The Sweetest Thing (23 page)

“Somebody stole them things, and I knowed it.”

Gradually I was catching on. “You saw a picture of the person you think stole the silver knives?”

Another nod.

Carefully I lifted Parthenia's head so that she was staring right at me. “Listen here, Parthie. I need to know who you're talking about. It's very important for your mother. Show me which picture you mean.”

She clung to me as if for life itself. “No, no! I'm too scared to tell ya, Miz Mary Dobbs. I kain't do it. Don't want nobody killin' my family.” She held me even tighter. Then in a whisper I could barely hear, she said, “But I saw him at that party, I did. And he saw me. He held on to me so tight, and he said if I ever done mention a word of what I seen him do, he'd have my whole family sent away or worse. He'd have us all hanged.”

I held the terrified child in my lap and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Cornelius came looking for her and picked up his little sister from out of my arms and carried her to their quarters.

I searched through the photographs Perri had just developed. They were from a debutante party held at the Piedmont Driving Club. Perri had taken closeup shots of loads of people. Hanging from the wire were over thirty individual photos of finely clad men and women. I didn't know most of the people, just the Chandlers and the Robinsons and the McFaddens and Dot Singleton and several people I'd met at St. Philip's. Then I came to a photo that sent fear zipping up my spine. I was standing in the exact spot where I had found Parthenia when she screamed. The photo directly above was one of none other than Spalding Smith.

Perri

Two days before the Alms Houses Christmas Tea, I parked in front of the Chandlers' residence and walked back to the barn. I was just beginning to develop some negatives when someone knocked on the door. “Yes, who is it?”

Dobbs stuck her head in and asked, “Need any help?”

I made my face hard and said quickly, “No. No, I don't need your help at all.” I saw the enthusiasm drain right out of her face. For once, she seemed unsure of what to say or do, so I added, “Please go away.”

She closed the door and disappeared, and I fought back my tears.

Mary Dobbs Dillard rescued me from the worst of myself; she came to me as a gift, and we spent that time in a bubble. I asked myself why the bubble burst—or more precisely, if it had to. Was I destined to retreat back into the pain of my world instead of pressing forward with Dobbs and the one thing that she offered me—an unchartered life of guaranteed adventure that would take me far, far outside of myself? I could not let her convince me; I would not believe her.

With everything in me, I wanted to know that Dobbs's accusations about Spalding were unfounded, that she had not seen him kissing another girl. I could not prove her wrong, so I made her leave.

———

The next evening, Mamma and Dellareen fixed a special meal for Spalding and me. While we were busy cooking, Spalding helped Jimmy and Ben with odd carpentry jobs around the house. Irvin tagged along, and I caught sight of Spalding handing my little brother some kind of wrench and showing him how to use it, just like Daddy used to do. My heart flooded with relief. Spalding cared about me and my family. He was a fine young man.

After dinner, Spalding presented early Christmas gifts for the whole family. He gave Barbara a whole set of the latest movie star magazines—
Screenland
and
Movie Mirror
and
Silver Screen
and
Movie Classic.
Each had the photo of a famous actress on the front, and Barbara's favorite was Bette Davis on the December 1933 cover of
Motion Picture.
When she saw it, she leaped off the floor and gave Spalding a spontaneous hug. Then they both blushed and Mamma and I laughed. When Irvin unwrapped a stack of baseball cards, he exclaimed, “This is the best present ever!”

Then Mamma opened Spalding's gift to her, and she teared up, in a good way. It was a beautiful silver frame into which I had put a photo of Barbara and Irvin and me.

“It's from both of us, Mamma. I set up the camera and Spalding took the photo.”

“It's beautiful, Perri and Spalding. Thank you.”

My gift from Spalding was a gorgeous sapphire necklace that must have cost him a fortune. It took my breath away. “I thought it would look very nice with the dress you wore to the SAE formal. We'll find another occasion to wear it. Okay?”

Barbara rushed to look at it. “Leapin' lizards! It is the most gorgeous thing I've ever laid my eyes on!”

“It is absolutely divine,” I said and stood on my tiptoes, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I'm afraid my gift is very humble in return.”

I had gotten Dobbs to take several closeup shots of me, and she'd helped me pick out the best one. Cornelius had made a lovely wooden frame for it. I watched Spalding's face carefully, and I saw it soften as he unwrapped my gift. “It's perfect, Perri!” He seemed genuinely pleased. “It's a fine photo, and I must say, it comes close to representing your real beauty.”

He stayed with us that whole evening, and somehow, having a man in the house again was a great comfort to us all: the fire blazing in the little den, everyone having filled up with good food, Irvin and Barbara hanging onto Spalding, and Mamma's face reflecting something akin to hope.

At the end of the evening, I finally got up the nerve to ask Spalding about what Dobbs had told me. How I didn't want to spoil the beauty of that night. To my great relief, he laughed and said, “Is that what Mary Dobbs said? She has never liked me, Perri. You've seen that. But why she would make up a story like that, I have no idea. Yes, of course I had a date. With Virginia Hopkins—just as I told you. But we weren't doing anything inappropriate. You can ask Virginia yourself. Or one of my frat brothers.”

Then he hugged me tight. “You won't find Spalding Smith two-timing his one and only.” And he kissed me on the lips to seal his promise. Then he took hold of my shoulders and looked me square in the eyes. “Perri, I've told you before, and you didn't want to hear it. I'm wary of Mary Dobbs's influence on you. She's such a strange girl. I know you care for her a great deal, but please be careful about believing everything she says.”

I snuggled into his arms, reassured.

I lay awake that night, thinking back to all of Dobbs's stories. Had she made up those about her father's revival services, just as she had made up the stories of the missing silver and jewelry found in Daddy's toolbox and Spalding necking with Virginia Hopkins? The beginnings of doubt trickled into my mind, gradually filling it up with real suspicion until I felt I could not trust her.

But one thing was true. I missed Mary Dobbs Dillard. I missed her terribly.

Dobbs

Perri let go of our friendship. That's the only way I could describe it. I awoke the next day with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. She had chosen Spalding instead of me. I had failed to convince her about his character. Had Spalding really stolen those things and hidden them at the Singletons' ? I wrestled with these thoughts without an answer. One thing I did know—Parthenia had been genuinely scared in the darkroom.

Aunt Josie took me shopping the next day for Christmas presents for my family. “You simply must have a few things to take back to them.”

My aunt was at her best, her happiest, when she could do for others. Her generosity touched me deeply. She picked out a darling red wool coat with black fur trim for Coobie, along with matching gloves and hat. For Frances, she purchased a whole selection of makeup and nail polishes and perfumes and a lovely sweater. For a while, I forgot about Perri, imagining how wonderful spending Christmas with my family would be, and how safe and loved I would feel in Hank's arms.

As we shopped, I asked her, “How many fancy galas do you have each year?”

“Oh, heavens, a dozen or so, I suppose. Normally.” She studied me. “Except for this year. After the Valentine's party . . . Well, you know.” She sighed. “This year has been different.”

I understood all too well, but I wanted other information. “Do any Tech boys come to the parties?”

Aunt Josie smiled. “Of course, dear Mary Dobbs. Loads of college boys come to the parties. Don't worry, we'll get you a date for the next one. Or perhaps you want to invite your Hank down. That would be splendid.”

“So Andrew Morrison and Spalding Smith have come to your parties?”

“Yes, of course. They're both fine boys. Uncle Robert loves his alma mater and invites the Tech boys to many parties. Both Spalding and Andrew have come to quite a few.”

I digested the information, and it burned going down. Spalding Smith had attended Aunt Josie's parties and had the perfect opportunity to steal the knives. But why?

I tried to push it from my mind as Aunt Josie and I continued shopping. We returned home with enough gifts to fill two suitcases. “Thank you for your kindness. I can't begin to thank you enough.”

“My dearest Mary Dobbs, it is my pleasure.” Then she caught me by the arm as I turned to go. “Remember, my dear. Don't try to figure out things that are too hard, past our knowing.”

I blushed and nodded. My aunt had seen through my questioning. I longed to explain everything to her, but one look at her face and I knew again, she did not want to hear.

———

Mechanically I went through the motions of putting finishing touches on the Christmas tea. On Saturday, the whole Phi Pi sorority drove out to the Alms Houses. We sang Christmas carols out on the lawn in front of the White Alms House, and little by little the tenants from both the White and Black Alms Houses came out of their rooms, shawls and coats pulled around them to ward off the chill. They listened in a childlike way.

Then we all gathered in the foyer of the White Alms House and played two rounds of bingo. Mrs. Clark came forward and said, “We are ever so thankful for your generosity, girls.” The residents clapped in their feeble way. I saw Anna sitting stiff as a board in the back of the room with several other colored women. It hurt to think she wouldn't be spending Christmas with her family.

Mae Pearl, Peggy, and Lisa handed out little bags we had filled with goodies—homemade cookies, a new toothbrush and paste, knitted socks and mittens, and a little Gospel tract that Father often used during his revivals. The tract explained how to make peace with God.

What I wanted to know was how to make peace with Perri.

I was thankful for the joy on the residents' faces. It helped that feeling of dread subside for a little while. Perri kept busy snapping photograph after photograph, completely ignoring me. I thought it ironic that I had encouraged her to pursue her passion and now she was using that camera to hide behind, as a type of shield from contact with me. I felt a slow ache throughout my body, and I was thankful that in two days I would leave for Christmas break and would spend ten days in Chicago with my family.

How I missed Perri.

———

The night before I was scheduled to take the train home to Chicago, Becca came by the house with her two little boys. Aunt Josie and Uncle Robert were thrilled to have their grandsons and whisked them off to the barn to see the horses and the cow and the pig. Becca slowly climbed the stairs and stood in the doorway to my room, where I was busy filling the two bags Aunt Josie had lent me with gifts and clothes. Becca was breathing heavily, and I brought the desk chair over for her to sit in. She looked beautiful, in spite of her fatigue, her thick hair falling loosely to her shoulders and her belly protruding under a shimmering blue-and-white dress.

“Hello, Becca.”

“Mary Dobbs,” she said, taking a seat.

I had no idea why she had come upstairs. “When is your baby due?” I asked, to make conversation.

“Mid-March. Yesterday wouldn't be soon enough for me.”

“You're terribly uncomfortable?”

“Yes. That's putting it mildly.”

I searched for something else to say. “Your children are adorable.”

“They're a handful is what they are.” She paused. Then, “Listen, Mary Dobbs, please don't try to placate me with compliments. I came over tonight to talk to you.”

My heart started thumping in my chest. “Talk to me?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, rested one hand on her stomach, and said, “Mother told me that you claimed to have found the stolen items at the Singleton house. She's asked you to leave it all alone, but you keep nagging at her, bringing it back up. You've got to stop it, you hear? Your family has caused us enough trouble. Please keep your mouth shut and leave it all alone.”

Taken aback, I asked, “What do you mean about my family causing you such trouble? What have we ever done to you?”

“You father, my dear Uncle Billy, is responsible for single-handedly sending my grandparents to their graves! His gallivanting around with prostitutes, using up their money, fathering children when he was barely your age. I can't—”

“What are you talking about?”

Becca's face went white for just a moment. “Never mind. It's the pregnancy. Sometimes I don't know what I'm saying.”

I didn't believe her for an instant. “Becca Chandler Fitten, you can't tell me my father fathered children and then erase it without a blink. Why would you say such a thing?”

She regained her composure, gave a deep sigh, not unlike those of Aunt Josie, and ran her hands through her hair. “Because it's true. Why do you think my grandparents sent him off to that religious school? To get him away, before he spent all his father's fortune and more. Goodness! Anyone can see what was going on in those years. And then he gets all religious and breaks their hearts again.”

I was too shocked to comment.

“Your father has hurt us enough, nearly killed my mother and father too, with worry.” She took a breath and her face lost its harsh appearance, and she looked vulnerable for one brief moment. “I'm sorry to say it this way. I didn't realize that you weren't aware of . . . of all the details of the past, Mary Dobbs. But please believe Mother, believe me, and leave the present situation alone. I beg you, Mary Dobbs. Leave it alone.” She stood up with difficulty, gave another sigh, and left the room.