by Ann Rinaldi
"I wear my chemise and pantalets. Viola says that's sufficient."
So I'd never bothered Louis when he worked on his silver. And, this, this is what he'd been about all that time. Like Sequoyah, the Indian chief.
I stared at him across the box of silver. "Can I touch it?"
"Go right ahead. It won't melt."
I did so. Gently, respectfully.
"Would you like a sample? A gift? On the occasion of my going off to fight for the independence of Georgia?"
"Not if you're giving it to me in case you don't come back," I told him.
He bit his bottom lip, trying to hide his feelings. "I'm coming back, sweetie. I promise you. Now go ahead, pick out a piece of jewelry."
"You pick one out for me. Was there any piece that, when you were making it, made you think of me?"
He started moving the jewelry around. "Matter of fact, there was." He drew out a medallion on a silver cord. The head of Sequoyah was in the middle. "I thought of you with this, yes."
Tears came to my eyes as he draped it over my neck.
"Can I wear it in front of the others?"
"I'd like to see anybody try to take it away from you. I've got these special Indian powers, remember. I can do some bad things with smoke and prayers."
He smiled innocently. I think he is one of God's angels, I told myself. Never mind the Indian business.
"Now we've got to bury the box." He stood up. "Can't waste any more time. The family will be wondering where we are. I've got a confab with Teddy tonight. We leave tomorrow."
"Why are we burying it?"
He talked while he worked. "It's worth lots of money, Leigh Ann. And we're going away, Teddy and I. And so, here's the favor I need from you. I want you to remember where it is and use it if it is needed in an emergency to help the family. Only you know it's here. You mustn't tell anyone. No matter what happens. Do you hear me?"
"Not even Teddy?"
He hesitated a moment. He rubbed his nose. "Only if things get real bad do you tell Teddy. If he's here. If things are bad and Teddy isn't here, get Primus to dig it up for you. And then use it. To save the family."
I didn't like all this desperate talk. It bespoke matters I could not contend with.
"And if I'm still ... well ... write to me. You understand?"
"Yes, Louis. But why didn't you ask Viola to do all this?"
He stamped the earth down over the hole with his boot, not looking at me. He put the turf back down and stamped it, too. "Viola is sweet, and smart, and I love her dearly, but she talks too much." He put his jacket on, brushed his hands together, and picked up the shovel.
"I have one more question."
"Have at it."
"If you're the oldest, why don't you want to be in charge of things? Why do you leave it to Teddy?"
He just smiled. "I guess I thought Teddy would do a better job of it than I would. It's a terrible responsibility. Ties a man down. I'd take you if he'd let me. But he won't. Said I'd spoil you. Said I'd likely take you west and let you ride bareback and learn the Cherokee alphabet. Besides which, I'm not up to the fight that's coming with Mother for ownership of everything. Teddy's not going to get off scot-free, you know. But he can outwit her. Does that answer satisfy you?"
"Yes, Louis. But you wouldn't spoil me."
He shrugged. "I can't stand to see you cry. Teddy can."
He leaned over and kissed me. "I love you," he said.
"I love you more."
"I knew you'd say that."
We walked back to the house, singing the country song: "We are going down to Georgia, boys, To see the pretty girls, boys, We'll give 'em a pint of brandy, boys, And a hearty kiss besides, boys."
The sky was clouding overhead. Tears were coming down my face. Louis and Teddy were leaving tomorrow.
He never looked down at me, but before we went up the verandah steps Louis leaned over and wiped my tears away. "Remember, I can't stand to see you cry," he said.
CHAPTER 4
Thanks to Louis, I went back into the house dry-eyed. He went straight upstairs to dress for supper because, he said, "There's going to be a feast this night so Teddy and I will never be hungry in the army."
I went in to change, too. Teddy was waiting for me in the doorway of his room. He motioned me in. Carol was in her private room in front of her dressing table, making lastminute touches to her beautiful straw-colored hair. Carol looked like all those pictures of princesses in my books. And she acted like one. Never did she lose her poise.
She was from the Balls, one of Roswell's first families.
Teddy sat down and drew me to stand in front of him. "Louis told you?"
"Yes?"
"You all right?"
"Louis made it all right. All's I got is a headache coming on." I was prone to headaches, and this one promised to outdo all my others.
"Louis is a fine fellow. He has a benevolence of spirit, a great drivi ng force, and he is gifted with moments of quiet. And patience. You still have the headache after supper, I'll give you a powder. It's something new, down from the North, Dr. Widmar says. It's what Abraham Lincoln takes for his headaches."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Teddy," Carol's voice floated out. "It's one thing to have her emulate Louis, but do we have to hold up Abraham Lincoln as a model, too? You're confusing the child."
Teddy had a square jaw, a straight nose, heavy brows, and eyes that bore into you. You didn't fool around with a face like that. "I would hope that on our last evening together before I go off to war, you would desist with this bickering, Carol," he said.
She picked up a silken shawl and breezed on past us. "You'd best cut your Sermon on the Mount short. You're not dressed yet and neither is she." She went out and closed the door.
Teddy ran his hand across his face for a moment. "Look," he said, "just because we're half Indian, you're not to confuse us with wild Indians out west. Even Pa's generation removed themselves from that culture."
"I know. Louis told me."
"Good. Did he tell you that Chattahoochee is an Indian name meaning 'flowered stones'? For the colored stones on the bottom of the river?"
"No."
"Then I'm telling you. And when I come home, I will dive to the bottom of the river and fetch you some of those colored stones. Would you like that?"
I hugged him. "I love you, Teddy." I said.
"Love you too, sweetie. Now we'd both best get dressed for supper."
***
As I walked into the dining room and saw the food being set down on the table, I whispered aloud, "This is better than the marriage feast of Cana in the Bible."
Teddy frowned. Louis gripped my shoulder as he pulled out my chair. "Don't be blasphemous," he chided.
The supper was like Mother used to have when she had special guests. She was not here, although her place was set, as always, at the opposite end of the table from Pa's.
But this evening there was a card on her fancy gold and pink plate. Teddy nodded ever so slightly at Louis, who said to me, "Fetch that card for me, will you, Leigh Ann?"
I lifted it off the plate and gave it to Louis, who read it. His face blanched and he handed it over to Teddy.
"It's an apology," Louis said. "A friend of hers is sick. She can't come."
"Damned liar," Pa grumbled.
"Pa," Teddy admonished.
Teddy read the card, too. And his eyes were absolutely sodden, like somebody had died. He set it behind him on the buffet and we commenced to eat.
Cannice had outdone herself. We dined on drum fish and prawns, stuffed peppers, steak and onions, roast turkey and jellied sliced chicken bits, tender glazed ham, mashed potatoes, pâté de foie gras, Hamilton green peas in creamed sauce, carrots in browned sugar, and Cannice's special light-baked buns. For dessert there was vanilla-frosted pound cake and Georgia peaches in cream. And in the middle of the table there was a pyramid made out of jellied candies.
The men, of course, had their share of Madeira and
their other favorite wines.
As we enjoyed dessert, a silence fell. We were starting to digest the real reason for the supper along with our food. Of a sudden no one knew what to say.
Louis spoke. "If someone could coin a good way to say goodbye, he'd end up richer than the men who found gold here in Roswell," he said quietly.
Teddy nodded. Carol reached her hand out on the table and Teddy covered it with his own. Viola's eyes filled with tears.
"None of that," Louis told her severely. "We'll have none of that, now."
I just sat wide-eyed. My head was throbbing. My family never failed to fascinate me. They were better than a good book. One never knew what would happen next.
Louis spoke again. "America is a myth," he said in soft, measured tones. "The sooner we get to learn that, the better off we'll all be. The sooner we'll stop breaking our hearts over her."
Everyone sat respectfully, listening. Cicero, the dog, who always sat next to Teddy at meals, thumped his tail on the hardwood floor approvingly.
"And now," Louis went on, "we're either going off to kill that myth, or to save it, and the only problem I have is ... Not going off to fight. No true Southern male minds that. The only problem I have is that I don't know which I'm going off to do—kill it or save it. And that's what troubles me."
Silence. Everyone was moved.
Cicero inched closer to Teddy, sensing uneasiness. Teddy reached down and rubbed one of the dog's long reddish-brown ears. Cicero settled down.
Then Teddy spoke in a mild voice. "Well, I can't let my big brother outdo me. I've something to say, too, though it can't come up to what Louis said. What I'm about to tell you all is simple, and I'd like you all to keep it in mind in the days ahead. It's this: This place where we all live is not a plantation. It's a homestead."
The force of it hit us in the face, in the stomach, and everywhere else you can be hit by words. After that, nobody knew what to do. Viola must have thought the same thing, too, because at that moment she got up, tears streaming down her face, and she hugged Teddy.
I got up, too. So did Carol and Louis. The only one who remained seated was Pa.
We all started hugging one another and saying wonderful things and making promises and giving one another advice to be followed until we were reunited with the boys again.
Surprisingly, Viola, who loved reading stories about knights and warriors, whose idol was Joan of Arc, said to Louis, "Don't be a hero, Louis" and then, "Teddy, you either, we'd rather have you back. We need you," and then, in turn, my brothers mouthed endearing things to us.
Then, gradually, we dispersed. Teddy and Louis still had to have their meeting this night. And Viola's beau, young Johnnie Cummack, who was also leaving tomorrow, was coming to call.
"Will you be all right on your own?" Viola asked me. "I'm going on the verandah to wait for Johnnie."
I said yes, though my headache was getting the upper hand.
"We have to retire to the library," Louis said. But before he and Teddy left the room, both turned to look at Viola.
"Remember," Teddy cautioned, "you bring him to the front parlor. And the door stays ajar."
Viola stamped a satin slipper on the floor. Louis smiled. "Sorry, sweetie. We know he's leaving tomorrow. But that's just why we want the door ajar."
Louis kissed her forehead and went out of the room with Teddy. Carol went into the back parlor to play the piano. Viola went out to the verandah, where enough torch lights were lighted to make even an innocent kiss county business.
I was the last to leave the dining room. And what I did, stealthily, was look at the card from Mother that Teddy had put on the buffet.
It was an insult of the highest order.
There was no sick friend. There was no goodbye to the boys.
It was a carte de visite, a calling card such as the one used when one came to call and, finding no one home, left the card announcing they had been there. There was nothing at all personal about it.
And likely Mother had had someone deliver it for her.
It was an insult to the occasion, and my brothers knew it.
***
Because I was feeling so terrible, because my head felt squeezed in a lead hat, I went directly to my room, closed the door, and sat on my bed. The lace summer spread had been folded back, and my dolls—Miranda, Suzy, Baby Cassie, Judy, the cornstalk doll that Viola had made for me, and Jemima, the pioneer doll—all sat on a pine chest. The windows were open and organdy curtains fluttered in the late-dusk breeze. The mosquito netting around the bed was arranged just right.
Night was coming. I heard the hoot of an owl, the last going-to-sleep sound of some birds, the barking of Teddy and Louis's hound dogs in the pen. Then the hoofbeats of a horse rapidly making its way down the tree-lined approach to the house. Viola's Johnnie.
I took off my shoes and my silken hose, my dress and petticoats. Standing in my chemise and pantalets, I looked in the standing mirror. I would never get bosoms like Viola. Once I had stuffed the top of my chemise with cotton and it had done the job perfectly, but then old Teddy had looked at me crossed-eyed and whispered something to Viola and she'd taken me upstairs, where she removed the cotton and scolded me.
Oh, I was miserable. I took off my underclothes. I should wash myself good, all over. Viola had taught me that if I felt too sick or tired, I at least must wash my face and hands, my neck, under my arms, and between my legs. I commenced to do so. There was a basin of warm water. I dipped the soft flannel cloth in, lathered it with scented soap, and honored Viola's instructions, then dried with the even softer towel, put on my cotton, lace-trimmed nightgown, got into bed, and secured the mosquito netting. But I could not sleep.
I dozed once, and all I saw were men marching and aiming guns, as I'd seen them doing in practice. I heard the guns. I saw men falling. My dreams came in jerky fragments of fear. I awoke with a start. Sweat covered my brow and my nightgown was drenched with it. I sat up shaking with cold. The lead hat on my head was even heavier now. But the terror I felt was worse. I knew better, but it seized me and shook me the way Cicero shakes an old towel in a game of tug-of-war.
Teddy had promised me a powder like Abraham Lincoln used. He must have forgotten. The house was dark. I tiptoed out of my room and made my way shakily down the stairs. I could see light from under the door of Pa's library.
My head resounded at every chime of the grandfather clock. The door of the front parlor was ajar, as Teddy had instructed. The soft, romantic glow of candlelight flickered from within. I wanted Viola. But I would never forgive myself for barging in on her last night with Johnnie. So what to do?
Carol was out of the question. That would be like going over to the Yankees.
I felt myself drawn to the door of the library. From within I heard muted male voices. I lifted my hand to knock, could not, and pivoted away. Dizzily, I fell. Stupid me. What was I doing on the floor? Quickly, in a move that I supposed was ageless, I reached and pulled my nightgown down to my ankles.
Two things happened at once. From one direction I heard Viola's voice. "What is that?" and "What happened?" from directly behind me, that being Louis.
"Leigh Ann!" He helped me up. Then, "Teddy, this child looks like yesterday's grits!"
In a bunny-hopping minute everybody was there and I was so embarrassed, I wished I could slither away like a garter snake. Teddy was saying, "My God, I forgot the powder." Viola was crying that she just knew she should have put me to bed and it was all her fault.
Teddy said, "Quiet, Viola, it isn't. Go back to the parlor with Johnnie," and "Take her up to bed, Louis—I'll get the powder," and "Her nightgown is damp with sweat." Then he looked apologetically at Viola. "Sorry, honey, you'll have to change her."
Viola told Johnnie she'd be down in a minute. Louis carried me upstairs and both of them waited outside my room while Viola changed my nightgown, powdered me down, and assured me that yes, I would someday have bosoms.
I told her to go downstairs,
that this was a good time to kiss Johnnie. And she flew out of the room.
Louis put me to bed. Teddy came with the powder and some water. I lay there propped up on pillows while the two of them paced, continuing their meeting.
I heard words like "crop yield" and "still good local demand for the cloth," and "Jon Bench's salary for looking after Pa."
Teddy had a pencil and pad, and they were going over items already written down, it seemed. I was getting sleepier and sleepier, but I hung on to consciousness until I heard the words I was waiting for.
Viola to be given full authority, in lieu of ours, to be in charge of Leigh Ann until we return.
I fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning the sun was a written red promise in the east, my headache was gone, and I was about starved. The grandfather clock struck six. I grabbed my robe and slippers and ran downstairs.
My family was in the dining room at breakfast. Eggs, ham, fish, fruit, biscuits, grits, and coffee were set out on the table, as if nobody had eaten last evening. Pa was being handed a dish of food by a striking young man with a face like a god and one arm that hung limp. He smiled at me. There was a certain amount of boldness in the smile. I didn't like him.
"Leigh Ann! You all right?" they asked in unison.
I pronounced I was.
"She looks as good as Cinderella," Louis said.
"I think Cinderella was written by a crazy person," I put forth. "Who else would write a story for children about a man marrying a girl just because her shoe fit right?"
Louis choked on his coffee. "Where does she get these ideas?" he asked.
"Living with all of us," Teddy said, "and listening when she isn't supposed to."
I noticed that the boys were dressed in jodhpurs and regular shirts. "We were up at four," Louis boasted. "Took our horses on a last ride. Saw first light. God, this homestead is beautiful."
Viola fixed me a plate of food and tea. From across the table her eyes twinkled at me and I knew she had gotten her share of kissing Johnnie last evening.
