"Maureen," he called out.
"Yes, sir," Maureen had come downstairs behind Mrs. Van and she entered the hall from the dining room where she had begun setting the table for dinner.
"Will you see to it that Mrs. Van has dinner brought to her room tonight? I will have my dinner in the nursery."
"Yes, sir," Maureen said. She stared at Mr. Van's back with a confused look as he turned and strolled back down the hall towards his study. He bypassed the door and climbed the stairs instead. She watched as he turned left at the top of the stairs and walked around to the west side of the house where the nursery was located. She heard murmurs, then Anna Lee came down the staircase and walked toward her. They went into the kitchen together to prepare trays. Neither mentioned the incident, nor did Ellie, nor Lizzie, not until they were all in the Quarters that night and the women got together to gossip.
Maureen said that, from that day on, except for occasions when there were guests, dinner was served on trays, one in Mrs. Van's chambers, the other in the nursery for Mr. Van.
I remembered when Catfish first told me that story; I was appalled that any woman could be like Marguerite. I couldn't understand how she could not want her baby. Now, as I wrote the story from memory, I thought about how I had done the same thing—given my baby away because I wasn't ready to be a mother.
Selfish women do selfish things, and revisiting the story of Marguerite made me look honestly at myself and my own failings.
I put my pen down and thought about how the people who knew me—Emma, Josh, Joe—and who knew what I had done, were the ones who seemed to love me and accept me with all my faults and sins. How could I be so lucky?
Chapter Eleven
***
Emalene
My mother wrote to me in October 1975. It was a shock to see her handwriting across the beige envelope and the personalized fold-over card inside. I hoped it was a birthday card, since my twenty-fourth was in one week. Somehow, though, I knew my mother wouldn't remember my birthday. She never did.
October 15, 1975
Susannah,
Your father is ill. He would like to see you. You should make plans to come to Jean Ville soon. Abigail misses you.
Mother
Abigail was, of course, my fifteen-year-old sister. We called her Sissy. Was she the only one who missed me?
The letter was in the mail at my apartment, not my post office box. I read it on the bus trip out to Springfield Gardens Friday evening; Joe had asked me to visit. I wondered how my mother got my mailing address. Marianne was the only person who had it and she was sworn to silence.
I felt a cold chill up my spine. Someone must have followed me, stalking, watching. Well, I thought. They didn't see me doing anything wrong. No Rodney. Just going about my life.
I was almost at the bus stop near Joe and Emalene's home when I stopped feeling creepy and started thinking about why Joe would have called me—he never did.
When Joe answered the door I knew something was wrong.
"Susie," he said. "Thanks for coming out."
"What is it, Joe? You've got me worried." I stood on the porch, daylight ending rapidly, and he was inside the door, holding the knob. He didn't invite me in.
"I'm sorry. I should have explained on the phone. Emalene is not feeling well. We thought it would be best if you'd take Lilly for the weekend."
"Uh. Okay. I'll get her things together. But, can I see Emma?"
"Hmmmm. Let me ask her." Joe walked into the house and left me on the porch, the door ajar. I let myself in and found Lilly in her room playing tea party with her dolls. She ran into my arms and hugged me around my legs and I bent to hug her neck. When we finally parted, I noticed big tears running down her cheeks.
"What's wrong Lil?" I got on my knees and held onto her waist. She let the tears run down her face, unfettered. Lilly's room smelled of baby powder and lilac, and when I kissed her cheek I tasted the salt from her tears.
"Mommy is sick."
"I know but the doctor will make her well."
"You promise?"
"I'm sure of it." I didn't want to promise. I didn't know what was wrong with Emalene but it must be serious for Joe to call and ask me to take Lilly. She'd never spent the night with me and we were both excited. I put some of her clothes in a pink duffle bag and we talked about tea parties and baby dolls. Lilly asked if she could bring her baby doll and, of course, I said yes.
Joe came into Lilly's room and said I could see Emalene, and he stayed with Lilly while I walked down the dark hall to the master bedroom. I hadn't been in Joe and Emma's boudoir and I felt a bit embarrassed when I walked through the opened door.
Emma was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, wearing a blue, fleece robe and fuzzy slippers, her feet propped on an ottoman. She looked as beautiful as ever and I never would have known she was ill if Joe hadn't told me.
She moved her feet over and pointed to the ottoman. I sat facing her, my hands folded in my lap, unsure what to say.
"Susie, how fortunate you came over today. Joe tells me Lilly is going to your place for a sleepover. Will she stay with you all weekend?"
"Do you want her to?"
"It's up to you, sweetheart. Where's Josh?"
"He's on call at the hospital all weekend," I'm sure Emalene noticed the confusion on my face. "Of course I want her. But… what's… I mean…"
"We're not sure. I've been run down, probably working too hard," Emma took both my hands in hers and stared at me. She looked fine, except for dark circles under her eyes. She smiled, and asked, “How are you?”
I hesitated, then said, "Can I talk to you about something? I was unsure I should mention my mother’s note at a time like this.
"I'm okay, Susie. Nothing that a little rest won't cure."
I told her about my mother writing to say my dad was ill and I needed to go to Jean Ville.
"I want to help you and Joe, but I’m not sure whether my dad is dying or just sick." I searched Emalene's face for some sort of clue as to how she felt about me dumping this on her.
"You have to go. Don't worry about Lilly. We'll be fine."
"I need to call Marianne and see if she can find out what's going on with Dad, how sick he really is." I laid my head on Emma's lap and she stroked my hair. "I'm afraid."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Everything. Jean Ville. Rodney. My dad. Things are just starting to feel right with Josh and I'm afraid if I see Rodney again. Well…" We didn't talk any more.
Lilly and I were both tired when we got to my apartment and I heated soup and made sandwiches for dinner. I put sheets and a blanket on the pull-out sofa and read to Lilly until her eyelids were heavy, then I got ready for bed and called Josh. He was at the hospital and couldn't talk, but promised to call me when things slowed down. Josh had changed his specialty from obstetrics to surgery and was very busy when he worked weekends.
I got in my bed, and before I fell asleep I heard little feet shuffling down the hall. Soon, I saw Lilly's brown curls bobbing through my doorway and I pulled my covers back so she could climb in next to me. We slept close and I think we both drew comfort and strength from each other.
On Saturday, we went to McDonald’s, then to the park where she chased the gulls. I felt guilty for not buying popcorn for her to feed the birds, but she seemed happy just being there. I took her home Sunday afternoon.
Emalene was in the den, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and looked better than she had on Friday evening. Joe picked up his little girl and hugged her, then Lilly ran into Emalene's lap.
"We had fun at Susie's apartment," Lilly told her mom. I watched them and wondered why I didn't feel jealous; then I remembered what Emma had taught me: "When you love your child, there can't be too many other people who love her. It takes a village, and the stronger the love in the village, the stronger your child will be."
I kissed Lilly goodbye and she hugged me extra long, a
s though she was afraid for me to leave. I got on one knee and looked her in the eye. "I'll be back this week and if you want to come stay at my apartment, I can take you to school in the mornings and pick you up at the after-school program. How does that sound?
"Good," she said. "If it's okay with Mama and Daddy."
"Well, we'll see what they say. They'll call me if they want you to come stay with me."
*
I called Marianne when I got home and she told me that Tootsie said my dad was very sick.
"What's wrong with him?" I was sitting at the table in my kitchen, the coiled phone cord stretched to its maximum length.
"They don't know for sure. I think he just came back from a big medical center in New Orleans. My mama says he might die."
"Oh, God. Maybe I need to go to Jean Ville. It's just that, I have a friend who's sick and she's asked me to help with her little girl."
"You can bring the little girl. Just come for a long weekend."
"Hmmm. I'd have to talk to her parents about that."
"You can stay with me." Marianne told me that she had moved into Catfish's cabin and had a sofa bed in the sitting room. "I have lots of room."
"I'll think about it and let you know."
I picked Lilly up at school on Wednesday and when I took her home I told Emma about my dad.
"Marianne says it's serious. He could die." I was standing at the foot of Emalene's bed, folding clothes. She was propped up on pillows with her legs stretched out in front of her. I was worried about her because, again, she looked tired. "I'm not sure what to do."
"He's your father, Susie. You only get one. You don't get to choose your parents, God does that for you. In the same breath, you must protect yourself."
"What are you saying?"
"You should go see your father. I just don't think you should stay in the house with him. Do you have friends or relatives you can stay with?"
"There are a couple of places, I guess. But I shouldn't go to Louisiana and leave you. Joe will need help with Lilly until you are feeling better." I had written my mother a short note that said it was impossible for me to come at this time but she should keep me informed.
Emalene looked spent, so I kissed her on the forehead and slipped out of her bedroom. I found Joe and Lilly in the kitchen and asked if Lilly needed to go home with me.
"Not tonight, Susie, thanks. Maybe next week. I know Emma would like to have her home this weekend. Can we leave it open?"
"Of course. Just let me know if you need me. I can keep her all of next week and take her to and from school."
"That might be an option."
I didn't hear from Josh that night. I called him from work on Friday and asked him to meet me for dinner. He said he was off all weekend.
"Of course I'll meet you. This sounds serious—you've never asked me for a date." He laughed, but I could tell he was concerned. We met at a sushi place and sat in a corner booth. He slid in across from me and immediately reached for my hands across the table. I slipped my fingers into his palms.
The waitress brought our drinks and Josh sat back in the booth. I leaned on the table, my chin in my hands, my glass of wine beside me.
"First we need to talk about Emma." My voice was quivering and he knew I was upset.
"Please don't be mad at me. I tried for months to convince her to tell you that she wasn't well." Josh took a sip of his beer and stared at the foam for a few seconds.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Didn't she tell you?" He put his glass mug on the table and wiped the moisture with a paper napkin.
"She says she's tired, overworked; yet I see something more in her eyes." Warm tears gathered in my lower eyelids but I held them in check.
"Oh, well, she has a doctor’s appointment this week and is probably waiting for a definitive diagnosis."
"This sounds more serious than I imagined." I reached for his hand and he looked at me with a compassionate expression.
"You'll have to wait until Emma tells you. It's her story to tell, not mine."
"Josh. Help me out here. I don't want to be blindsided. You know how much I love Emalene." I squeezed his hands and he slid out of his side of the booth and into mine. He put his arm over my shoulder and I leaned my head on his chest.
"I think she's afraid you'll disappear if things get, uh, well… complicated."
"What kind of person does she think I am?"
"I can't speak for Joe and Emma, but as for me, I can't imagine loving someone this much if she wasn't the best person in the world." He put his fingers under my chin and lifted my face so that we could look at each other. I could smell toothpaste on his breath and see a few strands of white hair at his temples.
"Wait, now you’re complicating things. What's this about love?" I sat back hard and created some distance between us. He still had his arm over my shoulder.
"You're right, that's a conversation for another time. Let me answer your question in a better way. I think you are wonderful and trustworthy. I believe you've been hurt deeply, and that because of what your father did to you, you have a difficult time trusting people, especially men."
"Well, my mother was no nurturer, either," I whispered. "But I've trusted Emma… until now. I feel like she, all of you, are keeping something from me." I opened my purse and pulled out a wad of tissue and blew my nose.
"Okay, so you don't trust anyone. I don't blame you. No one blames you. We only ask for a chance to prove that we are trustworthy. Now there I go speaking for others. Let me rephrase that. I, Josh Ryan! I want a chance to prove that you can trust me. And I don't care how long it takes. I'm not going to leave you, desert you, choose someone over you." His facial expression was so sincere I was sucked in for a minute.
He was right. I didn't trust anyone, which meant I was always on my guard. I'd been that way with Rodney too. It took years before I admitted I loved him. Then, once I finally did, he left me.
Josh and I sat in silence for a while. He watched me but I didn't feel conspicuous since his feelings seemed honest and true.
"I have to go to Louisiana." I looked up and watched Josh wrap his hands around the half-full beer mug. His brow lowered over his eyes and two lines appeared across his forehead, which always happened when he was worried.
"What gives?" he asked. I told him about my dad's illness, or at least what I knew.
"Let me go with you. We can stay in a hotel. I'll protect you."
"To begin with there are no hotels in Jean Ville." I tried to laugh but it wasn't really funny. "Anyway, there's too much to protect me from. I think I need to go back and face the music, alone."
"Are you more afraid of your dad or of Rodney?"
"I'm not sure. Rodney is still in the army, so I don't know whether I'll see him. My dad is very sick, so he can't…"
"But he can intimidate you."
"Let me think about it. I'm going to offer to take Lilly with me."
We took sips of our drinks and our food came. The waitress put our plates on the table and engaged in a little small talk with Josh. I wasn't listening.
*
When Josh took me home, he agreed to come inside for a minute. It was the first time he’d been in my apartment. He looked around and made nice comments about my choice of furnishings and art, said I had good taste, and that he didn't know what I might think about his place.
"Where do you live, Josh?"
"I thought you'd never ask." He was still standing between the kitchen and living room. I was ashamed that we'd spent most of our time talking about me.
"Sit down, Josh." I took his hand and led him to my favorite chair—the comfy seat with an ottoman. I went to the kitchen and poured a beer into a mug and chardonnay into a wine glass, then took the drinks into the living room, and sat on the sofa catty-cornered to Josh. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees and rolled the mug between his two hands as if he were playing a game. He was pensive; fa
r away.
"Where do you live, Josh?"
"I have a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights." He said it as if embarrassed, and he didn't look up. I gasped. "It's not that fancy so don't get ideas that I have a lot of money." He laughed. I hadn't thought about Josh Ryan as wealthy, in fact I never thought about what he might or might not have, but you had to be somewhat affluent to own a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights.
"How long have you lived there?"
"Hmmmm. Since I started my residency about five years ago, I guess. Before that I had a condo in Manhattan because it was closer to the med school." Dang, I thought. I don't know anything about this guy.
"When will you invite me over?"
"When you tell me we don't have to go slow any more. I'm waiting on you, Susie." He was bent forward and his chin almost touched his chest. He lifted his eyelashes and looked from his beer mug to me.
"Maybe when I get back from Louisiana?"
"Maybe." He rolled his mug and stared at the untouched liquid. I put my glass of wine on the coffee table and took his beer from his hands and set it down next to mine. I got up and sat on the ottoman facing Josh. My knees were between his opened legs and he was still bent forward. I put one hand on each of his cheeks and pulled him to me.
We kissed. It was almost sterile at first, and he didn't touch me. Then I slid onto his lap and he folded his arms around me. He whispered into my mouth as our lips came together.
"Careful. I'm not promising you I can stop again. It took everything I had not to grab you and carry you to bed the last time you kissed me."
"You said we could take it slow."
"This isn't slow. You're sitting in my lap. Your arms are around my neck and I taste your breath. Tell me you want this or I need to go."
"Do I have to declare now? Can we try to take it slow, see if there's chemistry, make sure it's what we want?" My words were muffled by his lips on mine, but he heard me. He kissed me and with his face pressing on mine I fell backwards against the armrest, my legs draped over his in our sitting position. His tongue touched the inside of my lips ever so slightly and I met it with my tongue. I opened my eyes and he was staring at me.
Lilly Page 14
