The Secret Life of Lula Darling

by Alex Dean

  “What listing?”

  “I’m looking for a phone number for an Ella Mae Darling.”

  “Checking, one moment... I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s no listing for an Ella Mae Darling in Natchez, Mississippi.”

  “How about any of the surrounding areas?”

  “Just one moment… No, ma’am, still no listing.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  Ariel’s mother glared at Ariel and me with a serious look of doubt and concern. Ariel glared back at her mother and shrugged as if standing her ground. “Now what?”

  Her mother gave in. “All right, Lula. You can stay here until we find your parents or someone in your family. Ariel, why don’t you show Lula where the bathroom is, and get her some towels and a washcloth. Once she’s done washing up, perhaps you have some clothes she could wear?”

  Ariel showed me to her room and helped me get settled in. Immediately I stared at her bed, the shoes underneath it, the furniture and mirror against the wall.

  I stood as Ariel went and pulled out some clothes from her drawer. Then she told me that her father was minutes away from arriving home. She also told me that he’d had a stressful day at work after learning that those who worked for him had failed to do their jobs. This, she said, had led to most of his stress.

  Now, he was about to find out about me, too. I was nervous.

  Ariel, her mother, and me were already in the living room when he walked in. As soon as he came through the door, he saw the three of us sitting on the sofa, Ariel and her mother smiling.

  He was tall, well dressed and well groomed. Especially compared to folks where I was from. The only men I’d seen that looked like this were the ones who’d come to Natchez from Washington, D.C.

  “Hi, honey, how was your day at work?” Ariel’s mother said.

  “Not too good. We lost out on a major account, so there appears to be some trouble brewing in paradise,” he replied as he hung his suit jacket in the closet near the door.

  “Well, we have a visitor here with us. This is Ariel’s friend that came home with her. Her name is Lula. And she has an interesting story.”

  He walked into the living room, loosening his tie. “Hi, Lula. Are you a schoolmate of Ariel’s?” he asked.

  I shook my head and spat out the first words that came to mind. “No, sir. I’m from Natchez, the Mansfield Plantation, and miss my mama. Her name is Ella Mae Darling.” I glanced at each of their faces. “I’m hoping y’all can help me get home.”

  Ariel’s father quickly looked at his wife. I could tell he was not sure what to make of my response.

  “Honey, uh, can I talk to you in the bedroom for a moment?” he said.

  Ariel’s mother walked into the bedroom to speak privately with her husband. They had shut the door when they went inside, but Ariel smiled, grabbed my hand and led me closer to the room to listen.

  “Did you hear what she said? Is this girl on drugs or something?” he said.

  Ariel’s mother chuckled. “I told you she had an interesting story. Earlier I tried to locate her mother and family by looking online and calling directory assistance for Natchez, Mississippi. Couldn’t find anything, nada.”

  “So she’s homeless? Surely there’s got to be somebody in Chicago that knows that child?”

  “I’ll keep checking. I felt sorry for her and told her she could stay here for a few days until we locate her mother or next of kin. Ariel was on her way to get some frozen yogurt and said the girl was sitting on the sidewalk and appeared to be homeless and hungry. Of course, Ariel, being the compassionate and outgoing girl that she is, immediately struck up a friendship and ended up bringing her home.”

  “So, what if we can’t locate her family?” Ariel’s dad asked.

  “I just want to give it a try for several days, all right? If we can’t find her mother or her family, we’ll simply call the Department of Human Services and see what type of assistance they can offer her.”

  Chapter 7

  During the next forty-eight hours, Ariel’s and my friendship grew, and I began to adjust to my new surroundings. Even though I still went through moments of sadness being away from Mama, I had become much better at hiding my true feelings and emotions.

  This was bittersweet for me. Knowing that I, like every other Negro I’d seen here in this place—was now free. But Mama? No. I imagined that somehow Mama was still a slave and not free. Still working in the fields from “can see to can’t see,” as she would say during nightly suppers in our cabin.

  I told myself: Growing up a slave could have only made me stronger, more able to handle whatever may come my way. The hardship Mama and I endured would make all of this easier. I kept telling myself these things to cope.

  It was an awkward time for a conversation. But Ariel and I were in her room and started talking. I had already made some progress speaking, so much so that the two of us were already engaged in girl talk.

  “Who is that boy on the wall?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s Justin Bieber. He’s one of my faves. I’ve been to several of his concerts and had a blast. I was only twelve at the time. My parents wanted to tag along, but I ended up going with my friend and her mom and dad instead.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked, pointing to a rectangular object sitting on Ariel’s dresser.

  “That’s my television,” Ariel replied with a hearty chuckle. “I can’t believe you don’t know what a television is. You’re joking, right?” she said, still smiling.

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’ll turn it on so that you can see how it works. See, this is a DirecTV remote,” Ariel said, holding a small object in the air. “I use it to turn on the television. Now I’m flipping through channels. Let’s see what’s on VH1.”

  I watched and was amazed; my eyes were as wide as the moon. There were people inside of it, two young women cursing at each other. They began fighting over a man standing between them. He watched proudly and smiled. He seemed to enjoy it.

  I was hugely fascinated by this and had never seen Negro women act this way, not where I was from. I was even more amazed at how these people could possibly fit inside something so small! In total disbelief, I walked closer to it, waving my hand above, around, and behind it.

  Several minutes later, Ariel’s mother knocked on the door.

  “Ariel, Lula, I need for you both to come into the living room.”

  Ariel and I walked out of her bedroom and into the living room. We sat on a soft white sofa as Ariel’s mother went into the kitchen and sipped from a cup.

  Then she came into the living room herself, sat next to us and blew out a nervous breath. “Lula, we’ve exhausted all possibilities of trying to find your parents, family, or anyone that could possibly be your legal guardian. We’ve searched residential listings for Chicago and Natchez, as well as other parts of Mississippi. We’ve tried, believe me, really hard. And so now, regrettably, we have no other choice but to get you into some permanent housing.

  “You and Ariel can remain friends and see each other as time permits. And of course, we certainly don’t mind you coming over to visit with Ariel. That being said, I’ve been talking with a homeless youth provider at the Department of Human Services, and she’s going to help you with finding a place to live, food, clothing, and education. I believe that’s fair.”

  “Sure, if you’re a hypocrite,” hissed Ariel.

  “Excuse me, young lady?” her mother spat.

  Ariel stood. “Mom, you always said that your grandparents helped raise you and paid for your education when Nana became a drinker and spent the majority of her life depressed, in and out of rehab, unwilling to take on the role of being a parent. And you also said that if you ever had the opportunity to help someone else, you would pay it forward. Don’t you remember?”

  “I said that?”

  “Yes, Mom, and Dad agreed that you wouldn’t be the person you are today had they not helped you stay on the right track and finish school. And what abou
t all the things that happen to homeless kids, like violence and abuse? You told me yourself what goes on in the places where those kids live.”

  Ariel’s mother stared at her and seemed, for a moment, lost in her thoughts.

  “All right, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll talk it over with your father, and if he’s okay with Lula being here for the time being, then the answer is yes.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Ariel said while smiling. She leaned over and gave her mother a really tight hug.

  I hadn’t understood everything that was said about kids being placed in homes, but I was glad that the outcome was a positive one. After seeing Ariel smile, I smiled as well.

  “Now I need to prepare myself for how to tell your father,” her mother said.

  Chapter 8

  Meanwhile, back in time, Martha Mansfield and Ella Mae Darling had been desperately looking for Lula and were completely baffled at her disappearance. House servants and field hands had searched the attic, the land surrounding the big house and even the Gaines’s farm next door, to no avail.

  Martha felt compelled to tell her husband what she had done, and took full responsibility for Lula’s disappearance. After hearing what had occurred, Harland Mansfield explained to his wife what could have happened to Lula if she’d gotten into the Transporter and turned it on, just as his father had explained to him what had happened to that squawkin’ rooster, Charlie.

  The Mansfields decided it was best to gather all the facts and figuring out in what way, if any, they could possibly get her back, before telling anyone, including Lula’s mother, what they believed had happened to her.

  Harland had a lot to contend with. It wasn’t long before whispers went around among those on the plantation that Lula might have been sold to another slave owner, or that someone might have kidnapped her. And then there was the issue of the folks in Washington, D.C., desperately wanting to get their hands on the Transporter.

  Chapter 9

  BACK IN FUTURE CHICAGO

  * * *

  ARIEL’S MOTHER WAITED for her husband to come home from work. She wanted to sell him on the idea of me staying, hoping to get his approval. With the help of Ariel, along with some grim numbers about homeless youth in Chicago, I had hoped that they would succeed in talking him into it.

  After talking to his wife privately in their bedroom, Ariel’s dad came out to shake my hand, giving his stamp of approval.

  “Lula, welcome to our family. We hope you feel at home here. I’m sure Ariel will help you in any way she can. And she knows her way around Hyde Park pretty well. There’s a lot to do here in Chicago. But you have to be careful. There’s a lot of bad stuff happening too.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “What my dad means is that you have to be careful where you go. We’re fortunate that where we live is not too bad. But in other places in the city, it’s a lot worse,” said Ariel.

  “Ariel’s right, Lula. Every day there seems to be innocent people, especially young people, getting shot and killed in the city. And lately, even around here, I hear someone’s been breaking into apartments and condos, taking small stuff like laptops, jewelry and cell phones,” Ariel’s dad explained.

  He went on. “I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but I bet it was nothing like what goes on in Chicago.”

  “In Natchez, I remember a different world. It was nothin’ like this here place,” I said as I stared blankly, with gloomy memories consecutively unfolding in my mind. “My brother, Clarence, died. He was just a kid.”

  “Oh, my. We’re sorry to hear that. What did he die from?” asked Ariel’s mother.

  “They say it was some type of sickness. I don’t think they really knew.”

  “What about your mother? Do you believe she’s still alive, Lula?” Ariel’s mother said.

  “Yes, ma’am. My mama works very hard. In the field picking cotton all day. She didn’t like me helping, said it was too hot for me. But she had no choice.”

  Ariel’s mother glanced at her husband and then back at me. “Lula, we want you to think very clearly and tell us why you say your mother worked on a plantation picking cotton. Did you read about something like that?”

  I shook my head. “No, ma’am, that’s what we did in Natchez. We picked cotton, and Negroes worked as servants and field hands for Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield.”

  Ariel and her parents all looked at each other, not knowing what to make of this. This was the first time both of her parents had sat down to talk to me for an extended length of time. Ariel’s dad then leaned over to his wife and whispered, “She seems like a nice girl, but do you think we need her evaluated?”

  “Let’s find out more,” she responded.

  “Lula, what I’d like to know is, how did you get here to Chicago. Did someone bring you here?” asked Ariel’s mom.

  I shook my head. “No. I remember Mrs. Mansfield told me to go to the attic. She didn’t want Mr. Mansfield to know that she was teaching me how to read and write. Once I got in the attic, I looked around and saw a box with a covering over it. It looked like some type of coffin. I’d seen one before at my brother’s funeral. This one was bigger and had wires coming out the bottom.”

  “What was in it?” said Ariel’s mom.

  “Nothing was in it. I put some round thing into the side of it, and then I climbed in and laid down, closed it and pushed a button. Something put me to sleep, and when I woke up, I was here.”

  “Ahh…so you must be what they call a time traveler,” Ariel’s dad said and smiled.

  Both me and Ariel snickered.

  Ariel’s dad then stood up. “Girls, we’ll have to finish this intriguing conversation tomorrow when I get home from work. Lula, in the meantime, please, make yourself at home. There’s always some food in the fridge should you get hungry. I’ll be in my bedroom office working the rest of the evening on some reports I need to finish for an important meeting tomorrow.”

  Once he got to the bedroom door he turned and smiled. “I’m trying my best to stay employed.”

  Chapter 10

  The Evanses got a kick out of the conversation with Lula about her past. But among the light-hearted laughter, deep down, Randy felt some sincerity in Lula’s voice and delivery when she explained how she’d gotten here.

  He didn’t mention it at the time. But he intended on investigating the matter further by obtaining historical information to back up Lula’s claims.

  The following day, while at his office, he searched the online National Archives for local slave registers and was directed to certain websites to find out more. He searched for information on the names Mansfield and Darling, anxiously wanting to get closer to the truth.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said. There was a Mansfield Plantation in Natchez’s Adams County. “It’s right there, plain as day, on the list.” How could she have known that? he wondered. And in one of the local registers, he found the name of an Ella Mae Darling, who was indexed as a slave at the same time and place. Could Lula really have been telling the truth? He did another search and found an obscure website with a story and the following title: HARTLEY MANSFIELD, THE BRILLIANT INVENTOR WHO LIVED IN NATCHEZ, MS, IN THE 1800’S, WAS CREDITED WITH THE DEVELOPMENT AND CREATION OF A MEANS TO TRAVEL THROUGH TIME.

  The story also mentioned Mansfield’s patent and his run-ins with the authorities at the time. Randy began typing and emailed whoever was responsible for administering the site, seeking more information.

  Then he left his desk to go into a nearby conference room to call his wife in private; she was still enjoying an extended break for the summer. Unable to reach her, he left a message and promised exciting news once he got home.

  Later, excited and nearly out of breath, he entered the condo and walked into the bedroom, where Patty had just finished taking a shower. “Apparently, time travel was thought possible, back then—in pre-Civil War times! The evidence is out there to back it up.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Patty, donnin
g a white bathrobe.

  Randy tossed his suit jacket onto the bed and began loosening his tie. “I think they knew this was possible all along, but perhaps never quite figured it out.”

  Flipping the script, and being the advertising executive that he was, Randy couldn’t help but envision how much money Lula could possibly be worth if her claims panned out beyond a doubt. The interviews, the write-ups, the live appearances, the possibilities were truly endless. But for now, it was just one big secret.

  “This is all very weird. I’m totally amazed by it,” he said.

  Patty shook her head and thought pensively. “It’s like…how did this ever happen? And why us?” she said. “You think anyone will believe it?” she asked, staring at her husband.

  Randy shrugged. “I certainly hope so. They say that everything happens for a reason. I’ve heard that my whole life, so many times it’s ingrained in my subconscious, I think. Where are they, by the way?”

  “Ariel took her to the mall. I thought it’d be a good idea to help her get acclimated to this crazy world we live in. Of course, we’ve also got to think about preparing her for school somehow.”

  Randy walked over to Patty, putting his hands around her waist. “And just how do you propose we do that without her having any previous schooling?” he said before kissing her cheek.

  Patty craned her neck and smiled. “We’ll find a way. Just like a line I heard in a movie—you know the one, where the guy goes: ‘I know people.’”

  Suddenly the doorbell rang, and Randy padded to the condo’s entrance. Gaping through the peephole, he immediately recognized his neighbor and the building’s self-appointed watch captain, Jack Hawthorne, from across the hall.

  “Hey, Jack, good evening,” Randy said after opening the door to greet the short and stocky fifty-year-old.

  Hawthorne quickly shot a glance inside, then focused his eyes on his neighbor. “Randy, how’s it going, my friend? Listen, you mind stepping out into the hallway for a minute or two?”