Six of One

by Rita Mae Brown

Chessy whispered, "Julia Ellen, it's just a piece of metal. We can fix it."

  "Mom's porch." Julia gulped between sobs.

  "We can fix that, too."

  "You'll never want to see me again," a wounded Julia wailed.

  "Yes I will."

  "No you won't."

  "Julia, I love you," Chessy whispered in her ear. "I want to see you forever."

  "You do?" She stopped crying, shocked.

  "I do." He spoke firmly.

  "I do, too." Julia looked up at him, tear stains down her cheeks.

  "Really?" No one had ever told Chester Smith he was loved.

  "I think you are the best man that ever lived." Julia wobbled out of the car and hugged him.

  Delighted, delirious, Chessy hugged her right back, while steam from his radiator spiraled skyward.

  Louise, recovered from what she thought her close brush with death, entertained the assembled with a short prayer thanking the Lord for their collective deliverance. Observing Julia's cried-up face, she offered her sage advice: "Keep a stiff upper lip, Julia."

  "If I want a stiff upper lip I'll grow a mustache," Julia flared.

  Everyone knew Juts was fully herself again.

  December 20, 1925

  "Fairy's late again. Ever since our European tour this summer she's been irresponsible," Fannie Jump Creighton complained.

  "Have you two made up since your falling out, truly made up?" Ramelle interrogated her.

  "Yes, forgive and forget, but I tell you, Fairy was unreliable in France and she's unreliable here. Look at the time, How can we play bridge without her? Julia and Ev slave away at that damn silk mill. The whole world's going to hell."

  "We can always play poker." Celeste shuffled the cards.

  "You win too much." Fannie crossed her legs.

  "I thought all Fairy did in Europe was look for a knight to go with her nightgown." Celeste's mouth twitched slightly.

  "She struck out when I was with her."

  "You, of course, hit many a home run," teased Celeste.

  "In a manner of speaking." Fannie ran her hand over her hair, exuding superiority.

  "I think she's taken a lover." Ramelle pitched that right by them.

  "Don't be ridiculous. The woman's almost fifty."

  "So are you and so am I, my dear," Celeste said.

  "That's different." Fannie blinked.

  "How so?" Celeste cut the cards on the table.

  "We don't look fifty and we don't act fifty."

  "Perhaps." Celeste dealt a hand for five-card stud.

  "Celeste, let's give her another ten minutes. Besides, that gives me time to figure out how much I can afford to lose to you." Fannie checked her watch.

  "Read anything interesting?" Celeste addressed Fannie.

  "Certainly not."

  "I just finished a book about the rigors of priesthood which strengthened in me my dedication not to become a priest." Celeste gathered up the cards.

  "Father Chalfonte—ha, I can see it," Fannie remarked.

  "What you should have seen was Celeste's face when Carlotta drove over to present it to her." Ramelle's light laughter brightened the room.

  "No!"

  "She came in here with the searching eye, as Cora says. Most times we can fend off her advances, but every now and then she presents herself in the flesh." Celeste's lips drew together.

  "What the hell did she want?"

  "She said Christmas was upon us and she was redoubling her efforts for my soul. Then she distributed presents, including a gaudy rosary for Sports, and left, miffed as usual."

  "Darling, you aren't telling the whole story," Ramelle quietly prodded.

  "Well?"

  "Celeste, what did you do—revive the Knights Templar before her pontifical eyes?"

  "All I said was that yes, I knew it was Christmas and that terrible pall of goodwill was again hanging over us. I also told her to spare me her limitless capacity for forgiveness and to beat it!"

  "She never gives up." Fannie shook her head.

  "What you all fail to realize is that if I were to convert, it would ruin my sister's spiritual equilibrium. She needs a sinner. As long as there is one soul to be brought into the fold she keeps going."

  Someone knocked on the inside front door, then opened it and walked in.

  "Fairy Thatcher, we've been waiting close to an hour for you," Fannie bitched.

  "I'm sorry, really I am. Please excuse me."

  "Let me take your coat." Ramelle helped her worm out of the heavy thing.

  "Would you like a drink? Hungry?" Celeste offered.

  "No." Fairy sat down at her accustomed place at the card table. She fidgeted.

  "What's the matter with you? You aren't suffering from St. Vitus's dance, are you?" Fannie was irritated.

  Hesitating, Fairy folded her hands. "I've got to tell you all something."

  "Shoot." Fannie dealt a bridge hand with gusto.

  Fairy looked at Fannie and stopped.

  "Go ahead, Fairy. We'll listen," Ramelle encouraged her.

  "I'm running away tonight."

  Fannie froze in middeal. "What!"

  "I said I'm running away tonight."

  "Where?" Celeste wanted to head Fannie off before she exploded.

  "Germany." Fairy held her head up.

  "Germany! You're nuts. One month of bratwurst and you'll be back in Runnymede." Fannie was soundly irritated now, but she was also worried.

  "Germany staggers under a Carthaginian peace, I should think that's the last place you'd want to go," Celeste said.

  Suddenly animated, Fairy answered her, "No, that's exactly where I must go. The German workers will revolt. You'll see. It will be the beginning of worldwide revolution, just as Trotsky predicts."

  "You can't be serious." Fannie's mouth fell open.

  "I am serious. I've never been more serious in my life."

  "Touring in Lenin? Fairy, you're a wealthy woman. Why in the world would German workers listen to you?" Celeste leaned forward.

  "It's not me they'll listen to, but Marx. Anyway, I’ll be working, not sneaking. The Party needs workers."

  "This is absurd!" Fannie erupted.

  "You still haven't read Marx. If you'd only read him you might not think this is so absurd." Fairy stood up for herself.

  "Well, I have read Marx," Celeste spoke. "He may have flowered but the frost got him. The information from Russia isn't all that reassuring."

  "That's the whole point. Don't you see Russia is besieged? Alone. Ringed by hostile nations. Like France during the Revolution. Yes, exactly like France. But the trumpet is sounded. Germany will be next. Internationalism has begun." Fairy's eyes glittered with zeal.

  "Oh, hell, the Church has been trying to unify the world since Jesus. What makes you think you can succeed where Rome failed?" Fannie surprised the others with her parallel. Fannie rarely gave the impression of thought.

  "That's based on fantasy. Marx is based on fact."

  "Perhaps, but people do cling to their rituals, no matter how disproved." Ramelle wasn't trying to cross Fairy. She was merely involved in discussing the issue.

  "Education will clear all that up," Fairy said hopefully.

  "We are all living in the shadow of the guillotine. Education has yet to erase human capacity for brutality. Really, Fairy, do take a closer look at the French Revolution before you hop off to Germany," Celeste bent the corner of a card.

  "I know what I must do." Fairy held firm.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't like something to drink? Hot coffee, perhaps?" Ramelle invited her.

  "Coffee, thank you."

  Fairy leaned back in her chair, only to jerk forward again at Fannie's newest tack: "If Marx is for workers, what's in it for you? You're rich."

  "I can't help that," but she did feel terribly guilty.

  "How can you be rich and be a Marxist?" Fannie pressed.

  "One doesn't need to be a member of the proletariat in order to crusade for the Rev
olution."

  "If you're so keen on Revolution, why not start one here?" Celeste tested her.

  "America's not ready. Germany is."

  "I need a drink." Fannie lumbered to the cabinet and poured herself a stiff one. Fairy disturbed her. She offered to pour juice for the others, but they declined.

  Fairy sipped at the coffee Ramelle brought her. "You can laugh at me if you want. I'm going and I'm going tonight. You American aristocrats can sit here and laugh. Go ahead."

  "Aristocrat? Well, I like that." Celeste picked up a card. It was the four of hearts.

  "You know perfectly well that you are of the Four Hundred," Fairy half accused, half stated.

  "My family moved to Runnymede when the earth was cooling. Time does lend a name certain status." Celeste's voice rose.

  "Status. You grew rich off the labor of others," Fairy warmed.

  "Ha! The difference between a Chalfonte and anyone else is my family started stealing first."

  "It isn't funny," Fairy grimly replied.

  "For Christ's sake, you are holding me responsible for what my forebears did in the 1600s? That's hardly a way to attract converts. Smacks of Marxist Calvinism."

  "Clever, ever clever." Fairy knew she could never outwit Celeste. "And what of the Indians and the coloreds? Their labor made you rich."

  "I suppose we killed what Indians we could and gave the rest syphilis." Celeste, offended, retreated into sarcasm.

  "That's rare, Celeste," Fannie approved.

  "You haven't answered me." Fairy stubbornly returned to her accusations.

  Baffled by Fairy's announcement, confused by her sudden thrusts, Celeste raised her voice, an uncommon event. "Goddammit, Fairy, I can't answer you. I read Marx, too. I know what you're after, but I didn't commit those acts. That I benefit from them is both my luck and my moral dilemma. Are you any different? Were your ancestors saints?"

  "No. I'm sorry, Celeste, I'm so nervous about leaving." Fairy drew a great breath. "But I am doing something. You should, too."

  "I know I should do something!" Celeste was still angry. "Tilting at windmills is not to my taste."

  "Ladies—" Ramelle didn't finish her sentence.

  "You have a lover over there, don't you?" Fannie gloated. This was a reason she could understand.

  "Fannie!"

  "Don't Fannie me. We've known each other for nearly all our lives. You tell me the truth."

  "Yes."

  "I knew it!"

  "I'd go anyway, Creighton."

  "You would like hell."

  Ramelle stepped in. "What's his name?"

  "Gunther, Gunther Kreutzer, He works in Berlin."

  "Is he Communist?" Celeste was curious, even though she knew the answer.

  "Oh, yes. He's very important in the city. You can't believe how effective he is in the factories."

  "Probably wants you for your money." Fannie hit a low blow.

  "You should talk." Fairy quietly hit right back.

  "I'm glad you've found someone you care about." Celeste knew Fairy meant what she said.

  "Will you take me to Baltimore? If I get on the train here the entire town will know. I doubt Horace will chase after me. He hasn't noticed me in twenty years, but just in case, I want to throw him off the track."

  "Yes, “I’ll take you," Celeste agreed.

  "Will you come?" Fairy asked Fannie Jump.

  Frowning, Fannie also agreed.

  "My bags are inside the vestibule. Perhaps we ought to go now."

  At the main railroad station the three childhood friends awaited the train. Fairy informed them she'd register on the ship under a false name. She'd obtained two sets of passports for this purpose. She had also packed all her jewels and withdrawn her money out of the bank, although the bulk of it was in her husband's name and couldn't be touched. She figured the jewels would keep her alive for a long time. She owned a great many handsome pieces. As the train pulled into view, each of the old combination of Hie, Haec and Hoc suddenly realized what a deep loss this would be.

  "Write, wire if you need anything," Celeste urged her.

  "I will. And I’ll see you, Celeste. You return to Europe like a moth to a flame."

  "Do you have Grace Pettibone's address in Paris?" Fannie mothered her.

  "I've got everything."

  Fannie's chin quivered, her eyes filled with tears.. "I can't believe you're going. I can't."

  Her eyes glazed with fought-back tears, Fairy hugged her long-time friend. "Come visit. Good-bye." She hugged Celeste. "Good-bye, dear, dear Celeste."

  "Good-by, Fairy. Life won't be the same without you."

  Fairy climbed the steps into the train. Fannie ran forward and gave her another hug. "God bless."

  "God bless you, too." Fairy said. Somehow, "Marx be with you" wouldn't have sounded right.

  "Good luck, Fairy," Celeste waved. "Give them hell!"

  Fairy found her seat and waved from the window. All too soon the train was a tiny dot far down the track.

  Riding home in the car, Fannie bawled like a baby.

  "Pull yourself together. I'll start and you know I can't see if I cry."

  "I can't help it. I can't believe she's doing this."

  "I can."

  "You can?"

  "Yes, it makes a lot of sense if you think about it"

  Fannie wailed. "I'm too upset to think."

  "Here." Celeste handed her a handkerchief. "Fannie, we're all a cat's whisker from fifty. It's now or never."

  Blowing her nose, Fannie mumbled, "Fifty is one thing. Besides, we've got another two years. But Germany . . . workers. Oh, I don't know, I just don't know."

  "Life becomes more finite, the longer you live. Fairy can see her beginning and, now, her end."

  "Don't get morbid on me, Chalfonte."

  "I'm not getting morbid. But think about it. Most of our lives we drug ourselves with the delights of the future. Tomorrow. Remember what the White Queen said: The rule is, jam tomorrow and jam yesterday—but never jam today5?"

  "I fail to see what jelly or jam has to do with Fairy hightailing it to Berlin. And who will be our fourth at cards, I ask you?" Fannie seized on this last sentence to blunt her sense of loss and the sense of what Celeste was saying.

  "She's taking hold of herself. The Eternal Present, Few have the strength to live in it. Dear Fairy summoned all her courage. She is living now, right this minute, this second, this atom of breath!" Celeste squinted to get a better view of the dark road. "I'm proud of her. I hate to see her go, but I am proud of her."

  Fannie quieted down and fell silent. She sniffled a few times and after a long pause of five minutes she said in her normal booming voice, "Well, yes. All right. I can understand a little." She lapsed into reflection once more, then snapped her head around to look at Celeste instead of staring out the windshield. "But with a man named Gunther? She could at least have chosen someone with a better name."

  March 27, 1926

  Juts and Chessy, with Ev Most and her date, Lionel Dumble, led the way while Louise and Pearlie followed with Orrie Tadia and her date, Noe Mojo. The two cars puttered along, a tiny caravan, heading for a glamorous speakeasy in York, Pennsylvania. Juts, Ev and Orrie had worked on Louise for days to get her to come. She had had a baby in January and named her Mary, of course. Since Mary's birth Louise hung a bit. Cora said that after birthing you do feel let down. Juts thought leaving her job bothered Louise. Wheezie had adored meeting people over the counter and exchanging gossip. She and Pearlie were worried, too, because her small salary had helped make ends meet. Now with another mouth to feed things were tight. Louise pounced on the idea that Pearlie should quit working at the factory and start his own business, house painting. He balked. No one could accuse Pearlie Trumbull of being a go-getter. Louise kept at him and he finally gave in. Better to risk the poor-house than the wrath of Louise Hunsenmeir Trumbull. Shrewd in her own way, Louise contacted her old Immaculata pals who lived in the area. Rich girls marry rich boys and
set up housekeeping in huge mansard caverns. Sure enough, many of them did need work done and were delighted to hire someone they could trust. Tonight the gang wanted to celebrate Pearlie's first finished job. Julia and Chessy had saved their pennies to give the couple a wonderful night on the town.