Six of One

by Rita Mae Brown

  Fannie reflected on this. "Maybe. But all these conveniences make life easier."

  "Do they? Do they really, Fannie? You finish your wash in half the time and then propel yourself madly into another chore. What's gained? What's happened to the graceful, majestic rhythms of nature? Everyone is listening to Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. Something's terribly wrong."

  "Celeste, you've never done the wash in your life!" Fannie laughed at her.

  "I'm observant. North Runnymede looks like an electrical rash with all that inexpressibly vulgar neon. I hardly consider that progress. My doing or not doing an endless succession of petticoats doesn't weaken my observations."

  "Well, I'm not giving up radio to make you happy."

  "All right, Fannie Jump Creighton, all right. But mark my words, we took the wrong turn at the crossroads of intelligence. This way madness lies."

  "You still haven't forgiven Queen Elizabeth for ending the Tudor line." Fannie winked at her.

  The two talked, argued and laughed for another hour or two. Celeste walked back home, invigorated by batting ideas about with Fannie and by the crisp, biting weather. She sailed through the front door and told Ramelle she was taking a short ride. She always rode in the morning, but she felt so much surging energy she had to burn some off. Ariel held still while she saddled up and trotted out in the twilight.

  Celeste loved the hills around Runnymede. Riding cleared her mind, gave her new ideas, quickened her pulse. She thought about the war. Perhaps this war by the magnitude of its brutality will rip away the last pretense of civilization. If we see ourselves for what we are, perhaps then we can begin to improve ourselves. Humanism does not consist of cultivating illusions. She smiled at that thought, sorry she couldn't thrash it out with Fairy Thatcher.

  As the light faded, the chill deepened. The low line of hedges just off the road leading back to her house challenged her. Celeste adored jumping. Anything requiring skill and daring tempted her. She might be sixty-seven tomorrow, but in her mind she would rise to physical challenge as though she were thirty-four. Ariel, a good mount, sensed her mood and pricked up his ears. Celeste and Ariel took the first row of hedges like champions. The light was tricky. As they soared over the second row Celeste knew she had misjudged. As she fell she seemed to float for an eternity. She knew midair that she would never get up from this fall. She saw Spottiswood, accompanied by a figure of unearthly light. She cried out at the sight of her brother. Celeste regretted she would never be able to tell Ramelle what she had seen in that last millennial second. She was not afraid.

  The incredible shock of Celeste's death was relieved only by Celeste's sense of humor. Anticipating her end, although she figured she'd be good until a hundred, she clearly specified in her will that her estate be left to Ramelle Bowman on the condition that Ramelle erect a tombstone with this epitaph: "Now I’ll Really Raise Hell." Celeste's light heart would reach beyond the grave for whoever stopped to read that inscription.

  Cora was half mad with grief and contained herself only for Ramelle's sake. No one had ever conceived of Celeste Chalfonte's dying. She seemed indestructible, eternal. After the funeral, as the closest friends comforted Ramelle at home, Cora told Fannie, to cheer her, of Celeste's system for cheating at cards. The next day Fannie Jump Creighton put a deck of cards amid all the flowers on Celeste's grave.

  November 28, 1944

  At 3:45 A.M. Rillma Ryan delivered a healthy but small girl. She named her Nicole but didn't bother with a last name since she wasn't going to keep the baby anyway.

  Julia Ellen and Chessy raced to the hospital in the early morning as soon as they heard the news. They were numb from Celeste's accident, but their drawn faces brightened when they first saw their new roommate.

  Rillma had to stay in the hospital a few days, but Juts and Chessy arranged to pick her up on her release day, take the baby and drive Rillma to the train station. She had no desire to stay in Runnymede.

  But Rillma snuck out of the hospital in the middle of the night, taking Nicole with her. No one had a clue to her whereabouts or why she did such a thing. Julia, already battered from Celeste's passing, sank with this news. She had loved that baby at first sight. She couldn't believe she would lose the child. Chessy strained not to cry, but both of them walked around for days, tearing uncontrollably.

  In the midst of all this sadness and uncertainty Louise Hunsenmeir Trumbull came through with flying colors. Julia's misery touched her to the bottom of her heart. Louise determined to track down Nicole No Last Name.

  January 8, 1945

  Louise searched high and low for Rillma's baby. Grateful for anything that would take their mind off their deep loss, Ramelle and Fannie Jump Creighton pitched in. Juts had contracted pneumonia and was slowly recovering. Since religion loomed so large in Louise's mind, she did know Rillma was a Catholic. Because the girl was young and in a sorry situation, Louise figured sooner or later she'd tell a priest or dump the kid in a Catholic orphanage. With Ramelle's connections and Fannie and Louise's hard work, they kept tabs on orphanages in Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York and Virginia. Now, in winter, Rillma couldn't get much farther than that. Besides, she was broke. Sure enough, Nicole turned up in a Catholic orphanage in Pittsburgh. The sister in charge informed Louise, over the phone, that the baby weighed the same as when it was brought in, around five pounds. It was her expert medical opinion that the child wouldn't live another three days. When Louise asked her what was wrong with the infant, the nun replied that nothing was really wrong except that the place was jammed. Many infants won't drink their bottles unless held. There were too many children for that. All the sisters could do was prop the bottle next to the baby and hope the little one would suck.

  Louise told Ramelle and Fannie Jump. They strongly advised her not to tell Julia, who was depressed enough. When Chessy came by after work for the daily report, he was informed.

  "The baby's not dying," Chessy declared.

  "Why not?" Louise slumped into a chair. She didn't know what to do next.

  "Because I'm going to fetch her."

  "Chessy, we can't get her out without the mother," Louise said.

  "Juts can be the mother."

  "Chester, you can't take Julia on a trip like that in this foul weather. She'll have a relapse," Ramelle cautioned him.

  "Besides, it makes no sense for Julia to be the mother if she's your wife," Fannie boomed. "Why would you dump your own child at an orphanage at the other end of Pennsylvania?"

  "Then one of you come with me," Chessy demanded.

  "I'll go." Ramelle started rooting around the house for gas rationing coupons, money and other necessaries.

  "Ramelle, you're sixty years old. Not that you look it, dear," Fannie forthrightly noted. "Someone's got to spring this kid who is still in breeding range." Fannie lit up a cigarette.

  All eyes turned on Louise, who, though forty-three, could pass for her late thirties. She pretended not to notice, then squirmed in her seat.

  "I know what you're thinking." Louise's lower lip protruded.

  "Louise .. ." Fannie's voice hit her shoes.

  "Yes, really, Louise," Ramelle chimed in.

  "And ruin my reputation as a Christian woman? How could I face my children?" Louise stammered.

  "Who cares who you fuck in Pittsburgh?" Fannie exhaled.

  Louise, shocked, stuttered. Chessy was too worried to laugh.

  "What about cooking Pearlie's supper tonight?"

  "Louise, he's a big boy. One night he can fix his own supper." Fannie laid that escape to waste.

  "What about Maizie? Think how this will affect her impressionable mind."

  "Maizie's in the convent. What she doesn't know won't hurt her." Fannie shot down another feeble excuse.

  "Louise, you simply must do this for your sister's sake and for the sake of that tiny baby—and for Celeste's sake. She so looked forward to this little girl." Ramelle rested her hand on Louise's shoulder. Louise remembered that gesture from
the day when she had played the piano by ear in this very living room. There was no way out.

  "I'll have to go home and change my clothes. These are so chintzy."

  "The baby can't see your clothes. Come on, Louise, let's go." Chessy put his strong hand under her arm.

  "Wait five minutes, Chessy." Ramelle motioned for Fannie to get up and follow her. "We'll pack food for you."

  "I'm not hungry. All I want is that baby." Chessy was nearly desperate. "I don't care about food."

  "I do!" Louise was pulling on her boots. "Anyway, we need milk and a baby bottle for the baby. If she's that far gone we're going to have to feed her every three hours."

  "It's a twelve-hour ride and the snow might slow us even more." Chessy frowned.

  "Then we'll do our best, but we've got to keep that kid fed around the clock." Louise finished with her boots.

  Fannie and Ramelle loaded them up with blankets, thermos mugs of hot coffee and plenty of milk as well as sandwiches. Fannie wanted to go along to help with the driving, but Louise feared three people might look suspicious.

  Chessy and Louise took turns driving. The snow hampered them slightly but they made it to the orphanage by morning. A wrought-iron gate with a curved "St Rose of Lima" inscribed on the top greeted them.

  Whoever Louise had spoken to on the phone wasn't kidding. The place was wall-to-wall babies. A small Italian nun showed them Nicole. Chessy recognized the girl immediately.

  Louise gave a command performance. She cried, she lied, she appeared contrite. Here she had carried on with her sister's husband. Oh, deed most foul. But her Catholic conscience had overcome her carnal nature. She'd come to claim her baby and raise it in her own home, bringing it up a good Catholic, of course. To give weight to her oath, Louise produced a rosary and laid it in the scrawny baby's hands. Chessy kept his eyes downcast. The nun couldn't hide her judgment upon Louise, fallen woman. This demonstration of motherly love may have convinced her to release the child to Louise and Chessy, or perhaps it was that one less mouth to feed would lighten her load. Once she felt secure that Louise and Chessy had sufficiently humbled themselves, she had each of them sign Nicole's release papers.

  The two of them were so excited they nearly ran out of the orphanage. Louise wrapped Nicole in the baby blanket Ramelle had given her and stuck the baby under her coat. Once inside the car and a block away from Saint Rose of Lima, Chessy and Louise flushed with victory. Chessy was so thrilled he kissed Louise on the cheek, he kissed the baby, he kissed Louise again and then he started to cry.

  "Chessy, now watch the road. Here, maybe I ought to drive." Louise couldn't feature them in a snowbank.

  He sniffled. "No, no, I'm O.K. I'm so happy. I—"

  "We got a lot of work to do before you celebrate, buster. This little thing looks like something the cat drug in. God knows if she'll live or not." Louise cuddled her docile bundle.

  "She'll live!"

  An hour out of Pittsburgh, a snowstorm brewed. Dark swirling clouds whipped the battered car. They plugged on.

  "Chessy, we've got to heat up some milk for her. Maybe we can stop at the next gas station."

  "If I see one through this pea soup."

  They drove on a little farther. Louise called out, "Red Horse gas station up on the right."

  "O.K."

  Chessy pulled next to the gas pump and waited for the man to come out. When he did, Chessy ordered gas and asked if they could use a hot plate if the attendant had one.

  "Sure. Got one right over by the cash register. Come on in." He led the way, a squat man in a thick plaid jacket covered with grease.

  Louise poured out some of the milk Fannie and Ramelle had packed and heated it in a saucepan Ramelle had also included.

  "Looks like you got a little soldier there." The fellow smiled.

  "Yes, she's been through her own war." Louise rocked her.

  The greasy man hovered over the tiny bundle like a protective angel. When the feeding was finished and they started to leave, he fished a rabbit's foot out of his pocket. "Here, ma'am. Bring her luck."

  "Thank you." Louise felt the tiny rabbit claws in her hand and gently placed the foot in her pocket.

  All across half of Pennsylvania and half of Maryland Louise and Chessy pulled in to feed the baby. Old people, young people, white people, black people, poor people, rich people—wherever they asked for a warm corner, a burner on a stove, they got it. People were glad to help. Nicole owed her life to people she would never see, never even know.

  Exhausted, Louise pulled into Ramelle's driveway, with Chessy holding the baby. Everyone had agreed that the child and Juts should stay at Ramelle's until both recovered. Julia should have remained up on Bumblebee Hill, but nothing could have kept her there. With all of them at the big house, people could take turns feeding Nicole around the clock. It was almost midnight when they opened the back door and stumbled in. They'd been twelve hours going and sixteen hours coming back. The entire crew—Julia Ellen, Cora, Ramelle, Pearlie, Fannie, Ev and Lionel, Orrie and Noe—awaited them in the front room. The relief on their safe arrival quickly changed into wild curiosity over the baby. Chessy walked the length of the living room and placed Nicole in Juts' arms.

  "Honey, here's our baby." He stood there and started bawling in front of everyone.

  Julia couldn't see, either, for the tears. Everyone cried, even Lionel and Noe.

  Cora joked. "To look at all this weeping in here you'd think we had another funeral on our hands." She glowed every time she peeked at the baby, in Spotty's first baby blanket.

  Of course, each individual wanted to feed her right then and there. They would have stuffed her until she burst. Much buzzing occurred over schedules and sleeping places and diet. The only one who didn't talk was Julia. She was so enchanted by the little dark head, the huge black eyes, that she forgot to join in. Chessy was glued to her side. He forgot how worn out he was.

  "Juts, what are you going to name her?" Orrie asked.

  "Nicole's a nice name and she is French—half anyway," Julia replied.

  "She has to have a second name." Fannie was fluttering over the whole crowd.

  "Her middle name is Louise," Chessy stated.

  Louise was stunned. She started to bawl all over again. Julia reached out and held her hand. "Thanks, Sis, I can't say anything but thanks."

  Louise sniffed and huffed and blew into her hanky. Pearlie patted her on the back and gave her his wide white handkerchief since she had used hers up. "I was glad to do it." She collected herself. "Juts, you wouldn't have believed that nun's face!" Then she got up and rummaged around in her coat pocket.

  "What are you doing?" Pearlie wondered.

  "Here, I almost forgot this. This is the baby's first present." She handed the worn rabbit's foot to Julia.

  Sometime in May, 1945

  At the beginning of the assault on Okinawa, some three hundred and fifty miles south of Japan, nothing happened. It looked like a piece of cake. Ushijima, the Japanese officer in charge of Okinawa, wisely reinforced the southern sector of the island, where natural terrain aided defense. In time the Americans learned their piece of cake was bitter indeed. They fought yard by yard in this hellhole. Overhead, Kamikaze pilots splattered into the earth, glad to die for the Emperor and delighted to take U.S. soldiers and sailors with them. Extra Billy Bitters, Sixth Marine Division, found himself overwhelmed with heat, flies and the stench on Sugar Loaf Hill. Extra Billy and his buddy, Corporal David Levy of Burlington, Vermont, were too far forward, cut off from their unit. A wicked burst of machine gun fire hurried them into a small entrenchment, not more than a glorified foxhole really. They landed on two very dead Japanese.

  "Oh, Christ," Bill exclaimed as he felt a dead man's ribs crack under his weight.

  "The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, and we'll play pinochle on your snout." David curled up his nose. The stench was unbearable and the maggots didn't confine themselves to rotting flesh.

  "Let's see where those b
astards are." Bill put his helmet on the tip of his rifle and slowly edged it over the side of the hole. An instant blast of fire left him with an air-conditioned bonnet. "Shit."

  "Looks like there's nothing we can do except wait until the guys catch up with us," David sighed.

  "If they catch up with us."

  "Extra Billy, have you no faith in the United States Marine Corps?" David lit a cigarette. Let the Japs shoot up the smoke.