Diary of a Wildflower (25 page)

“For
one thing, he doesn’t seem to know who I am.  He calls me different names,
most often Gertie.”

“That
was Mommie’s name – Gertrude.  Does he ever call you Roxie?”

“Never,
but he calls me Sue and Nell and Lorie, even Trula sometimes.”

“So
he finally said her name.”

“Yes,
but not in a nice way.  Oh, Lorie, he…”  She cannot go on, and I see
that tears have welled up in her eyes.

“What,
Jewel?  What is it?  You can tell me, honey.”

“He…he
hits me!”  She blurts out the words with a mild explosion, like a teapot
suddenly going off, and the tears spill over.

“What!”

“For
no reason at all!” she cries.  “And it’s only when there’s nobody else
around, so he knows perfectly well it’s not right.”

“Oh,
Jewel.”  I pull her close and kiss her golden hair. 

“He’s
old,” she goes on between sobs, “but he’s strong.  He can knock me down
with one hand.  I have to hide from him.  Why does he hate me?”

I
look at the beauty and sweetness in my sister’s face, eclipsed at the moment by
her pain.

“Did
you tell Samuel?”

“No. 
I started to tell him one day, but then I couldn’t do it.  He was coughing
so hard, I was afraid it would make him worse.”

As
she lies across my lap and weeps, I rub her shoulders and look out at the
distant horizon, thinking of the day we buried Mommie.  I was in mourning,
but not for her.  I was weeping inside for myself because I couldn’t
recall a time in my life when she had hugged or kissed me. 

Now
Jewel has nobody but me.  Sure, Trula or Caroline would take her in, but
Dad would just fetch her back home.  And even if I returned to live here,
could I protect her?  What would I do if Dad decided to hit her? 
Fight him?  I can picture another big blow up between us.  Then I
would have to take Jewel and run away with her to a place where he could not
reach her.  So why go through all that trauma?  Do it now.

“You
will not have to put up with Dad anymore, Jewel,” I say to her.

“Why? 
What do you mean?”

“I
mean I am going to be the mother you need.  I will take care of you as
Samuel and Trula and Roxie took care of me.” 

She
rises up and looks at me through tear-filled eyes.  “I don’t want you to
give up your dreams for me.”

“I’ll
not give up anything, but when I leave here again, you are coming with me.”

“How,
Lorie?  I know you have to work.  What are you going to do with me?”

“I
haven’t completely thought it all out,” I admit, “but I will.  In the
meantime, secrecy is the word.  Don’t say anything to anybody about our
plans.”

“Oh,
I won’t!”

“On
the day we leave,” I say, “we will announce that you are coming with me for a
short visit; then we’ll just go and never come back.  Dad will fuss for a
while, but, sad to say, he’ll forget about you.  And he certainly won’t
come after you.  He won’t go outside the county even for a cow auction.”

“Oh,
Lorie, do you really mean it?”

Now
there is so much hope in her voice and in her face, I could cry.  She has
lived through a nightmare all by herself.

“I
really mean it.”

Wednesday, July 10
^th
, 1929

The
space on the right side of Mommie’s grave is reserved for Dad, and Roxie is on
the left.  So we bury Samuel on the other side of Roxie where the maple
tree will shade him in summer, and the golden leaves will fall on him in
autumn.  I stand with an arm around Caroline on one side and Jewel on the
other as the preacher says his closing words.  Then Luther and Charles
shovel the dirt into the hole over the casket.   

Someone
hugs me from behind and I turn to find a very pregnant Opal.  “I’m so
sorry,” she whispers.  “I know how much he meant to you.”

“Thanks,
Opal, you look pretty.  Where’s Eddie?”

“He
stayed at home so Dad could come to the funeral.”

Yes,
of course somebody has to hang around at Uncle Ben’s place in case he gets a
customer.  Uncle Ben, Uncle Green, Uncle Artemis and Uncle Tom are
clustered around Dad.  Bea and Aunt Sue are gathered with the wives and
all the many children.

“Hey,
Lorie,” I hear a familiar voice and turn to see Vic and Rose.

I
hug them both.  “How good to see you!  You look so happy.”

“We’re
moving to St. Petersburg, Florida,” Rose gushes.  Her eyes are
shining.  “Vic has joined the Merchant Marines as a deckhand.”

A
stab of envy and resentment goes through me.  Vic and I are the same age
and have the same education; yet it’s so easy for him to find a job and
re-locate hundreds of miles away, all because he’s male.

“Wow!”
I say, practically choking on the words.  “Florida!”

“Did
you see who came with us from Granger?” Vic says.

It’s
Mr. Harmon.  He stands apart, hat in hand, looking at me.  I go to him,
shake his hand, and thank him for coming.

“It
was always reassuring to me,” he says, “that you had a brother as fine as
Samuel to encourage and support you.”

“Yes,
I will miss him.”

“And
how is my prize student doing out there in the big world?”

“Very
well.  I know being a maid is not ideal, but I’m making my own money, and
I’m learning a lot.”

“Are
you reading?” he asks.

“Oh,
yes!”  I name the two books I have read and the two I plan to read as soon
as I return.

“Good
for you!” he says.  “As for me, I had some bad news from the county last
week.  The Saturday classes in Deep Bottom are to be discontinued.”

“But
why?”

“The
cost is too great for the small number of students.”

One
more reason to get Jewel out of here.  If only I could send her to highschool
in Charlottesville!

At
this point I see that Nell has arrived.  She is even taller and thinner
than she was the last time I saw her.  Her hair is long and twisted into a
bun at the back of her head.  She is wearing wire-rimmed specs, and she
keeps her lips pursed as if she disapproves of everything and everybody she
sees, which is probably true.  We give each other a polite hug, and I
introduce her to Mr. Harmon.

“Oh,
the highschool teacher,” Nell says to him.  “All that education you gave
Lorie, and look what she does with it.  She becomes a maid!”  She
laughs as if she has said something funny.

Mr.
Harmon seems taken aback, but he recovers quickly and comes to my
defense.  “Education is never wasted,” he says.  “Lorie will go on
learning her entire life because she has a good foundation.”

Back
at the house the funeral guests drift into small groups inside the house and
out.  I gravitate toward my classmates and Mr. Harmon in the back
yard.  He is having a first-hand look at the home his “prize” student had
to live in during those highschool years.  I try to see it through his
eyes.  The isolation.  The lack of electricity.  The primitive
facilities.  The log house with mud in the chinks.  Nobody has a
house like this anymore.  I’m glad Brody will never see it.

As
Mr. Harmon is leaving, he takes my hand and says, “If I can ever help you,
Lorie, please call on me.”

How
easy it would be to pull him aside right now and tell him my dilemma with
Jewel.  He would take charge like a knight in shining armor, carry us both
away from here and give us a new life.  I know he would do that for me.

“Thank
you, Mr. Harmon.  You are very kind, but I’m doing okay.”

Thursday, July 11
^th
, 1929

Nell
left first thing this morning.  We gave each other a real hug when we
parted, and the strangest feeling went through me that I would never see her
again.  Since then I’ve had

flashbacks of the days she and I and Roxie were kids
together.  It’s like remembering other people in another life.

For
the remainder of the morning I have worked on a letter to Mrs. Myles.

Dear
Mrs. Myles:

I will be
able to come back to work as soon as you answer this letter and advise
me.  I have learned that my sister, Jewel, age fourteen, is being
mistreated.  She has no one but me, and I cannot, in good conscience,
leave her in this situation.  I am requesting that you allow me to bring
her to Charlottesville to stay with me temporarily in my room until I can make
permanent arrangements for her care.  I will buy her food and keep her out
of the main house.  You won’t even know she is there.  I’m aware this
is a lot to ask of you, but I am in a desperate situation, and I know you are a
kind person.

Please
answer soon. Thank you.

Lorelei
Starr

Of
course it’s not the best plan in the world, but it’s all I’ve got right
now.  Maybe Mrs. Myles will be reminded of her daughter, Carmela, and take
pity on my poor sister.

Jewel
and I walk to the post office in Deep Bottom.  As I slip my letter into
the outgoing mail slot, Mrs. Call sits glaring at me over the top of her
glasses, with her arms folded across her chest.  I ignore her.  I buy
crackerjacks for the kids from Mr. Call, and make a point of speaking to him in
a friendly manner.

Walking
back up Gospel Road we meet Eddie Johns coming down Uncle Ben’s trail, carrying
a box.

He
first offers his condolences, then takes on a more cheerful tone.  “How
are my pretty cousins today?”

“Good,”
I say.  “I saw Opal yesterday, and she looks beautiful.  How are your
folks?”

“Not
great,” he says.  “Dad lost his job.”

“Sorry
to hear that.  I thought an electrician would always have a job in the
mines.”

“Yeah,
well, you know.”  Eddie shuffles his feet and looks away at the tree
tops.  “He was caught taking a nip.”

It
was probably more than a nip.  You would have to be pickled to get fired
from that position.

“A
nip?” Jewel asks.  “You mean a nap?”

Eddie
tries to laugh, but doesn’t quite make it, and I find myself feeling a bit
sorry for him.  “No,” he says.  “Not a nap.  He was taking a nip
of moonshine.  That’s my old man!”

“What
about your mama?” I ask.  “Is she okay?”

“Still
sickly,” he says.  “But me?”  His face brightens.  “I’m glad I
didn’t go into the mines.  I got me a job here with Opal’s old man that
pays better.”

I
pretend to be delighted for him.  “That’s good!  And what are you up
to today?”

“Just
a little wine run,” he says.

“Wine
run?” 

“Yeah,
we send a few bottles of our special to a Skylark partner every week.”

“Your
special?” I ask, surprised that he is so open about the business of
moonshining.

Eddie
sets the box on the ground, and brings out a bottle of dark wine.  It
looks familiar.   

“Appalachian
blackberry,” he says.  “Want one?”

“No,
thanks.  I’ve had it before, and I don’t really care for it.”

“You’ve
had Ben Starr’s homemade wine?” he says with a laugh.  “I wouldn’t guess
that of you.”

I
am astounded.  “Uncle Ben
makes
that stuff?”

“It’s
his best seller.”

Imagine
it.  I went all the way to Charlottesville to have my first taste of wine,
without a clue that it had been made illegally by my Uncle Ben right here on
Starr Mountain practically under my nose.

Thursday, July 18
^th
, 1929

A
whole week has passed, and I have heard nothing from Mrs. Myles.  What was
I thinking?  Of course she doesn’t want me to bring Jewel!  I was
jingle-brained, as Tootsie would say, even to ask.  Now she probably
doesn’t want me back at all.  But I wish she would write and tell me so.

If
there was a telephone around here somewhere, I would use it.  I have no
idea if Brody ever answers a call himself.  Maybe he does.  It would
be nice to hear his voice.  I have never used a telephone, but it can’t be
that hard.  I don’t even know where the nearest line is.  Possibly
Skylark.  I wonder how much it costs to call so far away.  What could
I say on a telephone that I didn’t say in my letter to Mrs. Myles? 
Suppose somebody else answered and I hadn’t the chance to talk to Mrs. Myles or
Brody either?  Suppose I am stuck here in my supposing forever?

Monday, July 22
^nd
, 1929

Bea
and the boys are very curious about why I am still here, instead of returning
to my job.  It also seems suspicious to them that I go to Deep Bottom
every day to check the mail.  I have fabricated a string of excuses, which
they obviously don’t believe, and I am running out of little white lies.