by Jay, Karla M
There’s a knock on the front door. William is off to work, and Willow’s taken Oliver for a walk. Who in the world is disrupting my free time now? The milkman knows to leave the bottles in the shady part of the porch. The coalman drives to the side of the house and unloads into the coal chute leading to the basement. Might be the bootblack always chatting with Josephine when she’s out sweeping. He doesn’t know she’s gone. She took a new job is the easiest answer, I suppose.
I open the door with that answer on my lips, but startle to see Teresa and Nancy standing there.
“Hello, ladies.” I step back to let them in. What are they doing here unannounced? “Such a nice surprise.”
The women don’t say anything, just take chairs across from the sofa in the parlor.
“How’s the baby doing?” Teresa says.
“He’s still fussy, but overall is settling down some.” I tip my head to the side and smile. How nice of them to come by even if they arrive empty-handed this time.
“Good. The first few weeks are the hardest.” Nancy’s eyebrows look knit together as she studies me. “We need to ask you a few questions, Ardith. Frank told Teresa about the Elsmore baby.”
“Oh, that dust-up.” I wave the idea away and chuckle. “We try to help the less fortunate and this is what happens.”
“Where did you take their baby?” Teresa just looks confused, not angry. “We called the New Hope Charity Home, and they didn’t have a visit from you.”
Well, great day in the dadburn morning! I didn’t expect the ladies to get involved. Should Frank share legal issues with Teresa even though she’s his wife? Doesn’t he take a vow or something to keep folks’ secrets to himself?
“That sweet baby was so sick,” I say. “There’s a specialty house, a little-known place that once in a while handles hard-to-adopt babies.”
“What’s the name?” Nancy’s smile is tight.
Never seen her angry before. Heat rises in my chest, and I place a hand on my neck as if I can hide the color that must be blooming there.
“Oh, they aren’t registered, I don’t think. Just two good-hearted sisters trying to help a few sickly babies get a new home.”
“The Elsmores say you brought a baby girl to them on Saturday that wasn’t theirs.” Teresa adjusts her pale blue satin skirt around her calves and crosses her ankles. “Frank said this is the part that’s so confusing.”
“You all know what it’s like to have a baby,” I say. “You’re half out of your head for weeks, if not months. Fiona was so upset. The poor dear said Roy had killed himself, and she was left with no way to care for the ill baby.” I slowly shake my head. “I really don’t think she had time to recognize her daughter before she handed her to me.”
Nancy draws in a long breath. Obviously thinking.
I’m sweating under my dress. My day is ruined, and it started out so peaceful.
“The Legal Aid Society is bringing the Women’s Klan into this,” Teresa says. “That’s the problem, Ardith.”
“With all the good we do in the community,” Nancy adds, “this could become a black mark on our unblemished reputation.”
“I’m sure the lawyers will find that I did nothing wrong. I do feel sorry for Fiona and Roy.” I stand because I want this conversation to end. “I need to feed Karl, if you will excuse me.”
“Of course,” Teresa says. “But one more thing. We have replaced you as Klabee. Clara Blair will take over as treasurer. Would you mind grabbing the logbook before we leave?”
I throw my hand to my chest. “Whatever for? I do a fine job of accounting for the new members.” I’ve borrowed about $150 from the account now. Need to get that back in there as planned.
“It’s a rule from the Grand Dragon”—Nancy stands—“after a higher-up Kleagle got in trouble over two hundred twenty-five thousand dollars in dues and where he spent it. Separate duties from now on.”
This day has gone all sideways all because Fiona wouldn’t accept a perfectly healthy baby in return for her sick one.
I climb the stairs to my study, which is no easy task with this baby weight still clinging to me. My locked desk holds all my personal papers and the WKKK books. I slide out the leatherbound treasurer’s log. Several newspaper clippings fall to the floor.
These are stories from seven years ago. From Hickory Nut Hollow. Probably should’ve thrown them away, but they remind me of how fortunate I’ve become.
I slip them back in and open the Klan log. I’m confident I’ve been careful not to add in all the cash deposits I’ve received. They won’t be missed that way.
My blood’s boiling. How dare they! Taking this job away from me because some dishonest man did something illegal with the funds. But I don’t feel I can argue since the decree came from the top of the organization. And if it softens my lady friends’ attitude toward me, that will be a relief. Even though I belong to a huge organization, I have so few close friends.
“Here you go.” I hand Nancy the books. “If Clara has any questions, have her come by. I truly look forward to meeting her.”
“I’ll let you know if Frank needs to talk to you,” Teresa says. “He’s trying to make this go away as soon as possible so it never reaches the courts.”
That’s a relief. “Thank you.” I walk them to the door and sag against it as soon as I close it behind them.
It will be my word against Fiona’s. I would think and hope the wife of a prominent businessman would be believed over some dirt-poor woman.
I didn’t dare ask what the Elsmores did with the new baby girl I brought to them. There would be another round of confusion if Fiona tried to return the babe to the New Hope Charity Home. The home would tell her the little girl didn’t come from them.
Maybe money would keep Fiona and Roy quiet. But how much? With my inability to borrow from the dues, I have just seventy dollars stashed away. William gives me money for the groceries and to pay bills, but I can’t very well ask him for a large amount.
Baby Karl lets out a squall. It’s that time again. Back in the living room, I get him settled against me and reach for my tea.
It’s gone cold.
Tears prick my eyes.
My friendships with Teresa and Nancy feel like they’re cooling off. I’ve worked hard to belong in the upper levels of society. Too hard to fall from grace now over a ridiculous misunderstanding.
I vow to make this all better. What choice do I have?
I’m not sure how, but I will come up with a plan. I always have.
Willow Stewart
Oliver and I return through the side door into the kitchen as Miss Ardith’s lady friends leave through the front. I can hardly meet her gaze since we came back two days ago from the big house by the cemetery. All those dead babies. Someone needs to know about that.
And Miss Ardith didn’t tell her husband about that baby girl she took from the house with the angel out front. Made him think the baby was adopted outright and proper. The woman and man in that run-down house, waiting to get their girl babe back, knew right off it wasn’t their child. They were both yelling hateful things at the car as Miss Ardith sped away. I covered Oliver’s ears to block out the ribbons of cuss words that trailed behind us.
Still, I have Miss Alice Burns’s card with her address. She told me I could ask her for legal help. Not for me, but for poor Missus Elsmore. And Miss Burns’s lawyer boyfriend in St. Louis might like to know what happens with those girls at Miss Lily’s Threads & Things. Maybe she’ll even know some way to help Briar.
When I sign that he can have molasses cookies and a cool glass of milk, Oliver climbs onto his chair at the table. I leave him there so I can hunt up Miss Ardith. She’s feeding the baby in the front room, staring out the window at nothing, it seems, and doesn’t notice me. Here’s my chance to grab another envelope and a stamp while she’s occupied.
&nb
sp; The fact she believes I can’t write is a mighty good thing.
Her office is at the top of the stairs. Her desk is a pretty piece with open areas to store things along the top. Reminds me of the inside of a beehive. I take an envelope and decide I might need two, so I grab another. I carefully tear out two stamps from the pretty little booklet they come in. She has five booklets and I take from the bottom one in the stack. I’ll be long gone before she gets to that one. She can wonder her evil head off about where they went.
And do I worry about being a thief? The thought flashes through my mind like heat lightning cuts a summer sky. Noticeable, but not going to amount to anything. I accept I’m stealing from her, and although that’s wrong, I reckon it’s for a good purpose. Folks need to know about that bad infantorium. What does that name even mean anyway? That angel statue out in front is blasphemous, for all that’s going on inside those walls.
As I’m about to leave, I notice the main desk drawer is open a smidge. I can’t help my nosey thoughts since I saw Miss Ardith lock this drawer up tight just yesterday. I pull it fully open. There’s a thin leather book atop a layer of old clipped-out newspaper stories.
I reach for the top clipping. It’s from the Hickory Nut Hollow Hog Mountain Herald.
Preacher Gator Tyre still missing. Body of Clem Strunk washes up along the riverbank. Sissy Belle Strunk sought for questioning.
Why would she have a backwoods story about some missing and dead men? A woman like her wouldn’t know anyone out near Hickory Nut Hollow, would she?
I pull out another clipping. Hmm. There’s a seventy-dollar reward for information about the missing preacher. That’s a load of money. Wonder if he was ever found since the story is seven years past.
The next newspaper snipping stops me cold. The headline reads,
Where is Sissy Belle Strunk?
But it’s not the words that stun me. It’s the picture below. It’s a younger Miss Ardith!
Bats in my hair! Did she kill her kin and the preacher? The article hints at her being involved in their misfortune.
My heart’s banging round as I drop the articles back in the drawer and leave it barely open. Just as I found it.
My legs shake as I head downstairs. I’m living with a woman who’s somehow involved in a killing. After, she made herself from a sow’s ear into a silk purse and outsmarted the law. No wonder she had no problem taking the Elsmore baby out to that unholy house to die. And she considers me a criminal?
I carry the envelopes and stamps to my tiny room and hide them under the mattress. Tonight, I’ll write letters to Miss Burns. It’ll be a long letter with all the sins I’ve witnessed.
And I need to be careful. Any woman who kills their own kin is missing a heart. I could no more kill my brother than grow wings and fly. And it’s clear what she’s willing to do when someone isn’t kin. Very careful indeed.
Suppertime is a chilly affair. The Missus and Mister are sending looks back and forth as cold as mischief.
“Willow can take the night feedings, William.” She makes quick sharp cuts on the chicken breast on her plate. “We both need sleep.”
I’m used to people talking about me like I’m not there. Invisible even.
Mr. William stretches his neck, like a turtle reaching for a berry, and cracks it from side to side. “We’ll try it a few nights.”
Oliver’s been in my bed most nights. I just make sure Miss Ardith finds him in his room by daylight. The little babe won’t be a problem.
I keep eating like I don’t hear. I’m anxious to get my letter-writing done after everyone’s gone to bed.
“The, um…problem I talked to Frank about isn’t solved yet.” Mr. William gives his wife a look that could buckle iron.
“Do you know when it will be?” she says without looking up from her plate.
Now that I know some of her past, it’s a marvel to watch how she keeps her face so dead still. She’s been hiding secrets for years, like squirrels burying nuts for the harsher days of winter.
And maybe those harsher days are coming her way.
“Frank’s trying. It’s a bigger issue than you know. The Legal Aid Society is looking for a new cause to champion. And they have big donors, Coca-Cola for one. You’ve heard me tell how fast that company is growing.”
“But they give the Klan money too.” She dabs at her lips.
“Indirectly, yes. But not if they link the Klan to…um…to these types of doings.”
As if I don’t know what they’re talking about.
I smile across the table at Oliver and mime he should eat more.
“I was raised to think positively, William.” She bobs her head. “This will all be straightened out.”
We have two sayings back home. If Miss Ardith is from Hickory Nut Hollow, she’s probably heard them too. “A crooked cornstalk can still grow a straight ear.” That would be about someone who became a changed person for the better. But that’s not what’s going on here. She’s the second saying. “A stalk can grow straight and true and still be covered with rusty fungus.”
That’s a better fit.
Not long after, I’m sitting on the chair in my room, feeding Baby Karl. He’s so sweet. His tiny hand wrapped round my pinky always makes me feel needed, special-like, and he’s looking right at me.
Between putting Oliver to bed and Miss Ardith knocking on the door before handing me the baby, I wrote a one-page letter to Miss Burns on a sheet from the notebook she gave me. Not sure what she’ll do with the information, but she’ll know where to find Sissy Belle Strunk and the Beck Infantorium if she has a mind to.
Will mail it tomorrow when Oliver and I take our walk to the park.
My mind’s been warring with what happens to Oliver and Karl if Miss Ardith is arrested. She’s not the best of mothers, but not the worst either. Just not an upright person when dealing with everyone else. Mr. William is a good father but works long hours. I could wait and mail the letter after Baby Karl is weaned, but how many more babies will die out at the cruel sisters’ house? One babe is one too many.
I startle at a faint tapping on my window. Daylight blinked off thirty minutes ago after the sky blushed deep purple. Who could be here after dark?
I stand and pull the curtain aside a tiny bit. What in tarnation? It’s that Josephine looking back at me.
Not so sure if this is a good idea or not, but I motion her inside.
She quietly closes the door behind her. Goodness gracious, she looks chewed up and spit out! Her hair’s a wild tangle of curls, and her dress sleeve is ripped.
“Bless your little heart for letting me in.” She’s breathing hard and her eyes are wide. “I done escaped from that nuthouse.”
I grab my notebook and pencil. Will they come looking for you here? She’s already in enough trouble with threatening to hurt Miss Ardith.
“I left the notion I’m heading to Virginia to be with my mama. Left a map under my bed with a line marking a trail north. I’m here to find out what happened to my baby.” Her eyes drop to Karl who’s fallen asleep in my arms wrapped in his blue blanket. Her face pinches together. “Miss Ardith gots a boy?”
I nod. This must be a terrible blow to Miss Jojo, as Oliver calls her. I’ve come to believe what Oliver said about taking the “wrong baby” to the Beck Infantorium. Miss Ardith, for some ungodly reason, took Jojo’s baby out there and brought back a dead one. But why?
“Let me hold him.” She reaches out, her eyes pleading.
I hesitate. She wouldn’t hurt the child, would she? Revenge is a powerful hate.
Her face softens, and her eyes fill with kindness.
She’s such a natural with the babe, holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.
“I bet Miss Ardith angry she got a boy. She only bought clothes for a little girl baby.”
W
asn’t here when she had him, I write. But I heard her talking to him, scolding him for being a boy.
“She says I has the crazy in me, but I think she crazy all along.” She nuzzles her nose against Karl’s tiny forehead. “Something ain’t right with that white woman.”
I’m sorry about your baby.
“I’m going to sneak around to see if I can figure out where she has my babe. Maybe Oliver knows.”
He told me where she took him, I think.
“You know where my baby’s at?” Her face lights up. Her eyes shine bright in the dimly lit room.
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up. When I explain the Beck house of death, Jojo is liable to run inside and up the stairs and kill Miss Ardith.
Oliver said something about taking the wrong baby out to a place like a baby depositing home.
“Depositing home? Sounds like a garbage dump.” Her face changes. There’s hope in it. “You think my boy’s still there? I know that dead brown baby they left me with weren’t none of mine.”
I’ve seen Miss Ardith take a live baby from the Beck Infantorium. No reason to believe she wouldn’t have picked up a dead one from all the ones I spied in the shed and brought it back.
Why would she do this to you? I don’t understand what Miss Ardith had against Miss Jojo raising her own child.
Miss Jojo sits on the side of the bed, still cradling Karl.
“I got a story that needs telling to the law, but I don’t know who to trust.”
I lock the door and move the chair closer to the bed so she can talk without being heard. Don’t expect Miss Ardith or Mr. William to come out here this late, but don’t want to be surprised.
I know a lady with legal knowledge, and her beau is a lawyer.
“I need to know that lady ’cause I sure been wronged.”
Karl starts fussing.
He’s not getting enough milk from Miss Ardith. Half hungry all the time.
“You poor dear. I got an answer for that.” She unbuttons the top of her dress and soon the baby is latched on and making happy sounds. “I been feeding babies all week to show them I was on my best behavior.”