Lovesick (14 page)

If Jewel was hesitant in the placing of the ad, she was just as adamant in her suggestions about what it should say:

They had been through this before, and they knew what they were looking for.

They had received a reasonable share of responses, many pathetic and needy, some overtly sexual. All of those were immediately discarded without reply. But there were a handful of keepers as well, those from men who exhibited a certain degree of opportunism, men who declared themselves to be in reasonable health, boasted they enjoyed a modest amount of success, but who also were quick to make mention that they were not seeking any financial security. The men who offered nothing in return but themselves—as the prize. The men who Freddie knew supposed she and Jewel were somehow weak, somehow stupid enough, they would be content with their presence and nothing more. Freddie knew the surest way to determine the liar is to find the man quickest to tell you he isn't lying. But there was one more criteria that winnowed the field: those men who declared themselves to be without any known relations—those men who were absolutely alone.

Some, including Mr. Odom, had included a photograph as well. Freddie said that Jewel shouldn't be concerned with looks, but Jewel countered that she was going to be the one lifting her nightdress, and while she didn't expect a movie star, she would prefer Joseph Cotten to Raymond Massey when the time came. They had narrowed the field by location, did not want to encourage anyone who might have been from too far a distance—in case the initial meeting did not go well and they had to send him away. Mr. Odom was from Athens, Georgia, which was not even a full day's bus ride.

In the photo he had sent, he was wearing a suit and tie, looking directly into the camera, smiling broadly. He had a good head of hair and his teeth looked to be his own. Solid. A man of substance. Confident. Jewel told Freddie she imagined it had been taken for a directory of members for the Rotary or Chamber of Commerce.

Freddie thinks the smile forced, his jaw held too tight, his eyes just shy of puffiness. A man impressed with himself. He reminds her of their own father, though she would never mention this to Jewel.

It suits their plan that Mr. Odom holds himself in high esteem, will expect to be taken care of. It is a weakness easily exploited. Jewel will pamper him, fix him bacon every morning for breakfast if he wants. They will comply just as they have with their other husbands and do what is required. Back in Rockingham, Mr. Landry knew himself to be getting older. His mother had passed away, and he did not like living alone. He was eager to have a young woman like Jewel to tend his house, cook his meals, wash his clothes for him just as his mother had. As for Mr. Arthur Potts, there had been some unsavory talk among the better families of Charleston that he was wont to keep the company of too many young men. With Jewel in the house, the rumors subsided.

And Lt. Calder had wanted, needed a nursemaid to assist him on his return to Birmingham. In her letters, Freddie described how she had taken over the household at eighteen when her mother had died bearing a stillborn son. She had helped to nurse her own father through a lengthy illness until his death, all the while helping to raise her younger sister. She did not tell him that she reviled her father, that he had kept her prisoner for a decade after her mother's death, shamed her into staying to care for him. She did not tell him that her father had called her an atrocity, an outrage of womanhood, barely adequate to fetch his meals and carry his bedpan. She did not tell Lt. Calder that she had smothered her father in his sleep.

For all of his hatefulness and cruelty, her father had left behind a substantial bit of insurance. It had been purchased before her mother had died, undoubtedly to provide for any son who would bear his name if he should not be alive to do so. She and Jewel and her dead mother were afterthoughts, but beneficiaries just the same. Her father had done more for them in death than he had ever managed to do while he was alive—a most remarkable lesson, she thought. Marriage and childbearing had killed her mother. Her father reminded her constantly that a woman was unfit for anything else, that marriage was all she and her sister could ever hope for. As much as she hated to admit it, what he said seemed true enough. All around her she saw women indentured in marriages willing to work for the barest of necessities. If she and Jewel had to be wives, then she decided they would enter into it on their own terms and be rewarded handsomely for the privilege.

Freddie doesn't think of the killings as criminal, any more than slaughtering hogs is murder. Merely a matter of financial necessity. Killing her father had liberated her. She knew she could not live inside the lines that had been painted for her, and financial independence meant that even if people thought her odd, they would give her a wide berth. She had not thought beyond Mr. Landry, had assumed her father's legacy combined with his would carry them for a long time. But Jewel likes nice things, has expensive tastes, likes to flaunt the fact they have money. Freddie would have been content to live modestly on the farm, but Jewel seemed to always crave more, whined and pleaded until Freddie acquiesced to Mr. Potts. She had even agreed to court Lt. Calder herself, when Jewel told her that she couldn't always be the one being married off “like a prize cow.” That should have been enough, Freddie thinks. But enough is never sufficient for Jewel.

“One more,” she tells Freddie. “Think of it as our retirement plan. We will be able to travel to Europe. Or winter in Florida. This will be the last one. I promise. Besides, in a few years, I would have to pay them to propose.”

Freddie doesn't know if it is the money or the attention Jewel craves most. And before Freddie has a chance to make up her mind, Jewel forces her hand, tells Freddie that she has promised five thousand dollars to Christ the Shepherd Methodist Church for their new stained-glass window.

“Are you crazy?” Freddie roars when Jewel gives her the news. “It will make people suspicious to give a gift like that.”

“Pish!” says Jewel. “I am merely doing what is expected of us. The other part will not happen for months and months. No one will ever connect the two.” And, as she always seemed to do when it came to doing what Jewel wanted her to do, Freddie relents.

Freddie hears Jewel's footsteps overhead in the bathroom, so she knows she is free to wash her cup and saucer and put them away without any interference or bother from her sister. Jewel knows “Freddie's china,” as she refers to it, are off limits to her, since she chipped the teapot and broke the other matching cup and saucer outright nearly as soon as they got them home. Jewel claimed both were an accident, but Freddie has never been sure. Certainly Jewel is careless—she is continually misplacing things, forgetting appointments. But Freddie knows her sister well enough to know she is also selfish and possessive. Jewel would never begrudge her a fair share, but would never allow her nothing more than that. They had fought over the tea set when they left the shop on King Street. Jewel claimed it was an indulgence bought to impress a saleswoman. And Freddie could not deny the claim. Still, that did not stop her from wanting it—and she was not surprised when pieces of the set turned up chipped or broken.

It is shortly after three when they collect themselves and are ready to go. Most likely, Mr. Odom's bus will have arrived by the time they get to Florence. Undoubtedly it would be easier to meet him at the bus station or train depot in Morris, but they do not want to attract attention in case things do not go well. Jewel is in full flutter. She has not been able to find her pocketbook, then her handkerchief, her compact. She checks again and again to make sure the stove has been turned off, fearful she will ruin dinner. She complains that her girdle is cutting off circulation to her legs.

“It will be a fine how-to-do when I just collapse in a heap in the parking lot,” she says, but Freddie pays her little mind, knowing the chatter is just nerves. Jewel is like the radio—something that you keep on for the noise. Something you notice only when it goes silent. Fortunately, she will soon have Mr. Odom to focus on, and Freddie will be able to retreat into the background for a while.

Freddie's braid is pinned so tightly that it is giving her a headache. If it were left to her, she would just cut it all off. She tried that once, but the results were disastrous. When Jewel had returned from Mr. Potts's funeral, she was horrified to discover that Freddie had cut her own hair, or as Jewel described it, “scalped herself.” She immediately made an appointment at Lurdelle's, where they had trimmed and combed, permed and styled her till her scalped burned. Jewel was pleased with the results, but Freddie felt like a show dog that had been groomed within an inch of its life. She washed as much of the beauty parlor as she could out of her hair, but the permanent wave only frizzed so that she looked like a woman in a cartoon who has been shocked by electricity. In the weeks after, until her hair relaxed and began to grow back, Jewel did not speak to her, only pointing her finger with an exclamation: “Bzzzzpft!” Since then, Freddie has not cut her hair again, keeps it at an acceptable length for braiding. Jewel combs out her hair for her after Freddie washes it and then weaves the hair into a respectable bun. Freddie doesn't complain, knows the persistent nagging Jewel will subject her to if she does not submit. And so she sits and lets her braid her hair while she sings some song she has heard on the radio or some hymn that has been sung in church. And while she braids, Freddie pinches herself, squeezing the flesh on the inside of her wrist as tight as she can to keep from screaming.

Jewel instructs Freddie on how fast to drive, where to turn, where to park. She says she wishes she had thought to bring a snack for the ride home.

“Peanuts would have been nice,” she says. “I should have roasted some.”

“They would only make a mess in the car,” Freddie reminds her. “And it would spoil the lovely supper you have made.”

As they make their way inside the bus terminal, it is clear to Freddie that they are late. There are not many people waiting, the benches are mostly empty. It is easy to recognize Mr. Odom, though Freddie can see at a glance that the picture he submitted to them was taken years ago. He still has a shock of pumpkin-colored hair, but his temples are entirely white. And he has gained a fair amount of weight. He looks to be well over 200 pounds to Freddie, a fact only emphasized by his suit, which is several sizes too small. He has unfastened his shirt collar and loosened his tie to give him some breathing room. He reminds her of a suitcase in a comedy film, one that is filled to overflowing so that bits of fabric hang out all around. She wonders if Jewel is disappointed.

But it is not Mr. Odom's appearance that commands her focus. She is not surprised that his form does not match his photograph. She has expected some deceit. After all, she and Jewel have not put all their cards on the table either. What does command her attention, however, is the fact that sitting next to him is a dark-haired woman. Not a woman, really. A girl. A young, beautiful girl. Mr. Odom has brought a companion.

2

Freddie is happy to concentrate on her driving. It means she is not required to talk but can take the time to process this wrinkle in their plans. Mr. Odom forgoes the more spacious front seat, insists that he and Jewel sit together in the backseat where they exchange pleasantries, mostly a recitation of facts from their letters. He apologizes profusely for the girl, whose name is Isabelle, who Mr. Odom says is his stepdaughter.

“I wasn't trying to keep her a secret,” he says as they load his valises into the car. It is obvious from the amount of luggage that he has most likely brought everything he has with him. He has come to stay awhile. The girl, on the other hand, has but a small suitcase—merely passing through. Mr. Odom continues, “It is a complicated situation. And I did not know until just a couple of days before I was to leave on this trip that Isabelle would be joining me. I tried to call long distance, but it just rang and rang.”

“That phone,” says Jewel. “It never works right. I think there must be something wrong in the lines.”

Freddie thinks about the phone in the front parlor, which she had disconnected well over a year ago after she had been confronted by Jack Haines one afternoon when she had driven to order feed and fertilizer at Standard's Farm Supply.

“I don't mean to interfere, Miss Winifred,” he said. “But you need to do something about her. Your sister. She listens in on other people's conversations. It is not becoming. My wife says she can hear her snort when she thinks something is funny.”

Freddie had threatened to have the phone taken out, but Jewel had cried and complained that everyone would think they couldn't afford it. “I will change,” she promised. But Freddie knew better, so she had solved the problem by taking the kitchen shears and cutting the cord.

“Prove it,” she replied. Now it sits mute on the table in the front parlor as a reminder and a rebuke to Jewel.

The conversation between Jewel and Mr. Odom dulls to a murmur as he confides things to Jewel that he obviously doesn't want Freddie or the girl to hear. Freddie thinks about challenging him but knows he is staking a claim for Jewel, strengthening a bond. She can ignore them for now—she knows that Jewel will tell her everything when they are alone together at home. Now, she can concentrate on the drive and also study the girl, Isabelle, who sits still as stone on the seat next to her. Isabelle wears a simple blue dress buttoned at the neck. Her hair is lustrous and dark, her skin smooth, bone white. Freddie imagines for a moment that she is carrying home a statue that they have purchased at auction—the statue of a young maiden. And then there are Isabelle's eyes. A shade of blue that Freddie is hard-pressed to describe: the color of the Mediterranean in a picture from the
National Geographic,
the noon sky in summer? Then she has it. They are the same deep blue of the flowers painted on her teacup. A hyacinth barely bloomed. When they were introduced at the bus station, Isabelle looked directly into Freddie's eyes, and Freddie was immediately transfixed by them, by her.

As the familiar road unfolds before her in the evening sun, she is keenly aware that Isabelle has scooted close against the passenger door, too close, her fingers clenched on the handle. Freddie wonders if she were to fling herself out of the car, would she shatter into pieces like marble?

“Have you locked the door?” she asks.

Isabelle says nothing but turns her head slightly. Her eyes are wet, filled with sadness.

“The door,” Freddie repeats. “You should make sure it is locked. I would hate to go around one of these bends and lose you by the side of the road.”

“I suppose,” says Isabelle. She takes her hand off the handle and reaches up to press the button down.

“Now I've got you prisoner,” Freddie jokes, and smiles to try and reassure her.

“Yes, a prisoner,” she says as she begins to cry. Tears fall in a silent stream down her face. Jewel and Mr. Odom are caught up in their conversation and do not notice. Freddie fears if she speaks to her ask what is the matter, it will alert Jewel, so she contemplates what lies ahead.

When they arrive home, there is first the issue of sleeping arrangements and where to put everyone. Jewel has given up her room to Mr. Odom and taken the small guest room next to Freddie. Though she has fixed the room to her fancy, she insists that Isabelle take that room and she has Mr. Odom and Freddie carry the fainting couch from her sewing room into Freddie's bedroom, announcing she will sleep on that. For now. Mr. Odom smiles in hopeful expectation.

“It isn't any trouble at all,” she says as she carries an armful of clothes from the highboy. “Naturally, Freddie has taken the largest bedroom in the house for herself—an older sister's prerogative she tells me, so we will have room to spare. Besides, Freddie and I haven't shared a room since we were girls. It will be great fun. An adventure.”

“And you will have a proper chaperone as well,” adds Mr. Odom. Jewel laughs at the innuendo, but when she closes the door, she throws the clothes into a pile on the bed and collapses in a heap beside them, running her hands up through her hair.

“This is a fine mess,” she says. “I nearly fainted when I saw that he had brought—her.”

“Hush,” warns Freddie. “They will hear you.”

“What does it matter? Of course, they will have to leave. This will never work. I wonder if I should just tell him straight out or wait a day or two. I don't think I can keep up the pretense of interest. And sleeping on that torture device. I will ruin my back.” She points to the fainting couch.

Freddie knows that Jewel is fishing, hoping she will offer to share her bed or give it up outright to her during Mr. Odom's and Isabelle's stay. “What did he say to you? Who is she? Why is she here?”

Jewel kicks off her shoes and massages the bottom of her left foot. “He says she is his stepdaughter. His dead wife's child. I knew he was a widower. He never mentioned children.”

“But he said he didn't know until just a day or two ago that she would be coming. How is that?” Freddie doesn't like that Jewel is so casual in this space, wishes she would at least sit on the fainting couch instead of the bed.

“She had been gone for months. He had no idea where she was. Evidently she had run off with a boy.” Jewel pauses. When Freddie doesn't say anything, Jewel continues. “Do the math, numbskull. She's pregnant. And when the boy found out about the baby, he sent her home. I guess it speaks well of Mr. Odom's character that he didn't just pitch her out. He is absolutely bewildered by this. I feel sorry for him. I really do. I think he is only trying to do the right thing. But, of course, this can never work.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don't think he will stay without her, and we are not opening a home for unwed mothers here.”

Freddie thinks about Isabelle's fingers on the door, poised to leap. A baby growing inside her. She remembers her tears. How alone, how frightened she must be.

“Jewel,” she says. “Perhaps we should not rush to judgment here. We can still proceed with our plan for Mr. Odom.”

“Did you not hear what I said? He won't stay without her—I know it. And I won't—I can't have her here. What are people going to think? To say? Have you forgotten that I am
Chairwoman
of the Stained Glass Committee? I have a position. Those women at church look up to me. Besides, we know even less about her than we do about him. That baby could come out with eyes slanted as a Chinaman's or skin browner than a hickory nut. It will cause a scandal. And we do not need to draw any attention to ourselves that we don't have to. I am just shocked at you.”

Freddie has not forgotten that Jewel is Chairwoman of the Stained Glass Committee, and she knows the mention of it is an attempt to draw her into a quarrel. Otherwise, she would not bring up the stained glass window, the committee, or the women of the church. Freddie wants to say that the women of Christ the Shepherd Methodist Church do not look up to Jewel. That no one with more sense than a chicken looks up to Jewel. She has been made chairwoman of the committee solely because of the size of the donation she has promised them. However, Freddie does not want to open that can of worms now, so she does not take the bait. Instead, she tries to soothe Jewel's nerves. She motions to the fainting couch.

“Why don't you come over here and stretch out. You will be more comfortable, I know. I can make you something to drink.”

“I need to get dinner together,” Jewel remembers. But she does as Freddie directs and reclines on the couch.

“Just consider this,” Freddie says, leaning against the corner of her four-poster bed so she faces Jewel. “If Mr. Odom goes away, we are back to square one. You and I both know he was the only real contender in the whole lot. We will have to start all over. You would have to withdraw the offer of the donation.”

Jewel's eyes fly open wide. “I could never. It would make me a laughingstock.”

“Then, we are agreed that Mr. Odom is our man. And the fact that she is pregnant doesn't really mean anything to what we are doing. Did he tell you how far along she is?”

Jewel snorts. “Goodness, no. He is much too polite to say that. He never even said the word
pregnant.
Told me she was ‘in the family way.' But you can't tell by looking at her, so I would guess no more than three or four months at tops.”

“And does she plan to keep the baby?”

“No. I mean, how could she? She is so young. He said she had not even graduated from high school. She dropped out during her last term.”

“We can help her, then. If she wants to give the baby up, we can arrange for that. She will be gone before our business with Mr. Odom is concluded.”

“Our business is with him,” Jewel retorts. “She is an unnecessary complication.”

“Jewel, it is obvious to me that she doesn't want to be here. That she would be anyplace else if that were possible. Evidently, Mr. Odom is the only person she has that she can go to. We are going to—to alter that. I think we can afford to show a bit of compassion here.”

“I suppose you have a point. But what will we tell people?”

“Why do we have to tell them anything? No one ever comes here except Mr. Ray and his work crew. We can take her to a doctor in Whiteville. Or Florence. My guess is that she is not especially eager to be stared at by the women of Morris if she can avoid it. Or we can make something up. Perhaps she has a husband. Off in the army. People will believe what we tell them. You know that.”

“Yes, Donna Johnson has a niece in just that condition.”

Freddie smiles. “Or so she says.”

Jewel laughs in agreement. “So she says.”

Freddie encourages Jewel to rest for a few minutes, tells her she is going to light fires in both the parlor and the dining room. “Not too many fires left in the season, and it is just cool enough,” she says. “Soon it will be spring. And it will make the house more inviting I think. More welcoming for our guests.” Jewel promises to be down in a few minutes to begin the final dinner preparations.

Freddy is happy that it was so easy for her to convince Jewel to let the girl stay, thankful that Jewel did not press her any further on her reasons for wanting to let her stay. How could she tell her what she does not understand herself? Only that now Isabelle is here, she doesn't want her to leave. Freddie pauses on the upstairs landing. She can hear Mr. Odom rumbling around in his room, the soft thud of a dresser being closed—claiming his territory. On the other hand, outside Isabelle's door, it is silent. She pictures the girl inside, unpacking the pitiful suitcase she has brought with her. Freddie stands still as she can, trying to hear any movement on the other side of the closed door, but there is no sound, and she concludes the girl must be resting. Freddie has been dreading Mr. Odom's arrival, but discovers she is suddenly happier now than she has been in a long time. Happier than she can ever recall for that matter.
I am your prisoner,
she thinks as she descends the stairs.