The Trials of Nellie Belle

by Sydney Avey

  How was it possible? What did Eustace see in a sightless girl that prompted him to offer her a new life, where the most he had been moved to confer upon Nellie was a fountain pen? Her wound was deep, the pain like a poisoned arrow, personal and penetrating. Never—never, she vowed—would she allow herself to be hurt like that again. The callous young man had stolen her innocence without touching her body.

  Nellie trailed her parents as they left the Sunday morning service. Her father pumped the pastor’s hand and congratulated him on his sermon. Her mother managed to scoot past, but Nellie was not so fortunate. Trapped behind her father who had stopped to lecture the pastor on a fine point missed in his retelling of the Prodigal Son, she tried to get around them both. She lost her balance and stumbled directly into the big man’s path. The pastor reached out and took her elbow to help her regain her balance. Turning his attention toward her, he kept hold of her elbow and addressed her so all could hear. “No good deed goes unrewarded, does it, my girl?”

  Nellie straightened and tugged her elbow from his grasp.

  “I was surprised to learn that you located the book we spoke of and took it upon yourself to facilitate its return without allowing us the pleasure of congratulating you on your good deed.” He buttered his rebuke and served it to her with flourish.

  “Oh. No need.” She lowered her eyes.

  “Such modesty.” His booming voice held an edge that belied the sentiment. “You must be so pleased that our Helen has a bright future, thanks to your charitable action.”

  Nellie raised her eyes to his. “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow. Isn’t that right, Pastor?” And she took herself off after her mother.

  The day Helen boarded the train to travel East, Nellie once again mourned her lost hope in her diary.

  Dear Diary,

  As I have no disability with which to attract the attention of a benefactor, I shall have to consider my parent’s wishes that I marry John. I have cried all the tears I have. This is God’s punishment, I suppose, for my wanting to rise above my station and for being so churlish about Helen.

  The truth is, I miss Eustace terribly. He is the first man I could ever really talk to. He spoke to my secret self and made me smile inside. I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.

  I am not enough of a romantic to spend my days dreaming that Eustace will one day return, the way Mr. Darcy came back for Elizabeth. I must be practical and look ahead. From this day forward, I will place no faith in the love of a man.

  14 - Dismissed Without Prejudice

  14

  Dismissed Without Prejudice

  Portland, 1919

  A year had passed since Madame Cyrette was laid to rest. Mother and baby son whose earthly lives had intersected briefly now lay side by side in companionable silence on a hill, an incomprehensible act of love performed by a broken man. What prompted such a man to love a woman who had spurned him?

  Used to be, Nellie could puzzle things out with Jessie. Now Jessie was gone, moved to Utah because her husband got an itch to try his hand at a new job. Nellie couldn’t fault him for that, but it raised an issue.

  Before her sister left, Nellie took her to lunch and blurted out over a dish of Neapolitan, “Jessie, where will we be buried?”

  “What? Why would you ask me that? You aren’t planning to die because I’m leaving, are you?”

  Nellie laughed and shook her head.

  “Because that would be flattering, but quite unlike you.” Jessie circled her small dessert dish with her spoon, collecting the remaining vestiges of hot fudge from her sundae into a tiny last bite.

  Nellie pushed away her half-eaten ice cream. “It’s just that we are all so scattered. Our parents are buried in Kansas. Mabel is buried here in Spokane. It’s a serious question.”

  “Do we have to decide right now?” Jessie spoke through a mouthful of vanilla wafer.

  “I suppose not. It’s just that I wonder. When we are all gone, who will tell our stories?”

  Now that Jessie was less accessible, the inland northwest began to lose its charm. There was nothing to keep Nellie in Spokane, except Mabel’s grave. She would not abandon Opal and Leone, but a change of scene might do all of them some good. Nellie began to choose assignments that took her to Portland, extending her visits to include sightseeing and house hunting.

  Portland revived Nellie’s spirits. She welcomed the noise of new construction in this city that was widening its streets to accommodate the bustling traffic. Mobility characterized the City of Roses. Young people moving in, large office buildings going up, streetcars running back and forth, all served to make the city livable, workable, and enjoyable. The temperate weather compared favorably to Spokane’s hotter summers and colder, drier winters. Winter dampness softened her skin. Rain nourished a profusion of flowers the like she’d never seen.

  Over the years, Nellie had saved a nest egg. To her surprise, she now found herself desirous of a nest. Real estate agents who showed her charming craftsman cottages pointed out that fussy Victorians were no longer in vogue.

  “Notice the lower ceilings and open living spaces, Mrs. Scott. From the kitchen, you can see into the living room and out to the backyard.”

  “In the last several years I’ve not spent much time in the kitchen.”

  The agent took the cue. She pointed out the modern appliances that made food preparation and cleanup easy. Nellie eyed the kitchen nook. Quite adequate for the three of them. Surely it would not be difficult to talk Opal into coming with her. She had already raised the subject, suggesting that a fresh start in a city full of hopeful young people might renew Opal’s energy and give her the strength she needed to guide Leone in the proper direction.

  Opal certainly had her hands full. She juggled temporary clerical jobs, taught dance classes, and tried to keep her headstrong daughter out of trouble. The nine-year-old was prone to leave her homework and her chores and wander off with older girls Opal didn’t know. Pretty and popular, Leone used her knowledge of the latest dance steps to make friends far and wide.

  On her last trip home, Nellie followed Opal into Leone’s bedroom, where they found the girl’s wet, sandy bathing costume dumped on the floor. Leone came out of the bathroom wrapped in a bath towel and stood in the hallway.

  “Why are you two poking around in my room?” Her cheeks were high with color. Sunburn.

  “Where have you been?” Opal held the soggy evidence of yet another misadventure up in front of her daughter.

  “Swimming in the river.” Leone took the costume from her mother’s hand. “I was just about to wash this out.”

  “The Spokane River?”

  Leone shrugged. “I guess.”

  “That river is dangerous, Leone. Did you swallow any water?”

  “Not on purpose. Anyway, the river is perfectly safe, Mother.”

  Nellie stepped in and placed a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder, pulling the girl around to face her.

  “Don’t be impertinent. Go do your washing, and then get dinner started.” Nellie gave Leone a little push in the direction of the kitchen. Then she turned to Opal.

  “This is the very reason why we should move to Portland. You are losing control of her. A fresh start with a new group of friends is what she needs.”

  Opal stood in front of her mother as if she were standing on a stage. Spine erect, feet in third position, waiting for the dance master to call the familiar steps.

  “I have students here. What would I do in Portland?”

  “We will buy a house. We will rent a space where you can have your own dance studio. Portland is full of new theaters. There will be many opportunities for you.”

  Opal tilted her head and rubbed the back of her neck.

  “I will help you with Leone.”

  “What if she is beyond help?”

  “At nine years old? Don’t be ridiculous. If she continues to misbehave, we will send her to Catholic school and let the nuns deal with her. She’ll be
fine.”

  The matter was settled.

  R

  They found a bungalow in Marshfield, farther outside Portland than they had hoped, but closer to the coast. Nellie loaned money to Opal to open her own studio: the Barry School of Dancing. At first, she taught children’s classes on Fridays and Saturdays, schooling tykes in ballet technique and the aesthetics of expression in a variety of dance forms. Opal offered instruction in the latest ballroom dance steps to adults by appointment. So popular was dance as a form of physical education and social grace that it wasn’t long before she had a full schedule of classes.

  Opal employed Leone teaching the barre and floor exercises in the three and four-year-old classes. That kept her busy and out of trouble. Leone lapped up adoration from the toddlers in the baby classes. She thrived on the admiration of their parents, who never failed to remark on her rare combination of technical proficiency and expressive movement.

  Now that her daughter and granddaughter were settled and happy, Nellie sought occasions to spend more time in Portland. She allowed her restless feet to carry her all over that city. Among a number of acquaintances she visited, she checked in often with her distant cousin Ned and his much younger wife Nadine. Their congeniality, despite their age difference, intrigued Nellie. After frequent visits to Portland fairs and festivals, the pair had fallen in love with the city’s cottage-style bungalows and made Portland their permanent home. Nellie rode the trolley out to their Rose City Park neighborhood to visit. On this occasion, she discovered Nadine alone in the bedroom, sobbing into a flowery chintz bed pillow.

  “What is the trouble?” Nellie put her arms around Nadine.

  “Ned is breaking my heart.” Sitting up, the young woman wiped furious tears from her eyes. “It’s this blonde toe dancer they are featuring at the Revue. Ned is there every night.”

  “That’s nothing to cry about, Nadine.” Nellie straightened up. “Dress yourself up and go with him.”

  Nadine sat up and snuffled into her soggy tissue. “Well I did go the first three evenings, but he sits in the bald-headed row and makes himself so conspicuous that I refuse to go anymore.”

  Nellie snickered. Such behavior had once ignited her own outrage. She wished she had had someone to sit her down and talk some sense into her. She took Nadine by the shoulders and sat her up straight.”

  “You know how Ned loves dance.”

  Nadine dropped her head and stared at her knees. Nellie lifted the girl’s dimpled chin with her finger and looked directly into her tear-filled blue eyes. “No doubt this girl is an artist and very beautiful.”

  Nadine wiped her eyes and composed herself. “Oh, she is very artistic, I’ll give her that. She is a dazzle from top to toe. As far as Ned is concerned, her top starts about six inches below her chin and …” Nadine gestured, making it clear that her rival was well-endowed.

  “Ooohhh, I get the picture.” Nellie waggled her eyebrows, pulling a laugh from her cousin’s injured wife.

  “While I despise her, I will admit she is a beauty.” Nadine stood up, restored the pillow to its proper place, and began to pace back and forth in front of Nellie. “Ned raves over her; he says she is the most luscious bit of femininity he ever saw.” She bent over to collect her trail of pink tissues from the floor and tossed them into a trash basket hand painted with blush-colored cottage roses.

  My goodness, thought Nellie, she coordinates the color of her tissues with her trash can. Could it be Ned’s young wife saw drift where there was only draguer? In the French way, men often dallied where they felt no obligation to remain. Still …

  “While Ned’s observations may be true, his remarks to you are unkind.” Nellie circled her arm around Nadine’s shoulder and walked her to the kitchen. “But you are taking this too seriously. Ned can’t be led astray simply by watching a girl dance.”

  “He has never even looked at another woman since we’ve been married.” Nadine spilled a fresh flow of tears into the flower vase she was preparing to receive the daisy bouquet Nellie had brought her.

  “We have been so happy.” She shook her head and jammed daisies into the ceramic frog at the bottom of the vase.

  “He’s going again this evening.” She snapped a daisy at the throat.

  “And when I asked him if it wasn’t getting a bit monotonous, he laughed and said, ‘Little Dolly Dixon will never become monotonous to me.’”

  Nellie stood shoulder to drooped shoulder beside Nadine. Taking the shears from the young woman’s hand, she trimmed the stems on the last of the daisies and filled in the gaps left in the arrangement. “This is Friday, and the program changes Monday. Little Miss Vixen will no doubt be on the train out of town by the weekend.”

  “It’s Dixon. Dolly Dixon,” Nadine said, and they had another good laugh.

  The Monday morning paper featured an announcement that gave Nellie an idea. The revue had been held over; however, a small fire at the theater required repair work that would delay the presentation until later in the evening. Nellie rang up her young relative.

  “Why not take advantage of this blaze? Invite Dolly Dixon to spend the afternoon with you and Ned. The surest way of curing an infatuated man is to encourage him. She won’t look half as charming off stage. Show Ned you don’t care a fig about this silly business.”

  “How on earth shall I contact Miss Dixon?”

  “Go to your husband’s office, write a joint invitation on his letterhead, and send it by messenger.”

  Nadine did as Nellie advised. Then, as arranged, she met Nellie in the shopping district for lunch. One look at Nadine told Nellie that the plan had gone awry.

  “Miss Dixon declined the invitation.” Nadine shrugged and studied the lunch menu.

  “Did she say why?”

  “She expressed her regrets and said it was against company rules to meet with theater patrons privately.”

  “Well then, you have nothing to worry about.”

  The following Sunday, Nellie joined the couple at their breakfast table. Ned casually mentioned that business would take him to Seattle in the coming week. Nadine tossed her napkin on the table and left the room.

  Nellie turned to her cousin. “You are acting foolishly and being inconsiderate. We all know that Dolly Dixon plays in Seattle next week.”

  Ned reddened and began to sputter. “You think my company conducts business to suit my whims and fancies? I must go when and where I am ordered to go.” He stood up and followed his wife out of the room, leaving Nellie alone with the remaining scones.

  R

  Nellie got busy with work. She thought she should call on her cousin and his wife to satisfy herself that the situation had been resolved, as she expected it would. She kept putting it off until a chance encounter with Nadine on a city sidewalk alarmed her. The young woman came walking up behind her and tossed off terrible words.

  “I am divorcing Ned.” She held her chin high. “He has destroyed our home and broken my heart. I have just signed the papers.” Nadine kept walking, and Nellie had to increase her pace to fall into step with the visibly irate woman.

  “Surely you have no grounds for divorce.” Nellie reached for Nadine’s arm to detain her. “Listen to reason, or you will have only remorse and regrets.”

  The words that tumbled from her lips had a hollow ring. Did she regret her own divorce? Of course, the circumstances were quite different. It was not in the heat of passion that she and John had parted but in the cold light of reason.

  “Incompatibility of temper. I’m suing him for alimony and division of the property.” Nadine stopped in the middle of the busy sidewalk and stood with her arms rigid, her fists clenched. “I will humiliate him and make him suffer.” It was Nadine’s turn to grasp Nellie’s arm. Nellie was tugged into the doorway of a linen shop with a Closed for Lunch sign on the door.

  “I have shed my last tear.” Nadine whistled her words between her clenched teeth. “The papers will be served on him when he steps off the train tomorrow nigh
t, and his blonde affinity will receive a copy as well.”

  Nellie raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes.

  Nadine ran her fingers through her freshly bobbed hair. “I have named Dolly Dixon as co-respondent.”

  Nellie’s mouth dropped open. “Nadine, this is all your imagination. Do you have any proof?”

  Nadine squared her shoulders and raised herself to her full height, gaining about an inch in her spine. “Well.” Her speech was clipped. “If you had been at the Rose Garden Bridge Club and heard the veiled sarcasm and offhand remarks being passed around, you would understand my situation.” And with that, the injured party turned heel and marched back down the street.

  The next Saturday morning, Nellie’s phone rang. It was Ned.

  “I am off on a hunting trip. If you are going to be around for a few days, could you go over and stay with Nadine?”

  Her questions yielded no answers that made any sense, so Nellie thought she’d better do as he asked. She packed a valise and arrived at the bungalow just as the postman walked up with a registered letter.

  A wan and defeated-looking Nadine greeted her listlessly and signed for the letter with little curiosity. “More legal correspondence, I imagine.” Nadine grimaced and ushered Nellie into the living room. They sat and chatted for a few moments, and then Nellie nodded her head toward the letter in Nadine’s hand. “Legal papers don’t normally come in lavender-scented pink envelopes.”

  Nadine got up, stationery in hand, and went to her desk. She returned with a silver letter opener in one hand, the letter in the other. Slitting the envelope corner to corner, she pulled a single sheet of vellum from its enclosure. She unfolded what Nellie could see was a handwritten letter and read it to herself. Her hand went to her mouth and what little color she had left in her face drained away.

  The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence that followed. Finally, Nadine spoke in a grim voice. “No wonder Ned left town. I would like to leave town too.” Handing the stiff parchment to Nellie, she retreated to her bedroom.