by Donis Casey
Lu nodded. “Mr. Yeager, he’s very brave.”
“I always admired him so.” Alafair’s tone was wistful. The words “until now” hovered unspoken in the air.
The housekeeper’s expression changed. She assessed Alafair for a moment before she spoke again. “Miz Yeager ever tell you how I come to work here?”
“No,” Alafair admitted, curious. Why would this secretive woman suddenly want to enlighten someone she barely knew about her personal history?
“My husband was merchant, very rich. He brought me to California long time ago, when I was young girl, before president passes the ‘no Chinese’ laws. My husband was a cruel man. I was very pretty once.” Lu smiled. “He beat me a lot, so I’m not so pretty now. I had six children, all boys except one girl. All died but two sons. My husband says I am a bad wife. He would sell me to pleasure house, but broken nose spoils my face, so maybe he will kill me and get another wife.”
Alafair sat down in a kitchen chair, still clutching the wooden spoon. How many times had she heard similar stories from women in Arkansas or Oklahoma? It sounded like Chinese wives didn’t have it any better.
“When my boy Arnold is nineteen, he works at big hotel in San Francisco. He is footman on fancy hotel carriage. Mr. Yeager, he comes every year to San Francisco for business, stays at hotel. Arnold helps with his luggage all the time, and Mr. Yeager likes Arnold, talks to him, asks about his family, about what Arnold wants to do with his life.
“One day, my husband beat me bad, nearly kill me. Break my nose again, ribs, arm. Arnold, he sneaks me away that night, but they don’t take Chinese at San Francisco hospital. So Arnold hides me in his room, in loft at garage for fancy carriages.”
Lu turned to check on the pie filling before she continued her tale. “Arnold never told me how Mr. Yeager finds out. Maybe he sees that Arnold is upset. Arnold, he speaks perfect English. Maybe he asks Mr. Yeager for help.”
Lu paused, and sighed. “All I know is that Mr. Yeager goes with Arnold to Chinatown, gives my husband money to leave me alone. He pays a doctor to fix me, pays hotel so I stay with Arnold in his garage room until I’m better. Afterwards, Arnold tells Mr. Yeager that my husband has sold me to him.”
“He bought you!”
“He did not know. He tells me to go away, be safe, but where can I go? So, he tells me I can have job in his home, in Enid, if I want. Miz Yeager, she is kind as her husband. I am honored to take care of them for as long as I live.”
“What about your children? Did Arnold suffer for defying his father?”
Lu’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. His father loved him very much. Arnold is eldest son, very promising. When my husband died, Arnold took his father’s money and brought his brother and families here. He wanted to take care of me so I never work, but I would never leave Yeagers. I would do anything for Yeagers. So would Arnold. You understand?”
“Even if it was a very bad thing?”
“Even if anything. I owe my life.”
The two women gazed at each other in silence for a long time, Lu standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, so small that she was almost eye to eye with Alafair, who was still sitting in a chair with a spoon in her hand.
There was no figuring this one out, Alafair was thinking. Best leave it to God. A thick bubble in the pie filling plopped softly, bringing her around. She stood up. “Thank you for telling me your story, Lu. Now, do you have a pie crust ready?”
***
It was late when the pies were done. Alafair wanted to go to bed, to sink into oblivion and sleep a dreamless sleep. But when she left the kitchen, she only got as far as the darkened parlor before she sank into one of the armchairs and closed her eyes. She huffed when what felt like a furry cannonball leaped into her lap, and she looked down to see Ike’s yellow eyes reflecting the dim light coming from the foyer. He gave her a soft “yowp” and began to purr when she rubbed the back of his neck.
“Tell me, Ike,” Alafair murmured, “does one horrible act wipe out all the many wonderful things a good man does in his life?”
If he maintained a philosophy about such things, he wasn’t inclined to share it with her. He turned over on his back, demanding a belly rub.
Tuesday, September 21, 1915
Olivia, Alafair, Martha, Grace, and Ron were on the platform to meet Grandma and Grandpa Gunn when the train pulled into the station from Tulsa. The family rushed to greet Grandma and Grandpa before they were properly off the train, creating such an obstruction that the conductor had to usher them out of the way so that the other passengers could disembark.
It took several minutes for the grandparents to exclaim over the children’s growth and the young women’s beauty, and to relate the progress of their journey. Alafair hadn’t seen her parents in over a year, and she looked them over critically while they commiserated with a solemn but composed Olivia over the unexpected loss of her husband. They were their familiar selves, as completely opposite in appearance as any two people could be, and yet just as perfectly complementary. Elder Robert Gunn was huge—immensely tall and broad, hard and wiry and disjointed as a scarecrow. Sister Selinda Gunn was tiny, soft, and deceptively frail looking. He was fair and ruddy and blue-eyed to her olive complexion and dark eyes. And their personalities matched their looks, as well, since Robert was a giant presence, white-hot and overwhelming as a sunny day, while Selinda was quiet, cool, and gentle as a starlit night.
Grandpa Robert engaged a porter to carry their bags and the group moved in a knot through the station and out onto the street, where they piled into Lester’s Oldsmobile. Olivia took the wheel, with her grandfather and Grace beside her. Grandma Selinda, Alafair, Martha, and Ron squeezed themselves together in the backseat.
“You look tired, Ma,” Alafair said to her mother, raising her voice over the engine roar and the rush of the wind.
“I could say the same about you, Alafair.”
Alafair grimaced. “It’s been a mighty long and upsetting week.”
“Oh, such a shock about Kenneth! I’m so sorry we couldn’t get here before now. How is Lester holding up? Did Ruth Ann stay home to tend him?”
“He wasn’t looking so good this morning, Ma. We could barely rouse him. I’m glad y’all finally made it. Ruth Ann sure needs you.”
In the automobile, the trip from the railroad station straight to Ruth Ann’s house took less than ten minutes. Olivia pulled up into the driveway and came to a halt outside the garage at the back of the property. Lu was already standing quietly beside the drive. As soon as they piled out of the car the diminutive servant began to hoist the luggage out of the back. Only Alafair cast her a glance as the family trooped in to the house through the back door.
Alafair left everyone downstairs in the parlor, removing coats and hats and settling down to the refreshments Lu had left on the sideboard, and went upstairs to retrieve Ruth Ann and perhaps help her prepare Lester for a visit.
As soon as she reached the top of the landing, she could see through the open bedroom door that Ruth Ann was standing beside the bed. She couldn’t see Lester over the pile of quilts covering him. Alafair paused at the end of the hall, and Ruth Ann looked up at her. Her face was pale as ash, except for the bruise-colored circles around her eyes.
“I heard y’all come in. Mama and Daddy make it all right?”
Alafair released the breath that she didn’t know she was holding before she walked up and paused in the bedroom door. “Yes, everybody is downstairs. They’re anxious to see you and Lester. Do you want me to bring them up, or would you rather I sat up here with him while you go down for a spell?”
“Lester’s gone, Alafair.” Ruth Ann’s voice was calm.
After an instant’s stunned pause, Alafair crossed the room to her sister’s side. Lester was lying on his back with his hands arranged over his heart. He looked as small and dry and brittle as a corn-husk doll, she thought, but peaceful.
“Oh, Ruth Ann.” It was all Alafair could manage to say.
“It’s all right, Sister. He went real easy. It’s a relief, really. He suffered so much.”
“I guess he figured his work was finally done.”
“Yes, there was nothing more he could do here, so I reckon the sky took him, like little Grace would say.” Ruth Ann gave a little hiccup that could have been either a laugh or a sob.
“Are you all right?” Alafair asked. “Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?”
Ruth Ann’s eyes left the figure in the bed and looked at Alafair. “I’m fine. He’s safe with Jesus,” she said, all business now. “And Daddy’s finally here to take care of us for a while ’til we get things all arranged. We’d better go down and tell the folks.”
Alafair followed her sister down the stairs, not quite knowing how to feel. Ruth Ann was going to be all right. She felt good about that. She also felt good that Lester wasn’t suffering anymore and that Olivia would retain control of her life and fortune. She didn’t feel so good about the secret she and an unobtrusive little Chinese woman would probably share for the rest of their lives.
***
Martha walked to her aunt’s front door from the train station after seeing Streeter off. They had taken their leave of one another on the platform and agreed to have luncheon together in a week’s time, after both had settled into their respective routines. They didn’t discuss any further future than that, but neither minded. They had taken a mutual step in the same direction. That was enough for now.
Martha found her mother, aunt, cousin, and grandmother sitting together in the parlor, discussing the quirks and traits of their lost loved ones with nostalgic good humor and eating chocolate pie. Grandpa was at the Henninger-Royer Funeral Parlor, taking care of Lester’s final arrangements with Mr. Henninger. Lu hovered around the ladies, refreshing tea glasses. Ron was napping in his great-grandmother’s lap. Grace, sitting on the floor at Alafair’s feet, was amusing herself in some other world that included a piece of cheese, her rag doll, and Ike, who was more interested in the cheese than the game. Martha stood for a moment in the foyer and watched them talk, thinking it was very interesting how the Gunn women were different ages, sizes, and complexions, but they all had the same face.
“Hey, darlin’,” Alafair called, when she spotted Martha lurking in the hall. “Did Streeter get off all right?”
“Come on in and have a sit-down,” Grandma Selinda said.
Martha stepped forward into the doorway with a smile. “Yes, Streeter got off just fine, Mama. Just let me throw my hat on my dresser and change my shoes, Grandma, and I’ll join you directly. Be sure and save me some of that pie, now.”
Martha climbed the two flights of stairs to the attic bedroom, withdrawing her hat pin and removing her hat on the way. She tossed it on a chair and went to the mirror over the dressing table to straighten her hair. Her hand paused on the brush as she studied her reflection.
She leaned forward a little to scrutinize her image more closely. The same face she had just seen on the women downstairs was staring back at her.
“It’s like we’re all the same woman,” she said aloud. Suddenly, she was struck with the idea that she was standing at the very end of a long, unbroken line of women that went all the way back to Eve, all with one great soul, moving forward through time.
This was her time. And her responsibility, too, to the line of women who would come after her, to move that woman’s soul into the twentieth century.
She tucked in a stray curl and went downstairs to eat some chocolate pie and talk about the weather.
Sunday, October 1, 1916
Shaw Tucker conceded that Martha had chosen a beautiful day for her wedding to Streeter McCoy. After the ceremony, he took full advantage of his position as father of the bride to hold forth and entertain the many guests that milled around in his house and yard. This was the fourth time in four years that he’d married off a daughter, two just this year, and he had to admit that it was more enjoyable for him each time. He still had six kids to go, and he figured that by the time he walked Grace down the aisle, he’d be the happiest daddy in all of Christendom.
It occurred to Shaw Tucker that he hadn’t seen Alafair for a good long while. It wasn’t like her to neglect her hostessing duties, and he found himself not exactly concerned, but at least curious as to her whereabouts. He made his way over to a corner of the yard where his three other married daughters, laughing Mary, beautiful, headstrong Alice, gentle Phoebe, were sitting under a tree and enjoying a lively conversation about something.
“Y’all seen Mama lately?” he asked.
Mary reached up and brushed something off of her father’s waistcoat. “Not lately. Last I saw, she went back into the house with Martha to help her change into her traveling duds.”
“Martha’s changed now,” Alice said. “I see her over there by the food table with Streeter and Gee Dub.”
“Y’all look like you’re having a good time,” Shaw observed.
“We were just reading this letter that Mama got from Aunt Ruth Ann yesterday, Daddy.” Phoebe held up the missive. “Did you read it yet?”
“Your mama read to me that your cousin Olivia’s well came in a gusher a couple of weeks ago. I reckon her and that one-eyed partner of hers are rich as Croesus, now.”
“Did Mama tell you that now that he’s been acquitted of attempting to murder Buck Collins, Olivia and Pee Wee Nickolls expect to get married?” Mary said.
“She did. She said your Aunt Ruth Ann is mighty happy about it, too.”
“It’s about time,” Alice decided. “All Olivia has been able to write about for the last few months is ‘Pee Wee this’ and ‘Pee Wee that,’ how good he is to her, and how he loves that boy of hers. She should have just married him and had done with it ages ago.”
“Not everybody is as sure about everything as you are, Alice.” Phoebe patted an empty chair next to her. “Sit down, Daddy. You must be run off your feet.”
“No, thanks, girls. I reckon I’ll see if I can figure out where Mama went to.”
He checked around the yard before he went into the kitchen from the back porch. The counters and table were sagging with dishtowel-covered food, but Alafair was not there. He walked into the parlor and noticed at once that the door to their bedroom was closed. He blinked, surprised, and unconsciously smoothed his floppy black mustache with the back of his index finger and brushed the shock of black hair off his forehead with the flat of his hand. He had forgotten that the bedroom had a door that closed.
When he opened it, the seldom-used door squeaked, and Alafair, dressed to the nines in her fashionable suit, looked up from her seat on the bed. Her eyes were wet and red, and she looked away quickly, embarrassed to be caught weeping. Shaw strode across the room and sat down beside her before draping his arm across her shoulders.
“Alafair, why in the goat beard are you crying?”
“Oh, Shaw, I feel like an idiot child. It’s nothing. Just don’t you worry about it. Here, I’ll wipe my eyes and go splash some water on my face and get back to the doings.”
“Well, now, Alafair Gunn, that’s just not good enough. You’re not one to cry over nothing, especially on such a happy day as this one, so you’d better tell me what’s bothering you.”
She gazed at him a minute, looking miserable and red-nosed, before her eyes flooded again and she ducked her head. “You’ll make sport of me,” she warned. “But the truth is, well, I’ve spent the last twenty-five years wishing that Martha would find her a good man that she could love, run her own house and family. I was beginning to wonder if it was going to happen for her at all, but it did. Streeter is all that I could have wished for her, and more. But now that it’s finally happened…oh, Shaw, I feel so bereft. I feel like somebody’s died. I’m going to be so lonesome without her.”
“Oh, honey. It’s not like she’s moving to Arabia. Her and Streeter have that real nice place above their business right downtown, not two miles from here. She’ll be here or you’ll be there ne
ar to every day. Why, you’ll probably see her just as much as ever.”
She sniffed and smiled at his attempt to cajole her out of her mood. “I know it. But there’s something different about Martha leaving home than there was with the others. Her and me, we’ve been through a lot together. She’s not just my daughter, Shaw. She’s my best friend. Oh, we’ll always be close, but it’ll never be the same around here now that she’s gone.”
They both stood up and she started out of the room, but he seized her arm and she turned toward him, surprised. He reached out and placed his hands on the wall, trapping her between his two arms with her back to the wall. He leaned down so that his face was inches from hers.
“Well, sugar, I reckon I’ll just have to be your best friend, then. Just like I was before Martha came along and just like I will be after Grace is long gone.” To her amazement, he kissed her, and her knees turned to water.
“Shaw,” she chided, breathless, when he drew back, “what if somebody comes in?”
He laughed. “They’ll just have to be shocked. Now, come on and eat a bite of cake. I think the newlyweds are getting ready to go.”
They walked out together, just in time to join in the festivities as Martha climbed into the sidecar of Streeter McCoy’s Harley-Davidson Model 11-F three-speed twin and they roared away toward Boynton.
Alafair waved them away with her handkerchief, holding Shaw’s hand and feeling curiously elated.
Recipes
Alafair’s Chocolate Pie/Pudding
Powdered cocoa was widely available in 1915, even in the wilds of the Cherokee Strip. This pie is quite simple to make, but potent. You must be an extreme chocolate lover to eat this. Some family members have indicated that this pie is too rich for a normal human being.
¼ cup powdered cocoa ¼ cup flour
2 cups sugar ¼ tsp. salt
2 cups milk 1 tsp. vanilla
