“How barbaric! Well my love, we simply must do something about that.”
I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that until she started making comments such as: “You know, darling Lulu, Phoenix would be a far more stimulating place for you. Culturally speaking, I mean.” Or “Really, Bobby, talent such as Lulu’s mustn’t be wasted here in Copper Springs. Not that there’s anything wrong with such an adorable little village. But I have so many connections in Phoenix!” Or “think of how we could develop her, my sweet Marty Girl!”
The truth was that I had the talent but not the ambition for the concert stage. Not after the war began. The war had changed everything for me.
Ada asked me outright one day if I’d like to come live in Phoenix with her.
“Thank you so much,” I declined, “but I am planning to return to Germany quite soon.” And I was. I was feeling encouraged about assured Allied victory after Italy’s surrender and Mussollini’s arrest just a short while ago.
It was apparent Ada was starting to grate on Miss Gordon. I heard her complain to Robert in the morning before Ada woke up, but I had lost my usual eavesdropping capability because Ada had taken over my room and, in it, my radiator pipe.
As I came downstairs one morning, I overheard Miss Gordon grumbling, “and in her book, there’s nothing right about Copper Springs. It’s Phoenix this or Phoenix that.” Then she must have heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, and the subject was promptly dropped.
Another time, I was even more astounded as I listened, furtively, to her rant and rave to Robert. “And so poor Dog has been stuck outside all week just so that vicious little cat can have the run of the place and ruin the furniture!”
Since when had Miss Gordon felt any concern for Dog’s feelings?
I was starting to see a new side of Miss Gordon, one that gave me the slightest trace of tenderness toward her. I could see how she had grown up in the shadow of Ada, always being outdone by her flamboyance, her social status, her matrimonial state.
Ada was larger than life. And now, for the first time, I think Martha Gordon had something or someone in her life that cousin Ada envied. And wanted. Me.
I spent the rest of Ada’s visit basking in my new status as favorite houseguest. Thanks to Ada, I had been elevated from a mere annoyance to an annoyance with some potential. I was sorry to see the week come to an end. Until, that is, the very last night. After that, I was more than ready to say goodbye to Ada. In fact, I would’ve carried her all the way to Phoenix myself, given the opportunity.
Miss Gordon had gone to bed, as had William, and Robert had left for a meeting with the church elders. I was getting ready to go upstairs myself when Ada called to me from the kitchen, “Lulu, darling, come join me for a little entertainment. Let’s have a little card game before I leave town tomorrow.”
I sat down at the table with her. Next to her was a tall bottle of clear liquid and two small jelly glasses. “I’ve never played cards before, Ada.”
“Never played cards?! Oh Lulu, darling, we have some catching up to do. Don’t you worry. I’ve always wanted a protégé. I’m going to teach you an easy little game called Blackjack.”
We played a few hands as I caught on to the concept.
“Sharp as a tack, that’s my Lulu girl!” she enthused. “Let’s make it a little more fun. My Teddy loved this game.” She poured the glasses with an inch of the clear liquid from the bottle. “So whenever we reach twenty-one, we drink!”
As soon as her cards added up to twenty-one, she yelled, “down the hatch!” and swallowed her drink in one gulp.
I followed her example. As the clear liquid reached the back of my throat, the stinging began. It felt as if I had bees in my throat. “What is this?” I asked, coughing violently.
“Ouzo! It’s Greek. One of the last bottles of Teddy’s special collection before he died.” She brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. “He would’ve been crazy for you, Lulu. You’re the daughter we’ve always wanted. And you would’ve loved my Teddy, too. The Greeks know how to enjoy life like no one else.”
I didn’t want to be rude but this Ouzo tasted like petrol. She didn’t seem to notice my grimacing face as she refilled the glasses. Just one more hand of cards, I warned myself. I didn’t want to hurt Ada’s feelings, especially as she was so fond of me, but I had no intention to drink petrol all night. Another hand of cards went quickly, and Ada bellowed “Bottoms up!” and gulped down her Ouzo.
Again, I followed her example to be polite and looked for an opportunity to excuse myself and go to bed. Ada had other ideas. No sooner was my glass back on the table, but it was re-filled. I was starting to get warm. Hot, actually.
“Lulu, sweetness, I would love it if you would come to Phoenix this summer and play the piano for my bridge parties.”
What did she just say? My thoughts felt fuzzy. Did she say something about bridges?
“So what would you say if we put a little wager on the next game? If I win, you come and play for my bridge parties this summer. If you lose, you come and play for my bridge parties.”
“Pardon, Ada? Would you mind repeating that?”
“If I win, you come and play for my bridge parties this summer. If you lose, then you come and play for my bridge parties,” she patiently repeated. I nodded, not really concentrating, distracted by the queasy pit in my stomach from the Ouzo.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before Robert came in through the kitchen door. For an eternity, he just stared at us, eyes wide open, jaw dropped in horror. “Oh, cousin Ada! No! You didn’t! You couldn’t have! Louisa, how much have you had?” He picked up at the half-empty bottle of Ouzo and glowered at Ada.
I stood up. The room started spinning. “It’s not her fault, Robert,” I tried to say, but suddenly I had to run upstairs to the bathroom. Fast.
The next morning, I woke up after hearing a persistent knocking at the door. Robert came in, holding a glass that looked like tomato juice in it. “William came downstairs and told me you’re dead.” He handed me the drink. “I said I would come up to check and see if you’re a goner.”
“Close,” I said feebly, “but not quite.”
“Drink this,” he said. “And take these.” He handed me two aspirin.
“Oh no, Robert, I can’t possibly drink that. Or anything else. Ever again.”
“Trust me. It will make you feel better.”
I took a sip, nearly gagging. My tongue felt thick.
“Keep drinking.”
I took a few more sips and grimaced. “What is this?”
“You don’t want to know. But I promise you’ll feel better if you can drink the entire thing.”
“I recall your cousin telling me the same thing last night.” I dropped my head back on the pillow.
He laughed. “How much did she take you for?”
I opened one eye. “What do you mean?”
“Blackjack. What did she make you bet?”
I cringed. “Robert, please stop shouting at me.” I tried to sit up in bed, hands holding my throbbing head. “She said something about playing the piano on bridges.” I tried to get up, but if I moved, my head pounded like someone was beating it with a drum.
“Louisa, you’ve been had by a card shark.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ada cornered you into playing the piano at her bridge parties. It’s a card game for the socialite set.”
“You could have warned me. She seemed like such a nice lady.”
“I did! The day she first arrived I said to be careful of her.”
“But you didn’t say what to be careful of. You never said anything about Blackjack and Ouzo. I’m not blaming you. Good heavens, I’m a grown woman. I’m a Resistance Worker. I have no one to blame but myself.” I was thoroughly disgusted with myself.
“She’s pretty smooth. I’ve been a victim of her charms myself.” He went over to open the curtain, letting the merciless sunshine in, piercing my eyes with pai
n.
Wincing, I asked, “What did she get out of you?”
“Preaching. Two sermons a day for a week at her church’s revival meeting. Under a tent. In Phoenix. In August. No air conditioning.” He shuddered at the memory. “Drink up. She’s almost ready to leave so you’ll need to come downstairs as soon as you can.”
I scowled at him which only got him laughing. His face was annoyingly bright with good humor. “Hurry up, she’s waiting for you,” he said. He stopped when he got to the door and turned toward me with a wicked grin. “Such a pity. Who would’ve thought? A Resistance Worker, succumbing to the oldest trick in the book. You’re losing your edge, Lulu.”
My sentiments precisely.
I took a shower, dressing slowly so that my head wouldn’t explode, and then went downstairs. Robert’s concoction, whatever it was, did help settle my stomach. A little, anyway. As I stepped into the kitchen, Ada rushed over to me with open arms. “There’s my darling Lulu!” She was apparently unfazed by the Ouzo.
Miss Gordon’s eyes swept over me. “What’s wrong with you? You look like death warmed over.”
“She’s got a touch of the flu,” Robert offered quickly.
Miss Gordon eyed him carefully then whipped around to look over at the kitchen sink. There lay a broken egg shell, a can of tomato juice, vegetable oil, and some hot pepper sauce. She spun on her heels to Ada. “A touch of the flu, my foot! Ada! What did you do to that girl?”
“Nothing, Marty Girl. Nothing at all!” Ada smiled the sweetest smile, gave everyone enormous hugs that left us reeking of heavy rose perfume, and swept out to the Hudson. Dragging her heavy suitcases, Robert followed behind to take her back to the train station in Tucson.
Miss Gordon watched Robert load up the car with Ada’s behemoth suitcases. There wasn’t even room for William to tag along. “I’d like to give that woman a dressing down,” she muttered under her breath. Then she turned to me, with ever so slight a hint of sympathy in her voice. “Louisa, I blame myself. I should’ve warned you. That woman can’t be trusted. Given a bottle of Ouzo, she could charm the spots off a leopard.”
That remark got me wondering if, like Robert, she had once been the unfortunate victim of Ada’s gambling savvy, but I doubted I would ever be privy to that story. I looked out the kitchen window as I saw the Hudson pull out of the driveway, Ada chattering away to her captive chauffeur. Dog followed the car down the street, barking angrily, grievously insulted, anxious to get the last word in at Ada’s visiting feline.
“Louisa, I’ve been thinking. Since you’ve got your heart set on it, I suppose you could teach piano an afternoon or two here at the house.”
I turned around and looked back at her, astonished.
“Well, Mrs. Wondolowski has been badgering me to have you teach her son, Arthur. I suppose it wouldn’t really hurt the church’s image to have the parsonage be used for a commercial enterprise,” she grudgingly conceded.
I smiled, feeling cheered, and went over and gave her a big hug, not caring if she liked it or not.
Chapter Ten
With the blessing of Miss Gordon, my piano teaching career began. Two afternoons a week, I taught a few neighborhood children the fundamentals of piano.
And in the nightstand next to my bed was a drawer, my version of a bank account, collecting money for my return trip to Germany. Miss Gordon called it a “saving my bacon” drawer. I suppose I could’ve opened a bank account at Mueller’s bank, but I wanted no interest from Herr Mueller, financially or otherwise.
“Can you imagine?” I said to Robert one morning at breakfast, pointing to the front page of the newspaper. After a three year blockade, the Russian city of Leningrad was finally freed from the Germans. “Nine hundred days under siege! The Germans couldn’t overtake them because their resistance was so strong. It says that the Russian people carried on with their life, attended school, and took exams, even though they experienced daily bombings. The death toll had reached over 600,000 people…starved or killed. So immeasurably sad. But they did it! They beat back the Nazis.”
I inhaled a deep sigh of satisfaction, assured that Allied victory was just around the corner.
* * *
Long after midnight one night came a knock at the door. I heard Robert go downstairs to answer it so I rolled over to fall back to sleep. A minute or so later, he rapped on my door and opened it. “Louisa, come downstairs. There’s someone here for you.”
I threw on my bathrobe and went down to the parlor. There on the davenport sat a woeful young woman, bruised and bleeding, eyes cast downward.
“Glenda?” I asked. “What’s happened to you?” I rushed to her side and pushed her hair back from her face to examine her bruises. “Robert, please get me some hot water and clean cloths. Bandages and peroxide, too.” I turned back to Glenda. “Do you need a doctor?”
She shook her head. “No, don’t call no doctor. I just can’t go back there no more.”
Robert brought me the supplies to clean her up.
I looked at him and said, “You can go back to bed. I’ll explain more to you in the morning.”
“Sure you don’t need help?” he asked, concerned.
“No, thank you.”
As he headed back up the stairs, Miss Gordon stood at the top, arms crossed like a general facing battle. Robert cut her off before she started on a tirade. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Go back to bed, Aunt Martha.”
She turned and firmly shut her bedroom door.
I bathed Glenda’s bruises and cuts, swabbed peroxide onto the swelling lesions, bandaged her as best I could, and gave her some aspirin for the pain. “You’re safe here,” I said, as I settled her in for the night in my bedroom.
In the morning, I woke to hear a loud whisper in the kitchen. It sounded like the buzzing of an angry bee. Still sleepy, I walked into the kitchen and saw Robert and a dour looking Miss Gordon. Conversation ceased as I walked in. I filled up a coffee cup, sipped it, and braced myself for Miss Gordon. As if on cue, she launched a verbal blitz.
“Was that you sleeping out there on that sofa? I thought it was that girl. Do you mean to tell me that you gave up your bed for a common harlot?”
“She needed to rest. She’s badly hurt. I knew you and Robert would be up early. I didn’t want you to awaken her.”
“Louisa, where did you meet her?” Robert asked.
I took a sip of coffee. “In the library. When William and I would be in the children’s department, I often saw her over in a corner. Her name is Glenda. She’s been trying to teach herself to read. That’s how we became acquainted. I’ve been helping her learn.”
“And you haven’t said a word? How long has this been going on?” asked Miss Gordon.
“A few months.”
“You’ve exposed William to that girl!” she accused.
“But it’s not like that. She’s trying hard to make a change. Sometimes people end up in circumstances that they’d never dream they’d be in. I’m only trying to help her.” I put down my coffee cup on the counter.
“There’s not a circumstance sorry enough on this earth to make someone become a prostitute,” she said with a scornful air. “A girl goes that way because she’s a bad apple to start with. And now you’ve sullied the Gordon name by bringing her into this house! A minister’s home! Of all places.”
She narrowed her eyes and began her final attack. “Louisa, you are the very soul of aggravation! I have put up with a dog, and I have put up with notes stuck all over this house, and I have put up with a permanent houseguest, but this is the last straw. Either that girl goes or I go. Today!” Her nostrils flared in outrage.
I took a deep breath. Lord, give me patience! “I’m sorry. I’ll make other arrangements for Glenda. Today.” I slipped out the backdoor.
Robert followed behind me, carrying my coffee cup. “Wait, Louisa! Where are you going?”
“Just to take a walk. Please leave me be.” I kept walking.
“I re
ally wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he called out with authority.
I stopped and turned slightly. “And why not?” I snapped, not interested in hearing another Gordon opinion.
“Because you’re wearing your bathrobe. And you’re barefoot.”
I slumped my shoulders and turned back to go to the house.
“Come sit down on the steps with me for a minute.”
He handed me the coffee cup as I sat down next to him. The contrast of its warmth felt soothing in my hands as the crisp morning air surrounded us.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Louisa. Just the opposite. You saw a woman trying to better herself, and you’ve tried to help her.”
“I never dreamed she would come here in the night, Robert.”
“She must trust you. She probably doesn’t have anyone else she can count on.”
“I’m sorry about your aunt.” I rolled my eyes.
“Well, we could have guessed her reaction.”
“That’s why I never mentioned Glenda! I knew she would chew my head off.”
“Bite your head off,” he corrected, trying to hold back a grin. “And she sure did.”
I frowned at him. That’s exactly why I didn’t adopt American expressions. I always got them wrong. “Glenda is going to need someone to take care of her for a while. Someone treated her terribly.”
“Mick,” he guessed, frowning. Mick Hills ran the Tavern where Glenda worked. “He’s got a reputation for a fiery temper.”
I looked into my coffee cup and said, more to myself than to Robert, “What am I going to do with her?”
“We’ll figure something out,” he said. He jumped up and looked down at me. “You know, I just might have an idea. When Glenda wakes up, have her try to eat something, and clean her up as best as you can. Loan her some fresh clothes. I might have just a place for her.”
“Why? What are you thinking?”
He wouldn’t answer. He took my coffee cup and finished off the last few sips, handed it back to me, smiled, told me not to worry, jumped into the Hudson and backed out of the driveway.
After watching him drive down the street, I slowly turned to go back to the kitchen, steeling myself for another encounter with Miss Gordon.
Copper Star Page 15
