‘No, it isn’t.’
‘And she shouldn’t be in prison. She was protecting me. Mothers are supposed to protect their children. It’s not right.’
‘Ernie, it’s not fair. Not at all. But when Mama did what she did, she knew she would go to prison and that didn’t matter to her. You mattered. She knew the consequences and she did it anyway.’
‘She’s a good mother,’ Ernie said. He went on and on talking about all the things she’d done for him. All the special times they’d had together. I knew it contained some exaggeration and sugar-coating of reality but I understood why and was fine with it. Still, listening to him talk, it was hard for me to believe we shared a mother. She’d never been there for me and she’d never stood up for me. My Aunt Dorothy had rescued me from a miserable, uneducated fate under my now deceased stepfather’s control.
I would say none of this to Ernie. Our mother was dying and he’d finish growing up without her. He had a right to cling to a glamorized version, if he wished. She may have failed me, but in the end, she’d been there for him.
Ernie switched topics without notice. ‘Everybody at the school says the war is almost over and the Nazis are dead. Does that mean you’re coming back home soon?’
‘You’ve heard about the war in the Pacific, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but they’ll quit when the Nazis do.’
‘Not necessarily, Ernie. We may need to defeat them, too. But I imagine that with all our energies focused there, we should be able to wrap it up in not too much longer,’ I said as I made a wish that it were true.
‘What about you? Are you coming home to live at the farm?’
‘I don’t really know what I will do after the war is over, Ernie. I’m a scientist and I like my work. I just don’t know where that will take me. I wish I could answer your question but, honestly, I don’t know.’
‘Are you going to get married? Are you going to have a family? And don’t you think the farm is the best place to raise your kids?’
‘Not every person gets married. And not everybody has children. I may do neither but right now, I don’t know what the future holds for me.’
Ernie scowled and slumped into his seat. ‘I thought when you’re a grown-up, you can do whatever you want.’
‘That would be nice, Ernie. Being a grown-up does mean that you have more choices, but it doesn’t mean you always know which choice is best.’
‘Oh. Can we go to the dining car?’
‘Are you hungry?’
‘A little. But really thirsty. But most of all, I just want to see it and I want to walk between the cars.’
He went up the aisle but when we reached the first vestibule between the cars, I realized the enormity of my responsibility. ‘Wait, Ernie. Let me go first and do exactly what I do, OK?’
I went through the first door, telling him what I was doing every step of the way. He concentrated on following my example so intently, the tip of his tongue stuck out with the effort. I grabbed his hand to walk to the next door.
He shook his hand trying to break apart. ‘I’m not a baby.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I am and I’m scared. Please.’ Fortunately, he fell for my deception. We repeated our actions with Ernie getting more proficient and confident with each passage.
We reached the dining car and Ernie’s mouth dropped open. For a while, he was speechless as we followed the uniformed waiter to our table. After taking a seat he said, ‘This is like a real restaurant, just skinnier.’
‘What did you expect to see, Ernie,’ I said with a chuckle.
‘I don’t know but not this.’
‘We’re lucky to have a dining car on this train – not all of them do.’
‘Why not?’
‘A lot of the dining cars are feeding our soldiers right now.’
Ernie sighed. ‘It seems like the war has been going on for all of my life.’
‘Our nation hasn’t been part of it as long as some other countries have. All over Europe, battles were being fought for years before Japan pushed us into the conflict.’
‘Hitler and Hirohito should take Mama’s place in prison. They deserve it more.’
‘You’re right, Ernie. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do to change Mama’s situation.’
Half an hour after we returned to our seats, we pulled into Richmond with Ernie’s face smashed against the glass hoping to get a glimpse of Aunt Dorothy. He waved and bounced in the seat when he caught sight of her.
Ernie fidgeted in the aisle while we waited for the conductor to open the door and put the steps down. He rushed straight to Aunt Dorothy and asked, ‘Did you bring me a new book?’
‘Ernie, greet your Aunt Dorothy properly, young man.’
He looked at me with put-upon eyes, turned back to her and said, ‘Hello, Aunt Dorothy, how are you? Did you bring a book?’
Dorothy shrugged. ‘At least he’s interested in books. Yes, Ernie, I brought you a brand new one,’ she said as she handed him Stuart Little.
‘It’s about a mouse? That’s the cat’s meow!’
‘I’m glad you approve, Ernie,’ Dorothy said.
‘Ernie, what do you say?’ I asked.
He wriggled and said, ‘Well, she knows—’
‘Ernie, be polite.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Dorothy.’
At the hotel, Ernie and I shared a room. Because he was excited about seeing Mama and I was twisting in emotional turmoil, I didn’t think either one of us would ever get to sleep. Sometime though, in the middle of our bed-to-bed conversation, we both drifted off. The last thing I remembered about our give-and-take was Ernie’s question, ‘Are you sad about visiting Mama?’
In the morning, I wondered if I had answered him before I fell asleep.
NINETEEN
The lobby of the Hotel John Marshall was in total chaos when we came down that morning. Rollicking laughter, exuberant kissing and a buzz of constant chatter. It was as if we had stepped into a New Year’s Eve party at the stroke of midnight. I finally got a giggling woman to stand still for a moment to answer my question.
‘Berlin surrendered! An unconditional surrender! They say Hitler is probably dead and we won the war!’ She swooped off before I could find out anything further.
As we drove out to Goochland, people celebrated in the streets in every small town we passed. I wondered if the recent developments might cause any problems at the prison. Aunt Dorothy assured me that the visitation would not be a problem. A friend of a friend had contacted Supervisor Elizabeth Kates and arrangements had been made in advance. ‘The supervisor knew where we were staying last night and promised to call if there was any reason for our plans to be disrupted.’
I was chilled by the sign at the entrance: The State Industrial Farm for Women. It conjured up images of sweating women pulling plows, glaze-eyed ladies mindlessly dropping one unidentifiable chunk of metal into another, robotic females standing in endless lines with numbers instead of names – all without the benefit of freedom of movement that we take for granted. Much to my surprise, though, there were no signs of fences or other obstructions around the property. The brick building that loomed ahead looked nicer than I expected. My aunt told me that was because it was relatively new. Inmates had occupied it for only six years. ‘The building at the penitentiary that used to house women was a crumbling abomination.’
There were construction sites around the grounds as the facility expanded to accommodate the growing population of prisoners. Still, stepping inside was a depressing experience. The halls were dreary and the air smelled of body odor, mildew and dirty socks. We gathered around a table in a visitation room and Mama was brought in to meet us.
The shock of seeing her nearly knocked me out of the chair. Ernie whimpered at the sight of her. She had always been thin but now cancer had ravished her, diminishing her arms to twigs. She reminded me more of the prisoners found in the Nazi death camps than the woman I’d known. Her hair looked brittle and lacked an
y shine even though it appeared to be clean.
Her steps scraped across the concrete floor as she shuffled, barely picking up her feet as she moved. Her prison dress hung from her shoulders like a limp pillowcase. She gave us a haunted smile through watery, pain-filled eyes. When I hugged her, I felt nothing but bones and feared I would break her in two. But she held me tight and long. My aunt and I allowed Ernie to claim all of Mama’s attention at first. He babbled away as freely and easily as if they were sitting together at the kitchen table. Every couple of minutes, he reached out to touch her as if he needed the physical contact to be sure she was real.
After a while, Aunt Dorothy asked Ernie to come with her to give me and Mama time to talk. He objected loudly but she quieted him with the reminder that he could return and see her for a bit longer after she and I finished.
Mama and I sat quietly for a moment before she reached her arms across the table, and much to my surprise, my hands stretched out and clasped hers. Awareness washed over me as I looked at her ravaged beauty and the dark circles of death smudging her eyes. The woman before me had never envisioned being anything but a wife and a mother. When my father and brother had died in the fire, it was as if her self-identity perished in the flames with them. No wonder she latched on to the first man who came along – not out of love or affection – but out of fear and a desire to step back into the past where she felt safe and loved. As weak and self-centered as she was, she’d made my father happy and then she’d sacrificed herself to save her son in the only way she knew how. I’d been far too hard on her.
‘Mama, I’ve decided I can accept your apology. I want to accept it. None of us have any right to demand perfection from anyone. And I was doing that to you. Can you forgive me for taking so long?’ I asked.
‘Nothing to forgive, Libby. I was a very poor mother to you. I owe your aunt a huge debt of gratitude for rescuing you from our horrible home environment. If the situation were reversed, I don’t know how I would react so I certainly can’t criticize you for needing time. I am very grateful you came to see me. I wanted to see you before I die.’
‘What does the prison medical staff say about your condition?’ I asked.
‘They’re surprised I’m still alive. I feel God kept me alive for this moment – to see you and Ernie again. Your visit has given me so much peace.’
‘I’m sorry it took so long for me to give you that.’
She reached up one hand and laid it on my cheek bringing back a rush of emotional memories, resurrecting the feelings I had for her back when my father was still alive. Tears filled my eyes and puddled down my face. ‘It looks like the war is coming to an end,’ she said. ‘Do you know what you’ll do when it’s over?’
‘No. I don’t. I honestly think that what I am working on now will have useful peace-time applications and I’d like to be part of that. I don’t know, though, if that work will continue where I am or if I’ll need to follow it elsewhere.’
‘Will you be all on your own or is there someone special in your life?’
I told her about Teddy and my mishmash of emotions about him and my future. She listened intently. When I finished, she said, ‘Libby, trust your instincts. Learn from your fear but don’t follow it. Marrying your father was the best decision I ever made, but when he died I was so frightened. I allowed fear to make all the choices and by doing so, I ruined part of your life as well as my own.’
I gave her a final hug and she whispered in my ear, ‘I love you. I will always love you. And I am so very proud of you I could burst.’
I had been operating under the assumption that I would return to work on Thursday but when I mentioned it, Aunt Dorothy suggested I look at my return ticket. In a rush to get out of town, I’d neglected to notice that I was scheduled to catch a train on Saturday. I objected to staying that long, insisting I needed to get back to the lab.
Aunt Dorothy argued that although I could exchange the ticket, it would not be fair to her or Ernie. ‘Today was your mother’s day, tomorrow is Ernie’s and Friday is for me. Your country has demanded a lot of you the last couple of years. The least it can do is allow you a small amount of family time.’
Aunt Dorothy’s stern expression and Ernie’s big, begging eyes convinced me to stay two more days in Richmond, despite the niggling feelings of guilt that were always close to the surface.
The next day’s activities were ruled by Ernie’s enthusiasms. On the top of his list was a ride on the trolley – he didn’t care where, he just wanted to go. He also wanted to pick up a present for Mrs Early and go to a movie. The movie caused the biggest debate. We looked over the current listings provided by the front desk. Aunt Dorothy and I were united in our belief that The Lost Weekend and Hitchcock’s Spellbound were inappropriate for his age.
I suggested, ‘Why not the Agatha Christie movie?’
‘And Then There Were None?’ Aunt Dorothy asked.
‘Yes,’ I said with a nod.
‘That’s a mystery like the Hardy Boys, isn’t it? I want to go to that one, please,’ Ernie pleaded.
Aunt Dorothy pulled on my arm, moving me away from Ernie. She whispered, ‘What’s wrong with you, Libby? Do you realize how many people are murdered in that movie?’
‘His mother committed murder, it’s not is if this movie will rob him of his innocence,’ I hissed back.
‘But it could be traumatic for that very same reason.’
‘I doubt it but if it makes you uneasy, I’m fine with that. I can see it later. What do you suggest?’
‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn – it’s playing at the Loew’s Theatre. You liked the book, didn’t you? You’ll like the movie, too.’
All day, Ernie’s excitement was contagious. Both Aunt Dorothy and I grinned at his antics on the trolley and his head-back, mouth-open expression as he stared at the elaborate embellishments on the exterior of the theatre.
On Friday, Aunt Dorothy called the shots. First stop was the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts – not exactly an exciting prospect for a young boy but Ernie was on his best behavior even when we dawdled in front of a favorite painting. Our final stop that day was Miller and Rhoads. Ernie fell in love with a gold cross with a pearl at the intersection of the two bars but didn’t have enough money to buy the pendant. Aunt Dorothy and I made up the difference. He was so proud walking out of the store. ‘I heard Mrs Early admiring the plain gold cross her neighbor got for her birthday. I could tell she really wanted one and this one’s even prettier.’
‘Is it Mrs Early’s birthday?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But she told me I could call her Mom and I said I couldn’t – at least not while my mom was still alive. I don’t know if I hurt her feelings. I might have. I wanted to show her how much she mattered to me.’
Saturday morning, Ernie and I boarded the train traveling to Bedford and Oak Ridge. Ernie checked three times to make sure he had Mrs Early’s necklace safely packed away and then he curled up and fell asleep, exhausted from the excitement of the past few days. I stared out at the scenery hearing my mother’s final words repeating again and again. I’m not sure how the mother I once saw as a pathetic weakling had managed to fortify me with so much strength. I didn’t know then how much I would need that over the next days.
TWENTY
I didn’t expect to see anyone that evening except for Teddy but when we pulled in to the station, however, I spotted Teddy, Ruthie, Gregg, Dennis and Joe on the platform. I waved to them and they jumped up and down and wrapped each other in hugs. Did they think I was never coming back?
Instead of opening the door when the train stopped, the conductor stood at the front of the car and asked for everyone’s attention. ‘We have a problem on the tracks ahead. Repairs are needed. If this is not your final stop, you still must disembark and find a place to stay for the evening. We are hoping to resume the trip by morning. Be here by 8 a.m. and you’ll be informed if there is a reason for any additional delay.’
Passe
ngers threw questions at the conductor but he passed through to the next car without answering a single one. Disembarking was far more chaotic than I’d ever seen. Finally, I set foot on the platform and my friends bustled me inside the terminal.
When we came to a standstill in a circle, I asked, ‘What is going on?’
‘The Germans surrendered,’ Dennis said.
‘Yes. I’d heard. But that doesn’t explain why you all are here.’
‘We wanted to make sure you arrived safely,’ Teddy said.
‘We didn’t know what we’d do if you didn’t but we would have thought of something,’ Gregg said.
I turned to Ruth. ‘Simple question, Ruthie: why are you here?’
‘We heard about a train wreck but we didn’t know where. We knew it was close by but nothing more.’
‘Actually,’ Joe said, ‘we do know a little more …’
‘Joe, that’s just a rumor. We don’t know if it’s true,’ Dennis objected.
I shook my head. ‘What is the rumor?’
‘People died in the accident,’ Joe said. We were worried about you.’
Spreading my arms wide open, I said, ‘As you see, I am alive. And uninjured.’
‘Did you see any sign of disruption on or near the tracks?’ Dennis asked.
‘Not a thing. Judging by the conductor’s announcement that no one on the train would be traveling any further today, it must be on the tracks up ahead.’
‘Then it must have been a train traveling eastward. Yours was the only westward-bound locomotive this evening,’ Joe suggested.
‘Could it have been the train carrying raw materials to us?’ I asked.
As if it were a planned choreograph, our bodies all twisted outward, scanning the crowd. I saw no one who seemed to be paying any attention to our conversation. Still, I knew we shouldn’t be talking about such things here in a public space.
We went to the parking lot where we worked out the best configuration for getting everyone into the car. Dennis, having the longest legs, was appointed the driver. I sat on the passenger’s side on Teddy’s lap. Ruth got into the middle of the back seat with Joe and Gregg crammed in on either side. I looked back and judged from the grin on her face that Ruth was enjoying the tight quarters.
Sabotage in the Secret City Page 10
