LIZZY

by Jim Wetton

  “Agreed.”

  Roosevelt called over a waiter and ordered more brandy. Lizzy declined. The hour was growing late and the smoke from the kerosene lanterns was beginning to make her eyes water.

  “Why don’t they change these lights over to electricity, for Christ’s sake? The place is old, nostalgic and any historian’s playground, but they could always upgrade and still keep their image.”

  Lizzy looked around the dimly lit restaurant. She could see several senators that she’d crossed paths with over the years. She noticed in the far corner that a group of women were dining and she recognized one.

  “Oh, Teddy, do forgive me, but I must say hello to a dear friend. Would you like to accompany me?”

  Teddy rose and as he did, the waiter handed him his new snifter. The two meandered across the restaurant, nodding and smiling at others they knew. By the time Lizzy had made it to the table, Roosevelt was six tables back, talking to some overweight gentleman with a waxed mustache.

  “I thought that was you!” Lizzy greeted her friend.

  “Lizzy!”

  “Working out the latest details for another march, I see. Or will it be a coup on the White House, or . . . ?”

  The ladies all laughed at Lizzy’s comment and then Alice Stone introduced the ladies to Lizzy. She’d heard of them all but had never met them.

  “Would you care to join us, Lizzy?” a woman with fair skin and full jet-black hair asked.

  “Oh no, but thank you, I’m here with . . . ,” Lizzy stammered as she turned and noticed Roosevelt standing right behind her.

  “Good evening, fair maidens; didn’t know you were acquaintances of my dearest friend here. That’s just bully, and I’m sure if I know Lizzy well enough, you’re all planning on closing the deal on your suffragist strategy. If so, then I say a double bully to that as well.”

  All eyes were on Roosevelt, his wide teeth gleaming in the lamp light. Alice finally broke the trance. “Yes, you may say that, Mr. President. We are trying to regroup after such a horrific year.”

  “Yes, the war was bad; lost a lot of good boys. If they’d just let me join in, I could have . . . .”

  “Not just the war, Mr. President,” another woman, wearing bright red lipstick, spoke out. “Our country is feeling the wrath and aftermath of not only our losses in the war, but also the loss at home due to the Spanish Flu. We need to shed new and more encouraging light to the whole country, men and women both.”

  “Yes, of course, madam; do forgive me for being so ignorant. That damn pandemic stole millions of our own. I don’t think a single town or family was spared, isn’t that right, Lizzy?”

  Lizzy was shocked that he referred to her. Just the words Spanish Flu made her ill.

  “Oh Lizzy, I heard about Henry, Hannah and Paul,” Alice said sadly. She reached out her hand and held onto Lizzy’s before continuing. “I am so sorry. How’s Nellie doing?”

  “We’re all going to be just fine, thank you,” Lizzy replied stoically. “Best thing for her and for me, and for that matter all of us, is to get back on our horses and turn the ugliness of all our losses into a triumphant call with the passing of an amendment, what say you?”

  Lizzy turned around and stepped by Roosevelt. She looked around the room and to the mass of legislators in the room. “I do say, gentlemen!” her voice raised. “I do say, gentlemen!”

  The room became eerily quiet. Alice’s eyes grew wide. Roosevelt looked around the room at the attention Lizzy was directing. His smile grew ever so wide at the attention his dear friend was attracting.

  “As you sit and enjoy your ribeyes, salmon and wine, I for one would like to remind you that you have one of the most important bills sitting in your chamber, one that your colleagues have already passed.”

  Lizzy paused. Pleased to see that she had indeed captured an audience, she continued, her voice stronger than her age should have allowed.

  “It’s time for healing in this country, gentlemen. Healing from the war. Healing from the Spanish Flu. Healing from years of knowing that the right thing to do was only a signature and an ‘aye’ away but doing nothing. Men suffered during the war, but you know what? Women suffered just as much, if not more than the menfolk. We were the ones who had to rest on hope that our loved ones would come home. We were the ones who received the letters or the knock on the door bringing horrific news. We were the ones who held our dying children as they succumbed from a disease that spared no one, man or woman. We, both men and women, survived the past year and a half. Not just the menfolk . . . ALL of us. Isn’t it time? For God’s sake, isn’t it time that we ALL can share in a common right to cast our vote and have a say? Think about that as you all enjoy your meal.”

  Lizzy turned around and looked at Alice. Her face was beet red and her breathing was forced, her chest heaving up and down.

  The silence in the air soon turned. First one spoon tapped on a water goblet. Then another. Then yet another. Soon, the entire restaurant was tapping on glassware as Lizzy turned and paused.

  She smiled gingerly and bowed.

  “Now that was damn bully, Lizzy, just damn bully,” Roosevelt whispered as he proudly escorted her out of the restaurant.

  V

  CHANGE IN SIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Blessings from Above

  1919

  “Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Nana, Momma, Lizzy and everything else added into it, happy birthday to you!”

  Laughter erupted around Lizzy as she breathed in as deep as she could and let out a blow that covered nearly the entire cake. Unfortunately, only about half the candles were blown out, but she was given an ovation worthy of a queen.

  On this day, Lizzy was a queen. She had her entire family around her. Teddy had made it home and though his attention was primarily centered on Adeline, he did take a break and shared in his grandmother’s celebration.

  Lizzy looked up and around the table to the many faces that meant so much to her. Early spring had always been her favorite time of year. She could remember how the sound of a river nearby had given her goosebumps as the flow of the water was at its peak. Be it in Independence, Fredericksburg, or in Wheeling, the sound of water flowing over rocks had always been a soothing sound that told her everything was going to be just fine.

  Here in Washington, D.C., she knew she’d lost that sound, but now it was replaced with the sound of family laughing and conversing over various topics that crossed their lips. To her, her joy at seventy-five was being surrounded by family and friends. She had her faith, so she knew she was in good hands, as her father had always said to her. The Monroe Creed was always Faith, Family and Friends. That was the one thing she stayed true to and it brought a smile to her as she laid her head on her pillow every night.

  Lizzy knew her time was in the hands of God. She also knew that she’d lived far past any of her relatives and far past many of her friends. The only ones she could think of who’d lived longer were in Hannah’s diary and the story of John and Abigail Adams, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin. As she looked around at the joyous celebration, she could only wish that she could still see the ones she’d lost, the ones she longed to hug.

  Her dear and recently departed friend, Teddy Roosevelt, had passed away in January. His aspirations to seek another term in the White House had been squashed. Lizzy never was able to give him a final farewell, but she knew that as he passed from here to the glory of salvation, he was traveling on a white horse, his broad teeth smiling wide and yelling to everyone around him, “Bully, Bully, Bully, OK now, let’s carry on!”

  Her own father, Jedidiah Monroe, now gone for thirty-eight years. Her Martin and her son, James, gone now twenty-five years. Her once-lost, yet found and lost again little brother, Johnny Russell, gone now for twenty years. The loss of William and her grandsons in the devastation following the earthquake in ’06 still to this day haunted her, as did the loss of Caroline in ’15. Adeline’s father w
ho had died tragically had opened up a door for a new member to her family. And then to the most recent and still-heartfelt loss was the personal effect of the Spanish Flu. The loss of Nellie’s husband, Henry, a distant descendent of the Monroe family of the Revolutionary days.

  Lizzy could tell that her daughter was still in the process of healing, but she could see that Nellie was beginning that necessary road she needed to travel. It was the effect of losing her granddaughter Hannah that had caused Lizzy to worry more for her daughter Nellie. She’d grown so close to her as they grew into a life of maturity. Paul’s loss was sad in itself but it was the loss of Hannah and her unborn child that no one had yet come to grips with, even on this day of celebration.

  “Nana, you have a caller!” Teddy announced from the front door. By the time the news traveled to Lizzy, who was seated on her back porch, no one gave a second thought to the elderly woman standing in the doorway.

  It was Nellie who first made real contact with the woman. She was alone, which surprised Nellie. “How do you do, ma’am?” Nellie greeted the caller as she extended her hand. “Please forgive us, but we’re celebrating our mother’s seventy-fifth birthday, so it may seem a bit hectic around here, but please do come in.”

  The elderly woman gingerly walked over the threshold of the front door and stopped. She looked around not only at the flow of people coming here and there, but also at the living quarters where Lizzy resided.

  Nellie could see a frown appear on the woman’s brow. “May I inquire your intent so I may let my mother know of your arrival?”

  “Oh, do forgive me, dear,” the woman apologized. “I must look a sight. I just wasn’t prepared that Mr. McKeever had such a, well, forgive me again, but such a modest lifestyle.”

  Nellie turned her head and scowled. “Mr. McKeever? Modest lifestyle? Madam, it may be better if you take your comments to some other home. My father is dead and his home is a place of loving memories, not of modest living.”

  “No, no, please, don’t take what I said in the wrong way, child. It actually is a compliment. You’ll understand once I can speak to your mother. I presume your mother is Lizzy McKeever, right?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Yes, I am and who do I have the privilege to make the acquaintance?”

  The woman turned towards the doorway as Lizzy entered.

  “I understand that you knew my husband, Martin. What may we help you with, Ms. . . . ?”

  “Oh, please forgive me. It has been such a long time and I’m sure you’ve long forgotten my name, but I’m Sara Breedlove and your husband took a risk on me so many years ago. I just wanted to look the two of you up and to tell you thank you.”

  “You’re aware that Martin has passed, right?”

  “Yes, I’ve just heard and I’m so very sorry. I’ve also just heard that it is your seventy-fifth birthday. Congratulations.”

  Lizzy studied the woman. She looked somewhat familiar, not by sight but by name. She was hunched over with stringy gray hair. She walked with a noticeable limp which was why she held tight to her cane. Her face was firm and strong and her eyes were strong yet soothing. When she spoke, she spoke with confidence and it was her voice that brought some kind of remembrance back to Lizzy.

  “Please do come in,” Lizzy waved for Breedlove to come into her living room. “It might be a bit calmer and I know quieter here in the living room. May we get you some refreshments?”

  “No, but thank you,” Breedlove answered with a slight bow. “My visit will be brief. I’m just here to let you know of the investments that your Martin helped me with.”

  “Investments?”

  “Yes, Lizzy,” Breedlove stifled a laugh. She could see that Lizzy had no idea what she was talking about. “I hope I can call you Lizzy.”

  “Uh, well of course, and in kind, may I call you Sara?”

  “Yes, by all means,” Breedlove replied. “Let me go back some years and see if I can refresh your memory. First, I’m so very sorry that Martin is not here. He would have been thrilled beyond belief with the news that I’m about to share. He . . . ,” Breedlove leaned back and smiled. “He thought it was just a gesture of kindness, not really a—what would you call it?—a logical, thoroughly thought-over investment. I think he was just being kind, Lizzy, but his kindness not only helped me get a start, but. . . .”

  Nellie re-entered the room. She sat next to Lizzy and the two faced Breedlove, who was seated on the overstuffed chair with a side table and lamp next to her. Laughter and loud conversations could be heard on the back porch with something being announced about a wedding.

  Nellie shifted in her seat as she noticed the stern look on her mother’s face. “Do please continue, Ms. Breedlove.”

  “Well, as I was saying, your husband, Mr. McKeever, counseled me back in the early ’90s regarding a dream of mine. You see, he was the only one who would ever take my idea seriously enough to help me find a way to fund my needs and ultimately find my success. As you can see, I’m a black woman and at the time, I told him that there wasn’t a resource for black hair products anywhere. I remember telling him that if I could find the finance, I could produce the right hair care for millions of ex-slaves and families of ex-slaves.”

  Breedlove continued. “I remember the look on his face and him trying hard to understand the difference between hair care for whites and hair care for us black folks. I kept saying to him that they were completely different and no one in any market had what we blacks needed.”

  Breedlove paused and breathed in deep then smiled. “Lizzy, your husband believed enough in my dream that he made an investment in me. At the time it was a large investment, at least it was to me at the time.”

  “You’re the hair care lady,” Lizzy whispered.

  “Yes, Lizzy, I’m the hair care lady.”

  “Madam C.J. Walker?” Lizzy added, as she looked over to Breedlove.

  “One and the same!” She gave a low bow.

  “I remember him telling me about you,” Lizzy’s face flourished a distant smile. “He told me that he felt sorry for you, that no one else would give you the time of day. He told me that if all of America turned their blind eye to dreams, then what would this great country ever become?”

  Lizzy paused and sadly smiled in reflection. “He never thought he’d hear from you again, but he always said that it was OK. He said that if he could give a glimpse of hope to another person, then his days as an investment advisor would be well worth it. Funny though, he said he invested some, but he never told me how much. It never really mattered, because he just felt good about it. He said no matter the amount, it was well worth it just to bring hope to the person he committed to. So, if that was you, Ms. Breedlove, I’d like to thank you for Martin’s sake. I’m sure he’s looking down on us right here and smiling for the mere thought that you were able to achieve your dream.”

  “That’s just it, Lizzy,” Breedlove proclaimed with a wide smile. “I was able to achieve my dream.”

  “That’s wonderful, Ms. Breedlove,” Nellie added. “Seeing success in a woman’s life is just what we need to hear right about now.”

  “Political or not, that’s not why I’m here, and please forgive me if I’ve been misunderstood.” Breedlove slid forward in her seat to look closer at Lizzy. “Lizzy, your husband made an investment into me and my company back when I was just beginning.”

  “Yes, you’ve told us that and I’m sure Martin would do it again,” Lizzy said with a questioning look.

  “No, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you understand,” Breedlove said, searching for words to explain. “Your husband’s investment into my company puts him as a holder in its stock. Lizzy, I don’t know if you realize it, but Martin’s initial investment is now worth over two million dollars.”

  The room became eerily quiet. Nellie’s eyes widened and her mouth grew dry. Lizzy looked blankly at Breedlove and then over to Nellie. Her heart throbbed as perspiration began to form on her brow. She looked out the bac
k window at all the familiar faces, heard their laughter, watched all the children running around with not a care in the world.

  “Lizzy, did you hear?” Breedlove tried to explain further. “Lizzy, what Martin did in the ’90s has literally made you a millionaire.”

  Lizzy stood up and walked to the front window and looked outside. Her silence was penetrable in the room. She stopped just short of the window. She watched a deep red Cadillac race by, its driver’s scarf flowing in the breeze. Noticed a boy had kicked a ball into the neighborhood’s yard across the street. She wondered if he’d even look to see if a car was coming before crossing, something no one even bothered with back when Martin was alive. She stared at the grass in her front yard, noticed that it needed mowing. She’d often thought of Martin, but at this particular moment, she missed him so. She thought of that knock on her door so long ago. The two officers bringing her the news of his death on that lonesome, dark night, on the walkway just outside their office in New York City. She thought of how Martin was grooming James to become a financial advisor just like his father. She remembered being pleased that Martin had found a career outside the politics of Washington, D.C., but always worried about those who would blame him for their own poor choices.

  “Momma.”

  Nellie’s soft touch brought Lizzy out of her thoughts. She returned to the present at her daughter’s touch and turned towards her guest.

  “Oh, Ms. Breedlove, you’ll have to forgive me, I was just, well. . . .”

  It’s quite all right, Lizzy,” Breedlove answered softly. “I’m sure this is quite a shock to you. But it’s the God-spoken truth and I have documents here that I need you to sign before, well, before I bid you goodnight.”

  Sara Breedlove knew that she had a terminal illness and had little time to track down her investors. She had contacted all of them except for Martin McKeever.

  “I’m afraid you’ve come for a lost cause, Ms. Breedlove. You say my husband made the investment, thus it’s my husbands’ money, not mine. Another shot to the rights of women, I guess.”