Lily of the Springs

by Carole Bellacera

  But if she did, she was polite enough not to show it. Instead, she gave me a sweet smile. “Well, thank you, Lily. That sounds really nice. We just moved here from Chicago, and I haven’t met anyone yet. And Merle just told me he’s staying at the club after work to listen to that prize fight he’s been talking about all week.”

  I nodded and hoped I wasn’t staring. “Yeah, my husband has been going on about it, too. The silliest durn thing I’ve ever heard of—gettin’ all riled up over a couple of fellas beatin’ the stuffin’ out of each other.”

  The woman gave a soft laugh that reminded me of the sound of water running over smooth rocks. “Seven o’clock, right?” she asked. “Would you like me to bring anything?”

  I shook my head. “Not a thing. I spent all weekend looking through Ladies Home Journal for recipes, and I think I’ve come up with some humdingers. Well…gotta go. Still have lots of things to do before seven. It’s really nice to meet you…” I stopped, realizing I still didn’t know the woman’s name.

  As if reading my mind, she stuck out a slim brown hand, her smile widening. “Barbara. Barbara Kinway.”

  I shook her hand. “And I’m Lily Rae Tatlow. Oh, I already told you that, though, didn’t I? Well…I’ll see you tonight. I live right down the hall—Apartment 25.”

  Back in my own apartment, I closed the door and slowly walked to the couch. Cuddling Debby Ann to me, I sank down onto it, my mind jumbled. Well, what’s done is done. I just hoped Barbara wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here tonight with all the other ladies.

  She sure was nice as pie, but…she’d be the only colored woman in the bunch.

  ***

  “Betty, could you help me in the kitchen with the refreshments?” I asked, heading toward the kitchen door.

  The other women in the living room didn’t even look up. They were too busy exclaiming over the various pastel plastic containers displayed on a table and trying to decide which ones they could absolutely not live without. The Tupperware lady had finished with her sales program, having introduced each piece, suggesting different ways it could be used.

  I’d asked Betty to help in the kitchen, not so much because I needed help, but because I wanted to get her alone and thank her for saving the party.

  “What would I do without you?” I said, turning to her once inside the kitchen. “I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole when I saw the looks on them girls’ faces after I brought Barbara into the room. And I swear, if you hadn’t been the first one to say hello to her, I don’t think they ever would’ve found their tongues.”

  Betty shrugged. “That’s what happens when you live in a place with a lot of hicks who’ve never met people of a different race. They act like morons.”

  I went to the icebox and took out a tray of individual tomato aspic molds resting on beds of lettuce. I’d made them this morning with lemon Jell-O and tomato sauce, one of the recipes I’d found in Ladies Home Journal. “Well, it was just so nice of you to talk to Barbara and make her feel welcome.”

  “No thanks necessary.” Betty glanced around the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

  “You can start slicing that butterscotch pie there on the counter, and dish it out.”

  Betty opened a drawer and pulled out a knife. “Well, I’m just impressed you invited her to the party. I’ll bet there’s not another woman in that room who would’ve had the guts to do it…even if they wanted to.”

  I bit my bottom lip as I placed a dollop of mayonnaise on each gelatin mold, glad that my back was to Betty. My flushed cheeks would give me away, and I’d have to admit to her I hadn’t known Barbara was colored when I’d invited her. Truth was, if I had known, I wouldn’t have considered, even for a moment, to ask her to the party. Not because I was mean or prejudiced, but because…well, it just wasn’t done. White folks didn’t mix with colored folks. Not where I came from, anyway.

  But why, I couldn’t help but wonder. That Barbara Kinway was just the nicest woman. Polite and well-spoken. And Lord, she was just as pretty—maybe prettier—as any of the women in the room. She was dressed elegantly in a belted dress of butter-colored jersey, with white gloves and heels. A single strand of pearls encircled her graceful neck under a sleek, ebony chignon. If it weren’t for the rich, chocolate tone of her skin, Barbara would’ve fit right in with the other ladies, most of them acquaintances of Betty’s from the Officers Wife’s Club.

  I turned with the tray. “I think these are ready to go.”

  Betty placed the last slice of butterscotch pie on a plate. “It’s just a matter of time before things change,” she said. “The way we whites…especially down here in the South…treat the Negroes is shameful. Sooner or later, they’re going to rise up against it, you wait and see.” Betty looked up, her blue eyes more serious than I’d ever seen them. “And when it happens, if I have the chance, I’m going to be right there with them.”

  I was still thinking about Betty’s passionate words as I followed her back to the living room. Not much had changed since we’d left. The Tupperware Lady was still taking orders. Several of the women were bunched together, sipping from coffee cups; others were examining the merchandise. Barbara Kinway was sitting primly in a chrome-back kitchen chair, legs crossed at the ankles, her gloves in her lap as she daintily sipped from her cup, virtually ignored by the women around her. Her dark eyes were watchful as she glanced around the room, her pretty face composed. If she was at all bothered by the other ladies’ cool treatment, she certainly hid it well.

  Or was used to it…

  I could’ve kissed Betty when she walked directly over to Barbara with a plate of pie in each hand. “Barbara, you absolutely have to try some of Lily’s butterscotch pie. It’s her mother’s recipe, and let me tell you, this little Kentuckian knows how to cook. I guarantee it’s the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

  A hush fell about the room as all eyes went to Betty and Barbara. I saw raised eyebrows, especially from the older officers’ wives. One of them, a haughty blonde from Charleston, looked absolutely outraged that Betty had offered the pie to Barbara first.

  Barbara hesitated as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do—take the offered plate or avert the situation by refusing.

  Betty grinned. “Come on, Barbara. It’s only fair that the newest tenant in the building should get first taste.”

  I felt like cheering. It was clear to her—and everyone else—what Betty was doing. She was making a statement--prejudice would not be tolerated here. Barbara was my guest, and she’d be treated as such.

  Following Betty’s lead, I moved over to stand beside her. “But before you have something sweet, you should try this tomato aspic. Fancy, huh? Didn’t I tell you I scrounged up some highfalutin’ recipes out of Ladies’ Home Journal?”

  Barbara’s gaze moved from Betty to me, and then down to the tray of molded red Jell-O. She smiled. “I’d love to try both,” she said. “What a lovely job you’ve done, Lily. These are almost too pretty to eat.”

  I beamed. “But eat them, we will. Tell you what, Barbara, you set down that coffee cup and I’ll refill it for you in a jiffy.”

  Conversation began again, and the awkward moment passed. I was sure, though, that Betty would catch heck for it as soon as that Charleston gal got her alone. But I wasn’t a bit worried about her going up against that scrawny little Dixie-gal. Likely, Mrs. Charlene Steadman, wife of Lt. Colonel Steadman III, would come out of that exchange with a new exit for her bodily functions.

  It was almost nine o’clock when the party started breaking up. To my surprise, a few of the other women had followed our lead and had made an effort to include Barbara in our conversations. No doubt, it had been the first time they’d ever talked to a colored girl in a social situation. It was a start, and I was glad I’d acted on my impulse to go over and invite my new neighbor to the party.

  But most of all, I was glad I hadn’t known beforehand that Barbara was of a different race. Because I’d learned
a valuable lesson tonight. Listening to her talk about her husband whom she’d married just recently, their former lives in Chicago, her hope to have children some day, to see them grow up in a country of prosperity and freedom, I’d come to a startling conclusion. Beneath the color of her skin, Barbara was pretty much just like me and Betty.

  Everyone had left by nine-fifteen, except for Betty, Barbara and Karen Graham, a plump redhead from Vermont who’d been one of the first women to chat with Barbara after Betty’s dessert moment. The two women had found they shared a passion for sewing and were discussing the latest Butterick patterns while me and Betty started clearing up.

  I heard the front door open as I carried a tray toward the kitchen.

  “Lily Rae!”

  The swish of my taffeta circle skirt was audible in the room as I spun around. Barbara and Karen stopped in mid-sentence, obviously shocked by the apparent fury in Jake’s voice. Betty was already in the kitchen, washing the dishes.

  “Goddammit, Lily Rae!” Jake shouted from the hallway. “Why is it that hallway light is on every time I come home? It wasn’t more than two days ago I showed you that goddamn electric bill and told you to stop leaving lights on all over the damn place!”

  I cast an apologetic glance at the two women on the sofa, placed the tray down on the coffee table and hurried out of the room.

  He was coming toward me down the short hallway, weaving like a drunken circus clown. My heart sank to my toes. He’d been doing so good lately. Since his return from Korea, he’d been the kind of husband I’d always dreamed he’d be—attentive, sweet and fun-loving…with just a few slips here and there. But not once had he come home like this.

  He stopped when he saw me, still swaying. His brows lowered in a scowl.

  “What’re you so dressed up for, girl? Going out on the town with your boyfriend?” His voice was unnaturally loud, and I just knew the women in the living room—and probably Betty—were hearing every word of it.

  I marched over to him and grabbed his arm. “Lower your voice, Jake Tatlow,” I said, not even making an effort to contain my fury. “Did you forget that tonight was my Tupperware party? Yes, I suppose you did, seeing as how your brain is all pickled from liquor. Oh, Jake! How could you?”

  He shook his arm free from my grip. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that, woman?” he shouted.

  I’d forgotten the cardinal rule. Don’t ever tell Jake what to do when he’s been drinking.

  “Jake, please!” I pleaded. “Some of the women are still here. Please don’t embarrass me like this.”

  “Well, it’s my goddamn house, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be bossed around by a damn woman! Just because I’m married to you don’t mean I’m going to let you cut my balls off whenever you feel like it.” He pushed past me. “I’ve got to piss like a racehorse. You get them women out of my house, you here? When I’m done in the bathroom, I’m going to bed, and I want you there beside me.” He glanced back and gave me a leer. “Naked and wet for me.”

  Rage coursed through my bloodstream. How dare he be so vulgar? “I’d rather sleep with a nest of rattlesnakes,” I said quietly, staring him directly in the eyes.

  He blinked, and the blood drained from his face. His blues eyes turned icy, and I knew I’d gone too far. But I didn’t regret it.

  “Is everything okay, Lily?”

  It was Betty’s voice from the living room. I turned, and there she was, standing at the other end of the hallway, eyes watchful. In one hand, she held a cast-iron skillet. Behind her stood Karen and Barbara, looking scared but resolute. I knew, without a doubt, they’d protect me from Jake if need be.

  Jake knew it, too. “You can put that skillet away, Betty.” He lurched toward her. She backed up, but kept a good grip on the skillet. “I ain’t gonna hurt her. Even if she should know better than to sass me like that. Well, what the hell do we have here?”

  I followed him into the living room, knowing he’d caught his first glimpse of Barbara. Oh, please, God, don’t let him say anything mean to her.

  But when Jake was drunk, there was no telling what he’d do. I knew I had to get Barbara and Karen out of the apartment. Betty had seen Jake at his worst before…or if she hadn’t seen it, she’d heard about it from me.

  “Jake, Barbara and Karen were just leaving…” I cast a desperate glance at the two women, hoping they understood.

  Jake was staring at Barbara, a stunned look on his face. And then, to my amazement, he began to laugh. Over his shoulder, I met Betty’s confused gaze. I could almost read her mind.

  The man has gone off his rocker.

  Still chuckling, Jake looked at me. His eyes were in direct contrast to his grin. In fact, they looked a lot like what I imagined the eyes of them rattlesnakes I’d rather sleep with would look.

  “Well, now. You’ve really done it this time, haven’t you, Lily Rae? Here I am hollerin’ at you because of the electric bill, and you’ve gone ahead and hired yourself a Aunt Jemima maid behind my back! Now, how do you think we’re gonna pay for that?”

  I heard an audible gasp. I wasn’t sure whose it was, maybe my own.

  “Jake! How dare you…” I managed to stutter.

  Poor Barbara’s face had gone ashen, and redheaded Karen had two red spots on her cheekbones as if a cosmetic fairy had materialized out of thin air and waved a rouge wand in her direction. The blood had drained from Betty’s face, too, but her eyes were blazing with contempt.

  “Jake Tatlow, there is no call for that kind of ugliness,” Betty said, her voice trembling with anger.

  He ignored her, keeping his eyes on Barbara. “I’ll say this once, whoever you are. Get the fuck out of my house. Niggers ain’t welcome here.”

  “Jake!” I shouted. I turned to Barbara. “I’m so sorry, Barbara. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  But my new neighbor wasn’t listening. All the life had disappeared from her beautiful face. It had become as if it were carved in stone. She turned stiffly to grab her pocketbook from the couch, and then with her head held high, she walked past Jake and then me, her eyes straight ahead, as lifeless as Kentucky coal. Her high heels tapped with furious intensity on the wood floor as she headed for the front door.

  And then she was gone, leaving the room stunned and silent.

  Betty was the first to speak. “I’m sorry, Lily. I know he’s your husband and you love him, but I hope he rots in Hell for that.”

  It was as if Jake didn’t hear her. He turned and lurched unsteadily toward the hallway that led to the bathroom. Without meeting my eyes, Karen scooped up her pocketbook, mumbled a “thank you,” and left without a backward glance. I had a strong feeling I’d never see the woman again.

  I met Betty’s stunned gaze. It was so quiet in the apartment we could both hear the sound of Jake’s urine streaming into the toilet bowl.

  Finally, Betty spoke, “Get your things, Lily. You’re not staying here tonight.”

  “But…Betty, I can’t just leave him…” My voice faded away as I recognized the steely look in her eyes and the rigidity of her jaw.

  She spoke slowly and precisely. “I’m not leaving you here alone with him tonight, Lily. Debby Ann is already over at my apartment, and she’s probably sleeping by now. There’s no reason on earth for you to stay here tonight. Are you going to get your things, or do you want to sleep in that taffeta skirt? Your choice. But get this through that pretty little head of yours─I’m not leaving here without you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I stood at Betty’s living room window and watched Jake’s blue Plymouth pull out of the parking lot and head toward the post. I could tell just by watching him walk to his car that he was suffering from a humdinger of a hangover.

  Well, good. After the horrible way he’d acted with Barbara last night, he deserved to feel rotten. I still felt mortified by what had happened. I’d wanted to go right over to Barbara’s apartment to apologize for him, but Betty had conv
inced me to wait until today to give her some time to calm down. No doubt she was right. Probably the last person in the world Barbara wanted to see last night was anyone connected with Jake.

  A movement behind me drew my attention, and I turned to see Betty standing in the threshold. “Is he gone?”

  I nodded. “I reckon it’s safe for us to go back now.” I slanted a glance at my friend. “But I still don’t think I was in any danger last night. Jake yells a lot, but he’d never hurt me.”

  Even as I spoke, my brain flashed on that one time in the pick-up truck when I’d first told him I was pregnant. I could still remember his pinching grip on my chin after I’d slapped him for his ugly words insinuating I’d been sleeping around. His eyes had burned with rage, and yes, I’d been afraid of what he might do to me in that moment.

  I blinked the thought away. “Anyhow, he cools down just as soon as the drink wears off.”

  Betty tightened the belt of her satin robe, eyeing me thoughtfully. “How can you live with someone like that? Having to tiptoe around him, thinking about everything you say, hoping you won’t somehow set him off?”

  My jaw dropped. “Betty, don’t you hear what I’m saying? He only gets like that when he’s been drinking!”

  Betty didn’t speak for a long moment, then released a frustrated sigh. “How do you know which one is the real Jake? The sober man…or the ugly thug who comes out when he’s lubricated with booze?”

  My hackles rose at Betty’s frank question. There hadn’t been many times in our friendship that I’d spoken up against her dominant personality, but this remark, I couldn’t let go. “You don’t know Jake like I do,” I said tightly. “He may say some ugly things and he may act ugly at times, but beneath all that, he’s a beautiful soul, and I see that in him. If you only knew what kind of horrible childhood he had, growing up with an ornery snake like his father, you might not be so quick to judge him.”