Diary of a Wildflower (26 page)

“I
think Lorie has a sweetheart in Charlottesville,” Bea says.  “That’s why
she keeps going to the post office.”

I
just smile at her and say nothing, but I do long to hear from Brody.  Why
doesn’t he even write a note of sympathy?

Jewel
watches me closely as I check our mail box.

“Nothing
today?” she says.

On
the walk home I feel that quiet desperation I have read about. 

“What’s
wrong, Lorie?” Jewel asks when we’re almost home.  “Who are you expecting
a letter from?”

Her
eyes are full of worry.  Yes, I owe her an explanation.

“I
think we may have to make another plan to get you away from here.”

“Another
plan?” she asks.  “What was the first plan?”

“I
wrote to Mrs. Myles and asked her permission for you to stay in my room with me
until we can make other arrangements.”

“But
she didn’t answer?”

“Don’t
worry,” I say, and give her a hug.  “We’ll think of something else.”

“What
about that fella Brody you wrote me about?  Write to him.”

“Brody?”
I say.  The sound of his name hurts my heart.  “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why? 
Isn’t he your beau?”

“No,
he’s just a friend,” I say.

“I
don’t believe you,” she says.  “I believe you love him.”

I
laugh a bit nervously.  “Why do you say that?”

“Because
you said his name in your sleep.”

“I
did?”

She
grins.  “Yes.  I told you so, didn’t I?  I said somebody was
going to steal your heart away.”

“Don’t
be a bunny!” I say.

“You
can tell me, Lorie.  I won’t tell anybody.  Are you in love with
Brody?”

I
feel my lip quiver.  I hurry up the trail.

In
the afternoon I help Jewel and Bea heat water in the back yard and scrub
overalls.  In no time I have a brand new blister on the knuckle of my
index finger.  Just when my hands were beginning to heal nicely.  I
was so proud of them I was thinking of buying some nail polish to bring
attention to them, but not now.  I examine Jewel’s hands and find them as
rough and calloused as mine were.

As
evening comes, a great pall of melancholy settles over me.  With each
minute of approaching darkness I say to the night, “Don’t come yet.  Let
me have daylight just a little longer.”  But the blackness folds around
me, and with it, the terrible isolation. 

Sunday, July 28
^th
,
1929       

I
am dreaming that the Old Thing is sitting on my chest, crushing me with the
full weight of its hopelessness.  I wake up, struggling for air and look
at the log beams in the ceiling.  Oh, god, I am still here.  I have
been here exactly three weeks without a letter from anyone.  And the mail
does not run today.  The sun is falling across my bed.  I throw back
the sheet.  This house is like an oven.

Downstairs
I hear Bea and Jewel in the kitchen preparing to can pickles.  I escape
out the front door.  I go to the graveyard and morbidly read the
tombstones out loud again.  I imagine my own name on the oldest, moldiest
stone.  I lie down on my back between Samuel and Roxie and fold my hands
over my heart.  I look at the sky through the leaves of the maple
tree.  A white, puffy cloud passes.  A bluebird lights on a branch.

“Stop
your whining,” I scold myself out loud.  “Get busy and devise a plan!”

Yes. 
A plan.  I’ll lay out all the facts and deal with them one by one, just as
I used to do with my school work.

First
fact:  It’s up to me to get myself and Jewel away from here.

Charlottesville
is the only place outside this county that I am familiar with.  So that’s
where we will go.  There’s an inn on Three Notch’d Road near the train
station.  We will rent a room for a night or two.  For a more
permanent solution, there are boarding houses for “proper young ladies
only”.  I will find out how much they cost.

Second
fact:  I have thirty-eight dollars to my name.

I’ll
have to find another job immediately.  I’ll ask the maids and maybe Chris
to help me.  There are all kinds of stores and businesses where I have
seen ladies working.  Depending on how soon I find a job, I may run out of
money.  Where can I get more?  I think I can borrow a bit from
Caroline.  And who else?  Maybe some from Mack?  Dr.
Wayne?  Possibly.  I will take that route only when I feel I
must.  Yes, I can do this.

First
step – a ride to the train station.  I will walk to Buddy Ward’s house
today and see if he can take us tomorrow morning.  If not, I’ll write to
Trula.  That means waiting a few more days for the mail.

Now
that I have made a decision and have a plan, I stand on my feet again, and I am
lighter in weight.  I’m sure of it.

I
go to the spring, remove my clothes, and take a cold bath.  It’s
invigorating.  As I wash my hair, something occurs to me.  I don’t
know why I didn’t think of it before.  What’s to stop Mrs. Call from
reading my mail and doing what she pleases with it, even throwing it
away?  She is so spiteful, it would make her happy to see me fail.  I
think of how she watches me as I check the mailbox.  Maybe Mrs. Myles
did
write to me, and
did
give permission for Jewel to come along. 
Maybe she is now wondering where I am.  Yes, I will call Mrs. Myles on the
telephone in Granger before we leave on the train.

I
dry myself in the bright sunshine, just as I did when I was a little
girl.  The sun feels good against my naked skin. 

When
I am dry all over, I put my clothes back on and start home.  As I approach
the house, I see a medium-sized black and white dog peeing in the yard. 
Dixie?  She looks so much like my Dixie girl!  Suddenly she sees me
and rushes toward me, grinning all over, and wagging her tail.  When she
jumps on me, I am almost knocked to the ground.

“Oh,
Dixie!  It’s really you!  Where…?  How…?  Is
he
with
you?”

At
the same time I hear his voice at the front of the house, “I am looking for
Lorelei Starr.  Does she live here?”

“Yeah,
she does,” Bea replies.  “Who are you?”

I
quickly round the corner of the house.  “Brody!”

He
turns to me.  He is not wearing a jacket or hat, as is customary for young
men of his social class.  His sleeves are rolled up above his elbows, and
his face glistens with sweat.  Dad, Bea, Jewel and all four of the boys
are on the porch just staring at him.

“What
are you doing here?” I ask.  

“Mother
sent me for you.”

In
all my daydreams, this is one I left out – Brody coming for me! 

“Oh,”
I say, trying to remain calm.  “So she wants me back?”

“Of
course she does,” he says, and there is an edge to his voice, as if he is put
out with me.  “Good help is hard to find.  And you
did
say you
were coming back.”

Dixie
stands leaning against my leg, as if she doesn’t want to lose contact
again.  I introduce Brody to my family one by one.  He is polite as
he repeats each name.  They, in turn, say hello to him, all except for
Dad, who just sits staring with his mouth open.

“I
am very sorry for your loss,” Brody says to all of us.

“Thank
you,” I say, but nobody else responds.

“What’s
the dawg’s name?” Clint asks.

“Trixie…uh...Dixie,”
Brody says.

“Trixie
Dixie?” Clint says, as he pets her.  “That’s a funny name, but she’s a
purty dawg.”

“Jewel,
will you please bring Mr. Brody a glass of water?” I say.

Jewel
jumps obediently to the task.

“Will
you sit?” I ask Brody, and motion him to the steps, which is the only available
seat.  “You seem exhausted.”

“Yes.”
He sits on the steps. “It’s quite a haul up here.”

“You
couldn’t have driven all the way from Charlottesville this morning?”

“No. 
Yesterday.  I spent the night at Blake and Lydia’s.”

“Blake
and Lydia’s?  Oh!  Dr. Wayne.”

“Yes. 
I was told I would never find your place in the dark.”

“Quite
right.”

Jewel
arrives with the water, and Brody drinks it in big gulps.

“And
do you plan to drive back today?” I ask him.

“Yes,”
he says, “if you are ready to leave.”

I
glance at Jewel.  There is anxiety on her face.    

“There
is something we need to talk about,” I say to Brody.

He
jumps to his feet and says a bit irritably, “If you’re not going back with me,
tell me now, and I’ll be on my way.”

“It’s
not that,” I say.  “It’s just that…look, I know you’re tired, but do you
think you can walk with me for a moment?”  I motion to the pretty
woods.  “This way?”

He
stands up and starts walking rapidly in the direction I have indicated. 
Dixie and I follow him.  He is well into the woods before he finally stops
and turns around to face me.  We just stand there looking at each other
for a long, lonely moment, as he waits for me to speak.  But I’m not sure
I
can
speak.  I feel I might cry.  And that would be childish.

“Why..why
are you angry?” I manage to say.

“What
makes you think I’m angry, Lorelei?” he says somewhat sarcastically.  “Can
you think of any reason why I would be angry?”

“No,
I can’t.”  My words come out thin and broken.

“Maybe
it’s because you’ve been gone forever, and you didn’t bother to answer my
letter!”

“Letter! 
What letter?  I didn’t get a letter from you, Brody.  I wrote two
letters to your mother, but I didn’t hear from her either.”

There
is an uncanny silence in the woods.  Even the birds are strangely still.

“I
think the postmistress has been tampering with my mail,” I go on
mindlessly.  “For whatever reason I didn’t get your letter.”

I
just want him to say something, but he keeps standing there with his hands on
his hips, looking at me.

“Don’t
you believe me, Brody?”  I feel a tear sliding down my cheek, but I don’t
wipe it away.  Maybe he won’t see it.  “Why would I lie to you?”

“I
don’t know.”  His shoulders appear to slump.  “Please don’t
cry.”  He runs a hand through his hair, then rests against a tree. 
“You really did not get a letter from me?”

I
wipe the tear away.  “No, I would have loved a letter from you. 
What..what did you have to say?”

I
watch sadness move over his face.  “I have had a miserable three weeks.”

“So
have I,” I say.

“Of
course you have,” he comes back quickly.  “I don’t mean to be so
self-centered.  I realize you are in mourning.”

“Why
were
you
miserable?” I ask.

“My
family and the Temples – the whole world, it seems, has fumed and fussed and
raged at me.  I feel as if my own mother and father would like to blip me
off.  I have practically lived in the university library because I can’t
stand to face them.”

“Why? 
What happened?”

“I
thought you…,” he begins, pauses, and begins again, “I
believed
you were
the one person I could count on.”

“For
what?  What is it, Brody?”

He
draws himself up to his full six feet and takes a deep breath.  “I broke
off my engagement.”

“What! 
With Angel?”

“Of
course, with Angel.  How many girls was I engaged to?”  He gives me a
slight smile.

I
am too stunned to react.

“I
can see you’re surprised,” he says.  “If you had received my letter, you
would know that   …and all the other things I said.”

“What
things?”

Now
he looks past me, as if he can’t meet my eye.  “I can’t remember
everything I wrote.  I think…I poured out my heart to you.”

“You
did?”  My voice is barely a whisper.  “Can I ask why..why you broke
your engagement?”

“Because
I don’t love her!”

“You
don’t love her?” I am breathless.  “How did she take it?”

“Not
well at all.  She screamed and cried and…never mind.  She’ll get over
it.  In fact, she is seeing Luke already.  At least that’s what I
heard.”

“Why
did you ask her to marry you, Brody?  You must have loved her then, didn’t
you?”

“I
don’t know what I was feeling then.  She was exactly what Mother and
Father wanted for me.  She was my ticket to stay in their good graces
forever.  And I was exactly what Angel’s parents wanted for her.  We
were headed for easy street.”

“So
what happened?” I ask.

“You.”

“
Me
?” 

Now
he looks me squarely in the face, his dark eyes full of emotion.  “Yes,
Lorelei – you.  Don’t you know you have become more important to me than
anything or anybody else?”

I
go to him quickly, wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head against his
heart.  “Oh, Brody, I have missed you so much.”

He
closes his arms around me and we hold each other for a long, delicious moment.

I
look up at him.  “I am so..oo happy you came for me.”

He
gives me a warm, gentle kiss, then wipes his sweat from my cheeks with his
shirt tail.  “To be clear, Mother did not send me.  She doesn’t even
know where I am.  I told Roman that I was going away for a few days to
think things over.”

He
sits on the ground and pulls me down beside him.

“Then
your mother doesn’t want me back?”

“I’m
sure she does,” he says, “but when she finds out you’re my girl, there will be
a problem.”

“Your
girl?”

“Aren’t
you my girl?”

I
give him my biggest smile.  “If you want me to be.  Yes!”

He
smiles too.  “I must warn you that Mother and Father will not be as happy
as we are about this.  In fact, they will be nasty.  They will blame
everything on you, and I won’t subject you to their meanness.”

We
kiss again, and fall back together on the soft woods floor.  His lips are
hot against my mouth and throat.  I return his kisses hungrily.  He
unbuttons the top of my dress and begins to kiss my breasts.  As he runs a
hand up the inside of my thigh, I have to struggle to re-gain my good sense.

“Somebody
could see us,” I gasp.

But
he doesn’t stop.  He is slipping between my legs and undoing his pants
before I can gather enough will power to say, “No, Brody, please, no.”

He
lets out his breath and relaxes on top of me.  I can feel him through my
underpants.  I hug him with my legs.

“Why
stop?” he whispers.  “I can feel that you want me.”

“I
do!  But not here.  Not now.”

He
rolls off of me and onto his back.  I rise up on my elbow and look at
him.  He is smiling.

“Not
here and not now,” he says.  “It’s almost as good as a promise. 
Somewhere soon in a better setting, we
will
make love, won’t we?”

           
“Yes, Brody, we will.  You know I want you, but I definitely do not want a
baby, not for a good many years.  And I don’t know how to stop that from
happening, do you?”

“No,
but Lydia Wayne does.  She is a Margaret Sanger disciple.  She knows
all about birth control, and she’s very open about it.  She wants to
educate other women.”