by Karen White
Last night I took Vivien to the Indian mound in the backyard to hear the song of the cypress trees. I wanted Tommy to come, too, but Emmett had just received a box of antique pocket watches to be repaired from a jeweler in Connecticut, and Tommy wanted to stay and work on them. And that’s fine. I’m glad he has his passions. Besides, I think it’s important for mothers and daughters to share some time together before things change between them forever.
After Bootsie came back to me when I was six, she would take me up to the mound on warm evenings to watch the stars and listen to the trees. It was our special time together, and she told me about the lonely spirits who were trapped in the trees for all eternity and who waited for the wind so they could sing to their lost loves.
Vivien thought it was magical, and I was the magician who made the trees sing. I love that about her. How she sees such beauty in all things, the good in people. She’ll be the popular girl in school not just because of her looks or her cleverness, but because she will genuinely like everybody she meets, and they’ll know this. She’s a nurturer, too, and you can tell by the way she watches Bootsie in the garden, how she makes sure each plant is strong and healthy even though she says she doesn’t want to stick her hands in the dirt because it might tie her down to this place. She’s nurturing with people, too—it’s like she feels what they feel, and will do what she needs to do to make them happy. I just hope the wrong person won’t take advantage of this part of her and yank it out like a weed.
We stayed up on the mound for a long time, identifying constellations in the sky, and listening to the sounds of the trees in the swamp. I’m not much of one for prayer, but I said a prayer then: that Vivien would always remember this, that when she heard the sound of the trees she would remember how much I love her and how the only way I know to tell her is by saying good-bye.
Chapter 37
Adelaide Walker Bodine Richmond
INDIAN MOUND, MISSISSIPPI
DECEMBER 1926
The rains that started in the summer continued through the fall and winter, making for an abysmal cotton harvest. They even canceled the Harvest Festival on account of the weather, but I don’t think any of the county’s farmers were much in the mood for celebration.
Despite Uncle Joe’s grumblings, and Willie’s increased pressure to invest in something other than the land, John and I hardly noticed the gloominess in the air. I was safely delivered of a baby girl on September twenty-sixth. We named her Elizabeth Walker Richmond, and right away I realized that her name was too serious for such a tiny and sweet baby. I started shortening it to Betsy, but Aunt Louise said she’d grown up with a dog named Betsy and that it just seemed wrong. But her little sister couldn’t say “Betsy” and called her “Bootsie.” So Bootsie it is. I think it suits our little bundle of joy.
Our baby girl weighed six pounds and eight ounces and was blessed with good health. She had pale skin and red hair, like me, and I knew she and I—and Aunt Louise—would be battling those freckles her entire life. She gained a good deal of weight in the first three months, with cheeks so fat that Mathilda accused her of storing nuts for the winter.
Mrs. Heathman was appalled that I didn’t have a nursemaid to help me with the new baby, and despite protests from Uncle Joe that we didn’t need charity, Aunt Louise and I gratefully accepted her offer of giving us Mathilda for the first year.
I wasn’t sure at first that I needed help, but I found that after being confined to bed for so long, I’d grown weak and could barely walk and hold the baby. So I was appreciative, especially so because it was Mathilda. I remembered the quiet girl who’d hide in corners of the Heathmans’ house, silent but always watching. It was only later that I realized that it seemed to be the ones who didn’t speak who saw the most.
Mrs. Heathman and Sarah Beth gifted us with boxes of little-girl baby clothes, with lots of pink and ribbons and bows. Sweet Bootsie will be the best-dressed baby in the delta. Mrs. Heathman also gave me a new electric vacuum cleaner. I think she’d been horrified to see Aunt Louise beating the nursery rug outside, and said that it was very important to keep the nursery as clean as possible, and that the vacuum cleaner was the best choice. Aunt Louise hates it, because it’s so noisy, but Mathilda is the only one who uses it. Bootsie loves it, and will fall asleep when Mathilda vacuums under her crib.
Mathilda sleeps on a small bed we set up in the baby’s room so that she can hear her at night when she cries. Although Uncle Joe and Aunt Louise accepted Mathilda’s presence in the house, Willie did not. He made it clear that she was supposed to use the back stairs at all times, and that if he should walk into a room where she was, she was expected to leave unless she was serving food.
I hadn’t seen much of Sarah Beth since the baby’s birth, and I’d given up on waiting for an engagement announcement between her and Willie. I think Willie had, too, as he seemed to be drunk most of the time, the late-night scents of wood smoke mixed with liquor more frequent than before.
The week before Christmas, we had a brief respite in the weather, and even the temperature cooperated with the bright sun to allow Bootsie and me to venture outside without fear of catching our deaths. Uncle Joe drove me downtown with the baby carriage in the back of his truck, and said he’d pick me up in two hours, which is all I thought I had the strength for. But I knew walking in the sunshine with my little girl and surprising John would restore me.
I took Bootsie to the park first, sitting her up so she could see me feeding the birds with stale bread crumbs, loving the way her small, perfect hands reached out each time a bird flew past her and then upward toward the sky. She was still a little baby, but no longer a newborn, and I felt almost nostalgic for those first few weeks when John and I figured out how to be parents. It was as if we’d moved into an unfamiliar house with a demanding stranger, and we all had to learn the new rules. It had been frightening, and intoxicating, and wonderful, and very, very hard. Still, I missed those early days and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d long for each passing phase of Bootsie’s life the way the harvested fields missed the farmer.
I walked down the sidewalks of Indian Mound, stopping frequently as friends and acquaintances bent to look inside the carriage. Bootsie was in high spirits and smiled at them all. I was pleased to see this, as I’m a firm believer that a good attitude is the most important thing to have to get along in life. Aunt Louise said I was a happy baby, too, and that I brought cheerfulness to every room. When they came to live with me, she said she made it her duty to make sure that any of life’s unpleasantness didn’t affect my goodness, and that she wished she’d tried harder to protect me from people who didn’t appreciate my good nature as much as they should. She didn’t tell me who she was speaking of, but I knew she meant Sarah Beth. I wanted to tell her that I thought that influence worked both ways and that maybe my good nature softened some of the sharp edges in Sarah Beth’s. And maybe that’s why we’d been friends for so long.
I still had an hour to go by the time I wheeled Bootsie up to the front door of Peacock’s and went inside, the sound of the bell over the door announcing our presence. I stopped in the same spot I had the day I’d borrowed Sarah Beth’s fur coat, and waited in the stream of sunlight from the window.
“Please give me one moment, and I’ll be right with you,” John’s voice called from the back room. It was dinnertime, and I knew Mr. Peacock always went home to eat.
With a quick kiss to Bootsie’s forehead, and pressing my finger to my lips as if she knew what that meant, I tiptoed to the back room as quietly as I could. I spotted John at his worktable, but the lights were off despite different clock pieces strewn across the surface. He was staring straight ahead at the blank wall, his hands holding tightly to the edges of the worktable as if without their support he might fall off his stool.
“John, what’s the matter?”
He swung around in surprise, and I saw that his face was pale, his ey
es bloodshot. He hadn’t been sleeping well at night, but with a new baby that was to be expected. Mathilda brought the baby to me during the night if she awoke to be fed, but I’m sure it disturbed John’s sleep as well.
He smiled, but it wasn’t one I recognized. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just tired.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I said, moving toward his side. “I’ll move into the baby’s room until she starts sleeping through the night so you can sleep. . . .”
He was shaking his head before I’d finished speaking. “No, Adelaide. I’d hate that. The one thing I look forward to each day is sleeping beside you each night.” He stood and took my hands into his, kissing me gently.
A bit of the weariness seemed to leave his eyes as he looked into mine and smiled a real smile. “I’m so glad you’re here. What a nice surprise. Did you bring my little girl, too?”
“Of course. You know I couldn’t bear to leave her behind. Come on out and say hello.”
“You go ahead. Please give me a minute. I have my Christmas gifts for both of you that I just finished with and I’m too impatient to wait five more days to give to you. It’s the reason I’ve been working so late. I hope you like it enough to forgive me.”
His spirits seemingly restored, I kissed him lightly, then returned to Bootsie, who was watching the light show on the ceiling caused by the sun’s reflection from a display of emerald jewelry.
I waited only a few moments before I heard John call out, “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I say you can.”
I loved surprises. I remembered how my mother would pick a random day each year, a regular day that wasn’t tied to any holiday or birthday, and surprise me with a small gift or favorite dessert, or a meal in a restaurant. It was something my aunt had continued, and until I’d had Bootsie I hadn’t appreciated it.
I closed my eyes and listened as he walked toward us, heard Bootsie kicking her legs at the sound of her father’s voice. With my eyes still closed, I said, “I told her not to look, but I don’t think she’s very good at surprises.”
“That’s all right, isn’t it, pumpkin?” John said, and I heard him loudly kissing the baby and making her coo.
I wrung my hands with impatience. “Please hurry, John. You know I don’t like waiting for surprises.”
I felt him kiss my cheek, but not move away. His breath brushed my cheek as something was clasped around my neck. “You can look now.”
Blinking open my eyes, I looked down at my chest, where a heavy gold chain, just like the one Uncle Joe wore on his pocket watch, hung like a necklace. And hanging from it was a tiny gold ring with half of a heart on its top.
I lifted the ring to see it better, then looked at John, not understanding. “What does it say?”
He opened up his other hand, where another small ring sat on his palm. He put it up next to mine, then pressed them together, the ring parts overlapping so that they made a little heart. And in the middle were the words I Love You Forever.
“See?” he said with the excitement of a little boy on Christmas morning. “It’s a gift for both of you.” He bent down and carefully placed it on Bootsie’s thumb. “It’s a little big for her now, but once it fits her ring finger, we’ll have her photo taken in it at the studio down the street. And as she gets bigger, I can make the ring part larger—for yours, too, so you can both wear them on your hands if you like.”
Bootsie brought her hand to her mouth, but John was quicker. “That’s not to eat, pumpkin. It’s jewelry. You’ll learn what that is soon enough.” He straightened and gave me a silly grin.
I placed both of my hands on his face and kissed him deeply. “It’s a beautiful gift. For both of us. Thank you.”
He wrapped me in his arms, pressing my cheek against his chest, where I could hear his heart beating. “Thank you, Adelaide, for making me the happiest man on earth. And the way you love our daughter makes my heart fuller than I ever thought it could be.”
The bell over the door rang and we turned around to see Angelo Berlini entering the store. I hadn’t seen him since the Harvest Festival the year before, when he’d carried me to his car and had his chauffeur take John and me to the hospital. It had been too late for our baby. The doctor had said that I’d lost a lot of blood, and that if I had not received immediate care, I would have died, too. I’d sent a note of thanks to Angelo for his help, and for the lovely bouquet of yellow roses he’d sent to my hospital room, but I hadn’t heard from him since.
“Angelo,” I said, walking toward him to greet him. “It is so good to see you again.”
A brief look of surprise crossed his face, as if he hadn’t expected to find me there, and I noticed that he’d already flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED.
He took my hands in his, then kissed me on both cheeks in the elegant and romantic way I’d begun to associate with him. “The pleasure is all mine, as always. You are as lovely as ever.”
“You must come meet Bootsie,” I said, leading him into the store, where John was lifting the baby into his arms. “Since you’re the reason she and I are both here.”
“I am only glad that I was there to help. Anybody would have done the same. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to save your child.”
“You did what you could, and now we have our precious girl.” John remained unsmiling as we approached.
“Hello, John,” Angelo said in a friendly voice. “I haven’t seen you for a while. I thought it might be time for a visit to talk about business.”
With clipped words, John replied, “I wish you had called or sent word. I have a lot of work to do here.”
“I’m sure you do. That’s why I promise to keep my business short, and then purchase something wildly expensive from your shop. It seems I need an engagement present for Carmen for a party her parents are throwing tomorrow evening in New Orleans. Our nuptials are planned for May. Things were pushed ahead when Mr. Bianca decided to run for Louisiana state senator. If we wait until after the campaign and his election, it might never happen, so my lovely bride-to-be put her delicate foot down and set a date.”
“You’re quite sure he’s going to win?” John asked, and I looked at him sharply, wondering at the angry tone of his voice.
“Nothing is ever guaranteed, is it?” Angelo asked, putting a dark knuckle against Bootsie’s soft cheek. “But he does have important supporters. He’s being quite brave and running on a platform to repeal Prohibition. That might make even the non-Catholics vote for him.”
Bootsie cooed at Angelo as he smiled at her, her little mouth forming itself into a perfect rosebud. John stepped back, taking the baby out of Angelo’s reach. “That’s bad news for you, isn’t it?” John asked with a note of satisfaction.
The visitor rested his dark gaze on my husband. “On the contrary. I think it would be very good news for both of us.” He began to examine one of the display cases, but his eyes remained fixed, as if he could see only his thoughts. “Like you, I don’t want to be doing this forever. If we are patient, you see, this will all come to its natural end. It might not be this year, or the next, but it will happen. And then you—and I—will no longer be needed. Will no longer be valuable. And will have thick bank accounts to show for our sacrifices and hard work.”
Bootsie began to fuss, and I wondered if she could sense her father’s growing unease, his impatience with the words “this year or the next.” I took her from John, and he barely seemed to notice.
John lowered his voice. “I told you, this is the last year. I want to start the new year with a clean slate.” He glanced over at me and the baby as if seeking courage, then turned back to Angelo. “I’ve given you plenty of time to make other arrangements. I’m done as of the end of the year.”
As if he hadn’t heard John, Angelo used his pinkie to point at something in the jewelry case. “That’s a lovely pair of emerald earrings. May I see them, please?”
/> With tightened lips, John retrieved the keys from behind the counter, then opened up the case. Angelo reached in and held up the earrings, his head moving from side to side as if he were picturing them on his bride-to-be. His eyes moved to me.
“Would you mind, Adelaide? Perhaps if I saw a beautiful woman wearing them, it would give me a better idea of what they would look like.”
I didn’t dare look at John. Instead I placed Bootsie, who’d fallen asleep, back in her carriage and reached for the earrings. Using one of the mirrors that sat atop each case, I clipped on the earrings, then shook my head to allow the sunlight to sparkle through them.
I faced the men. “What do you think?” I asked, smiling brightly to lighten the mood. John’s lips tightened even more, but Angelo nodded appreciatively.
“Lovely,” he said. “Just lovely. A beautiful woman should have beautiful things to complement her loveliness. And those emeralds match your eyes as if they were made for you. Don’t you think, John?”
John didn’t look at him as he replied, “My wife is beautiful enough.”
Angelo seemed to notice for the first time the necklace I wore. “That’s an interesting piece,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
“Thank you,” I said, lifting the ring to show him. “Bootsie has the other half.” When I saw his furrowed brow, I said, “When they’re put together it reads, ‘I love you forever.’ John designed it for us.”
“Your husband is a very talented young man. He’ll go far in life.” Angelo’s face grew serious. “He just needs to learn a little more patience.”
John’s eyes snapped with anger and his fists clenched. I’d never seen him like this, and it frightened me. “Take those off,” he said, indicating the earrings. “I think we’re done here.”
I began taking off the earrings while Angelo pulled his wallet from his pocket, fanning out a large amount of money. “I’ll take them,” he said, counting out bills before laying them on the counter. “Do you have a box?”
