Miss Dreamsville and the Lost Heiress of Collier County

by Amy Hill Hearth

  Before the sun reached its highest point, word had spread sure and steady like a smoldering swamp fire in dry season.

  The last to hear the good news were the Negroes who would have lost their settlement. Among them there was said to be as much shock as joy, because there had been justice. They weren’t used to it.

  No one, of course, should have been happier than Bunny. She had insisted on walking back to her fishing shack alone. Everyone else, including her son, had gone off to celebrate.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she told Peggy Sue, who was snuggled in her nest and upon hearing Bunny’s familiar voice, opened one eye. “I’m tickled to death that I won. But now there’s one more job I have to do, and Lord knows I don’t feel like doing it.”

  Bunny sat down on the edge of the dock and let her feet dangle over the side. She’d already taken off the strange shoes she’d borrowed for court. “What do you think I should do, Peggy Sue?” she continued. “I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

  The fact was that one secret remained: the one she feared most.

  “How am I going to tell her?” Bunny said, and the night heron responded with a peculiar squeak. “Oh, am I annoying you? I beg your pardon!” Bunny added, and laughed. “But seriously, Peggy Sue, the look on her face is going to be awful. And who can blame her? How would you like to find out your real mother was an exotic dancer turned alligator hunter?”

  For years, she’d watched from a distance without her having a clue. Dora. Bunny liked the name they had chosen for her.

  But when Bunny realized Dora was in the same book club as Robbie-Lee, she nearly passed out from fear that Dora would figure it out, or he would. The thought of the two of them, half sister and brother, sitting side by side talking about books was so painful it seemed like the devil was laughing in her face.

  Then Dora went to Mississippi, and Bunny got really scared. She didn’t believe Dora had any idea she was adopted, but she might figure it out if she started poking around there. And sure enough, Bunny overheard the book club ladies—Jackie, Plain Jane, and Mrs. Bailey White—talking downstairs when she stayed overnight at the old gal’s house before they went to court. They were discussing Dora, how she had learned she was adopted but was dealing with it pretty well. Seems she’d found out a few months earlier so she’d had some time to get used to the idea.

  But Dora still didn’t know who her mother was. And likely never would.

  Bunny knew in her heart that Dora deserved to hear the truth, even if she might be disappointed. She had gotten to know Dora, which made it mighty hard to keep up the lie. Dora was, also, a rightful heir to Bunny’s land. She and Robbie-Lee would share it someday.

  She was so desperate to save the river that she’d gambled by asking Dora for help. She knew when she sent that telegram that she might be starting something that would be hard to stop. Fact is, the State of Florida did not take her baby girl when she was fifteen and had run off to Tampa. The truth was there was a nurse, a sweet gal from Mississippi, who told Bunny that she knew she couldn’t have children. The nurse’s name was Callie and she was staying in Tampa, just for a while, because she needed a job and it was the only place she could find work. Her husband—she said they’d been married about a year—was from Collier County, and she would join him as soon as she could get a job there.

  Bunny had a feeling there was more to this story but since she was so young and had a world of troubles of her own, she didn’t ask. Then one night when Bunny couldn’t sleep, the young nurse told her how she’d left her man at the altar and run off with someone else. Up and left her fiancé, her parents, her whole life, and had no regrets. The same day she was supposed to marry one fella, she married the other. She and her new man drove straight from Mississippi to Alabama and finally, just after crossing the Florida state line, got married that night in the parlor of a Methodist preacher’s parsonage in some small town Bunny had never heard of.

  To Bunny this was an impressive tale. Unlike Bunny, the young nurse named Callie knew what she wanted in life. She had stood up for herself. Plus, she was a trained nurse. She was educated. When Bunny found out that Callie couldn’t have a child but really wanted one, she knew at that moment that she was meant to give her baby girl to Callie. It hurt less to give the baby to someone she chose. Besides, the nurse’s husband was from Collier County and that’s where they were going to live. Bunny felt like a part of her would stay with the baby by having her grow up where she did. Although, of course, in a better home.

  When Bunny had Robbie-Lee seven years later at the same hospital in Tampa, something told her it was time to go home to Collier County. She wanted to be near Dora. She wanted to watch her grow up.

  And so Bunny Ann McIntyre picked her new name—Dolores Simpson—not just because she saw it in a magazine left on a southbound bus to Naples but because Dolores sounded, to her, a lot like Dora. Just another little secret, a way to keep her close without anyone knowing.

  “Peggy Sue,” she called over to her avian friend, “wish me luck.”

  • • •

  SHE DECIDED TO TELL ROBBIE-LEE first. That was only fair. The next morning she walked to Mrs. Bailey White’s house. People were coming and going, and she began to despair of having a moment alone with her son. Finally, she asked him to help pack up the belongings she’d left when she’d spent the night before going to court. It was a lovely little room on the second floor, and Bunny knew she would miss it. They were taking a break; he was sitting in a chair that was too small for him and she was perched on the side of the bed. He was talking about how he needed to go back to New York, that he wasn’t on official leave from his job.

  Now was the time.

  “Dora Witherspoon is your sister,” she blurted out. They were the most powerful and difficult words she’d ever said aloud, and to her they seemed to take over the room like a swarm of furious bees. The sting of those words mocked her and hung in the air until she noticed something odd. Robbie-Lee was strangely calm.

  “Why do you think I joined the book club?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “I joined the book club because Dora was in it. I wanted to get to know her better. I knew who she was, but we weren’t in school at the same time, so that was my chance.”

  She felt like she had a crawfish stuck in her throat. “But how did you know?” she asked.

  “Mom, you forget, you talk in your sleep,” he said bluntly, almost impatiently, adding, “Especially when you’ve been drinking.”

  “Well, did you ever say anything to her about it?”

  “No, of course not. That’s your story to tell, Mom. Not mine.”

  “Since when do you call me Mom?”

  “Well, I can’t call you Dolores anymore. You’re not Dolores. And, frankly, I don’t want to call you Bunny. All my life I’ve wanted to call you Mom. I never liked the way you made me call you by your first name.”

  “Well, I didn’t feel worthy of being a mom, that’s why,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Aw, now, you mustn’t think like that,” Robbie-Lee said, adding lightly, “I turned out pretty good, didn’t I?”

  “Don’t tease, this is a terrible situation. I can’t tell Dora. You have to do it. I just can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No, I can’t. Maybe if I was, you know, purty and . . . normal. Someone she could be proud of. That’s why it would be better coming from you. You could tell her you are her brother. She’ll like that. That will be good news, because she likes you as a friend. It might even be a happy surprise, for all I know.”

  Robbie-Lee sighed. “This is an awful thing to ask someone to do for you.”

  “Well, what if she upchucked when I told her?” she asked. “What if she laughed at me? What if she said something so horrible to me that I won’t want to go on living?”

  “Oh, Mom, please,” Robbie-Lee said. But she could see that he finally agreed.

  It all was happening so quickly.
Not more than ten minutes later, Bunny stood at the upstairs window half-hidden by an old lace curtain, and watched her son tell her daughter that they were kin.

  They sat opposite each other on wrought-iron furniture that must have been as old as Mrs. Bailey White. Someone had been making an effort to trim the grass and plants in what must have been a lovely flower garden at one time.

  She wished she’d thought to open the window. It was too late now. They’d hear her open it for sure. But at least she could see their lips moving. And she could see their faces.

  He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and Bunny thought, Oh, doesn’t he look like a grown man, so serious and strong. He said something that must have been meant to prepare Dora for important news because she reacted by folding her arms across her chest, crossing her legs at the ankle, and tilting her head. Then he said something that might have been the word “sister.” Dora pulled back, surprised. Then her shoulders sagged, and she covered her face with her hands.

  Just as Bunny had feared.

  Dora stood up and walked a few feet away from Robbie-Lee. He said a few words, and she responded without turning around. He said a few more words, and she finally faced him again. She was crying.

  Robbie-Lee went to her and hugged her for a long time. Then he took her face into his hands. He smiled.

  And she smiled back. She might have said, “Brother.”

  Then Dora sat back down hard, like she was a sack of flour.

  Suddenly it occurred to Bunny that they might come looking for her as soon as Dora caught her breath. Mercy, what an awful thought. She hurried down the stairs and out the front door. The river—her river—was calling her home.

  Thirty-Three

  This is what he said to me: “I have good news and bad news, Dora.”

  I sat down on Mrs. Bailey White’s wrought-iron furniture. Moments before I had been thinking what a lovely garden this must have once been. Someone had been working on it—Plain Jane, maybe.

  “What?” I said. “Just say it. What is it?”

  “What do you want first?” Robbie-Lee asked. “The good news or the bad?”

  “I don’t care! Just say it!”

  He cleared his throat and looked me straight in the eye. “My mother is the woman who gave you up for adoption,” he said. He waited for it to sink in.

  “What are you talking about?” I shrieked. My voice came out so shrill that I would never have guessed it came from me. “Robbie-Lee, that can’t be right! How do you . . . What makes you think . . . That’s just not possible!”

  But, truth be told, anything was possible.

  I felt like my skin had been bitten by a thousand fire ants, and I very nearly upchucked. I stood and turned my back on Robbie-Lee, just in case. I never, ever thought I would find out who my mother was.

  Once I collected myself I turned around, tears flooding my eyes. “Was this the bad news?” I asked, confused.

  Robbie-Lee chuckled. “Well, a lot of people would think so. You know she’s not exactly Betty Crocker. I doubt very much that she’s the type of mother you would have hoped for.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, honestly? No.”

  “Okay, now I’m going to tell you the good news. Do you know what that is? This means that you’re my sister!”

  Despite everything else that was happening, I had to smile. This was good news. I’d always wanted a sibling. And Robbie-Lee would be the best. He was smart, funny, and an all-around great guy. We were friends. And now we were siblings, too.

  “I have a brother,” I said slowly, trying it out to see how it sounded. A wondrous thing, having a brother. My friends growing up complained bitterly about their brothers; Jackie’s twin daughters seemed to dislike Judd heartily. But I always wanted to tell them, You are luckier than you know.

  Suddenly I felt a little strange, like I couldn’t breathe. I sat down again, trying to calm myself enough to find the right words. “Robbie-Lee, I thank you,” I said finally. “I mean, thank you for telling me.”

  Robbie-Lee smiled a little sadly. “Well, I knew you had to know. I mean, she finally confirmed it. And you’re an heir now. You and me both.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” I asked.

  “Because she was scared,” he said simply. “I was scared, too, but not as much as her.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “Oh, I’ve had some suspicions for a long time,” he said. “Something she said once or twice when she was drunk.”

  I waited a moment, then, “Do you think we have the same father?”

  Robbie-Lee surprised me by laughing out loud. “Not a chance,” he said, adding quickly, “Does it really matter? I’m not sure we want to know any more secrets from the past, even if we could find out. I think we have enough to contend with.”

  “You’ve never known who your father is, right?” I asked. “I’ve been walking around for years thinking that Montgomery Witherspoon, wherever he is, is mine. So it’s something else I have to accept.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dora,” Robbie-Lee said softly.

  I shrugged in response.

  “Dora, I know this must come as a shock to you,” he continued. “I know she’s not a, um, conventional mother but she’s a great person, she really is. She’s a little rough around the edges, but if you give her a chance . . .” He hesitated. “I surely do hope that you give her a chance. Maybe not right away—that would be understandable—but maybe once you get, well, used to the idea.”

  What could I say? That my newly found mother scared me to death? That I was repulsed at the idea that my mother had been a dancer in a nightclub? That I was embarrassed by her? And that I wondered what this meant about me? I had thought I was a higher-class person than that. Mama and I were poor, I knew that, but Mama had been a nurse and I had two years of college.

  “Want to hear something funny?” I said finally. “After I learned I was adopted I started dreaming that maybe I was Eudora Welty’s secret love child. I was aiming high, wasn’t I?”

  “Well, now, that would have been something!” he said. “But that’s the problem with real life, isn’t it? Life can’t live up to your dreams. I’m not saying dreams can never come true; sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. But one thing’s for sure, once you start trying to make a dream come true you’d better be prepared that anything could happen. You find out you’re adopted. You dream that your mother is a brilliant writer but she turns out to be, well, a stripper—or fan dancer, or whatever—turned alligator hunter. Good grief, Dora, I can see why you feel let down.”

  “I wouldn’t say I feel let down,” I said quickly. “That sounds too mean, and I’m not a mean person. I just need time.”

  Robbie-Lee nodded. “Let’s go inside and get something to drink,” he said, standing up. He took my arm and gently led me back indoors.

  • • •

  “ARE Y’ALL GOING TO TELL us what’s happening?” Mrs. Bailey White demanded. I realized, once we were in the pantry, with Robbie-Lee chopping some ice for our drinks, that even a short person like her could get a peek at the garden as long as she stood on her tippy-toes.

  “Mrs. Bailey White, were you spying?” I said with fake outrage, yet she reacted with guilty shame.

  “Well, we all were,” she said. “Jackie and Plain Jane, too. Only they ran off to the living room to pretend they weren’t in here watching you from this here window.”

  Robbie-Lee and I looked at each other and grinned. After fixing lemonade for all of us, we commenced to finding the others, with Mrs. Bailey White trailing behind. Jackie and Plain Jane were in the parlor pretending to play cards.

  “What have you two been up to?” Jackie asked.

  “Dora and I have an announcement to make,” Robbie-Lee said. “I have just informed her that we are brother and sister.”

  Jackie had been reaching for her lemonade and nearly knocked it over. Plain Jane let out a little gasp, and Mrs. Bailey White said, “Did I hear that right?”
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br />   “Yes, you did, Mrs. Bailey White,” I said, following Robbie-Lee’s courageous lead. “We have the same mother.”

  Jackie gulped. “Dora, your mother is . . . ?”

  “Yes,” I said, realizing that my face was starting to flush.

  “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” said Mrs. Bailey White. “And here I thought he was proposing to you!”

  “What? You know he’s not the marrying kind!” Plain Jane said loudly.

  “Well, just because he’s not a man’s man and not interested in women in the Biblical sense doesn’t mean he might not get married,” Mrs. Bailey White said defensively. “I mean, it happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

  Robbie-Lee seemed a little amused. “All y’all are something else!” he said. “Now let’s go see Mom. She’s upstairs resting.”

  But all we found was an empty room.

  Thirty-Four

  Robbie Lee, you’re going to wear a path in Mrs. Bailey White’s Oriental rug,” I said, watching him pace back and forth. We had to decide if we were going to go after her.

  “I need to get back to New York,” he said, “but I’m not leaving until I see her. You know she’s back at her place, probably talking to that bird and drinking up a storm. I’m worried.”

  I had told Robbie-Lee about the night heron but he hadn’t seemed surprised. He liked the fact that she had named the bird Peggy Sue because he used to sing that song and make her laugh.

  “Well, you could go see her and then tomorrow you could catch the morning bus northbound,” I said. “I’m sure—”

  “I have a better idea,” Robbie-Lee said, a little impatiently. “Let’s you and me go see her together.”

  “No,” I said firmly, “I’m not ready to see her.”

  “Well, fine,” he said. “I’m going there now.”

  Great, I thought, we’re already quarreling like brother and sister. The others wisely stayed out of it.

  • • •