Laelia

by Ruth-Miriam Garnett

  Entering the hallway of the Cates home, Rebecca smelled the garlicky tomato sauce Gracelyn had prepared for their spaghetti dinner. She looked forward to the rolls with flecks of fresh basil that would accompany their main course.

  “Gracelyn,” she yelled out, “do we have any ice cream? Tell me before I settle in, and I’ll run get some.”

  “Oh hi, Rebecca.” Gracelyn smiled as she puttered in from the kitchen. “There’s just enough of that mint chocolate chip for all three of us to have a smidgen. You can relax for a few minutes before we sit down to eat. Jake’s dozing in his chair, Bernard is sleeping peacefully. Timothy was in the bed, too, when I checked him, but restless.”

  As if on cue, Timothy’s wiry figure emerged, hurriedly descending the front stairs. He reached into the hallway closet, donned a fedora and a sport jacket, then walked past the two women, giving them the merest tip of his hat as a greeting, his eyes downward. Carefully shutting the front door, he headed out into the moist air of the descending dusk.

  “That’ll be all we see of that one this day,” cited Rebecca, knowing Timothy would not return home until well after midnight. “Remind me to call Dr. Meyers about that sedative. If we can get him to sleep more, he won’t be thinking too much about liquor. All this running in and out has got to stop. The other night, he must have forgotten his door keys. I don’t know how long he pounded on that door. And do you know poor Claudia slept through the whole racket. Lord knows, I just had that door painted. Going Italian tonight, girl?”

  Gracelyn giggled.

  “You know how I get in my moods. And I really started thinking about spaghetti after I spotted those fresh bitter greens at the market. A green salad and some pasta is such a wonderful combination. And Lord, sister, we need our strength to go forward.”

  “Lord knows we do. I guess Claudia will be prancing in here shortly. What time did she tell you? My stomach’s rumbling.”

  “She told me no later than six-fifteen.”

  “Well then, that’s probably a go. I’ll have time to change out of my clothes. You call me now when everything’s ready.”

  “Sure thing.” Gracelyn went back to her meal preparations as Rebecca mounted the front stairs. Entering her bedroom, she removed the cloche from her head and placed it inside a small hat box left out on an overstuffed chair. After kicking off her pumps, she lay her gloves and purse on the dresser.

  “Whew!” Rebecca expended a grateful breath after freeing her feet from the confines of exquisite leather. She quickly removed her suit jacket and skirt, returned them to their wooden hangers, and filed them inside the closet. She slipped out of the sleeveless shell she had worn under the jacket, removed her enormous bra, and clad only in her satin slip, bounded onto her bed.

  Almost immediately, Rebecca dozed off into a dream. She was walking, incredibly, through a field of orchids, completely nude, and the high afternoon sun was shining on her full figure. While still going forward, she felt a pair of long-fingered hands cupping her breasts from behind. Not turning her head to see who it was that had come upon her, she said, “I knew you would find me.” Aroused and happy in the dream, Rebecca’s catnap was interrupted by Gracelyn’s calling out that dinner was ready.

  Claudia indeed arrived as scheduled, so that by 7 P.M. the sisters were seated in the dining room spooning out healthy portions of pasta and Gracelyn’s sublime bolognese sauce. They ate in virtual silence for a few moments, then began the chatter among themselves that they so relished at this time during their day.

  “It’s polka dots again. I don’t care whether it’s your blouse, or a shirtdress, or just a scarf helmut. That Anna Wintour is the bible for fashion, if you ask me.”

  “Do tell.” Rebecca responded tongue in cheek to Claudia’s frantic commentary.

  “And I mean, you should see the way they have paired those polka-dot blouses with a straight python skirt.” Claudia went on undaunted by Rebecca’s mild sarcasm. “If I were a younger woman, I sure would be swishing around in one of those straight skirts. Not too short, though. The women in this country should learn to leave more to the imagination. The African women believe a man is most interested in what he can’t see. Do you all believe that? I think there’s something in it.”

  “They sure do cover themselves up. I wonder does that get hot.” Rebecca reflected on this issue as she scooped more greens onto her salad plate. “Gracelyn, you have outdone yourself with these rolls.”

  “Why, thank you. I figured we should all have some hips to swish around in our straight skirts.”

  Rebecca chuckled at Gracelyn’s remark. Claudia, unembarrassed, chewing on a roll, began to speak again.

  “Yes, indeed, dear, these are excellent. Now, you could liven yourself up a bit with some polka dots. And Rebecca, you could buy some polka-dot accessories if you were of a mind to. I think they favor just about everybody.”

  “I’m lively enough to suit me. But you go right ahead. Um hmm. You all know I saw pastor today.”

  Once Rebecca spoke, the mood around the table shifted to sober concentration. Claudia stopped chewing momentarily.

  Gracelyn asked, “What did the two of you talk about?”

  “I told him about that Harriet Tubman play, for one thing. But mainly, I let him know we expected him to do more visiting to ailing parishioners. Nicely, of course.”

  Claudia coughed, choked slightly, but remained silent.

  “He told me he would try to visit us ‘girls’ more often. And that was about it.”

  “What now?”

  “Honey, you let me worry about that. Claudia, you have your speech ready for Sunday?”

  “No, but I’m working on it.”

  “Well, I know you’ll get it just right. And wear some of those polka dots so you look extra pretty.”

  Claudia blushed at Rebecca’s comment. Gracelyn, frowning slightly, kept silent. Rebecca, noticing this, continued.

  “I’m going to be in the library this evening going over the church budgets. Remember, Mama used to say, ‘When you go a-looking for something, make sure you really want to find it.’ Well, I’m a-looking and sometime this evening I’ll be a-finding. Now, you fix your mind on talking to Raphaela and Lucy. Just keep talking up that play and after we drop off Bernard next week, you start getting them organized.”

  Gracelyn was ready to focus her mental energies on her children’s production. While tending to the men, cooking, and doing housework, she had already begun to silently work out casting, lighting, and stage directions.

  Claudia sighed deeply. “Well that’s that.”

  With all three sisters prepped on their strategy through the weekend, the dinner conversation continued lightheartedly.

  “Rebecca, I found a whole set of pewter vases in the basement. I want to do a flower arrangement on the breakfront. It’ll be fresher than all that china for the hot weather. I need to cut some extra blooms to bring inside.”

  “That would be real nice, Claudia. There are some laelias in the back of the greenhouse. I brought some in earlier. You can carry more in this evening, if you’ve a mind to.”

  Snapping to from her reverie, Gracelyn teased, “The three of us can start thinking about pollinating before long, don’t you think?”

  Rebecca laughed, then said. “Girl, what’s got into you?”

  Claudia responded for Gracelyn, “Nothing! That’s her problem.”

  “Our problem,” Gracelyn parried.

  “Lord, help us,” Rebecca intoned in mock piety.

  The Cates women enjoyed a session of raucous laughter before Rebecca stood up, daubed her mouth with her cloth napkin, and trudged straight to the library. Finding last year’s church budget right where it belonged in the file drawer, she reached behind to find past budgets and financial statements that Reuben had maintained carefully until his death. Seated at the desk with the paperwork spread out in front of her, she easily compared Reverend Wilson’s expenditures over a twelve-month period with those of Reverend Simmons. Wils
on’s church-related business trips, the parsonage upkeep, and the slight raise approved by the trustees six months after his tenure began showed he was not as frugal as Reverend Simmons had been during his long stretch as pastor. Nevertheless, everything appeared reasonable. Rebecca continued to probe.

  Around 11 P.M., Rebecca’s energies wound down, and she stood up from the desk for a long stretch and yawn. She sat back down, determined to keep going until midnight. After vigorously rubbing her eyes, she flipped through the pages of the Wilsons’ itemized expenses. An insurance deductible of three thousand dollars was listed for Julia Wilson during the past year. The payment was made to the Horizons Medical Assurance Corporation out of Michigan. The procedure, listed as surgical, was performed at a clinic in Bloomington by a Dr. Randall Leighton.

  Rebecca combed her memory, trying to remember if Julia had been absent any Sunday for the past year. Surely, if she had needed medical attention, the congregation would have been informed, if only to offer its support and well wishes. Rebecca could recall nothing said during announcements about Julia’s being ill or needing an operation. Well, Rebecca thought, it could be something that embarrassed her, perhaps some women’s procedure. But since Julia was in her mid-fifties, she was not likely to have had her tubes tied. But this was in fact minor surgery, so it was probably something other than gynecological, Rebecca concluded.

  Intrigued, Rebecca pulled the page and placed it on top of the other papers. Fighting sleep, she stood up from the desk, found a paperweight to keep the stack of records intact, and proceeded upstairs.

  V

  “REBECCA? REBECCA?” Gracelyn called outside Rebecca’s door. She had traipsed downstairs, in her excitement almost tripping over the antique petticoat she had pulled on underneath a coarse wool skirt. Her head swathed in yards of muslin, she held herself regally erect while she waited for Rebecca to respond.

  “Hold on,” Rebecca said.

  Rebecca, already awake and in her bathrobe, was bent over, retrieving a stray house shoe from underneath her bed. She pulled the scuff quickly onto her bare foot and hustled to see what Gracelyn was so excited about.

  “Everything all right?” she asked as she swung the door open. After a moment of silence, Rebecca let out a throaty chuckle. “Girl, what on earth?”

  “Harriet Tubman! There’s tons of this cloth upstairs in Mama’s trunk. And I found about six petticoats for the little girls to wear. I was just trying everything on to see if you thought this was the right effect.”

  “I do indeed. My goodness, Gracelyn, you have a talent for costuming. Maybe the theater is your missed calling.”

  “You know what they say, ‘The play’s the thing!’ I’m really excited now. Last night, I was almost too excited to sleep. I just had to show you what I came up with before I got breakfast started.”

  Gracelyn bounded back to her attic quarters to dump her creation.

  “What on earth?” Claudia, peeking out from her half-open door, echoed Rebecca’s sentiment.

  Rebecca, seeing she was still groggy, instructed her, “Nothing. Just Gracelyn getting excited about her play. You go on back and get your beauty rest for another hour.”

  Claudia yawned sleepily in agreement.

  Gracelyn’s hyped enthusiasm persisted throughout their morning breakfast.

  Rebecca was actually glad that once Gracelyn slowed down, Claudia began to talk excitedly about what she would wear on Sunday when she made her announcements in church for the first time. All the chatter allowed Rebecca to focus her thoughts on her plan to depose Wilson.

  “I don’t see how I can avoid driving to Bloomington Saturday. Marshall Field’s is the best place for me to find something perky to wear. I’ll probably leave right after Lucy comes in. I need to catch her to ask the best thing to use on all that pewter to get it sparkling.”

  When Claudia mentioned Bloomington, Rebecca’s attention was recaptured.

  “Bloomington? Well that will be a nice drive. I may go along with you. We can take the Mercedes. Gracelyn, do you mind being here alone for most of the day?”

  “No. That’Il give me the chance to meet with Lucy about the Tubman piece, if she can take some time away from the menfolks. She can lock up the two wanderers while we have our talk. Anyway, I’d just as soon not be in a car if it’s nice. I’ll probably walk over to the library and check out some slave narratives. I really believe this play can be something magnificent.”

  “Sure it can,” Rebecca assured her animated baby sister.

  “Rebecca, have I convinced you to look for some polka dots?” Claudia asked in mock seriousness.

  “No, dearie. I’ll leave the polka dots to you slender women. You know I’m not going to be poking around Marshall Field’s for any length of time. But there are a couple of florists in Bloomington I can call on. It will be nice to be on the road for a few hours. It sure does help cleanse the mind.”

  Rebecca saw no need to reveal her agenda to the others right at that moment. While Claudia was shopping downtown, she would locate the very Dr. Leighton who had performed Julia Wilson’s surgery. She planned to find out his specialty without probing for any confidential information on Julia, and she would in fact say Julia had referred her to him. If there was anything amiss in that three thousand dollars the church had paid for Julia’s medical procedure, Rebecca knew the trip to Bloomington would be well worth her time.

  As soon as Lucy arrived at the Cates home Saturday morning, Gracelyn greeted her in the front hallway, sat her down at the dining table, and proceeded with a rapid-fire description of her children’s play.

  “Now, you know Harriet Tubman is my favorite historical figure, male or female, I know for a fact that there are at least twelve children in the church who could work on this project—acting, lighting, doing stagecraft, and what have you. And we need to keep our young people occupied over the summer months. Lucy, your Melba would be wonderful in the lead. Is she in summer school now, or anything like that?”

  The lightbulb went on in Lucy’s head at Gracelyn’s last remark.

  “Matter of fact, no. She would love to do something like this. Since school’s out, she’s always up late watching old movies and such. How soon do you need her?”

  “I’m thinking we’ll get started Saturday evening, a week from now. But it will have to be after supper, around seven. I’ve got something to take care of earlier in the day.”

  Right on cue, Bernard moaned from upstairs. Lucy stood to attention, ready to go up and tend to her charges.

  Gracelyn continued, “I’m going to finish up in the kitchen; then I’ll be going out. There are some pastries in the refrigerator. Rebecca and Claudia are driving to Bloomington this morning, so you’ll have everything to yourself. Honey, don’t let these menfolks wear you out.”

  Lucy smiled as she shifted mental gears from the excitement of Gracelyn’s production to the task at hand. Entering the kitchen to start the breakfast oatmeal, she called to Rebecca, standing at the back window finishing a glass of juice.

  “Mornin’, Rebecca. Hear you and Claudia are heading down to Bloomington this morning. Ought to be nice weather from the looks of it.”

  “It does look nice and clear. I was out with my flowers for an hour or so just about when the sun was coming up. One of these days, I guess I’ll be too old to get up so early.”

  “Not necessarily. You stay in the habit, you’ll be just fine.”

  “You’re a wise woman, Lucy.”

  “You all coming back for supper?”

  “Hmm, don’t think so. I have some business errands to run, and by the time Claudia finishes shopping, we most likely will have had enough to eat. And you know tomorrow when Gracelyn cooks our big meal, we’ll make up for whatever we didn’t eat today.”

  Both women laughed at Rebecca’s reference to the sisters’ full-course Sunday meal. Rebecca had made it clear that Lucy could join them whenever she desired, but she had never taken Rebecca up on the invitation.

  Toda
y, however, to Rebecca’s surprise, Lucy told her, “I believe I’ll sit with you all at dinner tomorrow and taste Gracelyn’s cooking. We were having a wonderful conversation about that play she wants to do. Myself, I need to do some brush-up reading on that black history stuff. Melba sure will be excited. You should see the way that girl preens around, thinking she’s Dorothy Dandridge.”

  “Now Dorothy Dandridge, that was some actress,” Rebecca responded, encouraging Lucy’s uncharacteristic divulgences. “I bet Melba has real talent. Wasn’t she Mary Magdalene in the Sunday school Easter pageant last year?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed. She went over that speech every day for three solid weeks. Lord help me, if I heard that piece one time I heard it a hundred times.”

  “Well, it’s good for young people to be excited about something—”

  Bernard’s moan punctuated Rebecca’s unfinished phrase.

  “I better be heading upstairs now.” Lucy, basking in motherly pride, quickly filled a tray with oatmeal, juice, and dry toast and headed for the back stairs just as Claudia reached the landing.

  “I just looked in on Bernard. Can’t really tell if he’s awake or asleep. But he was pretty noisy there for a minute. How are you doing today, Lucy?”

  “Very well, thank you.” A smiling Lucy continued her energetic ascent.

  Claudia, crisply chic in a pink-and-white-striped shirtdress with a matching kerchief, turned toward Rebecca.

  “What’s got into her?” Without waiting for a response, she filled a water glass and downed a multiple vitamin.

  “Aren’t you supposed to have food with that, dearie?” Rebecca asked.

  “I figured we’d get something on the road. Anyway, it never bothers me to take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get going.”