go to the door and he opens it wide, as Elmira peeks down from the landing.
“I will prove myself to you, sir.”
He gives a wide smile that doesn’t reflect in his eyes. “Good then, please come back once you have done so.”
The soft closing of the door feels as though it’s been slammed shut.
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I can’t leave without hoping Elmira might come out to see me. I pretend to walk down the road while her brothers stare from the porch, but as soon as they go back inside I make my way to the tobacco barn. The humidity rises and sounds of summer come early. The heat and cicada song makes me sleepy and I doze off, trying to forget the day’s difficulties. Hands shake me awake.
“Edgar, I’m here.” Her voice tears me from dreaming in an instant and I jolt upright.
“I’m awake.”
She smiles as I clear my eyes.
“It went well, didn’t it?” My humor makes her crack a brief smile.
She sits beside me. “What will we do?”
I take her hand and try to catch her eyes with mine. “Do you have faith in me?”
She blinks and nods.
“I promise I will stop at nothing to rise in this world. I will make myself worthy of your company.”
I hold both her hands in mine. “There is nothing more valuable than your heart. And I would lose my own if you decide to gift it to another.”
Tears spring from the sparkle in her eyes, tears sent by something deep within. She can only nod. Emotions seem to choke her voice.
“You must promise me, my Elmira. You will only be mine, and you will wait for me.” Tears brim on edges of my lids.
She blurts sweetly, “I promise this time, Edgar.”
I pull her to me and the rivers of our tears line up as I take the slower kiss I’d been wishing for.
Chapter 13
There are times when you struggle, when you make a promise to yourself and others without having a drawn-together plan. Huge gaps exist, but you run on blind faith that somehow things will work out. On my walk home, whenever I worry about how I will get the money to attend a university, my mind quickly fills the gap with the memory of Elmira’s lips. There is nothing else to consider. I either have to find a way to college, or I’d have to start working with Mr. Allan. The fate of such a future makes goose pimples roll on my exposed skin. Should I speak to Fanny first? It might be wise to get her on my side, since either request will most certainly start an uproar in the house.
Uncle Bill’s concord waits in the shade of the drive. This won’t be a good time to bring up school or apprenticeship. His bald head glistens in the high winged-backed chair and I almost pass him without taking another look. He’s slumped over awkwardly on the side of the chair and has an unearthly stillness. He is one to fall asleep on such hot days, so I come up slowly to feel for breath. None.
“Something’s wrong with Uncle Bill!”
Mr. Allan looks up suspiciously. “He’s just resting.”
“He’s not moving, not even to breathe.”
That stirs him, and he makes long strides down to the parlor, where I watch from the door as he checks Uncle Bill for any signs of life. He calls to me, “Go fetch the doctor!”
By the time we return, there clearly is no use for a doctor. Uncle Bill’s heart has failed him. Mr. Allan is at first distressed, but the thought of his ample inheritance starts a cold glisten in his steel eyes he can’t hide. The fortuitousness of this event can’t go unappreciated. God may have finally remembered me.
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We’re no longer tenants, but Mr. Allan moves us immediately into one of the most prestigious brick houses in Richmond, regally called Moldavia. It’s more than a house, but an estate, even grander than the house we lived in before. With a columned front and double-decked porches, it sits like a sphinx on an expansive tobacco plantation. Our prior lack of funds is answered by one benefactor. I wait a good week out of respect for the dead. Since spring is the time for applying, I don’t have time to wait longer.
I appear at Mr. Allan’s desk. “Sir?” I begin, hoping he will actually lift his head from his papers for me, but when he doesn’t I continue anyway. “I have come to talk to you of an investment.”
Ah, that gets him to look up with a snide smile, knowing he is going to enjoy this.
“Investment.” Not a question, but a statement.
“Yes, sir, an investment in me.”
A low chuckle escapes him, for which I’m prepared.
“Now that you have the means, if you would fund me to go to university, I would strive to return the investment with a scholarly career.”
“Aren’t ye two years too early for university?”
“I’m two years ahead in my studies, and my school master deems me fit to attend.”
He draws back slowly in his chair. “Is this all because of that Royster girl?”
How could he know about that?
“Sir?”
“A’ve eyes and ears all around town.” He laughs. “Ye think going to a university wull get Mr. Royster’s attention.”
“I’m interested in Miss Royster, but I strive to this for myself.”
A sudden burst of laughter. “All of sudden ye have conviction when ye’ve mulled here lazily for years when other boys are learning their father’s trade.”
I wish I could point out that he is no father, but I have to remind myself a fight won’t benefit me.
“If you would be so kind to invest in me, I would promise to work for any extra assistance to help support myself while I’m enrolled.”
A long pause makes me shift and fidget.
He stares. “Why should ye get whit I did not?”
I have no answer prepared for this.
“Fortitude. Correctness. Obedience. Industry. Guid habits. Perseverance. Prudence. Self-control.” He counts them all again on his crooked, blasted fingers. “I rose in this world by my own exertions. No handouts, no boosts from my father.”
My lips fight to stay tight as I think of the rather large boost Uncle Bill has just given him. Instead, I say, “Please, Pa.”
The word hangs in the air like a ghost, threatening Mr. Allan with fear of it entering him. It shakes him so that it throws him off his bullying game. He looks back to his work but dribbles out these words, “A’ll speak to yer teachers, and if they tell me ye’re fit for university, then A’ll support ye.”
I almost leap out of the room.
“And, I expect ye to be verry economical. Ye must assist and make every copper stretch.” He finishes, and I rush out to hunt down my schoolmaster.
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The day the letter arrives with my acceptance from the University of Virginia, I take it in to Mr. Allan to be sure he hasn’t changed his mind.
He scrutinizes the letter, as if looking for some clause or exclusion that will negate the acceptance. Finding none, even searching on the blank side, he gives a grunt and tucks it into his massive, ornate desk along his bills to pay. That is enough for me. No argument, no second thoughts. I’m going off on my own. If Henry can do it, than I certainly can. I grab a parcel from my room and run to the river.
Elmira sits on the sandy bank of a secluded part of the river, watching younger boys splash further up. The red, southern sun burns before it falls below the horizon. It’s a hot summer evening, when the perspiration beads without drying. Elmira and I have met in secret all around Richmond whenever we had the chance. It’s not as hard to hide from her parents as it is to hide from her brothers. We have to choose places few frequent. The tobacco barn is in full use now so we met on the river, the hills, and even Jane’s cemetery. She stands as soon as she sees me coming, and I hug her tight.
“Guess what came today?”
By her smile I can tell she knows. “University of Virginia?”
I nod eagerly and her eyes light but her smile drops. “I’m so proud of you.”
“You will need this more than ever now.”
She unwraps the stationary box and pulls out the shell-pink, delicate papers embossed with her initials. “They are lovely, Edgar.”
“Now you will have no excuse not to write me every day.”
“Only if you send me one each time in return.”
I pull her near. “I will send you two a day, I shall miss you so.”
Her face washes with worry. “Do you think you should talk to Father again?”
I think for a moment. “It is probably best I wait until I get my first report. Then I can bring it to him to show him I’m in earnest.”
She looks off toward the glowing water. “My parents have been talking about finding older suitors for me. I don’t know how long I can hold it off.”
I laugh. “By all means you should meet with them.”
She glares like she has been slapped in the face.
“You should do your best to be as un-charming, unappealing, and unladylike as you could possibly be. Make it game to see how many you can send running.”
She finally smiles. “Then you better not return with more sophisticated taste and a
changed mind after all the young men I scare away.”
“It is I who should be worried. Whatever you do, you must wait for me. No matter what your father says or whoever tries to sway you, however dashing and accomplished they are.”
“Why do you always fear I will leave you? Have I done anything to make you doubt me?”
I stare into her warm eyes, thinking of how I can relate to her my mistrust, as something in their green shakes my belief in her. “Of course I don’t doubt you.” I lie and I have to look away from her as I do. “I only doubt those around you.”
She fidgets with the ribbon tied around her braid.
“How silly of me!” I startle her. “I do have a way of testing your future devotion.”
She knits her brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”
I close my eyes dramatically and fumble an open hand toward her. “Not only am I brilliant sketch artist…” I pause for her snort of laughter. “But I am also a gifted fortune-teller. One hand placed on your pretty forehead and I can see into the unknown.”
I lay my palm squarely on her forehead, but she squeals and reels away. I open my eyes and laugh. “Are you hiding something?”
“I just don’t like my face touched.” She twists her pretty fingers and bites her lovely lip.
I cluck. “That is a shame.” I inch nearer and slowly unclasp her hand. “Lucky for you, my palm reading skills are just as astute.”
She giggles as I stroke my finger down the various lines, enjoying that I get to toy with her so. I pretend to study each mark and curve and she becomes nervous in the silence.
“Well, what do you see?” She jokes.
“Shhhhh. One moment.” I roll my finger gently around her entire palm. Energy builds with our souls so close and, just before she pulls her hand away, I summon the words from some ancient place. “You will leave your family soon.” I check her eyes. “Most likely an early marriage.”
She grants me a smile.
“You will live a full life, one marked by few tragedies.”
“You are making all this up.” She giggles but keeps her hand in mine.
“Do not break my concentration.” I exaggerate my focus. “You are well-read and have a talent with the pen—which I hope to witness soon once I’m off in Virginia.”