Diary of a Wildflower

by Ruth White

  As Mr. Harmon is leaving, he takes my hand and says, “If I can ever help you, Lorie, please call on me.”

  How easy it would be to pull him aside right now and tell him my dilemma with Jewel. He would take charge like a knight in shining armor, carry us both away from here and give us a new life. I know he would do that for me.

  “Thank you, Mr. Harmon. You are very kind, but I’m doing okay.”

  Thursday, July 11th, 1929

  Nell left first thing this morning. We gave each other a real hug when we parted, and the strangest feeling went through me that I would never see her again. Since then I’ve had

  flashbacks of the days she and I and Roxie were kids together. It’s like remembering other people in another life.

  For the remainder of the morning I have worked on a letter to Mrs. Myles.

  Dear Mrs. Myles:

  I will be able to come back to work as soon as you answer this letter and advise me. I have learned that my sister, Jewel, age fourteen, is being mistreated. She has no one but me, and I cannot, in good conscience, leave her in this situation. I am requesting that you allow me to bring her to Charlottesville to stay with me temporarily in my room until I can make permanent arrangements for her care. I will buy her food and keep her out of the main house. You won’t even know she is there. I’m aware this is a lot to ask of you, but I am in a desperate situation, and I know you are a kind person.

  Please answer soon. Thank you.

  Lorelei Starr

  Of course it’s not the best plan in the world, but it’s all I’ve got right now. Maybe Mrs. Myles will be reminded of her daughter, Carmela, and take pity on my poor sister.

  Jewel and I walk to the post office in Deep Bottom. As I slip my letter into the outgoing mail slot, Mrs. Call sits glaring at me over the top of her glasses, with her arms folded across her chest. I ignore her. I buy crackerjacks for the kids from Mr. Call, and make a point of speaking to him in a friendly manner.

  Walking back up Gospel Road we meet Eddie Johns coming down Uncle Ben’s trail, carrying a box.

  He first offers his condolences, then takes on a more cheerful tone. “How are my pretty cousins today?”

  “Good,” I say. “I saw Opal yesterday, and she looks beautiful. How are your folks?”

  “Not great,” he says. “Dad lost his job.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I thought an electrician would always have a job in the mines.”

  “Yeah, well, you know.” Eddie shuffles his feet and looks away at the tree tops. “He was caught taking a nip.”

  It was probably more than a nip. You would have to be pickled to get fired from that position.

  “A nip?” Jewel asks. “You mean a nap?”

  Eddie tries to laugh, but doesn’t quite make it, and I find myself feeling a bit sorry for him. “No,” he says. “Not a nap. He was taking a nip of moonshine. That’s my old man!”

  “What about your mama?” I ask. “Is she okay?”

  “Still sickly,” he says. “But me?” His face brightens. “I’m glad I didn’t go into the mines. I got me a job here with Opal’s old man that pays better.”

  I pretend to be delighted for him. “That’s good! And what are you up to today?”

  “Just a little wine run,” he says.

  “Wine run?”

  “Yeah, we send a few bottles of our special to a Skylark partner every week.”

  “Your special?” I ask, surprised that he is so open about the business of moonshining.

  Eddie sets the box on the ground, and brings out a bottle of dark wine. It looks familiar.

  “Appalachian blackberry,” he says. “Want one?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve had it before, and I don’t really care for it.”

  “You’ve had Ben Starr’s homemade wine?” he says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t guess that of you.”

  I am astounded. “Uncle Ben makes that stuff?”

  “It’s his best seller.”

  Imagine it. I went all the way to Charlottesville to have my first taste of wine, without a clue that it had been made illegally by my Uncle Ben right here on Starr Mountain practically under my nose.

  Thursday, July 18th, 1929

  A whole week has passed, and I have heard nothing from Mrs. Myles. What was I thinking? Of course she doesn’t want me to bring Jewel! I was jingle-brained, as Tootsie would say, even to ask. Now she probably doesn’t want me back at all. But I wish she would write and tell me so.

  If there was a telephone around here somewhere, I would use it. I have no idea if Brody ever answers a call himself. Maybe he does. It would be nice to hear his voice. I have never used a telephone, but it can’t be that hard. I don’t even know where the nearest line is. Possibly Skylark. I wonder how much it costs to call so far away. What could I say on a telephone that I didn’t say in my letter to Mrs. Myles? Suppose somebody else answered and I hadn’t the chance to talk to Mrs. Myles or Brody either? Suppose I am stuck here in my supposing forever?

  Monday, July 22nd, 1929

  Bea and the boys are very curious about why I am still here, instead of returning to my job. It also seems suspicious to them that I go to Deep Bottom every day to check the mail. I have fabricated a string of excuses, which they obviously don’t believe, and I am running out of little white lies.

  “I think Lorie has a sweetheart in Charlottesville,” Bea says. “That’s why she keeps going to the post office.”

  I just smile at her and say nothing, but I do long to hear from Brody. Why doesn’t he even write a note of sympathy?

  Jewel watches me closely as I check our mail box.

  “Nothing today?” she says.

  On the walk home I feel that quiet desperation I have read about.

  “What’s wrong, Lorie?” Jewel asks when we’re almost home. “Who are you expecting a letter from?”

  Her eyes are full of worry. Yes, I owe her an explanation.

  “I think we may have to make another plan to get you away from here.”

  “Another plan?” she asks. “What was the first plan?”

  “I wrote to Mrs. Myles and asked her permission for you to stay in my room with me until we can make other arrangements.”

  “But she didn’t answer?”

  “Don’t worry,” I say, and give her a hug. “We’ll think of something else.”

  “What about that fella Brody you wrote me about? Write to him.”

  “Brody?” I say. The sound of his name hurts my heart. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why? Isn’t he your beau?”

  “No, he’s just a friend,” I say.

  “I don’t believe you,” she says. “I believe you love him.”

  I laugh a bit nervously. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you said his name in your sleep.”

  “I did?”

  She grins. “Yes. I told you so, didn’t I? I said somebody was going to steal your heart away.”

  “Don’t be a bunny!” I say.

  “You can tell me, Lorie. I won’t tell anybody. Are you in love with Brody?”

  I feel my lip quiver. I hurry up the trail.

  In the afternoon I help Jewel and Bea heat water in the back yard and scrub overalls. In no time I have a brand new blister on the knuckle of my index finger. Just when my hands were beginning to heal nicely. I was so proud of them I was thinking of buying some nail polish to bring attention to them, but not now. I examine Jewel’s hands and find them as rough and calloused as mine were.

  As evening comes, a great pall of melancholy settles over me. With each minute of approaching darkness I say to the night, “Don’t come yet. Let me have daylight just a little longer.” But the blackness folds around me, and with it, the terrible isolation.

  Twenty-Seven

  Sunday, July 28th, 1929

  I am dreaming that the Old Thing is sitting on my chest, crushing me with the full weight of its hopelessness. I wake up, struggling for air and look at the log beams in the ceiling
. Oh, god, I am still here. I have been here exactly three weeks without a letter from anyone. And the mail does not run today. The sun is falling across my bed. I throw back the sheet. This house is like an oven.

  Downstairs I hear Bea and Jewel in the kitchen preparing to can pickles. I escape out the front door. I go to the graveyard and morbidly read the tombstones out loud again. I imagine my own name on the oldest, moldiest stone. I lie down on my back between Samuel and Roxie and fold my hands over my heart. I look at the sky through the leaves of the maple tree. A white, puffy cloud passes. A bluebird lights on a branch.

  “Stop your whining,” I scold myself out loud. “Get busy and devise a plan!”

  Yes. A plan. I’ll lay out all the facts and deal with them one by one, just as I used to do with my school work.

  First fact: It’s up to me to get myself and Jewel away from here.

  Charlottesville is the only place outside this county that I am familiar with. So that’s where we will go. There’s an inn on Three Notch’d Road near the train station. We will rent a room for a night or two. For a more permanent solution, there are boarding houses for “proper young ladies only”. I will find out how much they cost.

  Second fact: I have thirty-eight dollars to my name.

  I’ll have to find another job immediately. I’ll ask the maids and maybe Chris to help me. There are all kinds of stores and businesses where I have seen ladies working. Depending on how soon I find a job, I may run out of money. Where can I get more? I think I can borrow a bit from Caroline. And who else? Maybe some from Mack? Dr. Wayne? Possibly. I will take that route only when I feel I must. Yes, I can do this.

  First step – a ride to the train station. I will walk to Buddy Ward’s house today and see if he can take us tomorrow morning. If not, I’ll write to Trula. That means waiting a few more days for the mail.

  Now that I have made a decision and have a plan, I stand on my feet again, and I am lighter in weight. I’m sure of it.

  I go to the spring, remove my clothes, and take a cold bath. It’s invigorating. As I wash my hair, something occurs to me. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. What’s to stop Mrs. Call from reading my mail and doing what she pleases with it, even throwing it away? She is so spiteful, it would make her happy to see me fail. I think of how she watches me as I check the mailbox. Maybe Mrs. Myles did write to me, and did give permission for Jewel to come along. Maybe she is now wondering where I am. Yes, I will call Mrs. Myles on the telephone in Granger before we leave on the train.

  I dry myself in the bright sunshine, just as I did when I was a little girl. The sun feels good against my naked skin.

  When I am dry all over, I put my clothes back on and start home. As I approach the house, I see a medium-sized black and white dog peeing in the yard. Dixie? She looks so much like my Dixie girl! Suddenly she sees me and rushes toward me, grinning all over, and wagging her tail. When she jumps on me, I am almost knocked to the ground.

  “Oh, Dixie! It’s really you! Where…? How…? Is he with you?”

  At the same time I hear his voice at the front of the house, “I am looking for Lorelei Starr. Does she live here?”

  “Yeah, she does,” Bea replies. “Who are you?”

  I quickly round the corner of the house. “Brody!”

  He turns to me. He is not wearing a jacket or hat, as is customary for young men of his social class. His sleeves are rolled up above his elbows, and his face glistens with sweat. Dad, Bea, Jewel and all four of the boys are on the porch just staring at him.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Mother sent me for you.”

  In all my daydreams, this is one I left out – Brody coming for me!

  “Oh,” I say, trying to remain calm. “So she wants me back?”

  “Of course she does,” he says, and there is an edge to his voice, as if he is put out with me. “Good help is hard to find. And you did say you were coming back.”

  Dixie stands leaning against my leg, as if she doesn’t want to lose contact again. I introduce Brody to my family one by one. He is polite as he repeats each name. They, in turn, say hello to him, all except for Dad, who just sits staring with his mouth open.

  “I am very sorry for your loss,” Brody says to all of us.

  “Thank you,” I say, but nobody else responds.

  “What’s the dawg’s name?” Clint asks.

  “Trixie…uh...Dixie,” Brody says.

  “Trixie Dixie?” Clint says, as he pets her. “That’s a funny name, but she’s a purty dawg.”

  “Jewel, will you please bring Mr. Brody a glass of water?” I say.

  Jewel jumps obediently to the task.

  “Will you sit?” I ask Brody, and motion him to the steps, which is the only available seat. “You seem exhausted.”

  “Yes.” He sits on the steps. “It’s quite a haul up here.”

  “You couldn’t have driven all the way from Charlottesville this morning?”

  “No. Yesterday. I spent the night at Blake and Lydia’s.”

  “Blake and Lydia’s? Oh! Dr. Wayne.”

  “Yes. I was told I would never find your place in the dark.”

  “Quite right.”

  Jewel arrives with the water, and Brody drinks it in big gulps.

  “And do you plan to drive back today?” I ask him.

  “Yes,” he says, “if you are ready to leave.”

  I glance at Jewel. There is anxiety on her face.

  “There is something we need to talk about,” I say to Brody.

  He jumps to his feet and says a bit irritably, “If you’re not going back with me, tell me now, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “It’s just that…look, I know you’re tired, but do you think you can walk with me for a moment?” I motion to the pretty woods. “This way?”

  He stands up and starts walking rapidly in the direction I have indicated. Dixie and I follow him. He is well into the woods before he finally stops and turns around to face me. We just stand there looking at each other for a long, lonely moment, as he waits for me to speak. But I’m not sure I can speak. I feel I might cry. And that would be childish.

  “Why..why are you angry?” I manage to say.

  “What makes you think I’m angry, Lorelei?” he says somewhat sarcastically. “Can you think of any reason why I would be angry?”

  “No, I can’t.” My words come out thin and broken.

  “Maybe it’s because you’ve been gone forever, and you didn’t bother to answer my letter!”

  “Letter! What letter? I didn’t get a letter from you, Brody. I wrote two letters to your mother, but I didn’t hear from her either.”

  There is an uncanny silence in the woods. Even the birds are strangely still.

  “I think the postmistress has been tampering with my mail,” I go on mindlessly. “For whatever reason I didn’t get your letter.”

  I just want him to say something, but he keeps standing there with his hands on his hips, looking at me.

  “Don’t you believe me, Brody?” I feel a tear sliding down my cheek, but I don’t wipe it away. Maybe he won’t see it. “Why would I lie to you?”

  “I don’t know.” His shoulders appear to slump. “Please don’t cry.” He runs a hand through his hair, then rests against a tree. “You really did not get a letter from me?”

  I wipe the tear away. “No, I would have loved a letter from you. What..what did you have to say?”

  I watch sadness move over his face. “I have had a miserable three weeks.”

  “So have I,” I say.

  “Of course you have,” he comes back quickly. “I don’t mean to be so self-centered. I realize you are in mourning.”

  “Why were you miserable?” I ask.

  “My family and the Temples – the whole world, it seems, has fumed and fussed and raged at me. I feel as if my own mother and father would like to blip me off. I have practically lived in the university libra
ry because I can’t stand to face them.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I thought you…,” he begins, pauses, and begins again, “I believed you were the one person I could count on.”

  “For what? What is it, Brody?”

  He draws himself up to his full six feet and takes a deep breath. “I broke off my engagement.”

  “What! With Angel?”

  “Of course, with Angel. How many girls was I engaged to?” He gives me a slight smile.

  I am too stunned to react.

  “I can see you’re surprised,” he says. “If you had received my letter, you would know that …and all the other things I said.”

  “What things?”

  Now he looks past me, as if he can’t meet my eye. “I can’t remember everything I wrote. I think…I poured out my heart to you.”

  “You did?” My voice is barely a whisper. “Can I ask why..why you broke your engagement?”

  “Because I don’t love her!”

  “You don’t love her?” I am breathless. “How did she take it?”

  “Not well at all. She screamed and cried and…never mind. She’ll get over it. In fact, she is seeing Luke already. At least that’s what I heard.”

  “Why did you ask her to marry you, Brody? You must have loved her then, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know what I was feeling then. She was exactly what Mother and Father wanted for me. She was my ticket to stay in their good graces forever. And I was exactly what Angel’s parents wanted for her. We were headed for easy street.”

  “So what happened?” I ask.

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  Now he looks me squarely in the face, his dark eyes full of emotion. “Yes, Lorelei – you. Don’t you know you have become more important to me than anything or anybody else?”

  I go to him quickly, wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head against his heart. “Oh, Brody, I have missed you so much.”

  He closes his arms around me and we hold each other for a long, delicious moment.

  I look up at him. “I am so..oo happy you came for me.”

  He gives me a warm, gentle kiss, then wipes his sweat from my cheeks with his shirt tail. “To be clear, Mother did not send me. She doesn’t even know where I am. I told Roman that I was going away for a few days to think things over.”