by Janie DeVos
Mama met us at Silver Springs Landing, where the May Breeze offloaded us before continuing its journey downriver twelve miles to Grahamville Landing. Because Grahamville was the first port built in the area, it had become one of the busiest ones and had seen a huge increase in tourists recently.
“Mrs. Stewart?” David said, leaning out past me so that he could see my mother on the other side of the wagon seat. “If I bring Mr. Flagler here, would you and Mr. Stewart give him a tour of the area? I’m sure he’d be most impressed.”
“Why, sure,” Mama wryly drawled. “But let’s be certain to ask the alligators to behave themselves before we do. We don’t want some Yankee bein’ chomped on while tryin’ to impress that man. These are southern gators, Mr. Perlow. They’re still a might touchy we lost the war, ya know.”
David wasn’t sure how to take that, but when she began to laugh, he laughed, too. Somehow, I got the feeling that David felt as though he’d entered a strange new world, and his footing wasn’t quite as sure as it was when he was at his old stomping grounds in Philadelphia.
Ivy not only joined us for supper that night but was actually at the stove cooking it when we walked through the screen door. The summer air was thick and heavy, and the smell of fresh bass frying in the skillet added to it. Fat hushpuppies bleeding excess grease onto an old newspaper sat on a plate at the back of the stove, and next to the sink was a large mound of shredded cabbage that was going to be made into coleslaw.
When she heard us come in, she shouted that she couldn’t leave the stove, so we went into the kitchen to see her. As soon as she flipped the fish, she walked over to greet us. She quickly said a soft hello to David, then turned, and embraced me before saying anything to anyone else. She held me tighter than I ever remembered her doing; Ivy had never been a demonstrative person in any way. As she hugged me, she whispered, “I’ve missed you so.” I could hear the sorrow and regret in her words and tone, and I knew exactly how my twin felt.
Thankfully, the evening went smoothly. For one thing, Papa didn’t drink anything hard, though he was a thoughtful host and asked David if he cared for something a little stronger than Mama’s sweet tea. David, seeing that no one else imbibed, courteously passed, and again, I was struck with his innate ability to fit in no matter where he was, or who he was with. We talked well into the evening until Henry Childers came to the door, requesting that Ivy come with him because his wife was having a hard time giving birth and Mayoma wasn’t at home. As soon as Ivy hurried down the road on Sage, the rest of us headed up to bed. It was very late when I heard Ivy come into the room.
I rolled over to face her. “How’d it go?” My voice was thick after several hours of sleep.
“Fine. She had a girl. Named her Charlotte Rose. Both are doin’ all right.”
“That’s good, Ivy. I’m proud of you.” She uttered a soft “thanks” but said nothing else, and I could see how tired she was, the darkened silhouette of her slumping shoulders giving her away as she walked over to the closet to hang up her clothes. “Get some sleep, Sister,” I said as I rolled back over.
A moment later, I heard her bed springs squeak, followed by an exhausted sigh. Not five more minutes passed before I heard my sister softly snoring. I smiled. For as long as I could remember, Ivy had snored. The sound of it had often annoyed me, and I claimed it kept me awake. That night, however, the familiarity of the sound comforted me, and I easily fell back to sleep.
Mama planned Papa’s party for the following afternoon. It had actually turned into a bigger affair than I thought it would be, and I wondered if one of the reasons was that Mama wanted to show off her daughter’s successful northern beau to all of their friends. I also wondered if Mama was trying to keep Papa on an emotional upswing after being in such a dark place for so long. But whatever her reasons for having the party, both she and Papa seemed excited about the fuss everyone was making over it, and I was grateful to see some joy returning to our home at long last.
The party was going to take place at the picnic tables in the side yard of the newly built Cross Springs United Methodist Church, and because my parents had taken such an active role in helping build the church, they were as proud of it as they were of their own home. Maybe more so. The church was something that the community had planned and prayed for a great deal, and with the help of many of the town’s residents, as well as folks from surrounding areas, the church was finally completed. Papa’s birthday party was the first big social event to take place there, and it pleased him beyond measure.
The next morning, Papa and David set off on horseback for a sightseeing trip of the area. Papa had acquired another horse so that he could get to work while allowing Mama to come and go as she pleased on Maggie. Mama still worked at the hotel doing laundry, and Papa still hated it, but Mama had stood her ground, saying that with all her babies out of the nest, she needed something to fill her time and it might as well be something that made her some money, too. What helped to smooth Papa’s ruffled feathers, though, was the fact that Mama spent as much time working inside the hotel, as she did outside doing the laundry. Mrs. Landingham, the hotel’s owner, had suffered a mild stroke, so Mama regularly stepped in to do some of the ailing woman’s work.
While Papa and David were off exploring the wonders of Florida, all the women gathered at the church at noon to begin setting up for the party. The white A-framed wooden structure had a two-story square tower centered over the black front door. Fixed on the top of the tower was a large cross. The church was nestled in among tall pine trees, and the yard was a mixture of pine needles, white sand, and blotchy grass. In the heat of the summer, the shade that the trees offered was truly a blessing from God, and the picnic tables under the trees offered a cool place to gather on a hot July afternoon. But the ever-present Ocklawaha, which bordered the east side of the property, offered the most thorough way of cooling off for those adventurous few willing to jump in.
The massive amount of food rivaled our community Thanksgiving dinner, and the festive mood equaled it, too. Papa was well liked, and the fact that he was back at work and interacting with longtime friends pleased everyone. Because of that, Papa’s party would be more than just a birthday party; it was a rebirth party.
By the time David and Papa showed up, most of our friends were already there, so Papa’s and David’s entrance was quite grand. True to David’s thoughtful nature, he hung back a ways after the two dismounted, allowing Papa to bask in the limelight alone for a few minutes. As I watched David humbly standing aside, I could honestly say that I loved him, and the realization of that was both frightening and exciting. And it made me happier than I’d been in a very long time. I felt as though I could let go of the past and finally move forward.
Papa finished thanking everyone for turning out for his birthday celebration and then, as if remembering that David was there with him, Papa motioned him forward and introduced him to the waiting crowd as “Eve’s northern gentleman friend, who’s quickly coming around to our southern way of life.” A great cheer went up, and some of the men standing closest to David either shook his hand or patted him on the back. If my father gave him the okay, then that was good enough for everyone. As I stood there scanning the crowd, enjoying seeing so many familiar faces, I spotted the Haileys standing well off to the side. I was somewhat surprised they were there. Usually, colored folks stayed with their own, and whites did the same, but our families were entwined with each other in so many ways, and they’d come as a show of respect for my father.
Mayoma and Emmitt were talking to Reverend Troxler’s wife, Margaret, but Moses was staring off in the distance. Turning to see what he was looking at, I saw Ivy filling glasses of iced tea at the drinks table. I turned back to see Moses say something to Margaret; then he walked off toward Ivy. And I quickly walked over to her, too.
“Miss Eve.” Moses somberly nodded to me as we arrived at the table about the same time. “It’s good h
avin’ ya home.”
“I can help her with this,” I said, ignoring his words of welcome and quickly grabbing a glass and a pitcher of unsweetened tea.
We stared at each other for a moment before he nodded; said, “Fair ’nough”; and walked away.
“He just came over to help me, Eve.” Ivy sounded tired.
“He’s done enough with you, Ivy. Can’t y’all just stay away from each other? God A’mighty, Ivy! I swear you’re just givin’ people a reason to talk. I know if he’s willing to help you pour tea today, he’s been helping you do other things, and folks will notice things like that, too. They’ll see how y’all look at each other, Ivy. Honestly, it’s pretty hard to miss. People aren’t dumb—or blind!”
“I’m too tired to argue with you today, Eve. Can’t we just put our differences aside today and try to get along?”
I was amazed at how easily my much-too-stubborn sister backed down. It was so out of character for her, and I was instantly concerned. “You okay, Ivy? You had such a late night last night, and you look pretty tired. Are you doin’ too much?”
“I have been lately, that’s for sure,” she conceded. “But I’m all right.
“Last week, I lost the beehive’s queen,” she continued. “I’ve been workin’ to save some of my bees while tryin’ to get another queen. And I’ve been helpin’ Mayoma treat folks night and day lately. Two got shot up at one of the turpentine farms a couple of weeks ago; then we birthed twin babies earlier in the week. I swear, they just didn’t want to be born. I thought we’d never get ’em out. We about lost them both, as well as their mother. Plus, pneumonia’s been a problem lately. Don’t know why, but it has been. Sometimes it feels like I’ll never feel rested again.”
“Ivy, you can’t keep up a pace like that. You’ll drop dead while trying to keep others alive. Mayoma’s got to slow down some, too. She’s no spring chicken, you know.”
“Oh, I know, and that’s why I try to be there with her as much as I can. For one thing, I’ve got to learn as much as possible before she’s not around to teach me anymore. She hasn’t been real well lately. She’s got bad arthritis, and it about kills her with the pain. Besides, her hands aren’t as nimble and able as they once were. So she needs me about as much as I need her.” We were both quiet for a moment as we continued filling glasses; then Ivy stopped pouring and turned toward me. “Eve, let’s take a walk later, after everyone’s through eating. Just us. Okay?”
“Let’s do.” I smiled, nodding. “That’d be good. We’ll walk along the river.”
After I finished helping her with the drinks, I walked over to Papa and David at the fire pit, where a wild hog was slowly turning on a spit. The man tending the meat was squatting down with his back to me, though I saw that he wore a black felt hat with a hawk’s feather on the side of it. It looked familiar. When the man heard my father and David greet me, he turned to look at me. I found myself looking into the dark blue eyes of Max Harjo. Seeing him again startled me. I wasn’t expecting he would be here. As if reading my mind, or at least the expression on my face, my father said, “Max was good enough to shoot us a pig.”
“Miss Stewart.” Max touched the brim of his hat and stood, and as he did so, he looked me up and down as if assessing me. “It looks like city life agrees with you.”
“Uh, yes…yes, it does. I’m enjoying Jacksonville. Are you doing well, Mr. Harjo?” Our conversation sounded forced, as if we were practicing the social graces because we were being observed.
“Why sure,” he responded with a slight smile, as if he found the charade rather amusing.
Not knowing what else to say, I excused myself and hurried to the other side of the pit to join David and Papa. Where they stood, they were directly across from Max. Feeling as though he was watching me, I extended my hand to David, who immediately took it and hooked my arm through his. For some reason, I wanted it to be understood that David and I were a couple, but the fact that I felt the need to make that clear irritated me. As Max basted the hog, I could see him glancing up at us from beneath the brim of his hat, and it gave me a strange sense of satisfaction that he should find me so interesting. As I stood there with a small smile, it suddenly occurred to me that he was just as interesting, and instantly, my smile was gone.
Chapter 16
Sealing the Deal
Ivy and I never got to take our walk. Halfway through eating Papa’s birthday cake, dark clouds gathered, followed by a tremendous thunder storm. Everyone scattered like ants when lightning struck one of the pine trees behind the church, splintering it into a thousand burning pieces. Mothers snatched up their children while everyone else made a mad dash into the church with food, tables, and chairs. The storm didn’t last more than a few minutes, but it was long enough to signal the end of a fine afternoon, and soon thereafter, everyone headed back down the church’s white sand driveway toward home.
The rest of the weekend went quickly, and on Monday morning, we rose early because David needed to catch the steamer, the Shanahan, north. He needed to be in Jacksonville to meet Henry Flagler, and, from there, the two would head to St. Augustine to complete the land deal for Flagler’s new hotel. Before driving David to Silver Springs Landing, he suggested we take a short walk. The sun had only been up for a short time, but already the soft purple and orange streaks coloring the sky had faded from deep hues to soft watercolor pastels.
“Florida sure has beautiful skies,” David said. “They’re different in the north. I don’t think they’re as brilliant and certainly not as wide open.” Immediately switching gears, he said, “Did your father enjoy his party? It seemed like he did. He sure had a nice turnout,” David said nervously.
“Somethin’ on your mind, David? You seemed a little fidgety at breakfast—a little anxious. You’re not worried about the meeting with Flagler, are you? I’m sure you’re well past prepared.”
“Oh, yes. I mean, no. I…” He stopped walking, took a deep breath, and turned to me. “I mean I’m not nervous about the meeting.”
Beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead and his upper lip. I had a feeling I knew where the conversation was going, but watching David squirm, when he was always so cool under pressure, was a rarity I found both amusing and endearing.
“Go on.” I was trying not to laugh.
“I spoke to your father last night, and he’s given us his blessing. I want to marry you, Eve.” He gently grasped me by my upper arms. “I want you to be my wife.” He hurriedly went on as if he felt he needed to convince me. “We can have a wonderful life together. We complement each other, in our goals, in our beliefs, in our visions of the future. And I know you’d be a wonderful mother. You can take care of our home—I’ll build you a beautiful one, Eve. And I know under your guidance and tutelage, our children would thrive.”
“You have it all planned out, don’t you?” I laughed. But, in truth, I was feeling a bit uneasy. “What about my job at the newspaper, David? I don’t know that I’d want to give it up. And I think this is one of those things we need to discuss before we go any further.”
“Eve, if working for the newspaper is something you’re set on doing, then I wouldn’t think of stopping you. However, I think you’d find that it’d be overwhelming to try to keep your job, as well as keep up with a busy social life—which my job would require—and raise our children. You do want to have children, don’t you?” When I confirmed that I did, he went on. “You could try to do it all, but I think you’d find it’s just too much. I think you’ll need to decide what your priorities are. I know I can’t speak for your employer, but I can tell you that most men expect their female employees to follow the dictates of their husbands, and you might find that he encourages you to step down. Employers understand that most husbands don’t want their wives working outside the home. Think how your father reacted when your mother went to work.”
“Yes, but that was different,”
I objected.
“How so? Because they really needed the money? I’m sure you’d agree that your father didn’t want your mother working at that job because he felt it was beneath her. Most husbands are going to feel that all jobs are beneath their wives—other than child rearing and taking care of their home, of course.”
I knew he was right, but I didn’t like it. It was a man’s world, and to fit into it, women had to conform to their likes, dislikes, and demands. I didn’t say anything, but a look of defiance must have shown on my face.
“Listen, Eve, you could become a novelist—like Harriet Beecher Stowe!” David knew exactly how to turn a difficult conversation into a more mutually appealing one. He knew that the highly respected author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin had been a great influence on me. “You could write at home. I’ll buy you the finest typewriter.” He looked delighted, as if he’d just come up with the perfect solution to a problem that could have easily impeded his plans.
“All right.” I laughed.
“All right, what?”
“All right, I’ll marry you, David.” I tried to stop myself from laughing, but he looked like an excited little boy at the moment. “But I am going to keep my job—at least for now. And I’ll always write.”
“I’ve no doubt you will, Miss Stewart. I’ve no doubt at all,” he said as he lifted me high and swung me around. When he lowered me gently to the ground, I cupped his smiling face between my hands and pulled him to me, sealing the deal with a kiss.
Chapter 17
A Family No More
After seeing David off at the docks, I sent a wire to Charles Jones, asking him to allow me to stay for a few extra days to get wedding plans underway, and write the turpentine story. He immediately sent word back that he was exceedingly happy for me but disappointed that I would be leaving my position after our nuptials took place, if not before. I promptly replied that I fully intended on keeping my job, that simply because I took a man’s name didn’t mean that I took his identity, too, and that I expected my desk to be waiting for me after returning from Silver Springs, and again following my honeymoon. The fourth and final wire from Mr. Jones simply stated that he would have a permanent name plate attached to my desk. I was very humbled by his response, which made me all the more determined to keep my job.