Brooklyn Rose (9 page)

So today we went on the trolley lines to the sand dunes at the end and enjoyed an afternoon there. We spoke of which room will belong to the baby and what its name will be. Rene said Louis, after his father, if it is a boy. And I said Marcella, after my maternal grandmother, if it is a girl. We agreed.

I have had no morning sickness, no queasiness at all. I feel in perfect health.

BECAUSE I FEEL
so well, Rene has allowed me to ride Tom Jones up and down Dorchester Road at a leisurely pace. Oh, it is so good to go out on Tom Jones again. The smell of him, of the tack, the whole idea of riding again transports me back home, and if I close my eyes I am on the sand dunes at home again, where the tide comes in and out twice a day.

I met a few people I know on my ride and some I didn't know. One of those was an elderly man who was crossing Dorchester Road right in front of me. He fell, and I got down from Tom Jones to see if he was all right.

He said, "Thank you, missy. The old bones aren't what they used to be when I fought at Gettysburg."

He had a Southern accent!

I helped him onto the sidewalk, then took hold of Tom Jones's bridle and led them both to the man's house. He said his name was Mr. Cutler, and, yes, he'd fought at Gettysburg, on the side of the South.

He seemed rather sad, so I asked him if he was hurt. "Only my feelings," he said, "because my daughter won't allow me to go to see my family down South. Says we don't have the money, when I know we do. Oh, I shouldn't tell you my troubles, missy."

We talked a bit more, and then I saw him into the house.

WHAT A DAY
! Today I went to speak to the Needlework Guild. It was an afternoon meeting held at Mrs. Snelling's house. When I arrived, she introduced me as the new neighbor, and quite a few of them called me "child." I feel that my Southern accent put off the rest of them, but for the most part they were polite.

At first they just had their business meeting. And when the president asked, "Any new business?" Mrs. Snelling got up and told them about me. How I was the one who organized the flower brigade on Decoration Day and, as if that weren't enough, I was now asking why they couldn't knit and make clothing for the Irish children who lived in the next neighborhood.

Then I got up there. Oh, so many faces, all staring at me. I couldn't work my voice at first, but then I thought of those children and what life would be like for them in the winter, and I forgot my own troubles and asked them to take my suggestion under consideration.

At first there was silence while they all stared at me. I heard one woman whisper to another, "How old is she? She looks like my Janey."

There were more whisperings. Then they started asking me questions. Personal and about the Irish children. They all knew by now that I was married to Rene Dumarest, and I know that brought me esteem. Several remarked on our house and the flowers.

Mrs. Snelling told me to sit down and have tea, that they would discuss the matter. And so I did. And before the afternoon was over, they said they would give me an answer in the near future.

Well, my part is over in all of this, I think. But they have made me feel so like a child begging for cookies, so unworthy of their consideration.

I HAVE FOUND
out that besides this Needlework Guild there is a Ladies Book Club here on Dorchester Road, and Mrs. Snelling belongs to it, as well. Oh, I would love to belong to the book club. Imagine, reading books and discussing them with other women! I think I shall ask Mrs. Snelling if I may belong.

RENE IS HAVING
the upstairs corner bedroom painted and repapered for his mother's visit. I picked out the paper. The room will be blue and white.

TODAY RENE
came home all disheveled and with a cut on one cheekbone. I was so frightened. When I was cleaning off his face, I asked him what happened. He said there had been riots in the city this day, set off when a policeman got into a scuffle with a black man on a trolley car. Soon the fight got out of hand and every trolley car was stopped and every black man aboard dragged out and beaten. While I applied a remedy to his face, I asked him what he was doing uptown. He said he had business there. "You were on a trolley?" I asked. Because I knew he had asked Charley to stay the day at the dock. "No," he said, "but I got into a scuffle when they were beating a black man near to death."

He'd defended the black man, it turned out.

"I think," he confessed to me sheepishly later, "that my picture might be in the paper tomorrow. The photographers were there."

I thought of Opal and our people back home and I was so proud of what he'd done, and told him so.

WELL, RENE'S
picture is in the paper. It isn't the first time. The press knows who he is and watches him. This picture showed him on the ground, with Charley about to help him up. And the headline read: "Wealthy businessman comes to aid of Negro."

Rene wouldn't talk about it.

IT TURNED OUT
somebody else would talk about it, though. Yesterday there was a knock on my side door, and there was Mrs. Snelling with the paper in her hands. She all but shook it in my face, saying, "We don't need this kind of publicity in our neighborhood. I don't know where you come from, miss, but we're quiet, decent people here."

I told her there was nothing indecent about the way Rene had come to the aid of the black man. And she said that was a matter of opinion, and most in the neighborhood held to the opinion that it was. Then she left.

I would never have thought I would allow a woman as stupid and prejudiced as her to upset me, but when she left, I cried. I know I am right and that Rene was right, but that doesn't help me feel any better. I can't understand why she doesn't like me.

I AM TRYING
to focus on other things. I did not tell Rene about Mrs. Snelling's visit. So when he asked me why I was upset, I told him that the new fall dresses we purchased won't fit me come fall. But Rene says don't worry, I could wear a sack and he'd love me. Still, I must now go out and purchase special ones.

THE NEEDLEWORK GUILD
sent a note around today saying they would take my suggestion to knit and sew clothing for the little Irish children for this winter. Oh, how good I feel! And more good news. The room for Rene's mother is finished. It looks lovely and now only needs a new bedcover and curtains, which Bridget and I will shop for soon. I worry about Rene's mother coming. Suppose she doesn't like me? Suppose she is like Mrs. Snelling?

THE DAYS ARE SO
lovely and the gardener has planted mums and other fall flowers that are now blooming. I can't bear to say good-bye to my gardens in the fall.

THERE DOESN'T
seem to be much time to write in my journal anymore. I am so busy. But I am determined to keep up with it. I went shopping again, with Bridget this time, to get some dresses to wear in the fall and winter before I have the baby. I am sewing a layette for him (or her), and Rene scolds because I am working too hard on it. He says I will ruin my eyes. I must oversee the fall cleaning.

I WAS SO HURT
today. Mrs. Snelling called to tell me that the Ladies Book Club denied me membership. When I asked why, she said it is because I am too young. They don't think I can contribute anything of value. Well, I cried, I can tell you. Rene caught me crying and asked me what was wrong, and I told him.

"Well, tell them you don't want them," he said. Then he said something else, which makes me feel he knows so much that I don't know. "Someday, when you meet one of those hens from the book club, you ought to ask, face-to-face, if you are old enough yet. And I'll bet they never rejected you. I'll bet Mrs. Snelling took it on herself to reject you. Did you ever think it possible that the woman just plain doesn't like you, Rose?"

He came so close to the truth that I was afraid to look him in the face. But I truly never thought of it that way. I'm glad Rene is around to put another light on things.

THE BASEBALL TEAM
by the name of the Brooklyn Dodgers has won something called the Pennant in the National League. Rene says he has seen them play and that next season he will take me to see one of their games.

WHAT BEAUTIFUL
weather! In a place called Kitty Hawk, in North Carolina, two brothers by the name of Orville and Wilbur Wright are conducting experiments so man can fly, the newspapers say. I asked Rene if he would ever fly in one of their machines. "If it helped me to get around faster, of course," he said.

I can't imagine man flying. I don't think anybody else can, either. But, then, we could never imagine the horseless carriage, either, could we?

TODAY MRS. SNELLING
and two other ladies came to the front door. I invited them in. They said they were organizing a committee against Negro ruffians. I told them we didn't have any around here, and they said they wanted to be prepared. "What is this committee going to do?" I asked. They said it will keep the members apprised of what is going on with the Negroes in New York City. They wanted me to sign their document, but I wouldn't do it.

Well, I lost my temper, I'm afraid. I told them I'm from the South and I don't have the feelings of discrimination against Negroes that they have. "We live with the Gullahs," I told them, "and we have no bad feelings about them."

I asked them why they didn't do something worthwhile with their time. They asked me, "Like what?" And I told them about Mr. Cutler, who wanted to go south to his family. "Help a Rebel?" they said, and they smirked. "That's like asking us to help a Negro." I said yes, it likely was. But that the war was long since over and he was old and incapacitated and it would make him happy. "Why don't you take it up with the Needlework Guild?" they asked me. "They've taken to listening to you."

I told them I probably would.

They left, all in a sniff. When I told Rene after he got home, he said I did the right thing and he was proud of me.

RENE WANTS
to take me on a cruise up the Hudson River before the fall really sets in. I said I would love to go, but it will have to be soon, before I start to really look as if I am having a baby, because it isn't proper for a woman to bandy herself about when she is in my condition.

Rene says I should be proud of my condition. Which I am. The cruise is on a paddle steamer all the way up to Albany, where we will stay the night! There is music and entertainment, and we will have a parlor suite. We go in a week.

I DON'T KNOW
whether it is the beauty of the fall days or the fact that I am nesting, but the house seems to have fallen into a rhythm that pleases me very much these days. I used to get up early, but now I sleep a little later. Rene is always up when I open my eyes. Usually he is already shaving in the bathroom or having breakfast downstairs. If it is a nice day, our bedroom is filled with sunshine and that pleases me. I put on a pretty robe and go downstairs. If Rene is at the table, I join him for coffee, and Mrs. Moore brings in my breakfast, which I enjoy with my husband.

When he leaves for work, I go into the kitchen to talk to the servants. I confer with them about what must be done this day. Charley will have left with Rene, so there is usually only Mrs. Moore and Bridget. First to be decided upon is meals. If Rene and I are eating in, I plan supper, and either I plan to shop with Bridget or Mrs. Moore does. It is great fun, especially planning dessert. Then it is up to me to decide what else is to be done this day and we go over that. I am truly beginning to feel like I am mistress of this place and to appreciate what Mama does at home.

Afterward I may have another cup of coffee and read the papers on my own. Then I dress. Bridget may help if I am going out. Then I visit Tom Jones in the stable, to give him some sugar. If Charley is around he'll exercise him. Rene doesn't like me riding now that I'm very much pregnant. I come back inside to go over invitations, or answer some, and write to Mama or Heppi.

Then I take some kind of exercise, most likely a walk before lunch. In the afternoons I make calls or read. I must say I am turning into a full-fledged matron. These days I've been napping before Rene gets home, or fooling with my flowers. Or overseeing the supper. Watching Mama do these things for years has taught me much about how to be a lady.

I have to pay another visit to the Needlework Guild to ask them if they will sponsor Mr. Cutler on his visit south. I am not looking forward to it, but who knows? They may agree. It seems to me sometimes that they are only looking for decent causes to sponsor, and if they got about more and mixed with the rest of society, they might find some.

TODAY I WENT
to see the Needlework Guild again. I was invited in to their meeting. They proudly showed me the clothing they are making for the Irish children. I must say it is all very beautiful, from the knitted wear to the lovely little homemade dresses and boys' trousers. I thanked the ladies, one by one. They said the clothing would likely be ready by Thanksgiving. Then I apologized and said I had another favor to ask them, and I told them about Mr. Cutler. Well, they listened intently and several said they knew of him but didn't know he'd fought at Gettysburg. And did he need anything else, perhaps? Some knitted caps or gloves for the winter? I told them no, thanking them for their kindness, and they said they'd need about a week to raise money for him to go south on the trains.

I thought how different they are from Mrs. Snelling, who goes about making trouble. Tomorrow Rene and I go on the trip up the Hudson, if it doesn't rain.