That next Monday, reality struck. The principal called Nellie and me into the office again. It was the third time, and I knew it was a far bigger issue than my leaving Mama’s bloomers in the alley. The questions were getting deeper and closer to the mark.
“What did you have for dinner?”
“How often do you bring a lunch to school?”
“Are you ever left alone in the house?”
“Does your mother have visitors often?”
Nellie and I did not lie to the principal, nor did we offer any more in our answers than we had to. Again we went back to class, but we did not soon forget that meeting. When I got home that afternoon, I knew something was very wrong. The house was quiet, and Mama was sitting in a chair waiting for us. I could tell she was sober, but this time it was not a happy feeling. I suddenly understood why the house was silent.
Looking around the room, I asked, “Where’s Robbie?”
“Social Services took him away. They are gonna find him a nice home to live in.”
I didn’t understand. Who took my brother? “What is Social Services? Why did they take Robbie?”
Mama reached her arms out toward Nellie and me.
“He’s going to be happier now. We have to leave him alone.”
“They can’t do that!” I shouted.
“Calm down and sit, Frances. You, too, Nellie. I have something to tell you.”
Nellie and I looked at each other. Neither of us understood. I felt as though some alien had taken over Mama’s body and was making her say these things. She couldn’t be sitting calmly and talking while my little brother had been kidnapped!
Mama went on to explain what had happened. The school board had a meeting and contacted Social Services. They told Mama that she had to find safer arrangements for the two of us as well. What I could not totally understand, and what was left unsaid, was that Social Services had deemed Mama unfit to care for us any longer.
“What about us?” Nellie asked.
Mama sounded excited when she answered. “I found a great place for you two. It’s in Greenwood, not too far from here. It is called Connie Maxwell Children’s Home. It’s a beautiful place, and they’ll take good care of you. They have lots of toys for you to play with, and hundreds of other kids live there. You’ll both have bedrooms all your own. And Frances, guess what! There is a school right there at the home.”
I barely heard the words she said. Instead, I heard that we were to be shipped off and abandoned. I could not understand why she sounded so cheerful. I hid my feelings and forced a smile on my face. I didn’t want Mama to be sad or know how upset I was. Nellie questioned her.
“Will I have a doll of my own?” I looked at Nellie, not believing what she was saying. Who wants a doll? Let’s try and get Robbie back home!
Mama went on building up a beautiful story about toys, food, and children. Nellie listened with wide-eyed interest. I just wanted to be alone. Robbie was my best friend. I went up to the third floor of the old house. We never used the top floor because it was so hard to heat the whole house, and some of the windows were broken, but I knew no one would look for me up there. I sat for a long time with an open book in my lap, staring thin-lipped at a page that would normally make me laugh. I couldn’t find any joy at that moment.
The next day started what felt like a month of doctor’s appointments. We had shots and examinations. We were pricked, prodded, and poked. When I got tired of it, I asked Mama why we had to go through all this.
“They just want to be sure you are healthy. You need your shots before you live with all those nice children.”
It was not just physical health they were testing, though. Toward the end of the week, Mama made an announcement.
“We have to visit the psychiatrist today.”
What? “I don’t want to talk to a kyatrist,” I said.
Mama shrugged. “Well, you can’t get in the Children’s Home until you do.”
“No!” I said, folding my arms across my boney chest. “I’m not goin’!”
My response took her by surprise. I had acted so stoically since she let us know we would be leaving.
“Frances, don’t you act up now. It isn’t gonna hurt or nothing.”
“I’m not GOIN’.”
I rarely disobeyed Mama, but this was the line. I wasn’t worried about pain. At that time in my life, I knew I was very different from the other children. I didn’t look like them and I didn’t act the same. I didn’t know if I was crazy or not, but I didn’t want to find out. I had also heard that psychiatrists put crazy people in cages like animals. I had visions of being stuck in a Frankensteinlike movie with a wild-eyed, mad doctor coming at me, cackling and wringing his hands.
“Mama, what if he says I’m crazy?”
She laughed. “Frances, you’re not crazy.”
“What if I am, though, and you just don’t know it?”
Mama looked down at me. “Stop worrying. I would know.”
“But suppose that he says I am crazy,” I persisted. “What if they want to take me away?”
“Frances, you’re not any crazier than I am.”
That didn’t help me a whole lot.
“Will you promise that I won’t get locked away if he decides I’m a little nuts?”
“I promise no one is going to lock you away. He’s just gonna ask you a few questions. Then you’ll be able to go to that wonderful home.”
After getting Mama to promise me a few more times that I would not be locked away, I finally let her take me to the appointment. I crept into the office, afraid to look up.
“Hello Frances,” a man said.
I peeked through my blond, stringy bangs to find a normal-looking man sitting in a leather chair. He did not have a white lab coat or wild hair standing up straight. Nor was he laughing like an evil villain. It was the most painless appointment of my life to that date.
Mama didn’t have any visitors over that week, and she didn’t go out at night. I knew that life was changing. Robbie was already gone. Nellie and I would be next. But Mama spent her days telling us how happy we would be.
“You should see it,” Mama said. “Oaks bigger around than you can reach. And big houses—mansions. The people are so kind there. You’ll never want for anything.”
The day finally came. That morning, Mama led us around the house. I gathered my meager belongings into a small sack, and Nellie did the same. Neither of us spoke to each other, but Mama filled our silence with more stories.
“The Connie Maxwell home is so beautiful. You will love it there.”
I cringed inside as she spoke. It sounded to me as though she wanted us to be happy, so I tried to put on a smiling face to spare her feelings. Secretly, I started to believe that Connie Maxwell was an evil place, full of danger. My biggest worry was that I would never see my mother again.
As Mama walked us out the front door, all I could think about was missing her. I noticed a car parked on the street. Mama led us to it and opened the back door. Nellie and I climbed inside, clutching our belongings. The door shut, and I watched Mama get in the front seat. That is when I first saw the driver. It was Aunt Tessie. Suddenly, I was starving for food. I felt like I hadn’t eaten for days! I was absolutely famished.
I was very surprised and disappointed to see Tessie. I had hoped that we could spend this time alone with Mama. The car pulled away from the curb, and Tessie never spoke a word to either of us. I was still very afraid of Aunt Tessie, so I didn’t speak for the entire ride to the children’s home. After a few minutes on the road, Tessie reached back from the front seat, a loaf of bread in her hand. Nellie, more composed than I was, took it. A full jar of mayonnaise followed, along with a butter knife. Aunt Tessie didn’t protest when we opened the jar and made mayonnaise sandwiches. I nearly swallowed mine whole, expecting her to whirl around and take it from me. She never did, and Nellie ate until she was full while Mama and Aunt Tessie talked in the front seat.
When Nellie was f
inished, I continued to eat. I ate all the bread that was left. When that was gone, I dipped the knife in the jar and ate the mayonnaise by itself. An hour or so later, when we arrived at Connie Maxwell Children’s Home, I was still starving for food.
“We’re here,” Mama said.
I had been leaning my head against the window. When I raised up and looked out, what I saw amazed me. Just as Mama had said, the street was lined with hundred-year-old oak trees. Mansion-type houses sat scattered across acres of well manicured green lawns. The car rolled slowly by a concrete statue of three children running and playing with a huge cross shadowing them. We passed several two-story brick buildings with giant white columns; they looked like the mansions Mama had promised us.
The car came to a stop outside the largest of the buildings. Mama unloaded us, and I was relieved to see that Aunt Tessie stayed behind. We walked up to the front door, and Mama opened it. I clutched her hand, afraid to walk inside. Nellie just stepped right in as if she was happy to be there.
Mama took us into a large, spotless office with a huge window that opened up to the grounds. A woman with dark hair sat behind an oversized desk. She smiled at us and spoke in a friendly voice.
“Can I help you?”
Mama introduced us. Nellie said hi while I hid behind Mama’s dress. Another person arrived and led us on a tour of the grounds. Under different circumstances, it would have seemed an amazing place. It had its own church, post office, grocery store, swimming pool, school, and even a cemetery. Mama asked a lot of questions and prompted me often, but I hung back. I knew what was coming, and she had to push or pull me along.
We arrived at one of the two-story buildings, and our guide announced that this would be our new home. I was slow to grasp what she meant until Mama took a step away from me. I reached out for her, but she pushed me back. Mama knelt down on the front porch and looked me in the eye.
“Frances, this is your home now. They will take better care of you than I can. You’ll have a great life here. The one you shoulda had before.”
“No,” I moaned. “I don’t want to stay here! I’ll be good and I won’t eat much. I promise I’ll be good! Mommy, don’t leave me here!”
Mama looked away and wiped at her eyes. “I want you to be strong for me and take care of Nellie.”
“I don’t want to be strong. I wanna go home!”
“You can’t come with me this time,” Mama said. “I love you. I’ll be by to visit all the time. You’ll see. I promise you will love it here.”
I knew it was going to happen. No amount of crying would change things. I forced myself to stand up straight and wiped my eyes with the hem of my dress.
“Mama, will you promise, cross your heart and hope to die, that you’ll come back?”
Mama made a cross mark on her chest and put her index finger to her lips and then to mine.
“Frances,” a new voice said from behind me.
I turned away from Mama to see who it was. There was something about the voice that touched me. It was gentle but firm, lilting with a Southern drawl.
“I’m Mrs. McDonald,” the woman said. “I’m your house mother.”
She had soft white hair, matching her voice. It fell to her neckline and was combed back from her face. Curls reached around her perfect cheeks, and there was not a single wrinkle, even though I would later learn that she was already seventy-two years old. She was thin and petite, with merry blue eyes that seemed even larger through her round rimless glasses.
“Welcome to Eason House. Come inside with me, Frances, I will show you your new room.”
As I looked from Mrs. McDonald to Mama, I forced myself to stay calm and not make a scene. I silently said a prayer that Mama would remember her promise and one day come back to get us. Nellie waved good-bye and walked into the house and up the stairs ahead of me without any urging. I tried to copy her attitude on the outside, but inside I was screaming, Mama, come back! I let Mrs. McDonald take my small hand in hers. We stood together on the porch and watched quietly until Mama disappeared out of sight.
I repeated Mama’s words in my head, Be strong; be strong.
“Come with me, Frances,” Mrs. McDonald softly urged.
The entry was brightly lit by a chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. A wooden staircase wound up to the second floor, its polished banister reflecting the sparkling lights above. Through the foyer, I caught sight of the visitors’ room with its comfortable seating and baby grand piano standing by a bay window.
I followed Mrs. McDonald up the stairs. She pointed to a bathroom on the left.
“This is the bathroom for your room.”
It was clean and large with two stand-alone porcelain sinks. Black and white tiles covered the floor. I followed Mrs. McDonald down to the end of the hall, where she stopped at an open door.
“And this is your room, Frances.”
I walked through the door, settling into the only real home I would ever know during my childhood. I had no idea I would enjoy it for less than a year.
Chapter 13
A Safe Harbor in the Storm
I slept fitfully that first night at Connie Maxwell. Lying in my twin bed with its own wooden headboard, I listened to the other four girls in the room breathing. It was dark, but the bright December moon caused the sheer white curtains at the end of the room to glow. Moonlight danced on the chest of drawers across from my bed, where Mrs. McDonald had told me to put my clothes and other belongings. It was to be all my own, but I didn’t have enough at that time to fill one drawer. Even in the dark, it seemed a warm, cozy, safe place, but I had never felt so alone. I missed Mama and my little brother so bad that I ached inside. I put my face down into the pillow and cried myself to sleep.
The sun slowly rose, and the sky outside our window slid from black to purple to pink. The morning light poured into the room. The other girls stirred, and I tried to remember their names as they each woke to the new day. For them, it was just like the day before. For me, it was the first of a whole new life, one that frightened me.
The girl beside me got up and immediately began to make her bed. I had never before slept in a bed with a new mattress, nor had there been any bedding to remake. I watched her with a mix of interest and amusement, wondering why someone would put so much effort into something they would just mess up again the next night.
The bustle in the room grew, and I did not want to be the last to rise, so I got up. The girl beside me smiled and said good morning. I did the same. She watched me for a moment. When I just stood there, she spoke.
“Mrs. McDonald wants us to make our beds before breakfast.”
“Breakfast?”
The girl tilted her head. She looked bemused. I just stood there staring at her.
“You should make your bed,” she said.
“Okay.”
I had no idea what to do. The other girls went about it as if they’d done it a million mornings before. I tried do what they did, but I struggled with the two flat sheets and the bedspread. Before I knew it, everyone was finished. The door to our room opened and Mrs. McDonald walked in. The girls lined up in front of her, and I followed.
“Go downstairs, girls. Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said. “Frances, would you please stay with me for a few minutes?” I stopped at the door. She put her arm around my shoulder, drawing me into the room.
“We make our beds each morning before breakfast,” Mrs. McDonald said.
Her words were kind, but I was embarrassed. “I did already.”
“I’ll show you this morning.”
Mrs. McDonald had me watch as she made my bed. She did it quickly but explained each step.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be able to do it better,” she said. “Now let’s go have our breakfast.” She smiled at me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She led me down the stairs to the dining room. Even before we entered, the smell reached me and I quickened my step. When I walked in, I saw all the girls sitting at a l
ong table. Bowls of scrambled eggs, fluffy golden biscuits, gravy, sausage, fruit, syrup, butter, and large pitchers of milk covered the space between them. There was Nellie, right in the middle, beside the girl who would eventually become her best friend. No one was eating, and everyone was watching me walk in. Nellie gave me a look that said, hurry up.
I sat down, and Mrs. McDonald took the seat at the end of the table. Her head bowed, as did everyone else’s. It took me a second, but I followed their lead.
“Lord, thank you for our food. We ask you to bless this meal and all who partake of it,” Mrs. McDonald prayed. “And thank you, Lord, for bringing Nellie and Frances into our family.”
Mrs. McDonald continued her prayer, thanking God for every girl at our table. I listened and felt a warmness filling me up from the inside. I felt welcome, as though they wanted me with them.
After the prayer, Mrs. McDonald started passing the food to her left. I watched as the girls sitting closer to her took their portions and passed the bowls along. I had never eaten at a table like this, among people who knew proper etiquette. I felt confused and a little ashamed. I didn’t want to make a mistake. When the first bowl reached me, I stammered.
“Can I have some gravy?”
Some of the younger girls giggled. Mrs. McDonald immediately called their names.
“You can have as much as you like, dear. Until you are full.”
She probably should have used a different choice of words for me. She had no idea that I never felt full, not since I almost starved at Aunt Tessie’s. It was a condition that was new to me at the time, but it followed me through more than half of my life. I learned, when I was much older, that the emptiness inside of me was not a hunger for nourishment. There was not enough food on the planet to fill the gap that losing my mama had left inside. But that’s a whole other book.
On that morning, when the bowls full of hot, rich food were offered, I couldn’t control myself. I could see I had taken twice as much as the others, but everything looked better than the bowl that came before it. When the last bowl reached me, my plate looked like I was bringing dinner home for a family of four. Some of the girls stared in disbelief, but Mrs. McDonald did not seem to notice. I barely noticed either. Instead, I dug in with relish, savoring every bite. The girls may have found it strange, but I paid them no mind. It was the first time in my life that food had been unlimited.
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