It Happened in Silence

by Jay, Karla M

  This Willow must be a mite sharper than Mable.

  Baby Boy cries a lot. I tried breastfeeding, but for some reason my milk isn’t enough. If only Josephine’s mind hadn’t cracked, I’d bring her back. I’m feeding him Borden’s canned milk, but it makes him gassy. And then he cries more often. William isn’t thrilled with that solution. He read that it’s hard to know if the cows providing the milk have tuberculosis or not.

  He worries too much. I called Dr. Grange to ask if cows get TB. And yes, he’s back from his “much needed” vacation. He’s barely talking to me, but I’m the one who should be angry. Leaving me in incredible birthing pain. Anyway, he said if the milk isn’t boiled, there’s a chance of the disease passing through. Well, Borden boils their milk before it’s canned.

  William and I can’t decide on a name. I want to name the baby after my made-up father from the Titanic. I found lists of the second-class passengers in the newspaper from the year it sank and adopted Alice and Charles Louch as my newly dead parents. My name then became Ardith Louch, a fine change from Sissy Belle Strunk.

  And with the law looking for Sissy Belle, to find out what she knew about the disappearance of Preacher Gator Tyre, the name change came just in time.

  Willow answers the knock on the door while I relax in bed, the baby sleeping next to me in his bassinet. Teresa and Nancy are popping by to see the baby and to catch me up on the Women of the Klan’s projects. William hardly tells me anything. Secret men’s stuff.

  No way for me to brag, but I’ve kept better secrets than he’s ever heard.

  “Ardith!” Teresa enters the room first, followed by Nancy. They’re carrying a huge vase of absolutely lovely cut flowers and a covered basket.

  I raise my finger to shush them. Won’t have a minute of peace if they keep hollering.

  “Oh, he’s darling,” Nancy whispers, leaning over the baby’s bed.

  He is a cutie. I’m a bit disappointed he doesn’t look a thing like William, but instead resembles my pa, a man that good looks sloughed off of as he aged. But Josephine’s baby was the spitting image of Oliver and William. How unfair.

  My friends pull my two Queen Anne chairs closer to the bed.

  “We have so much to tell you,” Teresa says.

  “Like what?” I’m anxious to hear the news. Been out of contact for just five days, but it feels much longer.

  “We finished all the baby robes and hoods,” Teresa says, smiling. “They’re first-rate.”

  “My soul-n-senses!” I shake my head. “You still had hundreds to make.”

  “Do you know Clara Blair?” Nancy says. “Her husband manages the bank. She’s a new member and real spunky. Enlisted five of her gardening club friends. They’ve all joined the Klan too, and lickety-split, the robes are finished.”

  “It’s good we have more members,” I say. “I can get their dues logged in if you’ve brought them.”

  “Clara took the membership money,” Teresa says. “She even was a dear to suggest she fill the Klabee position and you keep Kligrapp.”

  What? No. I’m treasurer and secretary. I often borrow from that account when necessary. I can’t have this.

  “Oh, she does sound like a sweetie.” I wave my hand. “I enjoy doing both of those duties so much. Not only do they go hand in hand, but it’s no problem now that I have my new nanny.” I tap Nancy’s leg. “Thanks to your husband, by the way.”

  “She doesn’t talk, York said.” Nancy wrinkles her brow. “How is she managing to talk to Oliver?”

  “He doesn’t need much instruction. He’s such a good little boy. And she can write a few words like Go Park, and I tell Oliver that she’s going to take him to the park. She also uses hand signs she’s teaching him.”

  “Aren’t you worried about having a girl with a criminal past in your house?” Teresa says.

  I chuckle inside. If they only knew about my past. And besides, Willow is better than an angry Colored gal with a spiteful story to tell.

  “She hardly did anything wrong. Came off the hills looking for a preacher because her mother and newborn baby brother died. Decided to look for her no-good brother. That was her mistake. Then made herself appear to be a runaway, taking money from a preacher’s wife up in Helen.”

  “Seems safe enough,” Teresa says.

  “We’re making final plans for the bake sale this weekend,” Nancy says. “One of the Grand Dragon’s Hydras will be speaking about the fight for Americanism.”

  William asked that I not do anything for two weeks. The bake sale is two days away.

  “I’ll be there. What can I do?” I’ve been writing a poem while lying around. Maybe they’ll let me give a talk and end with it.

  The Knights of the Klan,

  A force with a plan,

  Men and women of valor,

  Fighting all that’s off-color.

  “We didn’t know you’d be able to make it, Ardith.” Teresa leans forward, her voice as if she’s talking to a child. “Just come and enjoy the fundraiser in a front-row seat.”

  Am I being pushed out of my own Daisy Ladies’ Society?

  “Oh, of course I’ll be there. I’ll be part of the crowd but talking up membership.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Nancy says.

  The doorbell rings downstairs. Soon I hear it open and a distant woman’s voice rises on the stairs.

  “That must be Clara,” Teresa says, a smile lighting her face like she won a prize at the county fair.

  “Oh, you’ve invited her here?” I pat my hair. “I’m such a mess right now.”

  “Pshaw. You look like a glowing new mother.” Nancy walks to the hallway to wait. Seconds pass, then she says to someone, “Oh, we were expecting someone else. Are you here to see Mrs. Dobbs?”

  “I am.” The woman’s voice is familiar. But who would come visiting without an invite?

  My heart stops. Fiona Elsmore steps around the doorframe, looking every bit as sad as the last time I saw her.

  “Fiona?” I sit up straighter in bed, unsettled. “Whatever are you doing here?” And how the dickens did she find my house?

  She cuts her eyes to Teresa and Nancy while wringing her red, chapped hands.

  “Roy come home night before last.”

  Panic grows in my chest. I can’t have Teresa and Nancy hear that I took this woman’s money to give her baby away. The Women of the Klan provide desperate mothers with free services.

  I turn to Teresa and Nancy. “Thank you for coming. The flowers are beautiful, and the basket of food is much appreciated.”

  “Um, that’s not food,” Nancy says. “I knew you were expecting a girl and that you probably could use some boy clothes. They’re almost new from when mine were younger.”

  “You told us you gave all of Oliver’s baby clothes away,” Teresa says. “Remember?”

  I nod and start to get up. “I’ll see you to the door.” I tie the string on my silky pink robe. “And, I’ll be there on Saturday.”

  “I had a baby girl,” Fiona says. “I come here to ask for her back.”

  Lordy, why is this happening?

  “We can talk about that, Fiona. Let me see my friends to the door.”

  “Where did your baby go?” Nancy says.

  Should have known she’d be interested. She’s the one who would like to birth a dozen children if she could.

  “Mrs. Dobbs took her to be adopted out.” Her face sags. “My husband was missing. I lost my mind for that time, but now we want her back.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard if it wasn’t that long ago.” Nancy turns to me, her eyebrows raised. “Where did you take her?”

  Dizzy, I wobble to the bed and drop down, holding my middle. Fiona’s baby has long been sold from the Beck Infantorium. Or worse. It was a sick little thing. Time to repeat the lie I told Fiona.

  “The New Hope Charity Home, of course.” This is the foundling home our woman’s club supports. “But it’s been two or so weeks now. You gave full permission
to find her a new home.”

  “I can call over,” Teresa says. “Shirley will remember you coming by.”

  “No!” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry”—a giggle escapes—“My goodness. I need to be the one who handles this. Besides, William has asked me to pick up the payments for some of his life insurance policies.” He’s done no such thing. “Fiona. I’ll make the call. We can drive out tomorrow and sort this out.”

  “You mean pick up baby Anna?” Fiona asks.

  “Yes.” I need them all to leave. A dark headache is moving in, and if I don’t keep my thoughts centered, I’m liable to tell what really happened. “How did you get here today?”

  “Walked down Chicken Branch Road to the highway. A man gave me a ride in.”

  “I’ll tote you back,” Nancy says. “You shouldn’t be walking alone. Vagrancy laws are getting tighter and tighter in these parts.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” She nods. “And as soon as I can save up another ten dollars, I’m going to join your ladies’ group.”

  After they left, my heart fluttered like a rafter of turkeys were fighting in there.

  I left my religion behind in Hickory Nut Holler. The preacher did that for me. Even after I was saved and all. He dunked me in the river, washing me of sins, but I should’ve waited another year. By then I needed a more thorough scrubbing when my brother started diddling me and I didn’t fight back at first. My baptism was no different than any other after a revival came through Hickory Nut Hollow. He waded into the rushing water, a rope tied around his waist. All us sinners tied along the rope like rags along a barbed wire fence.

  Haven’t prayed in years but here I go.

  Forgive me for what nobody knows except You. I did what I thought was best. Help me figure my way out of this mess I made. Keep me faithful to this God-given women’s group I’m lucky to belong to. Let me be righteous in all things. Amen.

  The Klan has a tribunal for unlawful deeds by its members. If Fiona tells them she paid to have her baby put up for adoption, I can explain I never gave the money to New Hope Charity Home. Which I hadn’t, of course. I will pay her back. Give her a bit extra. Lord, she looks like twenty miles of bad road.

  The most pressing problem is how to keep folks from finding out about the Beck Infantorium. I learned about the sisters’ secret place years ago from a prostitute when I needed to give a baby away. I never saw that baby, and still don’t know if the preacher and me had a boy or girl. He was dead, and I was busy changing my identity. You might say neither of us cared.

  A thought jumps in my head. Maybe little Anna is still there. The Beck sisters would’ve treated her impetigo before offering her to a new family. It’s only been about two weeks.

  That idea feels good, like a cool breeze at a hot day’s end. Yes. I’ll drive out tomorrow first thing.

  And there isn’t a bit of use in mentioning any of this to William. He doesn’t tell me about what he and the men discuss or do. Well, this is the same horse but a different color.

  Women don’t need men to solve their problems these days. We have each other.

  Willow Stewart

  This is my second day at the Dobbses’ home. I’ve sent a thank-you prayer skyward each day that Briar saved me from his horrible boss. I end with a wish that Briar isn’t in awful bad trouble, even though my mind says he may be.

  The baby boy cries a lot, and Miss Ardith says her milk isn’t doing its job. She bought milk in a can, and that makes him cry more after he’s done. Miss Ardith has the motherly instincts of a cowbird. That bird lays her eggs in another bird’s nest and lets that fill-in mama feed and raise her babies.

  She seems happy to have me here, but I know she wishes I could suckle that new baby too. She’s tired from trying to soothe him, and I once heard her scolding him for not being a girl.

  I’m not trying to sniff out secrets, but a body can overhear everything said through these walls and floor grates. I’m not sure if Miss Ardith is mind-fogged from having a baby, but I even heard her talking one day to a woman it seemed. She said, “Sissy Belle Strunk, you sure got yourself in some sour pickle soup.”

  There wasn’t another person in the room that day. And her voice is strange, a mix of green and orange. I see a chameleon whenever she talks.

  She and her husband belong to that secret group called the KKK. Don’t know much about them but what we read in the headlines back home. They don’t like lots of folks and have been accused of doing awful things to them. Don’t see the hatefulness in either the Missus or Mister, but I’ll be on guard.

  Oliver is so cute! He snuggles in close while reading me his books, using his own made-up stories. His dear little voice is buttercup yellow. And he sure talks about Miss Jojo quite a lot, so I know she was good to him. She played ball with him, took him to the park, and put on puppet shows. I won’t be any good at that last one. Oliver said she had a baby and it died. Jojo said as much in jail, except that her side of the tale was the Dobbses killed her son. Oliver’s little face fell when he said Miss Jojo got so sad she had to go live at the hospital.

  What really happened here? Mr. William is very nice, treats me like a regular hired gal, while Miss Ardith acts like she owns me. Which in a way she does through the state of Georgia. But even with her high-society attitude, I can’t see either of them killing a baby.

  Oliver has picked up on many of my signs. His little hands and fingers moving around warm my heart. But I had to make up some new motions for words I never needed on our mountain. The park, telephone, doorbell, traffic. That’s good though.

  I touch Oliver on the back. He’s playing with some tiny logs and building a house that could be a tiny version of our cabin. I sigh. Gotta push away the loneliness before it takes full hold of me. He watches as I sign, “The park,” by putting one arm out to the side and swinging it back and forth. Looks like me holding hands with him as we walk there.

  He jumps up and yells, “Hooray!”

  Miss Ardith is fine for us to stay away for hours, which allows me time to learn my way round Marietta. Today, I’m stopping at the post office. I still have the stamp from the postcard I was going to send Briar before I got arrested. I’ve taken an envelope from Miss Ardith’s desk, but I use my own paper to write home.

  I let Poppy and Ruthy know I’m working for two months near Atlanta, then I’ll be home. Just in time for my sister’s wedding. I say I want to make money to help pay for new britches for Billy Leo and a new shirt for Poppy. That I saw Briar and he’s a working man Poppy would be proud of, and he might get home when he has time off work. No way I can tell all that’s really happened. Two children leave the mountain and end up arrested.

  I end with Give Jacca a good rubdown for me. I miss you all.

  I want to write to Briar but have no idea how to reach him. Sheriff Withington would know. But would he tell me how to exchange mail with my brother? The sheriff’s wife was here just an hour ago, but Miss Ardith told me to take Oliver and stay out of sight. Except for answering the door, I never got a chance to slip a note to Mrs. Withington. Anyhow, it felt too, um, brash. Like that word! And I don’t want to get on the wrong side of Miss Ardith. I’ve already learned there are terrible places where I could be serving my time.

  One of her woman friends that stopped by late looked like she’s about give up on ever finding a happy moment again. She wasn’t dressed all fancy like the first two. She yelled angry words as she left with the others. The two fancy women whispered to each other, wondering what all the ruckus was about.

  For now, the feeling of the wind in my hair and grass under my feet is welcome on a hot day like this. Time to chase Oliver around the park. First we’re birds, then bumblebees. His sweet giggle is music to my ears. I remember doing about the same with Billy Leo when he was young. Now when I’m with Oliver, I set my worries aside. They’re loyal, even though I don’t like them, so they’ll be waiting for me on the walk back.

  Th
e boots and new dress Miss Ardith have me gussied up in aren’t the most comfortable. The boots button up the front and are prettier than a speckled pup but are too snug. This blue cotton dress is below my knees and has a tie at the waist. And these white frills outlining the bodice and hem? Whoever made this must not have minded the scratchy nature of lace, but I sure do. Miss Ardith has a huge trunk full of new clothes, shoes, and items for the house. I guess being married to an advertising man, she gets all these things sent to her.

  I left my riding dress outside my little room like Miss Ardith said. Supposed it was being washed until I found burned scraps of it in the outside burn barrel. I choked back tears at that moment. Miss Ardith is too rich to understand how much work Mama put into stitching a split skirt dress for me to ride Jacca nice and proper.

  Oliver and I pass the depot where a train is pulling away. Riders can travel nearabout every which way from here, according to the map on the wall. I think of pretty Miss Burns saying I can do anything I set my mind to. Over the past day, I’ve imagined teaching at that deaf school I just learned about from the preacher’s wife. Children learning new ideas are a delight, their faces full of bliss and wonderment as they study how to get their stuck ideas out through hand signs. I know what that’s like.

  But my calling will be living on Stewart Mountain, taking over all of Mama’s duties.

  Back at the Dobbses’ house, a neighbor lady has dropped off food for supper.

  Miss Ardith is patting Baby Boy as Mr. William comes through a back door. I truly like his fancy car. He parks it in the driveway aside the house.

  “Who brought the food this time?” he says, not looking up from the stack of mail he starts sorting through. He’s dressed in a crisp white shirt, dark gray suit, and black shiny shoes. A fully grown-up copy of Oliver.