"Potato masher," Steinhauser yelled as a grenade landed among them. Spotts sprinted a few yards and flung himself on the ground, rolling. It detonated, covering him with dirt, but he had all his parts intact. Hands on his helmet, he peered up from the dirt.
"Major Spotty, how would Washington like you now, and so filthy, too." McDougal slithered up to him.
"McDougal, you son-of-a-bitch, let's get 'em."
Not far from the top, the remnants of C Company surged upward and drove the Germans off. Spotts kept firing. He didn't know if he hit anyone or not. Out of the corner of his eye he did see Steinhauser jam his bayonet into a slow Hun and rip his guts out. Pausing for a moment, Spotts turned to look back down the hill. A strange hum from far off rang in his ears. He felt himself flying into the air, oddly exhilarated. He crashed to the earth. Assuming a close shell had rocked the ground, he scrambled to his feet again, but keeled over like a broken tripod. Looking down, he saw his left leg was ripped in half through the thigh. His bone stuck out like a white winter branch. Disbelieving, he tried to get up again. McDougal was at his side, though he hadn't heard him come.
"Lie still, man."
"Sergeant, how would Washington like me now?"
Tears filled McDougal's eyes. "They'd say you was beautiful, Major Spotts, or we'd take care of them."
"Thank you." Spotts felt no excruciating pain, rather a deep throbbing. Blood was pulsing out of his leg. McDougal tried to hide it from him. "Sergeant, I know."
"You rich boys think you know everything."
"Leave me. Take care of the men."
"No. The men are fine. We are taking a little vacation from Fritzie."
Spotts heard other men crying, howling. He began to feel strangely light. "I'm not afraid."
McDougal grasped his hand, leaning over him.
Flashes of light erupted like lightning. The rumbles drifted away. The sobbing of the wounded and dying pierced him. "I want to believe this is for something," he whispered.
"Major Spotts, rest yourself."
"I've got a long time to do that." Spotts lifted his head up again and saw the blanket of blood already soaking into the earth. "At least I obeyed the Bible." He laughed.
"What, Major?"
"I didn't spill my seed upon the ground."
McDougal grinned and held his hand more tightly. Spotty shuddered. A detachment reached into his destroyed body. He felt as though he could leave his flesh. Felt as though he would do this in a few moments. McDougal took Spotts' helmet off. He put his arm under Spotts' head and lay alongside him, full length.
"Thank you."
"Shh."
Spottiswood knew he had but a few minutes to live as we know life. He wished he could see Celeste one more time, just once to tell her all the things they never spoke of. He felt himself slipping. Spotts did something he had never done in his entire life. "Sergeant, I love you."
Tears flooded the gritty man's face. "I love yon, too." McDougal kissed him on the cheek. Spotts smiled and died.
Celeste strolled through her garden, which was on its last gasp. She stopped and stared for what seemed a long time. Peaceful; peaceful but terrifying. She walked briskly back into the house.
"Ramelle—Ramelle, where are you!"
"Here, dear." Ramelle hurried down the stairs. Celeste looked pale. "What's the matter?"
"Darling, I could have sworn I saw my brother standing in the garden smiling at me."
Within two weeks Celeste was informed of Sports' death. The three generals were in the war room when the news came. Celeste turned to Fannie and Fairy and said in a low voice, "All this nonsense about the lights going out across Europe. When the corpses are cleared no new order will emerge. Power, society, relationships, will descend in all their confusion on a new generation. The old, who started this conflagration, will retreat, worn out; the survivors and the young will continue the dance." She grabbed her father's sword off the wall and smashed it into the Meuse-Argonne district. The sword broke. Her two cronies stood there, paralyzed. Cora, who'd been in the next room, walked in, put her arms around Celeste and led her upstairs to her room. Neither she nor Ramelle left her that night.
May 22, 1980
"What are you going to do today, now that your hair's in order?" Juts asked Louise.
"Thought I'd go show it to Orrie." She plumped up a curl. "What are you going to do?"
"See if I can chisel Nickel into doing the yard."
'I’ll do it. Your mower still work?"
"Yes, but you gotta oil it. It ain't a power kind."
"I wish I could help, but you know my back. I can't hardly work anymore. I used to like getting up in the morning and going down to the five-and-ten-cent store. I held a very responsible position, you know.
Juts smirked. "Yeah, it broke up your day between reading your horoscope in the newspaper and watching Let There Be Light."
"Don't get smart, Julia- You don't have regular work, either."
"My ironing's coming along just fine. When I can't work no more I'm going to lie out on the square and let the birds eat me."
"Before I go do the lawn I want to ask you two something."
"What?" Mother took off her apron.
"You wrote me that the renters left Grandma's house up on Bumblebee Hill."
"Yes." Mother's voice was even.
"You ain't living there for free. I can see it coming." Louise started in before I could finish.
"I'm not asking to live there for free."
"Hear her out, Louise. Rest your mind and hush your mouth."
"I mean what I say." Louise fired up-
"Calm down, Aunt Wheeze. I'm not asking for anything. I'll pay."
"You want to rent that old house?"
"No. I want to buy it."
Mother got interested. "With money?"
"Sure—what have I got to trade?"
"How much?" Louise suddenly was all business.
"The house needs lots of work...."
•You don't find old lovely houses like that without working on them." Louise turned positively big executive.
"You've got about twenty acres up there."
"With an orchard, a crick, the springhouse stands and the barn isn't so bad, either."
Mother joined in. "Half that house belongs to me. Our dear mother willed it to both of us."
"I know, Mother. I figure it's worth forty thousand dollars."
"The land alone is worth that." Louise was jubilant "Gimme sixty."
"Aunt Louise!"
"Sixty!" She picked up her purse and headed for the door, trying not to run, because she couldn't wait to drop this on Orrie Tadia.
"I'm going to be around for a while, so we can keep talking about this," I said.
"Sixty. Take it or leave it," and out the door she went.
"Some sister. I tell you she'd steal the pennies off a dead man's eyes," Juts grumbled.
"What do you think, Mom?"
"It's your life. Do as you please. I'd rather have you near me than in California or New York City."
"I'm ready to settle down. Besides, I love that old house and I can fix it up."
"Well, good luck bargaining with J.P. Morgan. Religion isn't all she picked up at Immaculata. Louise gets mean and hateful when it comes to money."
"Fills a need for her, like Drano."
"Ha! You really got money?"
"Not enough for sixty thousand, but I can stretch it to fifty. If she'll give me terms, or the bank. Otherwise, Mom, I won't have any money left to fix it up."
"You can pay me my half month by month. For spite, she'll make you give her her half all in a lump, then she'll go out and buy a truckload of costume jewelry, wearing it all at the same time."
"You don't seem very surprised about my wanting to come back to Runnymede."
"I could see it coming. You're at that age, besides." "Smart, aren't you?"
"I know a thing or two." Juts threw the dog's ball and he scrambled after it. "That sister of mine c
an be a piano fart when she's a mind to."
"God, Mother, where do you get these expressions?"
Juts, surprised, said, "I don't know. You mean 'piano fart'?"
"For a start."
"Mebbe I started calling her that when she got musical. I don't remember."
"Will you help me work on her?"
"Yes, I'll help you, but we can't get her too stirred up or she'll rip her drapes off the window and yank the phone out of the wall. You know the phone company won't service her anymore."
"Thanks, Mother. You start thinking about how we can get around her. I'm going to go mow the lawn." I pushed open the back door.
Mother made a beeline for the phone and dialed so fast she forgot her arthritis. "Hello, Ev. How are you today? Ev, I need you for a secret mission. It's you and me against Louise and Orrie, one more time."
June 14, 1919
Louise, fluttering in her graduation white, perched on the piano bench awaiting her cue. Graduation had been rehearsed endlessly, as Carlotta Van Dusen wanted a spectacle sufficient to impress the parents to send their other daughters to Immaculata Academy. Cora and Julia Ellen wore their Sunday best and sat quietly in the outdoor chairs along with Celeste and Ramelle, as well as Orrie Tadia. Louise had used all her powers of persuasion to get Orrie invited, as she particularly wanted her friend to be overwhelmed by her position. Celeste and the others were overwhelmed by Orrie, whose hair flamed suspiciously red. Orrie was no longer a pudge; she was now a load—a load drenched in store-bought perfume. Orrie subscribed to the idea that a dab of L'Heure Bleue on her pulse points and she was ready for life.
The war was over but the peace hadn't been signed.
Many of the men were still "over there." Neither Curtis nor Pearlie Trumbull was mustered out. Celeste had recovered her wit after Spotty's death but she was quieter, and while she herself was funny, she rarely laughed.
Carlotta approached the podium. "Welcome to the class of 1919's commencement. Today as our graduation speaker we are pleased to have a home-front hero. A man whose work here made their work over there possible. Won't you join me, please, in welcoming Brutus Rife."
Celeste was shocked to find Brutus on the program. "The woman is beyond endurance. I wonder how much this 'honor' is costing him?"
"Celeste, don't trouble yourself over this." Cora patted her hand. "He ain't dead yet."
"One hopes it will come soon," Ramelle said. "Brutus donated a building to the school," Juts piped up.
"Where'd you hear that?" Celeste demanded in a whisper.
"Louise. La Sermonetta tells her everything. Wheezie's her pet."
Orrie pretended to listen to Brutus drone on about peace on earth bought with our boys' blood. He then linked this to economic opportunity.
Celeste leaned over to Juts, "Did Louise know Brutus would give the commencement address?"
"Yeah. But she made me swear not to tell because she was afraid you and Momma wouldn't show."
"Damn my sister!"
Ramelle pulled Celeste upright. Brutus was looking right at her. Celeste glared back. She couldn't bear the sight of the man. Her sister's crass opportunism, violating Runnymede's upper-class rules, infuriated her. She leaned over to Julia again. "Doesn't it bother Louise that that man killed Aimes? How can she sit there?"
"She told me she'd get even."
An anxious look passed over Cora's face. Much as she hated Brutus and much as she was surprised at Carlotta's greed, she didn't want Louise to get in dutch. "What's she gonna do?"
"Won't tell." Juts clammed up.
"Julia, I know you know." Celeste breathed conspiracy.
"I don't know nothing,"
"Amen." Cora smiled.
"Cora, do you know?"
"Celeste Chalfonte, settle yourself. I don't know nothing. I'm just trying to keep Julia in her seat. You know if Louise starts something up there this one will be right up after her. If they're not fighting one another, they'll take on all comers." She sternly gripped Julia's arm. "Now I don't know what your sister has in mind up there, but you aren't leaving this seat, you hear?"
"Yes, m'am."
"And in closing let me congratulate you beautiful girls, the class of 1919. I know you will take your place in society as faithful wives and loving mothers. You are the backbone of America, this great country where any boy can grow up to be President. My best to you." Brutus finished with a flourish.
Celeste forgot herself. "What about our daughters growing up to be President, Mr. Rife?"
Startled. Brutus turned back to the podium. Recognizing the heckler, he smiled broadly. "My dear Miss Chalfonte, you don't have any daughters."
The crowd laughed.
"No, she don't, but I do." Cora was on her feet.
"Ladies, I don't think I'm qualified to speak on this subject," Brutus demurred. The sight of Cora disturbed him. He didn't have anything against her personally, but still she upset him.
"I am. What kind of great country is this when half the population can't vote!" Celeste warmed to her subject.
Carlotta, enraged, seized the podium and shouted her sister down. "If women vote it will ruin the moral fiber of this nation. Politics is a dirty business. We should not soil our dainty hands with it. Leave it to the men. To us falls the task of spiritual enlightenment. What are politics compared to this great challenge?"
"Money, power, the future!" Celeste yelled right back.
Ramelle, Cora and Julia Ellen stood alongside Celeste so she wouldn't be alone, even though they had no idea what would pop out of her mouth next.
"My dear sister, you are an overwrought woman with no children of your own, so all your passion is misdirected." Carlotta smirked. She made a sign to Louise to play, but Louise pretended not to see her frantic gesturing behind the table. Brutus sat down, jarred.
"Concern over the future of generations of women is not misdirected passion, Carlotta. Isn't that what your school is for—to train young women, to improve their minds and form their characters?" Before Carlotta could butt in, Celeste kept on. "Well, I, too, am concerned for these young citizens who are not yet full citizens. I, too, believe women are the hope of the future, but not just to sit inside a house and discuss flower arranging. Has this war meant nothing to you? Men forfeited moral responsibility for the future. You leave politics in those hands and the so-called Great War to End All Wars will be a dress rehearsal. Women must enter politics. We must fight to control the future or there won't be any future!" Celeste stopped for breath. For once in her life she let her emotion out and she didn't give a damn who saw her.
Carlotta grabbed the breathing spell. "God made man in his image, first. We are to follow man, as the Bible says. You violate God's law. Besides, everyone knows women aren't suited to work in the outside world or to run the government."
A parent called out to cheer Celeste: "Women can't do any worse than what men have done."
Carlotta, surprised to find other traitors in her midst, repeated herself: "God made man first. Adam and Eve."
Celeste, full of air: "Man was the experiment. Woman is the final product."
Many of the parents chuckled at this. Carlotta was close to foaming at the mouth. "Celeste Pritchard Chalfonte, you've spoiled this ceremony enough. Sit down."
"My apologies to the class of 1919. Young women, I hope you'll make your mark on this tired world and I wish you well." Celeste sat down. Ramelle, Cora and Julia Ellen sat down with her. Orrie's mouth was on her ample bosom, she was amazed.
Carlotta folded her hands, gathered herself, and then proceeded with the ceremony. "Will the class of 1919 please rise."
The young women, all in white, stood. Each was to walk up on the stage and receive her diploma and then shake Brutus's hand before going off the platform. Carlotta signaled Louise.
Louise began by playing "Pomp and Circumstance," as prearranged. She was to play this all through the ceremony. When the last graduate received her diploma, Carlotta would then recognize her as the piano
player and Louise would walk up and get her diploma before returning to the piano. Louise did look forward to the applause..
With as much dignity as the girls could manage, they kept time to the music and walked up the steps, to Carlotta. However, the graduates were not past Allston in last names before Louise slipped "By the Sea" into "Pomp and Circumstance." Millicent Allston lost her rhythm. Next Louise tossed in "Hello, My Baby" and then zip, back to "Pomp and Circumstance." Celeste started laughing out loud. Julia, fourteen, guffawed. Cora simply smiled and nodded her head. Touched by Louise's effort to keep faith with Aimes, Ramelle had tears in her eyes and reached for Celeste's hand. "In the Good Old Summertime" belted out over the graduates. Carlotta, already suffering from a bad day, tried to compose herself. She squeezed Kathy Balen's diploma into a pulp. Back to "Pomp and Circumstance," laced with "The Band Played On." The seniors, instead of being upset, started singing the chorus of "The Band Played On." Louise hit the keys with all her might. She switched back to "In the Good Old Summertime" because more people knew the words. Soon all the seniors were swaying as they waited in line, singing as loudly as they could. Celeste was roaring with laughter. Ramelle started singing with the graduates. This rebellion quivered through the ranks of the parents. A few joined in. Some of the girls called out, "Come on, Mother"; "Father, we need a baritone." By now many of the parents joined in. A curious euphoria filled the crowd, spectators and graduates. Maybe it was the fact that the war was over or maybe it was the fact that graduation was here at last or maybe it was simple release. Whatever, the group sang with gusto "In the Good Old Summertime." Carlotta Van Dusen fainted. Brutus went to her. Juanita Weaver, class president, calmly stepped over the distraught director and took on the job of handing out diplomas. As the last girl received her rolled-up scroll, bound in black and orange ribbon, class colors, Juanita pointed to Louise. The class of 1919 went wild. Louise stopped playing and walked over to Juanita, who handed her her diploma. Amid cheers, the girls sang "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow." Louise bowed and raced back to the piano to accompany them.
Six of One Page 11